Contrary to popular opinion I made it home without any more mishaps, parked the slightly battered Monster Mobile in the garage and checked out the damage. Yeah, I was going to have to grovel pretty hard to get back into Roberts’ good books on this one. The front left headlight was toast and the back right corner was crumpled and smashed, those lights left somewhere back in Coorparoo. Thanks to getting the Monaro into a few scrapes over the years, I did know a pretty good and reasonably priced panel-beater. I sighed and went into the house. At least I knew where the money from Sol Investigations was going.
It wasn’t quite sundown yet so I went for a shower before waking up the vampire. Under the hot, hard spray, I clenched and unclenched my left hand. Ever since the accident that smashed my knee, I’ve had to learn I couldn’t always rely on my body. It was just flesh and bone, relatively easily damaged and sometimes, despite everyone’s best efforts, it doesn’t recover fully. I did what I could to mitigate the deficiencies by keeping fit and eating right (well, mostly), but when it’s a hunk of metal in your leg, not bone and cartilage, nothing’s going to be 100% ever again.
Still, that was understandable. There was a reason for my leg sometimes giving out on me. I just hoped I was right about the psychic backlash theory. I couldn’t afford to lose any more trust in my body, not and keep going with Night Call as I had been.
My hand felt normal by the time I got out of the shower and the ache in my leg had subsided. I strapped a brace around it, regardless, found clean clothes and dressed.
Honestly, the way I felt, a week should have gone by since I locked Mercy away last night. So much had happened, starting with Aurum’s phone call, it seemed impossible to encapsulate it all in one day, and the day wasn’t even over yet. Sheesh. The only way I’d feel part way normal about this is if I walked into Mercy’s room to find her wasting away from lack of blood, the bed covered in spider webs and the sucked-dry husks of insects.
Sucked dry by the spiders, not the vampire, that is. I mean, how could a vampire even feed off an insect? The bug would be squished on a fang, not pierced by it, unless it was a very big insect, which only reminded me of the ROUSs in the storage unit—ugh—and I highly doubt an insect’s blood would be compatible with a vampire. There’s the whole lack of haemoglobin to start with, let alone…
And I was babbling inside my own head.
Slightly better than babbling aloud to an audience, but still, not crash hot. Shaking my head, I went to wake Mercy.
On my way to her room, however, I was distracted by a knock on the front door. I eyed it suspiciously for a moment, wondering if I could get away with not answering.
Whoever it was knocked again, then followed with, “Matt? Are you decent?”
By the way I scowled at the intrusion, I would have to say no, I wasn’t decent. A decent person wouldn’t be annoyed at the neighbour coming by, surely.
Sue had clearly seen me come home so I couldn’t pretend to be out. Grumbling under my breath, I went and opened the door.
“Hi!” Sue stood on the other side of the security screen, smiling widely, lovely in a flowery summer dress and holding a plastic container full of something liquid, from the sloshing sounds as she adjusted her hold on it.
“Hi,” I returned, warily. “Did you want something?”
Holding up the container, she said, “I brought you some soup. I made far too much and it’s not Charlie’s favourite and I’m not going to be able to eat it all, so I thought perhaps you and Mercy might like it.”
“Um, thanks, but we’re—”
“It’s chicken and sweet corn.”
Oh. In that case, and if it got her off my doorstep. “Well, okay. Thanks.” More earnest this time. I unlocked the screen and opened it. Holding it back with my hip, I reached for the container.
Since the incident, I have replayed it over and over, trying to work out how it happened, but I still don’t know. Somehow, between handing over the soup and me letting the door swing shut, Sue got inside the house. She was either ninja-fast or cast some sort of spell, because when I became aware of the situation, I was alone at the front door, holding a container of soup, while Sue was in the middle of the living room, looking around curiously.
“I like what you’ve done here,” she announced brightly.
A little baffled, I scanned the room, trying to work out what she was talking about. It was then I realised my place looked about as temporary as the Belascos’. Unimaginative couches, bland coffee table, reasonable sized TV, lifeless carpet. The shelves on either side of the TV cabinet, however, did have some personal touches, meaning a couple of photos of the family.
Sue arrowed in on them.
“This your family?” she asked, peering at one of the photos.
It was the whole family, about the last time we’d been happy in each other’s company. Taken at a beach up north, mum and dad sat on the seat of a picnic table, smiling sedately at the camera, under the impression we were all posing for a serious family shot. We kids, however… We were supposed to be sitting on the table behind them. In reality, my older brother, Joseph, eighteen at the time, had me, sixteen, in a headlock, knuckles grinding into the top of my skull. We were both laughing though. For brothers pretty close in age, we’d always got on well. Our little sister, April, twelve, held her hands at the back of our parents’ heads, bunny-ears bombing them. Her expression was one of wickedly delighted terror.
