How to Cure a Vampire Bite without Losing Your Mind
Chapter 13

I thought the son was confusing, and hadbeen convinced that I’d had the father figured. In the course of ten secondsI’d very clearly learned that I was wrong. Perhaps it was because I’d known heexisted for all of five hours, and in that time he’d gone from blustering andbullying, to asking if I’d like –

“Sorry?” I said. Maybe I’d misheard him.

“I know myson’s habits, Miss Tourney, and I knowyou weren’t sneaking to the kitchen. Gathering from your ocular expressions,you are not completely averse to the idea. Given that, the invitation is merelya formality, as I am not the type of individual who typically denies his guestsa meal, particularly the underage ones whom I replace in the company of my son.So, would you like something to eat?”

I was frozen with suspicion; apparently I’d known Orcusfor far too long, because I was seeing double motives everywhere. “Why?”

Mr. Locke rolled his eyes, again looking too much likehis son for comfort. “Unless you plan to forgo nourishment your entire stay,” he amended.

“Uh . . . okay,” I said. “Sure. Er, what did you have inmind?”

Mr. Locke gestured. “Walk with me, and I’ll show you.”

He walked past me, back down the hall, and paused at theend, holding open a door I hadn’t seen on my first go-round. “After you.”

Orcus had very strictly commanded against associatingwith his father, so I cautiously sauntered down to the room and crossed thethreshold. Mr. Locke nodded to Strumpen, and thanked him “for taking care ofthe mess the stupid girl made,” and then followed me. It was easy to see whereOrcus had gotten his sense of sarcasm.

The room, I noticed, was a study. In its middle was astaircase that went down; this, as I found I correctly assumed, was the path wewere taking to wherever it was we were going (presumably the kitchen). Mr.Locke led me down the stairs and into another room, much like the one above us.There he opened a door that led out onto the second floor’s main hall. We madeour way down to the west end of the house, went down another set of stairs,turned a corner, more stairs, through a door . . . and into the kitchen. It wasridiculously large, but so was the rest of the house, and I was so lost Iwasn’t sure I could replace my own feet; expecting this to be different hadprobably been very foolish.

Mr. Locke wasted no time in stalking up to the fridge,wrenching it open, and digging through its contents. “Soup sound good?”

“Uh . . .”

“Hm,” he said. “I think I’ll have some. Oh look; stillsome left-over sausage from the other night. I’d offer it, but the girls wouldbe incensed.” He pulled a great tub out, a container of soup perched on top ofit. “We’ve still got this bloody great turkey Jo caught last week. Twentypounds worth of meat at least.”

He left me with the turkey, but to say he went putteringabout in search of a bowl would be misleading. He wasn’t by any means oldenough to putter. I stared at thegreat container of turkey, not entirely sure how to exactly approach thesituation. Eating at a friend’s house for the first time is always an awkwardaffair. Eating in your arch-nemesis’ kitchen is a whole other ballgame. Eatingwith your arch-nemesis’ father, alone, in the kitchen, at six-thirty in theevening turns the whole affair into freaking Dungeons and Dragons with a sideof Survivor. Mr. Locke had found his bowl and was now warming soup in themicrowave. He noticed I hadn’t moved.

“It’s not going to eat itself, girl,” he said with afrown.

I hesitated. “Could I just point out the elephant in theroom?”

Mr. Locke snorted. “I think I like that analogy better.”

“Sir?”

“My wife used to call me the moose,” he said, his eyesglinting a bit. “But it never seemed to stick properly. ‘Elephant’ works muchbetter, don’t you think?”

I just stared at him, completely out of my depth.

He sighed. “It’s a bit strange, breaking bread with thefather of the boy you’ve been competing against since third grade, Iunderstand, and I bear you no ill-will. However, I would, if I may, like topoint out the detail that may save you at a later time in your life.”

“What’s that?” I asked, slightly dubious.

