"No," said Doug, too quickly. He pretended to consider the possibility for a moment, and shook his head. "No. No way. Jay’s really rational. Like, scientific. I happen to know for a fact that he doesn’t believe in us."
"Seriously? I know you two have been best friends since preschool or whatever. You used to talk about him all the time at the cabins in the summer. Made him sound a lot cooler than he actually is, too, but…admit it — you’ve told him, right?"
"I have not told him. Seriously. You think I want to get him killed?"
"Good," said Victor, "’cause the other vamps really have their panties in a twist lately. Where were you guys yesterday?"
Doug frowned. He didn’t know what Victor was talking about, and he was conditioned to be distrustful of situations where he didn’t know what some taller and more popular boy was talking about. They always reeked of a setup. At worst they were a kind of entrapment. At best they were like a friendly hand to be yanked away at the most humiliating moment. But these sorts of stunts required an audience, and the boys were alone.
"Me and Jay?" Doug asked.
"You and Stephin David," Victor explained. "We were all supposed to meet and talk about this Vampire Hunters thing, didn’t he tell you? Everyone’s freaked. The signora sent Asa. Borisov sent me. But you and David weren’t at his house at five-thirty."
That’s true, thought Doug. We were walking around the park.
"Stephin didn’t say anything to me about it. I mean, he mentioned there was concern about the TV show, but he didn’t say anything about any meeting. Maybe he forgot."
"Well, he owes me," said Victor. "I want the half hour back that I spent alone with that ghoul Asa. That guy’s depressing as boiled steak. And now Borisov’s got me watching that lame show for homework so I can report back to him."
"I missed it," Doug admitted, "but they still think I live in San Diego, right?"
"Right. Those fucktards couldn’t find a vampire in a phone booth."
Doug nodded. Then he said, "You use a lot of colorful expressions."
"Well, you know…we’re from Tennessee."
Look at the two of us, thought Doug. Talking like we’re old friends. He sort of wished more people could look at the two of them, but on this side of the gym they were visible only to the crows and a band teacher in a golf cart.
"So what do you and David talk about?" asked Victor.
Last night we talked about whether I should kill you.
"Nothing much. He rambles. Tells me about the Civil War. I’m thinking of asking the signora if I can meet with someone else."
"You should definitely go see her. She’ll want to talk to you about the show. She’ll want to talk to you about that other little stunt of yours last night."
Doug started. Victor grinned his corn-fed grin.
"I knew it was you! Superhero powers, white cape and hood? Okay, that’s officially cool. You stopped an armed robbery! Up here, Batman!"
Victor held up his hand, and Doug slapped it awkwardly. It was a bit of a miss — too much fingers, not enough palm.
"Lost all your clothes, didn’t you? I figured that was why you didn’t have your poncho today."
"Well," Doug said, and he gave a glance back at what would plainly have been the drama tree had there not been a gym in the way. "I don’t think I’m going to be needing it anymore."
Then Jay emerged from that same direction and approached them — stiffly and with that ridiculous new hairstyle and a look both of apprehension and concentration on his face. Like he was walking toward a bomb while trying to remember a telephone number.
Before Doug’s cat had died the previous winter, he’d become all too familiar with a particular smell, a kind of tangy feline musk she’d produced at the vet’s, during car rides, or whenever you tried to give her her ear medicine. A fear smell. He was getting a whiff of something like this now. And no wonder, he supposed — Jay looked terrified. Then Victor cleared his throat, and Doug turned his head.
It was altogether possible that Victor was making the smell. Doug inhaled deeply, tried to narrow in on it, but now it was gone. Gone, or else his nose, like a gracious host, was already pretending it hadn’t happened at all.
"Sorry to — Are you guys still talking?" Jay asked. "I need to talk to Doug, alone."
Victor glanced from Jay to Doug. His face was inscrutable.
"We’re done," he said, and walked off toward the parking lot.
Jay watched him go.
"You haven’t told me everything about Victor Bradley," Jay said after a moment. "Have you?"
"There’s nothing to tell. What’s this about?"
"What’s this about? What was last night about? What’s everything about?"
Doug rolled his eyes. "I’m not really in the mood to discuss the meaning of life right now. I could probably find you some pamphlets in the counselor’s office—"
"You know what I’m talking about. You’re walking around suddenly like you got a stake up your butt."
Doug glared at Jay’s serious face. But then the corner of Jay’s mouth twitched and a laugh came coughing out his nose. Doug lost it, too.
"A stake up my — How long have you been waiting to use that?"
"Just since last night."
The boys stared at each other, smiles fading.
"You look better," said Jay. "Did you…get some blood last night, or—"
"I think it would be better if I didn’t share every little detail of my life now," Doug answered.
"Oh. Well."
The truth, as Doug considered it, was that he had not become a vampire in the Poconos so many weeks ago. Last night had been like a ritual, and he told Jay so. Now he was a vampire.
"Huh," said Jay. "Like a dark Bar Mitzvah. Like a…well, I was going to say Bat Mitzvah, but that’s for girls, right?"
"Okay, see? This is what I can’t have anymore. I’m different, now. I’m getting a do over on my life. I can’t get my do over if you’re always around being all…"
Jay frowned. "What?"
The bell rang, signaling the end of round one and of lunch in general.
"We’ll talk after school," Jay insisted. "Well…not right after school, ’cause I’m going over to Cat’s and I guess you wouldn’t want to…but later, maybe? After dark?"
"I have something I have to do after dark," said Doug.
26
Fade to black
"THERE," Mike said, tilting his head toward the passenger seat where Alan Friendly sat but never taking his eyes off the MoPo across the street. "What about that guy?"
"Maybe," said Alan. He’d seemed distracted all day. Mike wasn’t used to being the enthusiastic one.
They were sitting in the front of a windowless white crew van. They’d had to cover the large, red Vampire Hunters logo on its side with butcher paper and duct tape. It had been Mike’s idea to monitor all the local news stations after they’d relocated to the Philadelphia area, and they’d seen the story about the thwarted holdup. And it had been Mike’s idea again to stake out the convenience store.
"Stake out," Alan had repeated, and laughed. "Get it? Stake out?"
Mike ignored this. "Look. So we’re pretty sure our guy is a kid, right? He’s short, he looks young as far as we’ve been able to tell, he went to a party full of teenagers."
"He may only look like a kid," said Alan. "He may be thousands of years old."
Mike sighed. He didn’t know what to think anymore. There was something off about this kid, but it would take more than that to get Mike to say the V word. According to the MoPo clerk, the hooded vigilante from the previous night had shown some remarkable strength. According to her he had vanished into thin air. "Turned into mist," Alan had suggested. "Or a bat or rat." If only they could have seen the MoPo’s security tapes, but the police had taken them as evidence and they weren’t sharing.