Vampire High Sophomore Year - By Douglas Rees Page 0,41

you do this?” he asked. “Even I am a little impressed.”

“Do what?” I asked.

“How did you get Dumpsters delivered overnight, and on a Sunday?”

I didn’t understand. “Look, Gregor. I told you. We’ll try to get the Dumpsters lined up today,” I said. “I’ll call as soon as the places open.”

“You did not do this? Then listen, gadje,” Gregor said. “Last night, Vladimir had the duty to guard the mill. He was flying around and he saw a line of headlights coming down the road. Trucks. One after the other, they drove up to the mill and dropped off these large trash bins and went away. There are a dozen, gadje. Call in sick. Get yourself and your lazy cousin over to the mill. We will meet you in an hour.”

All of a sudden, I wasn’t sleepy anymore. I got up and hauled down Turk’s hatch.

“Turk, get up. Major news,” I said.

Mom forced us to eat something, which took five minutes. Then we roared across town to Crossfield.

Turk went zipping in and out around the other cars like she was daring them to hit her. I felt like calling my mother to say good-bye and thanks for a good life.

When she jerked up in front of the mill, it was just like Gregor had said. Our place was surrounded by Dumpsters.

Gregor was standing in the entrance with Constantin, Ilie, and Vladimir.

“Did you do this?” Turk snapped, slamming the door of the car.

Gregor shook his head. “Gadje, I had nothing to do with these things and you know it,” he said. “If you did not hire them, then we have a true mystery. A boring, stupid mystery, perhaps, but a mystery.”

Turk turned to Vladimir.

“Why didn’t you grab one of the drivers and ask him who was paying him?” she demanded.

“Why?” Vladimir answered. “I thought surely you and Cody must know.”

“Then who the hell did this?” she said. “I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all.”

“Why not?” I said.

“Because it means somebody we don’t know is involving themselves with our thing,” Turk said. “And we don’t know who they are or what they want.”

There was nothing on the Dumpsters to tell us who owned them. No phone number on the side.

“I think they want us to clean this place up,” I said. “I think we ought to get started.”

“Yes,” Constantin said. “Let us fill these mysteries up, before they perhaps disappear in a puff of smoke.”

He tossed an old machine part into the nearest Dumpster. It clanged like a cracked bell.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Turk said.

But the jenti ignored her, and started filling the Dumpster. All the unnamable stuff we’d thrown out of the building went sailing into the big green containers. Things that it would have taken two men to lift, the jenti tossed overhand.

Gregor started singing in high jenti. The other guys joined in on the chorus. I couldn’t understand more than a few words of it: Blood. Swords. Fangs. Death. And Burgundy.

Burgundy, over and over.

“Well, come on,” I said. “They can’t do all the work.” But Turk stalked off with her arms wrapped around herself. We didn’t see her again until half the Dumpsters were filled.

She came out of the mill with her cell phone and said, “There are three places in town that rent Dumpsters. I called them all. None of them had a contract to do this. So where the hell are they from? And who the hell is paying for them?”

Gregor said something in jenti. The others laughed.

“What?” Turk said.

“He said, ‘She must drink the blood of angels.’ I think,” I said. “But I don’t know what that means, exactly.”

“It means you think you are too good to accept good fortune,” Gregor said. “Real blood would not be good enough for you. You must have that which does not exist.”

“What I want is to know what’s going on,” Turk said.

“I have an idea,” Vladimir said. “Do not go home, gadje girl. Stay here until the mysterious trucks come and remove the containers. Then jump out and capture them all.”

“Maybe I will,” Turk said.

Constantin and Ilie didn’t say anything. They just moved on to the next Dumpster and started filling it.

When we were done, the land around the mill was clean, and there were two empty Dumpsters left over.

We’d beaten the town. Or whoever in town wanted us out of here.

But I didn’t feel like a winner. I was totally wasted, worn, and beaten. I had put a lot into this work, trying not to think