Nevermore

“How can he be a vampire when he knows so much about slayers?”

“Danny,” her mom said, her voice full of warning.

“Just saying.” Danny shrugged.

“I said get down here, Isobel! We’re going to talk about this or it’s going to be another two weeks before you’re allowed out of this house!”

“So what else is new!” she bellowed, barging the rest of the way up.

“Isobel!”

“Sam, stop yelling at her!” her mother yelled.

“If this were in Japanese,” said Danny, “it could so be an anime.”

“Isobel!” her dad shouted again.

She stopped at the top landing and leaned over the railing. “I’m sixteen, Dad! And it’s none of your business who I choose to date!” She turned and stomped the rest of the way to her room, stopping again outside her door, her anger blazing. “Or who I dump, for that matter!” she roared, and sent her bedroom door slamming shut with a resounding bang.

Inside her room, Isobel flung herself onto her bed, unleashing an unbridled scream into her pillow. What was happening to her life? When had everything become so complicated? It was homework! How and when had her life become upended by homework?

Quick footsteps on the stairs were followed by a gentle knock at her door. Her mom. Isobel knew it even before she heard the soft voice asking if she would please come down to dinner. Isobel offered no reply. After a moment, she heard a sigh, then the retreat of defeated footsteps.

She lay still for a long time after that, curled up on her side, and tried to ignore the dull ache forming in her head.

She thought about digging her cell phone out of her backpack, but who would she call? She could try Gwen, but Isobel didn’t know her number, and since Gwen had called the land line the other night, she wouldn’t have it in her cell’s directory, either. She thought about trying Gwen’s Internet White Pages approach, but that would mean she would have to venture into her brother’s room, and right then, she didn’t have it in her to face another argument.

For what felt like the first time in her life, Isobel was battling not to hate her father. She couldn’t understand how he could be so unfair or so blind, how he couldn’t seem to see Brad’s other side. Or what it was about Varen that had caused him to go so ballistic in the first place. Why did Varen seem to cause everyone around to go ballistic? What about him was not allowed? What made his world so different from hers?

His face, angular and serene, materialized in her mind. The memory of his gaze sent a gentle calm through her. She pictured him just as he had been when they’d been standing outside together next to his car. He’d been so close, she thought, shutting her eyes again, taking in a long, deep breath, as though, if she concentrated hard enough, she might be able to imagine he was right there next to her.

From somewhere downstairs, Isobel heard the phone ring, followed by Danny’s shout of, “I got it!” She opened her eyes and rolled onto her back, straining her ears to try to hear whether or not the call was for her, even though she knew she wouldn’t be allowed to take it. She heard her brother’s voice float up from the foyer, saying, “Hey, Trevor.”

She rolled over to stare out her darkened window. Her thoughts drifted back to Varen, and she tried to ignore her brother’s heavy footsteps on the stairs and his voice as he spoke loudly into the phone. “Yeah, it’s upstairs, let me get it and I’ll check.”

Now she could see Varen in her mind’s eye, just where he’d been in her dream. A far-off form, tall, windswept, framed by a forest of matchstick trees. She was just about to shut her eyes again when there came a quiet knock at her bedroom door. She sat up. “What?”

“Isobel.” It was Danny, whispering to her through the bottom crack of her door.

“What do you want?”

“Open up,” he said. “It’s for you.” He raised his voice again, and she heard him say, “Yeah, I got the whole list of codes right here. Which ones do you want first?”

Isobel stumbled out of bed and toward the door. She opened it to a slit and found her brother there, holding the portable out to her. Stunned, she took it.

“Make it quick!” he whispered, and leaning over the banister, he said, “Okay, the first one is for Blood Thirst Traitor Three, and it’s to stop the countdown clock on level seven. Ready?

Okay—two, two, nine, zero—”

Isobel retreated quickly into her room and cradled the receiver against her ear. “Hello?”