“A situation is only as awkward as you make it,” he saidfirmly, then pushed the turkey at me. “Now, then, fill that stomach of yours.You’re looking rather pale. When you’ve finished, we’ll take some up to yourfriend.”

So I did. We ate in silence a good while, him surprisingme at how he managed to make eating soup look like an art form. As I thoughtabout it, he was quite right: Objectively speaking, this wasn’t entirelyawkward at all. He was playing host, and I was his guest. It was thoroughlyunplanned, this event, but it could be used to an advantage of some sort. Inever got to make up my mind just how I would work it, because, after a solidten minutes, Mr. Locke wanted to talk again. His soup had been finished, andhe’d dropped turkey into the bowl and was munching on it thoughtfully when hespoke.

“What is his hold on you?” he asked.

“Whose?”

“My son’s.” Mr. Locke’s eyes narrowed. “He likes toingratiate himself into affections.”

“Mhm,” I agreed. “Makes people easier to manipulate ifthey like you.”

“You know the game?”

I nodded. “Mr. Locke, there are only two people in ourschool who have not been taken in by your son’s façade: me and Raechel McNab,and she’s not the one who’s been struggling for the better part of a decade tooutwit your son academically.”

“Then why did he bring you along?” Mr. Locke askedshrewdly.

“Sebastian – er, well, I sort of found him.”

Mr. Locke snorted. “Don’t pretend to think that such athing carries any weight with Orcus.”

I rubbed the back of my head nervously. “I honestly can’ttell you, sir. He’s never been straightforward with me, I know, about why hedoes what he does, so I couldn’t possiblytell you what he’s thinking.”

“Why does he want his grandfather so badly?”

I hesitated again. “I’m not entirely sure I should tellyou, sir.”

“His request?”

I narrowed my eyes. “What do you think?” He stared at meevenly, chewing a piece of turkey slowly. “I’ve never done anything becauseyour son has asked me to, Mr. Locke. What we’re working on here is a bit of astretch, even for us. And we’re in the middle of it.”

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with why my son is ill,would it?” he asked. My expression gave it all away. Was there nothing this mandidn’t know? “I noticed, yes. Where has it hit him?”

“Er – h-his arm.”

Mr. Locke frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He was bitten,” I choked out.

“Rabies?”

I groaned. “I wish! He’d die!” I caught myself. “Sorry.That was inappropriate.”

“Indeed,” Mr. Locke agreed with a smirk. “I’m willing tooverlook it, however, if you’ll tell me what it’s about and why I shouldn’tknow.”

I sighed resignedly. “Fine, but you asked for it.” I sata little straighter. “Your son was bitten by a vampire, namely a one SebastianDegas. Sebastian appeared in my room the evening Orcus and I saw some verystrange people down in the mine.” All the parents were informed of itsexistence, so I wasn’t concerned with him keeping up on that end. “We – and bythat I mean ‘Orcus’ – received some outside help – his grandfather, obviously,sir – and came to the realization of what Sebastian is. We’ve been trying tosolve the puzzle as to how he got here, and while I wouldn’t mind causing himmortal bodily harm, we believe there are more of his kind running amokunchecked. That is a very serious issue, for which we would need his help.”

Mr. Locke didn’t seem hardly fazed by this piece ofinformation. He furrowed his brow after a moment. “And why did he bite my son?I understand the urge, but what made him follow through?”

I blinked. “That’syour question?” I asked incredulously. “Seriously?”

“Well, you didn’t exactly explain it,” he contradicted.

“Out of everything I’ve just told you, that’s what’s gotyou miffed?”

“It would seem so,” he replied coolly. “My question?”

I felt more than a little reluctant. “They were fighting,and Orcus was winning.”

“What were they fighting about?”

“Not sure,” I said. “But it’s not that great a surprise,is it? I mean, those two are thecomplete antithesis of each other.”

Mr. Locke nodded. “I’ll also overlook the fact that you’vejust lied to me.” He held up two fingers. “That’s two you owe me now, MissTourney.”