“You were cute when you were younger,” Sue announced, grinning at me.
“Thanks,” I muttered, a lot less sincere this time.
“Oh, you grew up handsome, don’t worry.” She moved to the other set of shelves. “What a gorgeous dress!”
No, not me in drag, but Joe’s wedding photo. His wife, Sarina, made her own dress and it had been, in a word, gorgeous. I believe the words bandied about at the time included ‘empire waist’ and ‘champagne’ or something. Mum and dad, again, were smiling seriously at the camera on one side of the happy couple, April was laughing at something out of sight on the other side, and in between Joe and Sarina just looked at each other with silly, totally in love, expressions.
A year after that photo, Joe had been in intensive care, fighting for his life.
Six months before his marriage, he’d been accepted into the dog squad of the police force, a job he’d loved, combining working with animals and upholding the law (he’d always been massively righteous, even as a kid). Then one night, he answered a domestic disturbance. He walked right into four high calibre rounds fired at close range. The dog took down the bastard with the gun.
Joe survived. His dog didn’t.
Like me, Joe had learned he couldn’t rely so much on his body after that. He quit the force and began breeding dogs—German Shepherds, from some of the best bloodlines in the world—trained them up and then donated them to the police force.
“You’re not in this picture,” Sue said, wonderingly.
“No, I wasn’t…” Invited.
Well, no. I was, just not officially. I was out on my own by then, tossed from the family for one too many indiscretions. Joe, however, had hunted me down and asked me to be his best man. No matter what I did, or who I did it to, Joe always defended me. I nearly did it, nearly agreed, but I couldn’t. If I’d shown up at the wedding, then the day wouldn’t have been about Joe and Sarina, but about me and how I wasn’t fit to be part of the family.
“I wasn’t available,” I finished lamely. Rather than see Sue’s reaction, I took the soup to the kitchen.
Sue, naturally, followed. I put the soup in the normal fridge and, hopefully in a totally cool and casual way, leaned against the cupboard that hid the blood fridge. It was locked but after the day I’d had, I wasn’t taking chances. I mean, there are reasons I don’t have cocktail parties, or even generally allow strangers into the house. Not that Sue was a stranger, but she wasn’t clued in on just how weird her neighbours really were.
“That container’s microwave and freezer safe,” she announced. “And keep it for however long. I have plenty.”
“Thanks,” I said again, feeling rather awkward and out of sorts.
“So, is Mercy around?”
I stopped myself from frowning before Sue could wonder why I found the question questionable.
“She’s in her room.”
Sue brightened. “Oh. Can I just go pop my head in? I wanted to see how she was doing after last night.”
Had Charles got to her? Had he infected Sue with his Hawkins-is-taking-terrible-advantage-of-the-poor-simple-girl virus? Was she here spying for him?
“You’d better not,” I said and something in my words or tone made Sue’s eyes widen. “She’s sleeping.” Behind a wall of bars and a locked door.
Sue hesitated, then nodded. “All right. Is she okay?”
There was something wrong here. Sue had never acted wary around me. She’d always defended me and Mercy to Charles, blasting through the blatant weirdness of our lives with a cheery smile and honest joy it was impossible to not like. She had always asked after Mercy.
There was something wrong here, and it wasn’t Sue.
It was me.
With a physical shake, I knocked the suspicious thoughts from my head. When I focused on Sue, she was looking at me with concern.
“Are you okay?”
How had I ever doubted her sincerity?
“Yeah,” I said, forcing my tone into something apologetic. “I may be coming down with something.”
Which was entirely possible. Headache, lingering muscles pains, cramping limbs. Not the perfect time for the flu, but better than other possibilities.
Sue smiled. “Well, have some soup and get some rest. You’ll be right as rain in the morning. Maybe Mercy’s got it too, if she’s sleeping at this time of day.”
“Probably caught it last night, in her wanderings,” I agreed. “Might be best if you don’t go see her then. You could catch it, too.”
“Of course. Well, don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything. I’m usually home most days.”
As far as I could work out, Sue was some sort of artist, working from home. I’d never come right out and asked because that would indicate I was interested, which would invite all sorts of shenanigans. Like this one, happening right now, in my Fortress of Solitude.
“Thanks. Um, perhaps you should go, before you get infected.”
That right there was another reason why I don’t do this sort of thing. I just wasn’t good at it.
However it came out, Sue took it well. She laughed and made a few more offers of help on the way to the door, but left without argument, waving as she went.
I waved back, smiling, feeling like I was missing something right in front of me.