They stopped. A street light illuminated their pale and gaunt faces. Resembling half-starved street punks, they wore ripped baggy jeans that sagged around thin waists, exposing colorful boxers. A ton of bling hung from their necks on thick gold chains. Hoods had been pulled up.
Ava recognized Grinning Skull from the bus. His friend’s shirt had skeletons playing in a band on it, and a cobra design wrapped around the punk on the right’s sleeve.
“You can only shoot one of us before we move,” Grinning Skull said. “That leaves two and I doubt your girlfriend is armed.”
Ava’s stomach twisted as the small bit of confidence she had gained by learning a few self-defense moves fled.
“She knows nothing about this,” Jarett said. “Her bus will be here soon. Once she goes, we can … talk.”
Skeleton Band cackled. The sound scraped like glass against stone. “You didn’t tell her about us? What a naughty boy you’ve been, Jarett White Hawk. Tisk, tisk.”
“Irresponsible,” Cobra agreed. “Jarett will pay with his life. Like father like son.”
“And the girl?” Skeleton Band asked.
“Ours.” Grinning Skull looked at Ava with hunger.
Ice pumped through her veins yet she felt hot and sweaty.
The three advanced.
“Run,” Jarett ordered. He shot the crossbow, hitting Cobra in the stomach.
Before she even moved, the punks flickered. One second they stood fifteen feet away, the next they surrounded Jarett and Ava.
Jarett dropped the crossbow, pulled a bottle from his pocket, and tossed water into Skeleton Band’s face. The punk shrieked as his skin melted and steamed.
Another flicker and Grinning Skull grabbed Ava in a steel grip. She couldn’t move. Panicked, she yelled for Jarett, but he was caught tight by Cobra. Grinning Skull opened his mouth. The putrid stench of decay gagged her. He bent close to her face. She cringed as his ice-cold cheek brushed hers.
When he bit her neck, she screamed. She never thought she’d be the kind of girl to scream, but terror and pure revulsion had built inside her to such a degree that screaming was the only way to release it.
Grinning Skull pushed against her as if slammed from behind. He grunted and went slack, knocking Ava to the ground. He landed on top of her. A dead weight. She stared at his face and nausea boiled up in her throat. The skin disintegrated before her eyes, peeling off the bone, which crumbled into powder.
Ava kicked the dusty clothes off of her. She wanted to puke, to scream and to faint, but she held it together and focused on Jarett and Bossemi. The master fencer held a wood sword. Two piles of clothes lay at his feet—the remains of Cobra and Skeleton Band.
Bossemi gestured to the clothes and shoes. Jarett swept them up.
“All’interno. Rapidamente!” he barked before running to the Academy.
Ava scrambled upright and followed him with Jarett fast on her heels. When the door shut behind them, they sagged with relief.
“Sandro, I’m—” Jarett started.
“Idiota.” Bossemi turned to Ava. “Prossimo … Come. We must clean your wound.”
In all the excitement, she had forgotten about the bite. Pain throbbed when she touched her neck. Blood coated her fingers. Her vision blurred, but a sharp order from Bossemi snapped her out of it. She didn’t even realize Jarett supported her until they reached his office.
She met Jarett’s gaze. He looked miserable. But she didn’t have time to question him. Bossemi instructed her to lie down flat on his couch. He put a towel under her neck.
“This will hurt,” he said.
When he brandished a spray bottle and metal hook-shaped tool, she closed her eyes. He might not have much of a couch-side manner, but he was honest. It hurt. By the time he had cleaned the bite and bandaged it, tears had puddled in her ears.
Jarett sat on the edge of the couch, holding her hand. Bossemi dumped the blood-soaked towel into a hamper.
“Tell her what she needs to know,” Bossemi said. “I’ll organize a watch.” He handed Jarett his wooden sword, then left.
Jarett stared at the weapon with resignation.
Ava pulled her hand away from his and struggled to a sitting position. She wanted answers. “Talk. Now.”
He sighed. “At least I don’t have to convince you they’re real.”
“The punks?”
His gaze focused on the life-sized crucifix. “Not punks. Vampiros.”
“They’ve been around since biblical times.” Jarett said.
Ava thought back to the attack. “They flickered and were so strong.” She shuddered.
“That’s why we use swords and crossbows. If they grab you, you’re almost as good as dead.”
“What about the stakes I saw in the closet?”
“We use those during the day. We hunt them while they sleep. Safer that way.”
“We?”
“The Hawks. Sandro taught us how to find and fight the vampiros. He recruits candidates from the fencers he invites to his school. Some join us. Others leave. And some won’t get recruited at all.”
“Would I have been recruited?”
He considered. “If I hadn’t messed it up, probably not.”
“How did you … Oh.”
“‘Oh’ is right. I thought you were a vampiro. You’re pale and thin. I wasn’t the only one.” He sounded defensive. “The other coaches suspected you, too. Plus we had just attacked one of their nests, and thought you were trying to get revenge.”
“A nest of them? How many vampiros are there?” she asked.
“There are nests in most of the major cities of the world. The Hawks are there too. It’s an on-going battle. Sometimes we manage to wipe out an entire cluster, and sometimes they get to us first.”
Ava remembered his sad story. “Did they kill your father?”
Jarett’s body tensed and his grip tightened on the sword. “Yes. They drained his blood, starving his brain of oxygen. Once the brain dies, a demon takes possession of the body. It’s not like in the movies. Police don’t find a bloodless corpse. There is no burial and no dramatic rising from the dead. The victim just changes. They lose weight, becoming pale, nocturnal creatures.”
She followed the logic. “Then your father is a …” She couldn’t say the word.
“Not anymore.” Anguish strained his voice. He closed his eyes. “He came to visit me at school. They go after their relatives and friends first. I knew as soon as I saw him.”
Ava waited. Despite the obvious outcome, Jarett needed to tell the story.
“My father had been a Hawk all my life. We moved from city to city, hunting vampiros. But I didn’t want to join the Hawks. I wanted to fence. I was selfish, and my father died.”
“You can’t blame—”
“Yes I can. I’m the one who flung the holy water on him. He dissolved before my eyes.”
She searched for the appropriate words. What did Jarett call them? Hallmark words. She didn’t think she would find a sorry-your-father-was-a-vampire sympathy card. Instead she asked him why the vampiros disintegrated.
“The demon keeps the body alive. Once the demon is killed, the body is destroyed. The older they are, the faster they go. If they’re very new, we use holy water to help them along.”
They sat for a while in silence. Ava’s wound burned and pulsed. She touched the bandage.
“You better call your mom and tell you won’t be home tonight,” Jarett said.
