“You’re late,” she muttered under her breath as the children’s teacher, a pretty woman with busy hands communicated with them in front of one of the tropical fish aquariums. “You were supposed to be up here ten minutes ago.”
“We’re dealing with a late delivery. I had to take care of that. I’m sorry.” That was a bit of an exaggeration. I’d forgotten about the tour until Oliver reminded me. Still, Tara didn’t need to know that. “How many kids?”
“Only fifteen of them, which is a relief.”
“They don’t look so bad.” I grinned broadly at a dark-haired boy as he moved closer to the glass enclosure. He cast me the occasional look, as if he didn’t trust me or was trying to feel me out, but didn’t say anything. Of course, I had no idea if he could say anything.
I decided now was the time to dust off my rusty sign language.
How are you?
I signed the question slowly to make sure the hand gestures were correct.
The boy didn’t look impressed. He merely stared at me as if I’d sprouted another head.
“She asked you a question, Granger,” the teacher spoke as she signed, which was apparently for our benefit. “You should answer her.”
The boy narrowed his eyes, suspicion evident as he looked me up and down.
“It’s okay,” I said hurriedly. “He doesn’t have to answer. I’m a stranger to him. Perhaps his parents taught him not to speak to strangers.”
“Yes, but you’re here in an official capacity.” She kept signing and speaking at the same time. “Manners are important, aren’t they, Granger?”
The boy looked at her for a long time. Instead of raising his hands to talk back, he opened his mouth ... and took me by surprise.
“They’re coming,” he announced.
The teacher — I hadn’t gotten her name — made a face. “What ... and when did you start speaking that clearly? That’s amazing. I knew you’d been working with a speech therapist, but that was completely clear. Good job.”
“They’re coming,” he repeated.
“Everyone is already here,” the teacher countered. “No one was absent today.”
“They’re here,” the boy insisted, turning shrill. “They’re here! They’re here! They’re here!”
Something buzzed at the back of my brain as I moved closer to him. It wasn’t just the panic washing over his features, or the way his voice caused shivers to run up and down my spine. I sensed something approaching … and I was afraid. “Who’s here?”
He didn’t look at me. Instead, his eyes went unbelievably wide and he screamed. “They’re here!”
The room was plunged into darkness as the power went out and a deafening roar of what could only be described as thunder drowned out the children’s screams.
It was utter chaos ... and then something dark and unsavory passed through the room, and I knew things were going to get worse.
Two
“What do we do?”
Tara was breathless as I worked overtime to recover from the feeling of dread that cascaded over me like a relentless waterfall. The panic lacing her voice was enough to force me back to reality.
“We calm everyone down,” I instructed, raising my hands and clapping them to get the panicking students’ attention. “Listen ... .”
They didn’t stop screaming and I could hear them scattering across the floor, as if they were running from something. The ominous presence I felt was on the wind, not the ground. I very much doubted there was a predator in the room … and yet I couldn’t entirely shake the feeling that something terrible was either about to happen or had already occurred.
“Hey!” I yelled again.
Not one of the kids stopped screaming.
“They can’t hear you,” Tara pointed out. “It’s a deaf school.”
Oh, flaming hell! I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from cursing out loud. Of course they couldn’t hear me.
“Seriously, how are we going to calm them down?” Tara asked.
I had no idea. I opened my mouth to exclaim just that when the overhead lights flashed back to life.
I swiveled quickly, my gaze going back to the door that led to the gate room. There, an incredulous look on his handsome face, stood Oliver. “What’s going on?” he asked over the din.
I held my hands out and shrugged. “I don’t know. The power just died. Maybe there’s a storm.”
“I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “I can usually pick up on those things.”
He didn’t need to explain. I understood exactly what he was saying. As a vampire, his senses were more exaggerated. He would know if it was going to storm hours before one actually hit.
“So, what took out the power?” I asked as Tara attempted to calm the children, who had scattered across the room.
“I don’t know. The breaker was thrown. It was an easy fix.” He turned to look at the kids. “We should probably collect them, maybe give them some ice cream or something.”
That sounded like a good idea. “Sure. We should get their teacher first. I ... .” I lost my train of thought when I started looking for her. Of course, I started in the last place I saw her, which was where she remained. She was no longer on her feet, though. Instead, she lay unmoving on the ground, her eyes open and staring at the ceiling. The fact that her neck was bent at an odd angle made her almost look like a creature from another world.
“Son of a troll,” I muttered, starting toward her with some wild notion that I was somehow going to fix her, that the broken neck she obviously suffered was an optical illusion.
Oliver, quick as lightning, raced across the room and grabbed me before I could put my hands on her. “Don’t,” he hissed. “It’s too late.”
“But ... .”
“It’s too late,” he repeated, shaking his head. “I can smell her. She’s long gone.”
“Not that long,” I argued, keeping my voice low. “She was alive a minute ago.”
“She’s still long gone. She’s no longer anywhere near this plane. Trust me. When I say I can smell it, I can smell it.”
That was a freaky gift. “So ... what do we do?”
“We call for help.” He was grim. “That means the main office first and then the cops.”
My heart stuttered. “The cops. But ... .”
“We have no choice.” He didn’t back down. “Someone is going to be missing her and we have fifteen kids with special needs whose parents will be panicking in a few hours. We need professional help.”
“Yeah, but ... how are we going to explain this?”
He shrugged. “Tell the cops the truth. You didn’t do this, right?”
“Of course not.”
“Then you have nothing to hide.”
That didn’t stop the fear from grabbing me by the throat and squeezing. “I’ll call 911.” I was resigned. He was right. It was the only thing we could do.
“I’ll call the main office. We need direction.”
“That should go over well,” I grumbled. “It’s basically my third week on the job and we’re about to face a second crisis. That has to be some sort of record.”