Fang Girl (15 page)

Van winced.

“Hi,” I said into the phone.

A momentary, perplexed silence came from the other end. “Van?”

“I don’t
need
help, Uncle,” Van said, his voice surly but clear. “But just for your information, I’m at—” The sentence degenerated into a muffled mumble as Ebon slapped a hand across the vampire hunter’s mouth, gagging him.

“What?” The man’s alarm was clear even through the tiny speaker. “Van!”

“Sorry, Van can’t come to the phone right now,” I said. “He’s kind of all tied up. Do you know anything
about vampires, by the way?”

Another tiny silence. “Few things,” the man said, rather dryly. “Who is this?”

“You can call me Jane. Who’re you?”

“You can call
me
,” he mimicked my intonation, “Quinns.”

Ebon yelped. He leaped for the phone, snatching it out of my hand, and mashed the
END CALL
button. “Oh, clever,” he snarled at Van, who’d been knocked over backward by the force of Ebon’s movement. “
Very
clever.”

“Right,” I said, rubbing my elbow where he’d slammed me into the kitchen cabinets. “So I’m guessing that name meant something bad?”

“Hunter-General Quincey Helsing,” Ebon said grimly. He jerked his head in Van’s direction. “The leader of the vampire hunters.”

“Oh. Ouch.” I grimaced as I realized how close we’d come to disaster. “At least it sounded like he didn’t yet know where we are. Good reflexes, Ebon.” I hauled Van’s chair upright again, resisting the urge to kick him while he was down. “You are a real pain, you know that?”

Blood ran down Van’s chin from where Ebon had whacked him in the mouth, but there was a satisfied
gleam in his narrow green eyes. “Bite me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Ebon growled. He flexed his hand. “I
still
haven’t eaten.”

Crap, I’d forgotten that not all of us were superspecial magic princesses. I eyed Van. Well … why not? Serve him right. “Ebon, you won’t flip out and kill him in a blood-frenzy or anything, right?”

“I only need half a pint or so. He’ll survive.” Ebon showed his teeth. “I can make it quite unpleasant if you like, though.”

“I’m not afraid of any of your foul kind,” Van said, lifting his chin defiantly. “Do your worst.”

“Have a ball, Ebon,” I said, stepping to one side with a flourish. Van suddenly looked extremely worried. “Um, I didn’t mean that literally. Zack, out.”

“But I want to watch!” he protested as Ebon advanced on Van. The vampire hunter clenched his fists, twisting his forearms, but his bonds stayed firm. In a blur of superspeed, Ebon was on him. Fangs flashed—

Van went flying over backward again as Ebon recoiled from him, retching. “Uh,” I said, watching Ebon double over, scrubbing the back of his hand across his mouth. “Doesn’t he taste good?”

“Oo! Oo!” Zack stuck his hand in the air, bouncing
like a teacher’s pet. “Eat me! I’ll wash the taste away!” Ebon waved him back, still gagging.

“What’s wrong?” Van’s muffled voice came from the floor, sounding slightly surprised but still infuriatingly smug. “Not tender enough for you, fiend?”

“No.” Ebon straightened, wiping his sleeve across his mouth. His complexion had gone the faint green of someone who’d swallowed something rotten. “So
that’s
what you are.”

“What—uh.” There was a sudden appalled silence from Van’s direction, like someone getting to school only to discover they’d inexplicably left their pants at home.

I dragged Van upright yet again. You’d have thought he’d have been
relieved
that Ebon didn’t seem to want to eat him, but he didn’t look it. He’d gone as pale as if Ebon had actually drained him. “It’s not what you think,” the vampire hunter said quickly. “No, I taste bad because of … steroids. Yes. Full of drugs. Definitely.”

“I think not.” Ebon took a polite but firm grip on my elbow. “Jane, we have a somewhat severe complication. A word, please?”

“Watch him for a sec,” I said to Zack. I threw a glance at the tank, where Brains was still ogling Van, undaunted by Ebon’s reaction. “You too, Brains. Ebon?”

I thought we’d just go into the next room, but Ebon led me all the way upstairs, into the guest bedroom. He shut the door behind us, with a nervous backward glance. “I hope that’s far enough,” he said. “I don’t want the hunter overhearing.”

