Chapter Twenty-Six

The car turned in to my familiar driveway, and for the first time in weeks, I felt safe.

We were home.

We piled out of the Deathtrap. It had broken down twice after our stop to eat, and I was sure Granny Mariotti had beaten us home from the diner. I stretched, my muscles aching. It was bright out, and I raised a hand to shade my eyes.

I caught Skyler looking at me. “I forgot my sunglasses,” I said.

“It’s not that sunny out today, Tansy,” she replied. “Are you sure you’re not…?” She made little fangs with her pointer fingers.

“Stop worrying,” I said. She bit her lip but didn’t say anything.

“Rose and Thorn say that I’m different than a regular vampire,” I added. “There have only been five striga vie before me. One of them could walk in full sun.”

“And the others?”

I didn’t answer her. I didn’t want to tell her about the striga vie I’d read about in Rose’s file—the one who’d gone full vamp and killed an entire city.

Bobbie Jean and Opal Ann pulled up behind us a few minutes later.

“Have you heard from Rose and Thorn?” I asked.

“They said they had to report back to the Paranormal Activities Committee,” Bobbie Jean replied. “I’m sure they’ll be in touch.”

Everyone but Skyler stared at their feet. “What are you waiting for?” I asked. “Let’s go inside. I’m sure Granny will know of a concoction to help.”

“Is she really a witch?” Opal Ann asked.

Skyler gave her a hug. “She’s not that kind of witch,” she assured her. “Granny M is the best.”

Best at lying, I thought, then scolded myself. No matter what, I knew my grandmother loved me. I hadn’t confronted her, but I also hadn’t forgotten how she’d lied about my mother’s death. And I wanted to know why.

…

“Granny, we’re home!” I hollered. She wasn’t in the kitchen or living room.

“I’m in the back,” she shouted.

Granny was on her knees, wearing gardening gloves and a big straw hat. The Southern California sun was no joke this time of year.

We brought Granny six shell-shocked girls and Bobbie Jean, who couldn’t stop fussing with her sister’s hair.

“Come inside,” Granny said. “I’ll make a pitcher of lemonade.” She grabbed several lemons from the tree and ushered everyone in.

She bustled around the kitchen, getting out a plate of cookies and the lemonade, plus water in chilled glasses. Granny Mariotti’s lemonade was the perfect mix of sweet and tart. The taste always made me think of home—of long summer days reading in the hammock in the backyard.

This summer was different. I gripped the glass tightly and wished for the time that an overdue library book was the most I had to worry about.

I told Granny our entire story, Vaughn chiming in with his own bits. Skyler stayed quiet, and I caught Granny shooting worried glances at her.

We had to figure out sleeping arrangements. Our tiny bungalow was too small to host everyone, at least long-term, but nobody wanted to leave, so we decided everyone would bunk down on the floor in sleeping bags.

I grabbed a few out of the storage container in the garage. Those sleeping bags had been stored there since the Old Crones Book Club’s Winter Solstice campout.

“Need some help?” Granny asked.

“I thought we had more sleeping bags,” I said.

“I’ll ask Edna,” Granny said. “There are some clothes you’ve outgrown in that bag. I’ve been meaning to donate them to Goodwill, but the girls seem like they’d appreciate a change.”

They were all still wearing the souvenir shop T-shirts—I was sure they’d appreciate a change.

Granny hugged me tight. “I’m so proud of you, my special girl.”

“I’m not special,” I replied. I was a killer, and if Granny knew, she wouldn’t be proud of me at all. Witches, at least Granny’s kind, believed in nonviolence, in harmony with nature.

I knew I’d have to tell her eventually, but I wasn’t quite ready for the look of disappointment I’d see.

Her eyes were sharp as she gazed at me. “Everyone is special to someone. But more importantly, you are brave. Most people would have looked the other way—pretended not to notice someone else’s pain.”

“Those girls are the brave ones,” I replied.

“It’s not an either/or kind of thing,” Granny said. “Those girls survived, and so did you. You helped one another do it.”

I looked away, scared to see condemnation in her eyes. Granny had taught me the peaceful way. And I had failed her.

In the morning, Evelyn would take two of the girls, who we found out were called Marisol and Kylie—no last names given—to stay at her house. Bobbie Jean and Opal Ann would stay a couple more days at our bungalow so Opal Ann could get her strength back before they headed home to Texas.

Skyler and Vaughn would stay with us, too—at least until Granny could figure out how to protect them.

Granny wasn’t in the mood to cook, but Edna made us some delicious roasted veggie tacos and fresh guacamole.

“Go easy on the garlic,” I said.

Edna said, “Those girls aren’t vampires.”

I didn’t look at Vaughn. I’d been thinking about kissing him when I said it. Nobody likes making out with garlic breath. “That’s not why I said light on the garlic.”

Granny and Edna laughed while I tried not to blush.

