“That’s bullshit,” Lena said flatly. “You can’t heal everyone, so don’t help anyone at all?”
I snapped a rubber band around a role-playing game tie-in, then picked up the next. “I know, I know. I’ve been over it again and again with Ray, with Pallas, even with Doctor Shah.”
“Would anyone know if you snuck back inside and slipped a drop of Lucy’s potion into her drink?”
“Probably not,” I admitted. “And every one of us can start making exceptions for the people we care about, until sooner or later our secret escapes, and the world goes crazy.”
“Crazier, you mean?”
I sighed and turned back to the piles of new books. There was no way I was fitting even a fraction of those into my jacket. It was time for a wardrobe upgrade. I opened up an old paperback and pulled out a long, brown coat.
“What is it with you and brown jackets?” Lena asked.
“There were two reasons I wanted that jacket,” I said as I slipped the new one on. It was a little long, but not horribly so. “Doctor Who-the tenth doctor, specifically-was one of those reasons.”
“And the other?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen Firefly?” I shook my head. “You and I have work to do when this is all over.”
Lena watched as I shoved book after book into my pockets. “Maybe the Porters are just worried about protecting their own. Helping others is a good thing, but not if you destroy yourself in the process. Look at how much you’ve pushed yourself over the past two days, magically. How much more can you take?”
“I’m all right. Sleep helped.” Once I had finally gotten to sleep, at least. I had checked my vitals this morning. My resting heart rate was running about a hundred beats per minute. My temp was ninety-nine point eight. Definitely elevated, but not in the danger zone yet. I was jumpy and having a hard time holding still, but some of that could also be the result of kissing Lena.
“So what’s to stop these vampires from simply killing us on sight?” she asked.
I pulled out a battered copy of The Road to Oz and gave her a mischievous grin. “I’m just too darn lovable.”
Morning traffic meant it took close to an hour to reach the one entrance to the Detroit nest I knew about. “You know what I like about Copper River?” I said through gritted teeth as we jolted to a halt yet again. “Up north, rush hour means two cars stopped at the same intersection.”
I checked the mirrors and darted into the right turn lane, gunning the engine to make the light. Our destination was a few blocks back from the main roads, about a mile or so from the Detroit River. I pulled into a small corner parking lot. A colorful, hand-painted sign on the side of the converted house read, Dolingen Daycare. Cartoon animals frolicked around the bubble letters of the sign.
“Tell me this isn’t a vampire daycare,” Lena said.
“Vampires tend to be a little paranoid.” I clipped Smudge’s cage to my belt loop. He was nervous, but wasn’t openly flaming yet. I also checked my jeans pocket, feeling the reassuring weight of a small bit of horseshoe-shaped metal, wrapped in crumpled paper knotted shut with string. “They build their lairs for defense, and the daycare is part of that defense. It covers one of the only ways into their nest. If the Porters were to attack, or even if normal humans got wind of them and showed up with torches and pitchforks, this place gives them a guaranteed supply of young, innocent hostages during the daytime, when many vampire species are at their weakest.”
Lena grabbed her bokken out of the back and shoved them through her belt. She had replaced the one she lost in the MSU library, and the new weapon smelled strongly of pine.
The daycare was built on a small lot with a cedar fence walling off the backyard. Several thick birch trees shaded the building. Construction paper animals decorated the open window on the side, and I could hear other children playing within.
The door opened before we could knock, and a friendly-looking fellow stepped out to greet us. He looked to be in his late thirties, with black hair and a face that could have belonged to the love child of Jon Hamm and Keanu Reeves.
“Nice place,” I commented. “Doesn’t Michigan have disclosure laws requiring you to tell parents that this place is run by soulless monsters?”
He tilted his head, studying the two of us in turn. “You’re calling us soulless? You’ve obviously never met an elf.”
“Isaac Vainio,” I said cheerfully, reaching out to shake his hand.
Lena tensed, but the vampire merely smiled and grasped my hand in his. “Kyle Forrester. Soulless monster and manager at Dolingen Daycare. How can I help you?”
“Your people asked to see me,” I said. “They’ve sent several invitations, so I’m assuming it must be urgent.”
“Everything always is.” He stepped back, beckoning us through the door. “I thought immortality would teach people patience. Instead, you end up with vampires rushing about at superhuman speeds, even more stressed out than before they died.” Somewhere in the house, a little boy started crying, the sound swiftly climbing to an ear-piercing scream. Kyle gave me an apologetic smile. “I’ll be right back.”
Lena gave me a skeptical look as we followed him inside. I patted my pocket. “Love magnet, courtesy of L. Frank Baum. Its magic will burn out eventually, but it should make things go a little faster.”
Lena pulled me close. “I get that you like to show off, but next time, a heads-up about your plan would be appreciated, okay?”
“Sorry.” At first glance, the daycare center appeared completely normal. The ceiling tiles had all been painted, resulting in a chaotic mix of colors and scribbling. Posters about safety and respect and manners hung from the walls. The linoleum floor smelled like lemon cleaner, and I picked up the salty aroma of stale Play-Doh as well.
I also counted three security cameras, not including the one we had passed beneath the eaves on the porch.
I peeked into one room with a battered upright piano in the corner and toy instruments stuffed onto bright red-and-blue shelves. Another room was full of folded blankets, with plastic glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the walls and ceiling.
The children were in what I assumed was the main playroom, judging from the number of toys scattered over the floor. A man and woman-more vampires, presumably-were herding nine kids who looked to range from about two to twelve years of age. A large sheepdog was “helping,” circling to and fro and eliciting giggles from a pair of young girls while Kyle talked quietly to a red-faced boy in the corner. The boy nodded, then smiled as Kyle reached out to tickle his neck.
“I’ll be in the office,” Kyle announced, shooing the boy back toward the others. “Don’t forget Jenny’s inhaler at seven, and make sure Tamika keeps her shoes on if you go outside.”
Several things happened as he turned to join us. One of the children pointed to Smudge and yelled, “Hey, he’s got a spider!” The sheepdog looked at me and snarled. And Smudge burst into red flame.
“Cool!” whispered the kid who had spotted Smudge.
Kyle frowned. “Mister Puddles, stay!”
The dog ignored him. The woman reached for the dog’s collar.
“Mister Puddles?” I repeated.
“The kids named him,” said Kyle. “He’s not usually like this with strangers.”
And he definitely shouldn’t have been like this with me. The love magnet should have had them all eager to help in whatever way they could.
Mister Puddles growled and snapped at the woman. She yanked her hand away, moving far quicker than any human, but none of the children appeared to notice. Her eyes were wide, and she stared at the dog as if she didn’t recognize it. Before anyone else could react, Mister Puddles was bounding straight at me.
For such a big animal, he moved fast, bowling Kyle aside and jumping onto my chest. The two of us slammed to the floor. I tried to shove his jaw away from my throat, but it was like trying to stop a bus with my bare hands. White teeth snapped at my throat, ripping my shirt away to expose the silver crucifix I had donned. The dog yelped and drew back, then gagged as Lena caught him by the collar.