“What’s up? Has Van got poisonous blood or something like that?”

“Something, indeed,” Ebon said, expression grim. “Suffice it to say that he is quite extraordinarily dangerous.” He took his iPhone from his pocket as he spoke, fingers swirling across the screen. “I have to contact Hakon. Now.” He put the phone to his ear and, as far as I could tell, started talking backward.

“What—”

He shushed me with an apologetic wave of his hand, listening to someone on the other end. A wince crossed his face. When he spoke next, his voice had dropped into a groveling tone that sounded like a kid who’d just kicked his ball through the neighbor’s brand-new window. The exchange went back and forth for a few moments, Ebon growing progressively paler. Though I couldn’t understand anything that was said, it was clear that the news wasn’t being well received. When he finally hung up, he looked wrung out.

“What language was that?” I asked.

“Swedish,” he said absently, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Or at least, what the Swedes were speaking in 950
AD.
”

“Wow,” I said, digesting this. “Will I have to learn that?”

“If you want to please Hakon. He regards it as the only civilized language.” Ebon slipped the phone back into his pocket with a grimace. “Anyway, he’s sending some of his people to collect the hunter, right away.”

“Van’s really that important? Why—” I cut myself off, cocking my head. I’d thought … “Ebon, did you hear that? Sort of a thump, from downstairs?”

We stared at each other for an instant. Then, moving as one, we leaped for the door. I got there first, with my superior superspeed; I slammed it open, charging down the stairs. Ebon ran into my shoulder as I stopped dead in the kitchen doorway.

Zack was laid out on the floor like a corpse, surrounded by a glittering sea of paper clips. The back door was open. And torn duct tape hung from the arms of the empty chair.

I
’m fine, Mum,” Zack protested, squirming under the ice pack. “Stop fussing.”

“Don’t move,” Mum ordered, shoving him back down onto the sofa with a firm hand on his chest. “You might have a concussion.”

“I’m going to kill him,” I snarled, my hands flexing. “I’m going to tear him into pieces.”

“No you won’t.” Despite not having fangs, Dad looked twice as homicidal as I did. “
I
am going to hunt him down and rip him limb from limb.
You
are never leaving this house again. Either of you,” he added with a glance at Zack.

“It’s not my fault it turned out that he could tear the
arms off the chair and club me with them!” Zack protested indignantly. “Why am I grounded?”

“It’s for your own protection,” Mum told him. “With this lunatic on the loose, we can’t take any chances.”

Ebon came back in, having excused himself in order to “commune with the Elder.” He raised an eyebrow at me and jerked his head in the direction of the door.

“We’re just gonna go and, uh …” I couldn’t think of an excuse, but my parents were too preoccupied with caring for Zack to notice our departure anyway. We went back into the kitchen, and I closed the door behind us for privacy. “What did Hakon say?” I asked him.

“Many things, all of them unrepeatable. I think I am now officially bereft of his patronage.” Ebon dropped into a chair with a sigh. “Well, at least that is certain to be the low point of my night.”

“Hey,” I said, distracted. “Brains is gone!” The lid of the tank was ajar, and the waters were devoid of undead killer goldfish.

Ebon’s entire body froze. “Jane,” he said very calmly, “would you please be so kind as to look down your Bloodline and tell me if the fish has been killed?”

I focused inward, searching. “No, Brains is still there,” I said in relief. I could feel the thread that bound us,
stretching off into the distance. “Maybe it’s chasing after Van.” I tried looking through the goldfish’s eyes, but all I got was blackness and an impression of being jostled. Switching back to my own perspective, I was startled by Ebon’s suddenly aghast face. “Ebon, what is it?”

Ebon spat out something that could have been ancient Swedish, or could have been Somerset dialect, but which was definitely a swear word. “The hunter stole it.”

I blinked at him. “The vampire hunter stole my goldfish.” It didn’t make any more sense the second time either. “What?”

Ebon scrubbed his hands over his face. “His blood tasted terrible,” he said, muffled.

“Yeah? So?”

He dropped his hands, his features drawn and pale. “He’s a dhampir.”

“Okaaaaaay.” I pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down opposite him. “I think this is going to be a long one. You mean dhampir as in a vampire-human hybrid?” Ebon stared at me. “Don’t look so surprised. I read, you know.”

