How to Cure a Vampire Bite without Losing Your Mind
Chapter 22

22 Three days later, Mr. Locke hesitatedwhen we asked to see the urns, but he eventually agreed. Raechel had lacedOrcus’ drink at dinner, and since the serum had made him human again (regrettablywith no side-effects) he’d dropped off to sleep on the sofa rather quickly. Ithad seemed a bit easy, she said, but I firmly told her to not look a gift-horsein the mouth.

Mr. Locke piled us into his car,which just so happened to be a dark green Aston Martin DB9. My dad would havebeen jealous; Mother wouldn’t allow him the onebrand of car he enjoyed (rich people problems, right?).

“I don’t doubt your experience onthe subject,” Mr. Locke said to Raechel, “but are you sure he got the sleeper?”

“Positive. Unless he knows whatwe’re up to, he’ll be out like a light for a while.” The trouble was, Ithought, that Orcus often knew things he shouldn’t have known, even wheneveryone took pains to make sure no one told him about it.

The urns, Mr. Locke told us, werestored in a warehouse about an hour’s drive from the estate. All items ofhistorical value were kept in the Locke family warehouse. Time-travelling urnsweren’t the only oddity to be found. There were several devices kept under lockand key, and a good majority of them, Mr. Locke admitted, had uses whichescaped him almost completely. The only real information he had was theknowledge that in comparison to the devices the urns were practicallyirrelevant.

“Then why would Orcus go to thismuch trouble for urns?”

Mr. Locke shrugged. “Only he couldpositively tell you that. I do believe it is because he is either unaware ofthe machines, or does not hold their capacities in high regard.”

“What do they do?” Raechel askedfrom the back seat.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Mr. Lockesaid.

“I take it your machines aredangerous?” I said.

“I don’t know that either,” Mr.Locke replied. “I imagine they are. My father burned the papers accompanyingthem when I was very small, and I am quite sure he was the only Locke who’dever managed to replace them, or put the machines through any sort of test.”

“Was that Mr. Locke a very moralman?”

Mr. Locke snorted. “Hardly. He was acoward, and likely became afraid of the power they generated.”

That wasn’t anywhere nearcomforting, by any stretch of the imagination. “And you’ve purposely not toldOrcus what these contraptions may or may not be able to do?”

“Indeed.”

I looked back at Raechel andSebastian. “What do you think?”

“I think,” said Sebastian,squirming, “that this. . .thing isexceedingly uncomfortable. How canyou tolerate it?”

I smirked. “It’s only uncomfortablefor you because you’re so freakishly tall. It’s fine for me because I’mshotgun.” Apparently that particular phrase was lost in translation, becauseSebastian only managed to stare at me stupidly. I looked at Raechel. “What doyou think?”

“I think you should maybe stop usingwords and phrases he doesn’t know,” she said.

“I meant about the warehouse, butI’ll gladly take your two cents and put them through a penny-puller.”

She pursed her lips. “If Orcusdoesn’t know about the other machines, that’s great and wonderful, but you’llforgive me if I overestimate him for safety’s sake.” A look suddenly crossedher face, and she looked wildly at Sebastian. “Do you think you could identify them?”

He looked at her like she was crazy.“No,” he said flatly. “No, I do not.”

“You can’t, or you won’t?” I asked.

“Both,” he said. “Many geniuses frommy time made machines that should never have been made. And their creationsbrought misfortune on those claiming ownership. The former Mr. Locke was wiseto destroy their papers. If the wrong hands got on those machines, it would bethe end of it for you.”

Mr. Locke said nothing, but his facewas grim.

The warehouse, like much of whatbelonged to the Locke family, was probably bigger than pretty much every otherwarehouse on the planet. It looked like three typical units stacked on top ofeach other, and about eight typical units deep. I tried not to ogle. It wasproving to be difficult. But really, what could they possibly have that needed to be kept in a storagethis large?

Mr. Locke pulled into one of thethree parking spaces, and I noticed the rather simplistic security system: apadlock. I frowned, and voiced my curiosity.

Mr. Locke shrugged. “Your concern isvalid, but I’m not entirely worried.” He gestured to the sign on the chain-linkfence.

