Wisdom: Updated Edition, page 11
“Ezra! You love her. I think that’s plenty of reason,” I said.
“She made her choice.” Ezra’s voice resonated through everything when he got firm. He made it so hard to contradict him.
“I don’t think she had a choice,” Jack said, surprising me by coming to Mae’s aide. He’d been pretty angry with her since he found out she was the real reason why he became a vampire. “At least she knows that you’re alive and you’ll be fine without her. But if she had picked you, the kid’d be dead.”
“Maybe so.” Ezra lowered his eyes, growing contemplative. “But I’m not ready to make amends.”
“Have you even listened to the messages?” Jack asked.
“No. I don’t want to hear her voice.” He shook his head and looked up at us. “And quite frankly, I don’t want to have this conversation either. I’ve made my decision.”
“I don’t know why all your decisions get to be final,” I said.
“I’m older and wiser.” The edge of his mouth curled into a hint of smile. “On the subject of which, how are your studies coming?”
“Great,” I lied. I’d gotten through the three chapters in history with Milo, but I’d barely cracked open the anatomy book.
“I expect you’ll be ready to go over them later,” Ezra said. “Also, I left a copy of To Kill a Mockingbird in the living room for you to read.”
“What? Why?” I asked. “I read that in like tenth grade.”
“Read it again.”
Ezra turned and walked over the kitchen, back to his den to do whatever he did to pass the time without Mae. I sighed loudly and leaned back, resting my head on Jack’s shoulder.
“Your studies?” he asked. “What’s going on?”
“Ezra thinks that since I’m not going to school or working, I should be doing something so I don’t end up a total dumbass,” I said. “He’s not wrong, but that doesn’t mean I like it.”
“So what are you studying for?”
“I don’t know. Right now, just history and anatomy and To Kill a Mockingbird, apparently.” I gestured toward the living room. “You think a book with a character named Boo Radley would be more fun.”
“It’s not supposed to be fun. It’s about the ability of good and evil to coexist in mankind, and the effect the knowledge of that has on innocence,” he said. I gave him an odd look, and he smiled. “You forget that I’m an English major.”
“Sometimes,” I admitted. “So, how come you’re working for Ezra and not teaching or whatever it is you planned on doing with your degree.”
“There’s no money in teaching.” He laughed and kissed my temple, then went back over to the fridge. “Sorry. I’m still really thirsty.”
“Sorry,” I apologized again. My own belly felt full almost to the point of being distended, so I knew I’d drunken way too much. I’m not even sure how Jack was walking around.
“I don’t actually have a degree, for one thing.” Jack opened the fridge and pulled out another bag. He shut the door and turned back to me, leaning on the stainless steel. “And I don’t think I really wanted to be a teacher. I don’t know what I wanted. I just liked English.”
“What did you wanna be when you were a kid?” I scooted back on the counter, crossing my legs underneath me.
“Batman.” He laughed and opened the bag. “Or Luke Skywalker.”
“Very realistic goals.”
“No. I think I wanted to be a writer. Or a musician. You know something stereotypical like that.” He shrugged and stared down at the bag, as if deciding if he wanted to drink or not. “I wanted to be a librarian for a while. I loved reading when I was in high school. I used to lock myself in my room and read and make all these bad mix tapes for this really, really hot cheerleader that didn’t know I was alive. I was all very Duckie from Pretty in Pink.”
I laughed. “I always pictured you more as Andrew McCarthy.”
“Well, you pictured very wrong.” He smirked. “I had this bad Robert Smith hair, like a horrible black mess, and when I was ‘dressing up,’ I’d add black eye liner.
“I read constantly, mostly comic books and stuff,” Jack went on. “Alan Moore came out with some really amazing stuff when I was in like ninth and tenth grade. I remember when I got my hands on the first issue of The Watchmen, and I thought, ‘I want to do this.’ I wanted to be a part of that.”
He paused, taking a sip from the bag. He leaned more against the fridge and crossed his left foot over his ankle.
“I could never draw that well,” he said. “But I worked with this buddy who could draw. We made all these really dark comics and did a whole series based on Edgar Allen Poe’s Masque of the Red Death. One night, I broke into the principal’s office and Xeroxed a bunch, and we sold them for a buck a piece. Yeah, I thought I was pretty hot shit then.”
“What happened to all that?” I asked.
“I got detention for breaking into the office. And my buddy got fired, and my girlfriend started taking up more of my time.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Life happened, I guess. And I realized that I’d probably never make it writing comic books.”
“So you just gave up on your dream?” I asked.
“I don’t know if I would say that.” He rested his head back on the door and smiled, but it looked sad around the edges. “I don’t think it was ever really my dream.”
“What is your dream then?” I pressed.
“I don’t know.” He looked more seriously at me. “What’s with all the questions?”
“I don’t know. I’m having an existential crisis.”
“I see.” He downed the rest of the bag in one quick drink. It hit him harder than the rest had, and he shook his head to clear it of the haze. “What about you?”
“What?”
“What did you wanna be when you grew up?” He set the bag on the counter and walked over to me, but his steps were slow and deliberate.
