I don’t want him to catch on to the secret conversation, so I say, “But I was just telling her all about the ice-cream parlor you opened at headquarters.” Very strange, but I guess he’s got his cover story to maintain. I’ve heard of stranger things for sure. Like vampire Jiffy, who recently opened a hula hoop store down the street from my library. Just hula hoops. Nothing else. And apparently, he’s very old and only eats peanut butter. (Plus the occasional bag of blood.) I think some people never adjust to vampire life and slowly go crazy.
That’ll be me for sure.
“It will have to wait,” Michael calls out. “Come now!”
“Be right there,” I say begrudgingly. “Are you ready, Stella?”
“Where am I going, Mommy?”
“Somewhere safe. Somewhere Mr. Nice can’t find you. And we will bake muffins.” Baking muffins means I love you.
“I like baking muffins,” she says with a subtle sadness.
I offer her my warmest, most loving smile and squeeze her leg. I can’t do anything more than that or Michael might notice. “Goobers. Muffins with Goobers.” Goodbye. I love you.
“We really need to discuss what you are feeding the child!” Michael calls from outside the plane. He can hear us. Of course he can.
I kiss Stella on the forehead. “Let’s go.” I take her by the hand and notice Freddy is right behind us. I can only hope he meant what he said, that he won’t let anything happen to my princess.
We exit the plane and descend the metal stairs. As soon as we get to the bottom, I turn to Stella. It is a frigid February evening. “Oh, God, sweetie, you don’t look so well. Are you all right?”
Right on cue, Stella doubles over and starts screaming. Michael, a few of his guards, and some of the ground crew rush over.
The minute their eyes are on her, I run, leaving the last living piece of my heart behind in the care of the man who doesn’t have one.
CHAPTER NINE
Michael
“What is the matter, child?” I grumble at…at…the child. She will not stop screaming. “I told your mother she cannot feed you all that chocolate. What was it? A cookie?”
The child doesn’t respond.
I look over at Freddy, who shrugs in his basketball shorts and red tee. He looks ridiculous. Suits are the only real clothes for a man to wear.
“Ahhh! It hurts!” The child’s tiny voice sounds like a police siren, attracting everyone’s attention within a mile.
I do not know what is happening to her, so it is best to assume she was poisoned or we are under attack. “Freddy, quick. Get the car. I’ll meet you over the east wall.” Better not to use the human entrance or exits from the small private airport.
Freddy dashes off, and I scoop the child into my arms as she moans. “Stay close,” I call over my shoulder at the librarian and run a little slower than usual, not wishing to lose her. By the time I get to the wall, I have come up with a short list of possible causes for her ailment, and none of them are good. “Librarian, I think we must take the child to one of our doctors at headquarters. I realize it is a risk to go there, since Nice might be waiting, but it is the best choice.” That part about Nice is a lie. He is not in Ohio.
I do not hear a reply.
When I turn my head, the librarian is nowhere to be found.
“Where is she?” I should go back and search for her, but what if we are under attack?
No, best I hand the child to Freddy and go back on my own to look for the librarian.
I hear the SUV pull up on the other side of the wall, so I leap. The child makes a little grunt from the impact of the landing, but she seems no worse off. I open the door to the backseat and slide the child in. “Freddy! I think they’ve taken the librarian. Please call Dr. Kleen and have him meet you at headquarters. I will be right behind you.”
“Yes, sir.” Freddy drives off, and I hop back over the wall. When I get to our plane, there is no sign of the librarian. I ask the ground crew and pilot if they’ve seen her, but no.
I raise my face to the air and slowly inhale. I have never been able to explain how or why, but the librarian and I have a connection. I can sense her. The bond has grown weaker over the years since we’ve been apart and since I took the throne, but it is still there.
Where are you, librarian? Where have you gone? I catch a note of her sweet scent still lingering in the wintery night air. I don’t know which direction she went, but I sense she’s nervous. Not afraid for her life, but nervous. Or maybe anxious.
Dammit! And just like that, I know she’s up to something. Or, really, one thing: She’s going after Nice. What other reason would she leave the child?
Dammit, woman! Does she not understand how dangerous he is? Not only that, but I have my reasons for wanting Nice kept alive. Yes, he must pay for what he has done, but death isn’t the sort of compensation I seek. Not until I have what I want from him.
I have to warn Freddy that I will not be able to join him and Stella, so they should move on to the safe house once a doctor has looked her over. I hope she is all right. The illness came on so suddenly and—
Hold on. That sneaky little…
The child was merely performing—a distraction so that her mother could slip away. Very good, little one. If I had a heart, it would be glowing with pride. The child has a knack for acting, which, in my world, is paramount to survival. Vampires are always acting. Only a handful of individuals ever truly get to know the person behind the fangs.
I must inform Freddy about the ruse. I reach my hand inside my coat pocket, but my cell is completely dead.
But I charged it! I also left my power cord on the plane.
I dart up the stairs and inside the plane to check my seat.
Right there on the floor is my cord, and it is not connected to anything. The librarian must have unplugged it during the flight.
I smile at her deviousness. My librarian is a crafty little thing.
Suddenly, it dawns on me that my face just felt an emotion. Not my heart. Not my mind. But my lips and mouth. It is almost as if they are operating independently.
Odd. Must be muscle memory.
When I arrive to our headquarters near downtown Cincinnati, I find Freddy and the child on the second floor in our doctor’s office.
Freddy spots me coming out of the elevator and hops up from his chair just outside the exam room. “Dr. Kleen is going to monitor her for a few more hours, but they found nothing wrong with Stella.”
I gesture for him to sit back down. “Not to worry. I know what ails her.” I enter the room and greet Dr. Kleen. He is a tall man who appears to be thirteen, but is really about a hundred and two. “Thank you for looking after the child. Would you mind giving us a moment alone?”
“Of course, my king.” He leaves, and I pull up the rolling stool. The child avoids eye contact, but I know she can sense something is up.
“Where did she go, child?” I ask.
The child shrugs and fiddles with her fingers.
“Listen to me,” I say sternly. “This is important. Mr. Nice is nothing like his name—something I suspect you already know, since you spent some time with him. He will most definitely kill your mother if she fails at killing him first.”