Alex Van Helsing Voice of the Undead - By Jason Henderson Page 0,49

a psychic vampire; that’s someone who can suck out your will. Blackwood may have mislabeled him.”

Armstrong was looking over the dossier on the screen. “Sometimes Frene went by Cracknell.”

“That’s familiar,” Alex said, puzzled, then whispered rapidly, “Cracknell, Cracknell.” Something recent. White embossed words on leather.

It’s a theory book, he heard Sid say.

Alex racked his brain. “Did Frene write any books himself?”

“Not that I’m familiar with,” said Sangster.

Armstrong peered at the screen. “There’s a long letter he wrote to one of the clans in 1901 listed here. Says it got passed around a lot. It was called The Skein.”

“The Skein,” Alex repeated. “Oh my God.”

“What?”

“Sid found a book at the bookstore in Secheron on writing when we were looking for materials for the Pumpkin Show. It was a writing book, you know, for making stories. It was called The Skein, with some kind of subtitle.”

Sangster looked visibly saddened. “The Skein was never really published. Sid has been using this book?”

“Yes, and when he reads his stories the audience practically swoons. He’s competing regularly now. I think he has a shot to win.”

Armstrong snorted. “There’s your virus,” she said. “So what do you know about this Sid?”

“This Sid?” Alex repeated indignantly.

“Is he a vampire fan, maybe could be turned?”

“No, no,” Alex said. “No, he—he’s a fan, but he thinks it’s all fiction. Or he did. But no, it can’t be that.”

“I agree,” Sangster said. “I’ve known him for two years. He’s a solid young man.”

Monty was nodding excitedly. “With a book—with a book, it’s easier. Here’s how this would work, in a nutshell: Your friend gets the book. He reads from the book. The spell gets into his head. He writes things down that are influenced by the book—maybe subtly, maybe just a few words, maybe just syllables. He reads them aloud and they get heard by the girls who were the targets. And, mind you, they would be targets. It would be aimed at them. The girls then do whatever simple task the virus told them to do—in this case, to go wait for further instructions.”

Monty opened his hands and smiled, pleased by the cleverness of this thing that Alex didn’t find all that pleasing. “With a book, it’s easier,” he said again.

There was a buzz in Sangster’s pocket and he fished his cell phone out, glancing down. “The victim just came in.”

“Came in?” Alex asked.

“Yeah,” Sangster said. “I’ll deal with that.”

“So you tell us,” Armstrong continued. “How is it that of all the gin joints in the world, Sid walks into Ultravox’s?” Alex looked puzzled, and she clarified. “Why did your friend pick that book?”

Alex replayed the moment in his head. They had been at the bookstore, and Sid and Alex had joined the others upstairs. Everyone was looking at Master Plots and Sid wanted something else. And suddenly, there had been a book thrust into his hands.

“He didn’t,” Alex realized. He threw his backpack over his shoulder. “Someone picked it for him. And you know what else? Vienna didn’t go in the woods, either.”

Chapter 20

Vienna’s scarf—that had to be the key. Chances are she was marked, already a—a thrall, was what Sid had called it, a live servant of the Scholomance who went about her day surreptitiously taking orders, waiting for the moment she would become a vampire. Sid had laid it out for him, without even knowing he was being used. She’d probably been bitten, poisoned. And set loose among them. And he’d sent Minhi up to sleep in a room with her!

In the morning Alex hurried to breakfast and the coming battle, prepared for anything. He even brought his go package just in case, tucked inside his school backpack.

When he entered the dining hall, his eyes swept the room, looking for the faces of the girls he had seen the night before. Here and there he recognized them, chatting and talking as though everything was normal. None returned his gaze with anything approaching recognition or guilt.

He spotted the table along the wall where Minhi was sitting with Sid, Paul, and Vienna. As Alex approached, two girls came up to Sid.

“Oh, hey,” Sid said, shrinking a little. The two girls giggled and one of them asked him to sign a program from the last Pumpkin Show. He smiled, his ginger hair flopping about, and obliged, shrugging and laughing as if embarrassed. When they scampered away Minhi reached over and punched him in the shoulder, giggling.

“Minhi,” Alex said, taking a chair at the corner. They all greeted him, but