“Well then … yes. Dhampirs are the result of a vampire breeding with a human. As they’re part-undead, we can’t digest their blood, hence the taste.” Ebon’s lip curled, as if the flavor of Van’s blood was still lingering on his tongue.
“They’re very, very rare—not only because we aren’t very, ah, fertile, but also because their creation is banned by every Bloodline. The origins of this one will be of
great
interest to the Elders. Whoever is responsible will shortly find their existence becoming very unpleasant indeed.”

“He mentioned something about his mother being raped.” I remembered the way that Van had stumbled on the word, correcting himself; he must have been trying to keep his vampire parentage secret. “But what’s the big deal? I mean, okay, he was pretty fast and strong, but I was still able to backflip rings around him.” Until, I realized, he’d licked my blood off his ax.

“Dhampirs inherit only a shadow of our strengths, true, but they are also only burdened with a pale version of our weaknesses.” My mind flashed to the neatly labeled pockets in Van’s coat. “They can go out in daylight, although they tend to prefer the twilight and evening, for example.” Ebon shook his head. “But their physical nature is not the danger. They can use the Bloodlines.”

“Wouldn’t they only be linked to their vampire parent, though?”

“They can use the Bloodlines,” Ebon repeated, “to
any
vampire. All they require is a taste of a vampire’s blood, and they can then track any vampire in the same
family. Not just the direct line. Not just one generation. Everyone.”

I swallowed. “And if he’s got Brains—”

“A dhampir’s tracking ability doesn’t last long, but with the goldfish, he’s got a constant supply. All he has to do is keep drinking a little of its blood every hour, and he’ll be able to track you, your sire, her progenitors, and other relatives—all of you.” Ebon’s knuckles whitened where his hands were clasped together. “With one initial lead, a dhampir can slaughter an entire Bloodline.” He squared his shoulders, reaching into his pocket. “And now I get to tell Hakon, who’s probably going to slaughter
me
.”

“It’s only me and Lilith at risk though, isn’t it?” I asked, watching him dial. “You said she didn’t have any other descendants.”

“What? Oh. Yes,” he said rather vaguely. “Still.” His phone beeped, and he switched into Swedish again. If the last call had sounded like a little boy trying to apologize for a broken window, this one was more on the scale of a guy having to admit to his girlfriend’s shotgun-owning father that daddy’s little girl was knocked up. Even from across the table, I could hear the blast of archaic Swedish from the tiny speaker. Ebon’s face went from white to gray as the call progressed. By the time it finally ended,
he was soaked with sweat, and shaking. “I’z ne’er haz to deal wi’ Hakon like
that
afore.” He took a deep breath, his accent smoothing out again to just a hint of country drawl. “Hakon’s going to have the entire county swarming with vampires by the end of the night. We’ll need your assistance, Jane. You can find the fish—if we can recover that, half the threat is neutralized. The dhampir must know that, so he’ll presumably be aiming to move quickly, strike as fast as he can … but we’ve got a small amount of time on our side. There’s no one in your Bloodline near here for him to reach.”

I froze. Because there
was
someone near here.

I tested my three connections. Lilith’s still stretched north … but the other two were precisely aligned. Brains—and therefore Van—was headed straight toward Superluminal.

If Hakon knew …

“Ebon,” I said, making my decision. “I know where he’s going.”

W
orthing hospital?” Dad said dubiously, eyeing the long, low building over the top of the steering wheel.

“Evidently.” The pull of the Bloodline was unmistakable. “Maybe Superluminal’s a doctor. It would be an easy way to get blood.” I felt nervous, exposed, despite the fact that I was squashed into the backseat with Ebon and Zack. At this hour, the hospital parking lot was nearly deserted, apart from a line of staff cars. I tapped my dad’s shoulder. “Drive down a bit farther.” As we crawled past the main building, I concentrated on the Bloodlines, making careful note of their directions. “Well, Brains and Superluminal are definitely inside.” I tried looking through each
set of eyes in turn. “They’re both still in the dark. Maybe Van hasn’t found the right room yet.” I hoped so. For all I knew, Superluminal might be capable of bouncing Van off the ceiling with one hand, but Lilith had seemed anxious to keep my weird Bloodline a secret. It couldn’t be good to have my worst enemies finding out about it.