The sign read: “Property of theLocke family. Keep out or enter at own risk.”

Raechel’s brow creased. “How manypeople have tried to break in?”

Mr. Locke shrugged. “Only the oneswho’ve never heard of us, and they tend to regret it. You’re all with me,though, so you needn’t worry.”

As we passed through the gate, ahurried movement in the shadows caught my eye; I decided to cast off Mr.Locke’s assurances. There were many reasons to be worried.

The inside of the warehouse wasvastly bigger than the outside, and I felt very intimidated, and would havebeen quite confused as to where to begin looking had Mr. Locke not been withus. He led us down several aisles to a small corner. A chest resided in thisniche, and it looked wholly unremarkable. It was about three feet wide andlaying on its side. Standing up it would have been about my height, andprobably very heavy. A faint buzzing sound came from inside the chest. Mr.Locke knelt down next to it and undid the lock and latch.

I knelt down next to him. “Mr.Locke,” I whispered.

“Hmm?”

“How long was the sedative supposedto work on Orcus?”

“Eight hours,” he whispered back,“but Orcus didn’t take it. No doubt you saw him creeping along behind us?”

“Saw something, and I’m hedging mybets.”

“He would have known. I thought it wasa bit too easy to slip him that sedative, and seeing him coming along behind uslike that…. You can bet he knows what we’re up to.”

“So I’m not just imagining things?”

“Indeed.” He pulled out the firsturn. “Fret not; I’ve a plan.”

Raechel knelt next to us. “Why arewe whispering?”

I told her, and she told Sebastian,whose face clouded over.

“How do we get rid of it?” he asked.

“How do you get rid of what?” said acold voice.

I looked past Sebastian at Orcus’rigid frame. “The urns, Orcus, dear.”

“I was actually referring to him,”said Sebastian coolly, “but it would be good to know how to get rid of thewormholes as well.”

“You don’t,” he said calmly. Acomplete fool couldn’t miss that he was furious.

Mr. Locke didn’t move from hiscrouched position beside the stone urn. His palm was flat on its side as hegently removed the lid. “That is not your choice, Orcus,” he said coolly.

“Don’t even think about it,” Orcussaid angrily, coming closer. “Do you have any idea what would happen?”

Mr. Locke fixed him with a nastyglare. “I’ve a pretty good idea what won’thappen, thank you, boy.”

I stepped aroundSebastian and in front of Orcus, pushing him back just a little bit. “Pleasedon’t start a fight, Orcus.” Why I was taking this vein, I didn’t know. All Iknew was that for Mr. Locke to be successful Orcus had to be kept at bay.

Orcus’ eyes locked onto mine. “My dear,” he sneered, “you started thefight yourself when you attempted to drug me into a stupor.”

“That wasn’t her,” Raechel said overher shoulder. “That was me.”

Orcus glowered. “Do you have anyidea how unstable the vortex could become?” he demanded of his father. “Youdon’t even know the proper way to dismantle it!”

“Orcus, we have to get rid of them,”I said. Anything to keep him from his father.

“Why?”

“Because when I die, they’ll fall inyour hands,” Mr. Locke said nastily, “and you’re not good enough to hold theprivilege.”

Orcus pushed past me, but he didn’tget very far. No one had had time to move when the vortex went off. A suddenlight, a sound like a wild electric current, and a dull burning sensationengulfed us all. It was over in a flash and a thud as we all fell, feet-first,onto something stone and cold. My head felt like it had been split in two,probably because I’d just cracked it on the ground, and my chest achedsomething awful. It was akin to receiving CPR. For several minutes I couldn’tspeak, couldn’t move, couldn’t think;I didn’t know who I was, where I was, or whenI was. Everything was blocked out by the pounding in my head and the residualburning sensation on my skin.

When I was finally able to move, Igot to my feet slowly. Raechel followed suit, and we leaned against stone wallsfor support. The men were down for just a bit longer, but as soon as they wereup, Orcus and Mr. Locke were at each other hammer and tongs. In the end,because Mr. Locke was the bigger (and somehow better) man, Orcus was pinned tothe ground of wherever it was we were.

