The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires - Grady Hendrix Page 0,68

light out.

“But be back before it starts to get dark,” she said. “We’re having early supper.”

It wasn’t safe to have Blue out of her sight after dark. She didn’t know what James Harris was, she didn’t care, she couldn’t think straight, but she knew he wouldn’t go out in the sun. She wanted to call Grace, to tell her what she’d seen, but when Grace didn’t understand something she refused to believe it existed. She forced herself to calm down.

She couldn’t bring herself to vacuum her curtains, so she did laundry. She ironed shirts and slacks. She ironed socks. She kept seeing James Harris with that thing on his face, his beard of blood, that little girl on the floor of his van, kept trying to figure out how to explain this to someone. She cleaned the bathrooms. She watched the sun slide across the sky. She felt grateful that Korey was still away at soccer camp.

The phone rang while she was throwing out expired condiments.

“Campbell residence,” Patricia said.

“They took her daughter,” Mrs. Greene told her.

“What? Who did?” Patricia asked, trying to catch up.

“This morning when Wanda Taylor took her to the doctor,” Mrs. Greene said, “he found a mark on her leg, like you said, and he made Wanda wait outside while he talked to Destiny.”

“What did she say?” Patricia asked.

“Wanda doesn’t know, but then the DSS showed up and a policeman stood at the door,” Mrs. Greene said. “They told her Destiny was on drugs and had marks where someone injected her. They asked her who the man was that Destiny referred to as ‘Boo Daddy.’ Wanda told them she wasn’t seeing any man, but they didn’t believe her.”

“I’ll call those officers from last night,” Patricia said, frantic. “I’ll call them and they can talk to DSS. And Carter can call her doctor. What was his name?”

“You promised this wouldn’t happen,” Mrs. Greene said. “Both of you promised.”

“Carter will call,” Patricia said. “He’ll straighten this out. Should I come out to talk to Wanda?”

“I think it’s best if you don’t see Wanda Taylor right now,” Mrs. Greene said. “She’s not in a receptive frame of mind.”

Patricia disconnected the call but held onto the receiver as the kitchen spun around her. She had seen Destiny. She’d been in her bedroom. She’d sat with her mother. She’d seen her tiny, limp body underneath James Harris, while he stood over her, his face covered in her blood.

“I’m bored,” Blue said, coming into the den.

“Only boring people get bored,” Patricia said, automatically.

“Everyone’s at camp,” Blue said. “There’s no one to play with.”

How had this happened? What had she done?

“Go read a book,” she said.

She picked up the phone and dialed Carter’s office.

“I’ve read all my books,” he said.

“We’ll go to the library later,” she said.

The phone rang, Carter picked up, and she told him what had happened.

“I’m in the middle of a million things right now,” he said.

“We promised her, Carter. We made a promise. That woman is covered in stitches from trying to help your mother.”

“Okay, okay, Patty, I’ll make some calls.”

* * *

—

“Everyone thinks Hitler was bad,” Blue said to the dinner table. “But Himmler was worse.”

“Okay,” Carter said, trying to wind him down. “Can you pass the salt, Patty?”

Patricia picked up the saltshaker but didn’t hand it to Blue just yet.

“Did you call that doctor about Destiny Taylor today?” she asked.

Carter had been deflecting her ever since he got home.

“Can I get the salt before I’m interrogated?” he asked.

She made herself smile and passed it to Blue.

“He was the head of the SS,” Blue said. “Which stands for Schutzstaffel. They were the secret police in Germany.”

“That sounds pretty bad, buddy,” Carter said, taking the salt from him.

“I’m not sure that’s appropriate conversation for the dinner table,” Patricia said.

“The Holocaust was all his