“I don’t know.” I furrowed my brow, thinking. “In high school, we did all these aptitude tests, and by the time my senior year started, the teachers had all drilled it into my head that I needed to pick a college, pick a major, and decide right now what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.”
“What did you decide?” Jack stood in front of me, putting one arm on either side of me, but that was mostly to support himself.
“I didn’t decide anything. The pressure overwhelmed me, and I just froze.” I shrugged. “When I was younger, what I wanted to be when I grew up changed weekly. I wanted to be a vet, a director, a puppeteer, a ninja, a fireman, a pianist.” I shook my head. “I never really felt at home with any one idea.”
“Luckily for you, you have forever.” He grinned, but it was lopsided. “Now you can try every one of them. You can do and be anything you want.”
“It’d be easier if I could only do or be one thing.”
“Yeah, but what good is easy?” He kissed my forehead, and with half-closed eyes, he smiled down at me. “As a great man once said, ‘We learn so little from peace.’”
“Who said that? Dylan Thomas?” I asked.
“No. The guy who wrote Fight Club.”
“Now you’re an advocate for hardship? I thought you were the guy that took the easiest way out of everything,” I teased.
“Maybe.” He met my eyes, looking at me in a way that felt like he was looking straight through me. “But you’re the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and you’re also the best. So… I think that’s the moral of the story here. Anything worth having is worth fighting for.”
“Thank you. I think.” I kissed him softly, but he stumbled back before it got too deep.
“I’m so sorry.” He shook his head and opened his eyes too wide, like he looked really startled. “But I think I’m gonna have to lie down.”
“No, if you have to rest, go rest.” I put my hand on his chest. “I’m sorry for draining you so completely.”
I heard a screech in the garage, followed almost immediately by the sound of a car door slamming shut. Milo burst into the house a moment later, throwing open the door and stomping into the kitchen.
“Where the hell is Ezra?” Milo demanded.
“Dude, did you hit my car?” Jack asked, sounding angry in a bleary, tired way.
“Why would I hit your car?” Milo asked, incredulous.
“You like… screeched into the garage.” Jack pointed at him. “You better not have hit my car.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Milo asked me.
“He is drunk on too much blood,” I explained. “Never mind him. Why are you looking for Ezra?”
“My car’s a frickin’ DeLorean. It’s a time machine!” Jack lost his footing and started falling to the floor, and I had to grab his arms to catch him. I pulled him back up, and he leaned over on the counter, resting his head on the granite countertop. “I don’t think I’ve ever drank that much blood before.”
“I’ve been getting calls from Mae all day, but I was in class so I had my phone off.” Milo pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it up to show me, as if to prove Mae called. “She left me six messages, and all she’d say is that it’s very, very important she talk to me and that she’d been unable to get a hold of Ezra.”
“So just call her back,” I said.
“I’ve been trying! But you know how hard it is for them to get service out their place!” Milo glowered down at the phone then jammed it back in his pocket. “And something’s wrong and I don’t know what it is!”
“I’m sure everything’ll be fine.” I said that, but I didn’t believe it.
Mae wouldn’t reach out to Ezra unless she had to. I should’ve realized that when he said she’d been calling him. Especially after the way Daisy attacked Bobby, and how Peter said she’d been acting.
“Ezra!” Milo shouted and walked into the dining room.
“Jack, stay put.” I patted Jack on the back and hopped off the counter. He mumbled something, but I think he was mostly passed out anyway. I chased after Milo, following him to where he met Ezra in the living room.
“Why haven’t you been answering the phone?” Milo yelled at Ezra.
“My phone calls are none of your concern,” Ezra said, unfazed by Milo’s apparent rage.
“Mae has been calling you, and she’s in trouble.” Milo glared up at him.
“Maybe you should try calling her back,” I suggested. “Or at least check her messages.”
From the other room, we heard a bang. I glanced back, and although I couldn’t see him, I surmised that Jack had fallen off the counter onto the floor. The blood had hit him bad.
“Shouldn’t you go check on your boyfriend?” Ezra asked, his tone barely revealing the ice underneath.
“I’m okay!” Jack yelled from the kitchen.
“He’s okay.” I pointed back in his direction, and Ezra rolled his eyes.
“Ezra, don’t change the subject,” Milo said. I had to admit it, I admired my little brother for talking to Ezra like that. Standing up to him took courage. “I know you’re mad at Mae—”
“I’m not mad at her,” Ezra cut him off. “I merely have nothing to say to her.”
“Whatever,” Milo said. “You loved her. You still love her, and even if you don’t, you cared about her for so long that you can’t shut it off. She is in serious trouble. How could you not at least hear her out? Don’t you owe her that?”
“Of course I would help her if I could.” Ezra swallowed hard, and for one of the few times since I’d met him, the pain in his voice was audible. It made his deep baritone tighten. “I just don’t believe I can.”
“If you’d answer the damn phone, you’d know for sure!” Milo shot back.
“Milo, yelling at him doesn’t make this better,” I said.
“I’m not yelling!” Milo yelled, then took a deep breath. “Sorry. I’m frustrated. I don’t like knowing that something could be wrong, and I could help but… I can’t.”
