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Ophelia pulled the goggles back down and saw them ghostly white. She pushed them off again and studied their eyes. “Vampires do age! That’s it, isn’t it?” She turned the goggles over and examined the settings. “I wonder what Newbloods look like in these things. You do realize they have warm skin, right?”
The Elder’s facial muscles twitched, stiffly. “Precious little surprises me after nine hundred years, Ophelia.”
“I’m a surprise?”
“The Queen was wise to hide you. Her allies are few.” Jean-Pierre winked at her, lips curled.
“’Queen?’ What queen?”
“Those of your lineage have long been associated with my kind,” said the Elder. “We will protect you from the Newbloods, of course.”
Ophelia peeked out from behind Brandon. “Do you utilize a genetic pathogen when you procreate?”
Jean-Pierre’s eyes glimmered. “Yes. Care for a demonstration?”
“No!” Brandon almost launched out of his boots.
The Elder held up a hand to steady his lieutenant. “You’re a bodyguard, nothing more.”
“Ah-hah. A genetic pathogen. I knew it.” Ophelia noticed the posturing, caught up in the excitement of research. “I don’t think the Newbloods do it that way. I just need to get a DNA sample analyzed and compare it to—”
“As if any of that matters.” The Elder exchanged looks with Jean-Pierre. “The Queen has kept you naïve, and that is to our advantage. Not hers.”
“I’m inexperienced. Not stupid.” Ophelia didn’t like their conversation at all. “I’m guessing you guys have been around for thousands of years because of your societal structure and impact on world mythology.”
The males stopped posturing and returned their attention to her.
Little facts clicked together in Ophelia’s mind and her life depended on getting them right. “I think that’s the primary Oldblood advantage. The Newbloods are reckless...” she pointed at the Elder “...you’re not. So, you guys started the vampire myth, and they arrived later, much later. Were they engineered? Or were they the result of a naturally occurring mutation? Of course, my favorite theory is they’re recent alien arrivals.”
“What have you learned about the Newbloods?” The Elder’s eyes glimmered in the dim light.
Ophelia tried to kneel, but Brandon had her locked in. Brandon, unless we can demonstrate our effectiveness as a team the Elder will replace you with Jean-Pierre. We’ll be separated.
Brandon let go. You just put your words right into my mind. You’re developing your ability, I think”
Ophelia ducked under his arm and knelt. Do you think they heard me?
The Elder does hear us, but Jean-Pierre’s emotions cloud his thoughts.
She unzipped the suitcase. “I wrote my English term paper on the scientific origins of European mythology. I was just thinking about the various vampire superstitions, like sleeping in coffins.”
Jean-Pierre chuckled.
Ophelia pulled out the flannel-covered mirror and unwrapped it. “Funny, I know. However, there’s always a bit of truth to every myth. It got me thinking about what a mirror does because vampires are supposed to hate mirrors.” She stood. “A mirror reflects energy, the energy of light and colors. All living creatures have electro-magnetic fields, which sharks, by the way, naturally detect.”
“Sharks? You’re comparing us to sharks?” Jean-Pierre folded his arms over his considerable chest. “Oh, this should be fun.”
“I experimented with different elements used by alchemists during the Middle Ages when the vampire myth was rampant. I scraped the backing off this mirror and backed it with mercury, which is highly toxic to humans, you know. I put a protective coating over it to keep it in place and for my own safety.” Ophelia faced the mirror against her own body, careful to keep its glass out of Brandon’s visual range. She decided it’d be best to avoid using it on the Elder since he was the one making decisions. “I haven’t tested this yet, so I don’t know exactly what it will do.”
Jean-Pierre rolled his eyes at the Elder. “This is a waste of time.”
“Think fast.” Ophelia raised the mirror to him.
Jean-Pierre’s eyes were drawn by the surprise of her action. The instant they lit on the mirror’s glass, he was blown back into a large tree as though by a great wind.
A terrible cracking rattled Ophelia’s spine, and she backed into Brandon who clutched her tightly.
The tree fell backwards, taking Jean-Pierre with it.
The Elder’s mouth dropped open.
“Whoa. Hot damn. It worked.” Ophelia laughed out loud.
Jean-Pierre leapt out of the wrecked tree and charged.
Brandon shoved Ophelia behind him, ready for his attack.
“Enough.” The Elder stepped between them.
Jean-Pierre stopped.
“Your kind is being exterminated.” Ophelia clenched the deal.
“Pardon?” The Elder’s eyes widened at her and deepened in color.
Ophelia glanced from the Elder to Jean-Pierre. “I totally get that you guys had the blood-sucking monopoly on this planet for thousands of years. The Newbloods showed up and started cutting in on your resources, so naturally you needed to investigate and defend your interests. Still, I wonder if this really is a turf war. Some of the facts don’t add up for me, but I’m just a puny little human girl to you guys anyway.”
