Vampire High Sophomore Year - By Douglas Rees Page 0,71

fallen into the ring of ashes that was growing around the burning arts center.

The fire engines were arriving now. They surrounded the building and started spraying the flames from all sides. The fire acted like it was startled; it seemed to duck its head.

Ms. Vukovitch said, “If this thing was set, I don’t care who did it. I will find them out, hunt them down, and drink them dry. If it was some mistake my boys and I made, I will kill myself.”

The south wall let go, burying my sad little corn patch. It was like the flames had been the only thing holding it up.

I felt a hand in mine, small and cold.

“Cody, I am so sorry for you,” Ileana said. “It was a beautiful idea.”

That was the first time it really hit me that the center was gone. It didn’t matter if the fire had been set or not. The effect was the same. New Sodom—old New Sodom—had won.

29

It snowed just before morning. A weak, cold storm that nobody had predicted blew through, leaving behind a thin crust of white. It softened every sound and made things stand out in high relief. It was very pretty. Very sad.

I hadn’t slept much. Something about nearly being fried made me feel wide awake. I couldn’t stop thinking about the center. I knew it was gone, but I had to know the details. I had to see it. Finally, at about six, I left a note for Mom and drove over to Crossfield.

I know. No license. I’d be in trouble later. I didn’t care. I had to see what was left. And after almost getting fried last night, I wasn’t too worried about getting grounded. Mom’s spiffy Honda was a lot easier to drive than Turk’s low-tech antique. And with a scrim of snow on the streets, you can bet I took it slow.

When I reached the bridge, I stopped and got out. From this distance, the mill was a blackened smear against the snow. It looked like it belonged to Crossfield again. Well, it always had, really.

“Well, Mercy,” I said to the cold morning air. “We tried.”

I got back in the car and drove the rest of the way.

When I pulled up, I saw a tall old man in a black coat staring at the ruin and its necklace of yellow tape. I didn’t know who he was, but I had an idea he might be some rich jenti who hadn’t wanted the center. Maybe he was the guy who’d set the fire, or paid to have it set. Anyway, he didn’t have any business being here.

“Hey,” I said when I was close enough. “This is private property.”

The figure turned and took off his sunglasses. When I saw those big yellow eyes, I knew who it was, even though I’d only seen them once before, last spring, and that had been in the dark.

“Cody Elliot,” Dracula’s voice rumbled.

“Rest beneath the shadow of my wings,” I said.

Dracula put his glasses back on. I guessed the light was hurting his eyes. But then I realized that he was crying.

“Always you have such silly ideas,” he said. “This was a very silly idea. An arts center. To bring gadje and jenti together and do music and painting and words for the pleasure of them. In New Sodom, of all places. Very silly.”

Then he hugged me. It was like being hugged by a tree, a very big tree.

“How did you know?” I asked.

“Ileana, of course. We talk, you know. When I spoke to her and learned that you two were no longer together, I asked her why,” Dracula said. “She told me, an arts center. In Crossfield. Where our people were tortured and killed. And she was brokenhearted to lose her boy, but she was very clear. This was not something she could ever accept. But I thought, ‘What a mad idea the gadje boy has had. Mad as trying to make his own way in our very hard school. Mad as teaching jenti how to swim. Mad as showing an ancient people something they never knew they could do. Let us see if he has something else to show us that we do not know. So I told her to find out everything as it happened, and to let me know it as soon as she did. I did not tell her why.”

“Did you pay for those Dumpsters?” I asked.

“Yes. And I paid Ms. Vukovitch’s costs for her part of the work. And