My phone began to ring, and we all froze. For a second, we stared at each other, and then I scrambled to pull it out of my pocket. Before I answered, I checked the caller ID.
“Is it Mae?” Milo asked.
“No. It’s not Mae.” I swallowed hard. “It’s Peter.”
Chapter Eleven
“Hello?” I answered the phone.
“Alice?” Peter breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank god you answered.”
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Is something wrong? Where’s Mae?”
“She’s off dealing with the little problem,” he said. “We’re… Ah, hell, Alice, we’re in a major shit storm, and we’ve gotta get out of here. Now.”
“Why? What happened? Are you guys okay?” I asked.
“Mae and the… child are fine, or as fine as can be after…” He cursed under his breath. “Mae got it in her head that Daisy was ready for a trip to the city. There was some carnival thing going on, and she thought it was a lovely way to spend the evening.”
“What did she do?” My stomach dropped, and I sat back on the couch.
“Daisy went berserk.” Peter laughed hollowly. “She attacked several people at the carnival. I tried to contain the situation and convince them it’d been an animal. We managed to get out of there alive, but the sheriff has been driving by at night, so we’re no longer under the radar. Daisy is fine, other than the fact that she’s crying all the time now.”
“Did she kill anyone?” I asked, and Ezra closed his eyes, shielding himself from it.
“No. Well, not that I know of,” Peter corrected himself. “The way she went after some of them, it’s entirely possible that they’ve succumbed to death in the days since she mauled them. But we can’t stay here anymore. We chartered a plane, and we should be leaving on it soon.”
“What does Mae think about all of this?” I asked.
“Lord knows what Mae thinks about anything anymore,” Peter said. “I told her it was a mistake to bring Daisy out in public, but Mae has been in such denial about just about everything as of late.”
“Are you coming home?” I asked.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he said at length. “Would Ezra let Mae and Daisy back? Not that we should even be in the city. The child isn’t safe around people.”
“Where else would you go? Do you want to talk to Ezra?” I asked.
“If he’s nearby, yes, I would very much appreciate his counsel right now.”
“He’s right here.” I stood up and held the phone out to Ezra, and he took it.
Milo stood next to me, and we both watched anxiously as Ezra said very little on his end of the conversation. Other than a murmured “mm-hmm” here and there, he offered nothing for us to glean anything from.
“What did Peter say to you?” Milo asked me in a whisper.
“Daisy attacked some people, and it was bad,” I said, but I kept my eyes locked on Ezra.
“Okay,” Ezra said and then hung up and handed the phone back to me.
“Well?” I pressed.
“They’re getting on a plane. They’ll be here in a day or so.” Ezra looked over at the window and shook his head. “I’m not sure what will happen when they get here but… it is what it is.”
“What does that even mean in this particular context?” Milo asked.
“They’re desperate. I couldn’t tell them no.” Ezra tried to convince himself, as if Milo and I would’ve denied help, either. “But they can’t stay here. Not for more than a few days. Or maybe at all. The child can’t be around people.” He stared off at nothing, and he sounded completely lost. “I have no idea what will become of them.”
After a moment of melancholy silence, Ezra went down to his den. I tried to stop him, but he shook his head and said he had some thinking to do. I’m sure he did, but I didn’t know if even he could come up with a plan to fix this.
This was exactly why he’d been so against Mae turning Daisy in the first place. He knew nothing good could come of it, and he couldn’t clean it up.
“This is so messed up.” Milo leaned back against the couch and let out a deep breath. “Did Peter say how bad things were?”
“He didn’t go into graphic detail but things were definitely not good. Some people might be dead.”
“And now she’s coming here?” Milo asked.
“And now she’s coming here,” I repeated.
“I love Mae, and I don’t really want Peter to die.” He stood up straighter and crossed his arms over his chest. “But what are we supposed to do? Daisy is dangerous, really dangerous. And even if she wasn’t, her poster is plastered all over town. Mae kidnapped her, remember?”
“I know,” I agreed wearily. “She can’t live here, not in the city.”
“Where else can she stay?” Milo asked.
“I don’t know…” I trailed off, thinking. “But Olivia is the oldest vampire I’ve ever met. She might know something about child vampires.”
“You’ve only met like five vampires. That doesn’t really mean anything,” Milo said.
I scoffed. “I’ve met way more than that. And she’s still six-hundred-years-old or something. She has to have picked up a few things about child vampires.”
Jack groaned from the other room, and I remembered that I’d heard him fall while Milo’d been arguing with Ezra.
“I gotta go take care of Jack, then I’m going to Olivia’s,” I said. “You can come with me if you want.”
I went into the kitchen and found Jack passed out between the island and the counter. When I pulled him up, he barely even stirred, so I carried him up to our room and put him to bed. I’d never seen Jack this knocked out before.
Watching Jack sleeping on the bed, looking peaceful and vulnerable, I had this weird sensation. He’d never been the weaker one before. But lately, things had been shifting.
I’d become stronger as a vampire, and thanks to my training with Olivia, I’d become a better fighter than him. We’d done some play fighting not that long ago, and I’d tackled him without really trying. I was growing more powerful than Jack, and it felt… disorienting.
