Page 102 of Lucy Undying

And then I realize: It’s him.

He flings himself against the window, over and over, scrabbling at the glass. Does he really think I’m going to open it? Even if I didn’t know it was Dracula, like I’d let some random, enormous bat inside! I’m also offended on behalf of bats everywhere. They’re helpful, adorable creatures. They don’t deserve to be mocked in this twisted and monstrous imitation.

He hits the window again. That’s the sound that woke me. If he’s going to be a creep, the least he can do is be a creep when we can kill him. Not when it pulls me from a Lucy dream. I raise a single eyebrow in annoyed defiance.

The bat hits the window so hard the glass shatters. I scream, throwing my hands over my face. I brace myself against the onslaught of wings and teeth.

It doesn’t come. When at last I dare lower my arms, I’m alone again. A freezing breeze whips through my room. I think of another window, broken so long ago. Whether it was a wolf or not, that window symbolized the end of Lucy’s first life.

If Dracula had been able to come in, I would have been powerless. Just like Lucy back then. God, no wonder she was so worried the other night on the trail. I was flippant and dismissive, high on seeing her again. And also so relieved that she’d come back for me, and desperate to forget how it had felt to be under Dracula’s thrall. Embarrassed, too. I didn’t want her to know that he’d affected me. I want to be stronger than that, and hate that I’m not.

I trudge downstairs to make some weak-ass tea. Of all the things Goldaming Life has taken from me, demanding I stop drinking coffee seems the most excessively cruel. It’s “bad for my condition,” puts too much strain on my heart and circulation, etc. All lies, just like their building-wide ban on perfume out of respect for “allergies.” Heaven forbid we make it hard for the vampires to sniff out our blood type.

The tea’s only tolerable because it reminds me of Lucy. As it steeps, I stew over why Dracula decided on a flyby. Does he know I know who he is? That I’m trying to set him up? Was tonight a warning, or was it just part of his whole deal?

It’s 3 a.m., but I’m not going back to sleep. I read over more of the files I stole from Olivia’s laptop. One of them is Dickie’s official schedule. This morning he has a lab tour. Could be useful if I can sneak in a camera. I’m slowly but surely building a case to expose the entire organization as a fraud, so I’ll take every chance I can get.

Yo Dick, I text, I’m coming on the lab tour today and sitting in on the meeting with state senator Harrell next week.

He responds almost immediately. You should be sleeping. It’s not good to strain your system.

I flip off the phone screen. Also can we stop pretending I don’t know about the vampires it’s tedious.

Come on, Dickie. Admit something in text. But he disappoints me, as usual.

You have such a strange sense of humor. My car will stop by to pick you up at 8 AM sharp; please be ready. We’ll discuss the Harrell meeting later.

What kind of sociopath texts with semicolons?

But at least I got my way. I regret it a little by the time the sleek black Goldaming car pulls up, though. I’ve been awake for hours and my attitude matches my face. Dickie takes great pleasure in the waves of surliness rolling off me. He talks the entire drive, a nonstop stream of legalese and corporate nonsense. I want to sink into the leather and never come out.

“As soon as you’re officially sworn in as president, I’ll have you sign off on our new agreement with Frye Technologies. I’m going to forward you the contract. Please read it all and let me know if you have any questions.”

“My questions are usually just Why and Will it ever end and Should I start day-drinking.”

He doesn’t look up from the sleek leather folio filled with papers. “I’d like you to pick some photos of your mother for the memorial charity auction next month.”

“I don’t care. I really don’t. Put up a photo of her dead body.”

Dickie sighs and at last sets down his folio. “I advised her against it, you know.”

“Against dying? Was that your legal opinion, or just a general recommendation?”

“Against the egg retrieval.”

All the air is sucked out of the car. No one’s ever admitted that it actually happened. “What?” I croak.

“I advised her against a lot of things. This all should have been your choice. But she was always afraid.”

“Blanche Goldaming, afraid? I think you’re going senile, pal. If you’ll recall, my mom was a terrifying bitch who never gave an inch on anything.”

One of the things I remember best from when I accidentally invited a monster inside? While my dad bled unconscious on the floor and I cowered under the table, my mother stood in the dark in the next room and calmly talked to Dracula himself like he couldn’t hurt her. Blanche Goldaming was many things, but afraid wasn’t one of them.

Dickie stares out the window. “She worked hard to make herself essential. She worried you would jeopardize that, for her and for yourself. I didn’t agree with her choices, but I can respect what she did with Goldaming Life. Under her ruthless direction, it flourished. But children shouldn’t be raised like assets. I was rooting for you, you know. I wouldn’t have looked that hard if you’d managed to follow through on your plan to run away in England.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. I don’t know how to feel about this. Dickie knew I was trying to get away, and he was…on my side? Or maybe this is his way of getting on my side now. Pretending that he was always sympathetic to my plight. But he never helped, did he? No one did.

I’ll keep playing my part. “Sucks to be you, Dickie, because I decided to stay and now you have to deal with me forever.”

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