I furrowed my brow. “You can’t seriously blame me, canyou?”

Mr. Locke looked offended. “Why ever not?”

“You as good as put a ‘Kick Me’ sign on my back when wegot here, Mr. Locke. And now you’re suddenly quite nice?”

He smirked thoughtfully, eyeing me. “Fair enough. Don’tsuppose Carson taught you how to worm your way out of a fix?”

I shook my head. “Paterfamilias.”

“I see. I’ve met your father. Not exactly the type ofperson to compete fairly, is he?”

I snorted. “We let him think he’s the boss; otherwisehe’d be intolerable.”

Mr. Locke seemed pleased with my answer. “I suppose mydaughters would say the same thing about me.”

This situation couldn’t possibly get any worse than italready was. “Nice try. Are you avoiding myquestion now, Mr. Locke? That’s positively hypocritical of you.”

His brow twitched. “Closing the gap, are we? Very well.How to account for my attitude. I am at pains to point out that my son isneither present nor speaking.” He narrowed his eyes. “You know, Miss Tourney,very much as well as I do, that my son has – er, psychopathic tendencies. You,however, treat him with much more tolerance.” He drummed his fingers. “I triedusing affection with Orcus as I did his sisters; he never went for it. The onlymanner to which he will respond is ruthless unyielding. Let it be perfectlyclear that he is still my son, and I do love him as much as I can. But he is –”

“ – unreachable,” I finished.

Mr. Locke nodded. “Precisely.” His eyes pinned on meagain. “Did he say why he brought youalong?”

“Nice change of subject.”

“You owe me.”

I chuckled. “He said something about two brains beingbetter than the one for the subject, and then something about how I couldn’t betrusted to take care of myself, or something.”

Mr. Locke looked suddenly very unimpressed. “How has hebeen treating Mr. Degas?”

“They hardly ever see each other,” I said. “They’re exactopposites, you know; they’d die in the first hour if they were alone together.I mean, that’s why Sebastian has been up in my room on the floor.”

Now Mr. Locke was looking distinctly annoyed. “Has heever made a pass at you?”

“Who?”

“Mr. Degas.”

“What’s that to do –”

“Just answer yes, or no.”

“Well, yeah, but what would that have to do – ”

Mr. Locke’s hands came down on the table with a bang. Myidiocy was quickly making him irritated. “Do you really not get it?”

“Get what?”

“That was why they were fighting, wasn’t it? They werefighting over you.”

I turned red. “That’s – a – ah, logical conclusion. Butthey argue a lot anyway, so I wouldn’t go so far as to say just me.”

“I would,” Mr.Locke said flatly. “And I’d say that’s why he brought you along as well.”

“What?”

He visibly deflated. “For being so bright, you can bequite dense, you know.”

I turned an even brighter red. “Orcus wouldn’t havebrought me along to get me away from Sebastian. They’re both here. Wouldn’tthat sort of prove to be counterproductive?”

Mr. Locke slumped. “You’re just alost cause, aren’t you?”

“I try my hardest to be, yes.” Yes,I was being purposely dense, and I’ll explain why at a later date.

Mr. Locke sighed. “In that caseyou’ll have to work it out on your own.”

“Work out what?”

“Well, it’s obvious to everyone butyou,” he said, taking the food and returning it to the refrigerator. “It’salmost painful to watch.” He shook his head. “So bright, and, yet, unbelievablydense.”

I felt very confused and frustrated,neither of which I was particularly fond. “Can’t you just tell me?”

“What and ruin the fun of watchingyou figure it out? No, I’m afraid I just can’ttell you, Miss Tourney,” he replied, washing his bowl. He was so much likeOrcus, but also still so human, it was bizarre.

“Tell you what?” a cold voice saidfrom the doorway.

I whipped around to replace Orcusstanding there looking much less pale, and much more dangerous than when I’dlast seen him. In that moment I was forced to admit to myself what Mr. Lockehad been hinting at all night; it made me very grumpy.