“No, you’re an elven princess,” said the Elder. “My assessment of you was correct, as well. You do have a spectacular mind, a credit to your lineage despite the contamination of human DNA.”
“What about Brandon?” Ophelia ducked under his arm, but he held her close as she wrapped the mirror back in its flannel. “This needs to be tested on a Newblood. If you send in Jean-Pierre, they’ll take him for a big bad vampire and there’ll be a knock-down, drag-out fight and all opportunity for research will be lost. Meanwhile...” she nodded back to Brandon “...they think he’s a wimp and if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s you can get away with a heck of a lot more when people...” she leveled her gaze on Jean-Pierre “...underestimate you.”
“A valid argument.” The Elder leveled unblinking eyes on Jean-Pierre.
“This little idiot cannot manage three Newbloods on his own,” growled Jean-Pierre.
“If Brandon’s an idiot, you’re the tooth fairy.” Ophelia glowered at him.
“You’re entirely too delicious for such audacity,” snarled Jean-Pierre.
“Do not speak to the Princess in such a manner,” said the Elder, peering at him sideways. “You may find yourself at her command very soon. It would not do to make her an enemy.”
“In any case,” said Ophelia, returning Jean-Pierre’s glare. “You’re surely powerful enough to resist me in order to avoid a Newblood attack.”
“Indeed.” The Elder nodded. “The Brynners will have detected our presence by now. I prefer to choose the time and place of battle.”
“Brandon’s help has been invaluable to me,” Ophelia brought the conversation back to where she wanted it.
The Elder addressed Brandon. “You will remain. Protect the Ice Princess at all costs and deliver her to us at the conclusion.”
“Yes, Elder.” Brandon bowed, though his loyalty was not with him.
The Elder fastened an unblinking stare on Ophelia next. “You have no idea how very rare you are, but you will soon learn. In any case, it is better to wait until you come of age.”
Panic shot down Ophelia’s backbone, but she checked it, swallowing stiffness. I may have only succeeded in buying time.
“Come, Jean-Pierre. We have much to do elsewhere.” The Elder seemed casual as he made his way back through the trees, but Ophelia sensed a hidden tension in him.
Jean-Pierre followed the Elder.
“How are they getting out of here?” Ophelia whispered as the two Oldbloods disappeared from view. “The airport is still under snow.”
A great roaring sound rose up beyond the trees.
“Helicopter,” concluded Ophelia on hearing it. “That undoubtedly alerted the Brynnars. But, maybe the Oldbloods want to provoke them into revealing their hand.”
“’Reveal their hand?’” Brandon stepped around her but kept her safe in his embrace.
“It’s a poker term. Means manipulating someone into revealing what his next move is going to be.”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“My dad loved poker. We always played for sugar-free Oreos.” She sighed. “We need to pack up and get home. I don’t have time for this now and I need you to test some things on Martin for me.” She knelt and crammed the mirror back in the suitcase.
“It will be faster if I carry you up to the car.” Brandon set the suitcase down when she handed it to him.
“Oh, all right.”
Brandon scooped her into his arms and jumped over the berm, landing easily on the road next to her car.
“Whoa.” Ophelia looked down at the crash site off the road.
Brandon set her down and fetched her things.
After stowing everything, Ophelia got into the driver’s seat and he folded his tall body into the passenger’s seat. Away they drove, back down the icy mountain road. Her thoughts raced and coalesced, analyzing her situation. “Jean-Pierre means to destroy you. The Elder won’t stop him once you’re no longer useful.” She glanced at him just before turning the steering wheel to start down the final switchback.
“It’s not fair.” Brandon looked as if his big blue eyes would brim with angry tears, if only his tear ducts had not been frozen in time.
“Life’s not fair. If I could find ‘life’ and it was a person, I’d slap it silly for not being fair.” Ophelia made the final turn into her neighborhood. “Are there any others like you, Oldbloods with good hearts, who might help us?”
“Joseph.”
“That name sounds familiar. Is he a friend?”
Brandon lifted his eyes. “I like to think of him as a friend. I lost my way in Heathrow Airport, searching for my flight to America, and he helped me. He even switched his flight so that we could talk for the entire journey, nine hours. Joseph said if I ever needed him...” He dug into his jean pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. “He founded the movement to ban preying on humans. He’s a scientist, like you, and he’s created synthetic blood.”
“Sounds like a friend to me.” Ophelia read the scrap, glancing from the icy road. “’Joseph MacGregor, 763...’ That’s a Minnesota area code. You’re calling him as soon as we get home.”