“What were you thinking?” Mr. Lockebellowed.

“What was I thinking?” Orcus shouted back. “You were the one trying toneutralize them!”

“So you thought it would be a goodidea to jeopardize the wards by becoming a threat when the vortex was less than unstable?”

“It stopped you, didn’t it?” Orcusretorted. “That was all I needed to do.”

“Oh, yes,” sneered Mr. Locke. “I cansee how throwing us into an unknown time was such a brilliant idea. Well done, you fucking idiot!”

“How could you even think to destroysomething so valuable?” Orcus shouted.

“Iknow you, Orcus!!!” Mr. Locke bellowed in reply. “These are not toys foryou to play with at your leisure! These are tools! Tools that require a lot ofresponsibility, and your pattern of behavior has so far indicated to me thatyou cannot be trusted with them!”

Maybe it was because I was so usedto hearing these things from my mother that I didn’t replace this particular barball that offensive. Orcus seemed to take a different view, because he made totackle his father again. We eventually got them to separate, but it requiredpushing Orcus down onto the edge of the broken fountain, and subsequently mesitting on Orcus’ lap to keep them from duking it out again, and even that tookseveral minutes to work properly. Orcus was unusually hesitant in regards tomaking me angry, which was probably a good thing for everyone involved, and Mr.Locke would have thrown himself into an inferno before harming a woman. Thatbeing what it was, they managed to calm themselves to the point where they onlyexchanged glares and rude words.

Orcus and I were perched on the edgeof a fountain in the middle of what appeared to be an abandoned courtyard. Wewere surrounded by the walls of a house that had clearly once been quite grand,but was now dilapidated beyond all repair. The time was obviously verydifferent; the location was painfully unfamiliar.

Sebastian, being the leastsusceptible to death and injury, was volunteered and then ordered to pokearound and see what he could replace, if anything, to clue us in to the historicalperiod. The rest of us stayed put. Raechel wandered around, looking throughwindows on the bottom level, and Orcus, intent on self-pity, rested his chin onmy shoulder and sulked. Mr. Locke alternated between glowering at the groundand the grey sky, as though both were mortally offensive. For a good hour noone said anything, and the only thing to be heard was a distant chirping ofbirds.

Orcus finally whispered: “Why didyou sit on me?”

“Why do you think?” I retorted.

“You know I could just toss you offmy lap, and my father and I could go at it again.”

“That is true,” I said. “But I alsoknow that you won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Firstly, because you’re enjoying ita bit too much, and secondly, because if you do, I’ll never kiss you again, andyou know it.”

Orcus chuckled. “You also said you’drather snort pulverized glass to being with me, and look where you are,darling.”

I sniffed. “Yes, well. . .the glasswasn’t on hand, and it never became a viable option.”

Orcus’ amusement was cut short whenSebastian came out of a door to our right, his face creased. “I found somethingI think you’ll appreciate,” he said to me.

“What?” I tried to get up, butOrcus’ arms tightened about my waist and pulled me back. I sent a smirk over myshoulder. He was becoming predictable. “Thank you for proving my point.” Ilooked back to Sebastian to ask more questions, but never got around to it. Myjaw dropped in surprise, and my heart began to pound feverishly in my chest.

Floating beside him was a ghost; helooked to be as sick as a ghost can get, if you can imagine a ghost being sick.His ghost-clothes were stained with ghost-blood; his face was gaunt, and hisghostly eyes were hollow. My heart was pounding because what else happens whenyou come face to face with a ghost? Also, I knew who he had been – or, was…asthe case probably is. His portrait had been hanging in my father’s study forthe last thirteen years.

“Who are you?” Raechel asked, almostexcitedly. “And how did you die?”

“My name,” he said, his voice likegravel, “is Cavain Daedalus, and this is my home.”

This wasn’t remotely helpfulinformation. “He’s my great-grandfather by thirteen generations,” I explainedto everyone. “So, thanks, Orcus, for throwing this far back in time. What yearsis it?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Well1639, of course. What other year could it possibly be?”

Great.