After dinner, Vaughn and I slipped outside.

I breathed in the familiar scent of fragrant orange and lemon trees, the sweetness of jasmine, and the fresh ocean breeze.

It soothed me. We sat in our backyard and just settled into the quiet. Until Vaughn’s phone let out a shrill chirp.

Vaughn looked down at his phone, frowning.

“What’s wrong?”

He hesitated. “Ashley texted me a bunch of times.”

“Why?” My head was throbbing. The heat was suddenly oppressive, and I felt sticky from my own sweat.

“Because she’s used to getting her way.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything. But I thought a bunch of things. Mostly swear words.

“Tansy, don’t look at me like that,” he said. “I’m not interested in her. At. All.”

“Really?”

“I was as plain as a Taylor Swift song.”

I quirked an eyebrow.

“We are never ever getting back together,” he quoted.

I choked out a laugh. “An oldie but a goodie,” I said. “And I didn’t know you were a Swiftie.”

“You and Skyler listened to that album nonstop for an entire year,” he replied.

“That’s classic Taylor,” I replied.

Skyler came outside to join us, and for a second, it felt like none of the nightmares had really happened. Like we’d wake up tomorrow and worry about normal things.

But she had a fake smile plastered on her face. I hugged her. “I’m glad you’re back home.”

Skyler had been wearing the same perfume since she was eleven. Her mother had given it to her, an expensive special blend from Paris. The musky scent had been way too sophisticated for an eleven-year-old, but she loved it.

She never went anywhere without dabbing it behind her ears and on her wrists. She even put it on before she brushed her teeth in the morning. But when I hugged her, she didn’t smell like Skyler. The odor coming off her was like rusting metal and decay.

“Are you sure you don’t remember anything else?”

“I don’t remember,” she said, but she looked away. She didn’t want to remember, and I didn’t blame her.

“Sky, it’s important. If you know anything about Travis and the others that might help protect those girls, we really need to know.”

Her face tightened. “I said I didn’t remember.” But I knew when my best friend was lying.

“Let’s talk about something else,” Vaughn suggested.

Sky’s face brightened. “Let’s talk about the two of you,” she said. “Is it official?”

“Yes, it’s official,” Vaughn said. “Boyfriend, girlfriend, the whole deal.”

“Like social-media official?” she asked. “Because that would get your ex off your back.”

“We’ve been a little busy,” I said, but Vaughn got out his phone, pulled me close, and kissed my cheek.

Then he snapped a pic. “Done!” he said. “We’re Instagram official.”

“That’s serious,” she replied.

“I even asked her to prom.”

“When exactly did you do that?” I asked.

He started to stutter, and I continued, “I do recall you talking a lot about taking the Deathtrap to prom. Maybe you asked my car instead of me?”

Skyler burst out laughing and slung an arm around Vaughn. “You, my friend, have zero game.”

Vaughn turned to me. “Tansy, will you do me the honor of accompanying me to our prom? I promise I’ll do the big ask later, but for now, please put me out of my misery and say yes.”

“Yes,” I said, grinning at him. “And I don’t need a big, splashy, public promposal.”

Skyler clapped her hands.

Even though I laughed and joked with them, I couldn’t stop thinking that it wasn’t over. Not yet.

Vaughn excused himself to call his dad, and I took the opportunity to ask Skyler a few questions. I could tell Vaughn wasn’t in the mood to talk about it, but I needed answers.

“Can you tell me anything about vampires?” I asked her.

“They can’t stand pumpkin spice lattes,” Skyler revealed.

“That won’t do us a hell of a lot of good in the middle of summer,” I said. And I was kind of with the vampires on the pumpkin-spice thing. “It’s just not right,” I said. “Coffee and pumpkin in the same cup.”

The limited-run drink came out in September or October, which meant the temperature was in the eighties when Skyler was sipping a festive fall favorite meant for getting out your turtleneck and watching the leaves change colors. It was like the devil’s armpit in October in Southern California.

“It’s so wrong, it’s right,” Skyler replied.

Skyler was able to confirm some other things vampires couldn’t stand, like garlic, rose petals, and Diet Dr Pepper. She also warned us never to look into a vampire’s eyes because they could hypnotize you in seconds, but I’d already figured that part out.

The Old Crones Book Club had done their homework, too, and reported that a stake through the heart really did kill a vampire, but, as Granny said, “It’d kill anybody else, too.”

A lot of ways to kill Travis would also kill a human: the aforementioned stake, chopping off his head, burning him alive. After spending time with The Drainers and knowing the things they’d done to other girls, any of those options sounded not only doable but necessary.

“What are my other options?”

“You don’t really have any, unless you’re willing to let Travis keep sucking girls dry—their blood, their will, and, eventually, their lives.”

“I’m not willing to do that,” I replied.

“Then it’s kill or be killed, I’m afraid,” Skyler said. “Vampires don’t play by the rules.”