Kendare Blake - Anna Dressed in Blood

Standing beside them but down a bleacher, Carmel hugs herself and looks away. Maybe I shouldn’t be so angry. But what, is she kidding me? Of course I should be. I’m not happy about what happened to Mike. I never would have let it happen if they hadn’t rendered me useless with a board to the head.

“What should we tell people about Mike?” Carmel asks. “There are going to be questions. Everyone saw him leave the party with us.”

“We can’t tell them the truth,” Will says ruefully.

“What is the truth?” Carmel asks. “What happened in that house? Am I really supposed to believe that Mike was murdered by a ghost? Cas—”

I meet her eyes levelly. “I saw it.”

“I saw it too,” Chase adds, looking like he might throw up.

Carmel shakes her head. “It’s not real. Cas is alive. Mike is too. This is all just some messed-up prank that you all cooked up to get back at me for breaking up with him.”

“Don’t be so self-obsessed,” Will says. “I saw her arms reach through the window. I saw her pull him in. I heard someone scream. And then I saw Mike’s silhouette split in two.” He looks at me. “So what was it? What was living in that house?”

“It was a vampire, man,” Chase stutters.

Idiot. I ignore him completely. “Nothing was living in that house. Mike was killed by Anna Korlov.”

“No way, man, no way,” Chase says with increasing panic, but I don’t have time for his waves of denial. Luckily, neither does Will, who tells him to shut up.

“We tell the cops that we drove around for a while. Then Mike got mad about Carmel and Cas and got out of the truck. None of us could stop him. He said he was going to walk home, and since it wasn’t that far away, we didn’t think anything of it. When he didn’t show at school today, we figured that he was hungover.” Will’s jaw is set. He can think on his feet, even when he doesn’t want to. “We’ll have to put up with a few days or weeks of search parties. They’ll question us some. And then they’ll give up.”

Will’s looking at me. No matter how big a dick Mike was, he was Will’s friend, and now Will Rosenberg is trying to wish me out of existence. If there wasn’t anyone else watching, he might even try it — tap his heels together three times or something.

And maybe he’s right. Maybe it is my fault. I could have found another way to Anna. But to hell with that. Mike Andover hit me across the back of the head with a plank and threw me in an abandoned house, all because I talked to his ex-girlfriend. He didn’t deserve to be split down the middle, but he had a kick in the nuts coming to him at the very least.

Chase is holding his head in his hands, talking to himself about how messed up this is, what a nightmare it’s going to be to lie to the cops. It’s easier for him to focus on the non-supernatural aspect of the problem. It’s easier for most people. That’s what allows things like Anna to stay secret for so long.

Will pushes him in the shoulder. “What do we do about her?” Will asks. For a second I think he’s talking about Carmel.

“You can’t do anything about her,” Thomas says, speaking for the first time in what feels like decades, catching on before I do. “She’s out of your league.”

“She killed my best friend,” Will spits. “What am I supposed to do? Nothing?”

“Yeah,” Thomas says, and he’s got a shrug and a lopsided smirk to go with it that’s going to get him punched in the face.

“Well, we have to do something .”

I look at Carmel. Her eyes are wide and sad, her blond hair hanging across them in streaks. This is as emo as she has probably ever looked.

“If she’s real,” she continues, “then we probably should. We can’t just let her keep on killing people.”

“We won’t,” Thomas says to her comfortingly. I’d like to toss him down the bleachers. Didn’t he hear my “now’s not the time” speech?

“Look,” I say. “We’re not all going to jump in a green van and go take her out with the help of the Harlem Globetrotters. Anyone who goes back into that house is dead. And unless you want to end up torn down the middle and staring at a pile of your own guts on the floor, you’ll stay away.” I don’t want to be so harsh with them, but this is a disaster. Someone I’ve involved is dead, and now all these other newbs want to join him. I don’t know how I’ve managed to get myself in such a clusterfuck. I’ve messed things up so quickly.

“I’m going back,” Will says. “I’ve got to do something.”

“I’m going with you,” Carmel adds, and glares at me like she’s daring me to try to stop her. She’s obviously forgetting that I was staring into a dead face crisscrossed with dark veins less than twenty-four hours ago. I’m not impressed by her tough-cookie routine.

“Neither one of you is going anywhere,” I say, but then I surprise myself. “Not without being prepared.” I glance at Thomas, whose mouth is hanging slightly ajar. “Thomas has a grandfather. Some old spiritual guy. Morfran Starling. He knows about Anna. We need to talk to him first, if we’re going to do anything.” I cuff Thomas in the shoulder and he tries to piece a normal expression back on his face.

“How do you kill something like that anyway?” Chase asks. “Stake her through the heart?”

I’d like to mention again that Anna isn’t a vampire, but I’ll wait until he suggests silver bullets to shove him off the bleachers.

“Don’t be dumb,” Thomas scoffs. “She’s already dead. You can’t kill her. You’ve got to banish her or something. My grandfather’s done it once or twice. There’s this big spell, and candles and herbs and stuff.” Thomas and I share a look. The kid really does come in handy now and again. “I can take you to him. Tonight, if you want.”

Will is looking at Thomas, and then at me, and then at Thomas again. Chase looks like he wishes he didn’t have to pretend to be such a big strong meathead all the time, but whatever, that’s the bed he’s made for himself. Carmel is just staring at me.

“Okay,” Will says finally. “Meet us after school.”

“I can’t,” I say quickly. “Mom stuff. But I can be at the shop later.”

They all make their way down the bleachers clumsily — which is the only way to go down bleachers. Thomas smiles as they go.

“Pretty good, huh?” He grins. “Who says I’m not psychic?”

“Probably just women’s intuition,” I reply. “Just be sure that you and old Morfran give them a convincing enough wild-goose chase.”

“Where are you going to be?” he asks, but I don’t answer. He knows where I’m going. I’m going to be with Anna.

I’m staring up at Anna’s house again. The logical part of my brain tells me that it’s just a house. That it’s what’s inside that makes it horrifying, that makes it dangerous, that it can’t possibly be tilting toward me like it’s hunting me through the overgrowth of weeds. It can’t possibly be trying to jerk free of its foundation and swallow me whole. But that’s what it looks like it’s doing.

Behind me, there is a small hiss. I turn around. Tybalt is standing with his forepaws on the driver’s side door of my mom’s car, looking out through the window.

“That’s no lie, cat,” I say. I don’t know why my mom had me bring him along. He’s not going to be able to help. When it comes to usefulness he’s more like a smoke detector than a hunting dog. But when I got home after school, I told my mom where I was going and what had happened — leaving out the part where I almost got killed and one of my classmates was split in two — and she must have guessed there was more to the story, because I’m wearing a fresh coating of rosemary oil in a triangle on my forehead, and she made me take the cat. Sometimes I don’t think she has any idea of what it is that I do out here.