Sloane Briallen

I had been sitting in the car for ten minutes, staring down the block at a front yard littered with plastic children’s toys. A lone, dry kiddie pool had been set up close to the house, a hose curled up next to it. A beat-up red Tahoe sat in the driveway next to the yard. The light mounted next to the front door was on.

Dusk was settling over the street. Most of the streetlamps were broken, but a few had turned on.

A little girl sat on the front step of the house. She was blowing bubbles and had made a game of trying to catch and stack as many bubbles on her wand as she could before the bubbles popped or the stack fell over. A glass of water sat next to her, an untouched afterthought.

Her face was round, her cheeks just beginning to lose their chubbiness. She wore a light blue T-shirt with a panda on it and jean shorts. The clothes were baggy on her, probably from a thrift store, and made her look smaller than she was. Her eyes were the green of fresh cut grass, and far more alert than I would have expected from a child barely out of toddling.

I felt like a creep, watching this little kid play in her front yard. But I couldn’t bring myself to either pull up or get out of the car. Lina playing on the front steps brought back so many memories. I was there when she was born. I bottle fed her. I held her through the night when she was colicky to give her mom some respite. I was there when she first started walking. When she had turned one.

But how much had I missed?

She was so tall. She had turned five in July. Were five-year-olds supposed to be so tall at this age? Her hair was so pale, almost bleach blonde. Would she keep that, or would it disappear with time? Her mom’s hair had darkened over time. She was long and lanky with knobby knees and elbows. Would she look like her mom and gain more muscle and flesh out? Or would she stay slender and long?

Would she develop any powers?

She wouldn’t know who I was on sight, I didn’t think. Maybe from pictures or stories, but she wouldn’t recognize me out of context, right? I could just, maybe, get out? Do a casual stroll? That would be fine, right? She was too young to be able to figure out who I was. And if I stayed across the street, Mira wouldn’t be able to tell I was here. Not if she wasn’t actively listening.

I opened the door to the car and got out, moving to the sidewalk. It would be fine, just a walk-by. Nothing too invasive. As long as I didn’t linger too long.

I found myself wishing that I had one of those new smartphone things Karhi had. That way I could pause by the house and pretend I was doing something on the phone.

For now, I’d have to just walk past the house, looking around as I did. At least I had sunglasses, so it wouldn’t be obvious I was looking the house over as I went.

It was just like I remembered—a narrow house, two stories with small windows. It was painted a rusty color with white trimming that had turned brown over the years of exposure to the Arizona sand and weather. A garage hung off the side with a basketball hoop in the driveway. The lot was the biggest in the neighborhood and was by far the most well-kept. It was also the only one that didn’t have bars on the windows and doors.

I searched for any sign past Lina that there was anyone else inside the house. I could hear heartbeats if I listened really hard, but they were too much of a jumble to identify. I didn’t know how many people were inside. At least one. Someone would have to be home to make sure Lina was safe.

Lina looked up suddenly, and I froze.

She tilted her head at me, as if listening. Her expression was curious, eyebrows slightly furrowed. I gasped as something brushed my thoughts. Gentle hands touched memories, and my mouth dropped.

She’s just like Mira. My eyes prickled as the weight of how much I had missed in four years settled onto my shoulders.

The curious look disappeared from her face, replaced with a wide, dazzling smile. My heart jumped in my chest, and what little breath I had left disappeared. It was as if someone had punched me in the gut.

She stood up so fast that she almost overturned the bottle of bubbles. The bubble wand dropped from her hands, and she ran towards me with the biggest grin I had seen in a long time. My heart ached as I realized no one had been that happy to see me in years.

I bolted across the street almost faster than I could process. As I got closer, I realized she smelled like strawberries and . . . vanilla. Vanilla, just like her mother.

I swept her up in my arms, being so, so careful to make sure I didn’t grab her too hard. I knew how strong I was now. I needed to make sure she never saw that side of me.

“Auntie Sloane,” she whispered in my ear, burying her face into my shoulder.

“Lina,” I whispered back. I pressed my hand to the back of her head, squeezing my eyes shut and smelling her hair.

I couldn’t speak. It hurt too much. Years of refusing to think about my past, of refusing to think about my family—it all came bubbling up. I had spent so much time pushing it all down, only thinking about them when I absolutely needed to.

And I had missed this little girl growing up.

But how had she known who I was? How had she recognized me?

I see you in their memories all the time.

Shock, like cold electricity, went through my body and I jolted. I pulled away to look at her, eyes wide and watery. She was just like her mother. Telepathy and mindreading.

She grinned at me, nodding. “You’re a little older now,” she said, speaking out loud now, “but I still knew. Your head is like Mommy’s memories.”

I chuckled, wiping my tears away. “Of course, you did. I always knew you would be smart.”

The door to the house opened, and we both looked up.

Mira was just like I remembered. Fruit punch red hair sticking out from her head at all angles—permanent bed head. And a strong, curvy body with wide hips and a comfortable belly. Her eyes were the same piercing blue fire that I had always associated with her. A silver piercing glinted at her left eyebrow and another one at her right nostril. She held a dishcloth in one hand.

“Lina, who—” She stopped staring at us. I watched the dishcloth flutter from her hand to the ground.

I knew I was not supposed to be holding her daughter. Not when I was . . . like this. I put Lina down and took a step back, biting my lip.

“Hi Mira,” I murmured. I kept my hands in front of me where she could see them. Everything inside of me screamed to squirm under her scrutiny, but I stayed still.

It was like lightning in my head, the sudden force the knocked into me. Before I knew what was happening, I was backing away from Lina. I had no control over myself, but my feet forced themselves behind me, putting distance between me and Lina. The invasion inside of my head was like a force of nature. I pushed against it. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how it should be.

“Mom, no,” Lina screamed.

I dropped to the ground, my control returning. I looked up wildly and saw Mira braced against the doorway, a hand to her temple. Lina got in front of me, shielding me, arms straight out from her body.

“What’s going on?” A figure appeared behind Mira and squeezed past her.

Frankie was fifteen years old now, bronze curls pulled back by a black bandana. He was tan, Venezuelan, and a few inches taller than Mira. He’d gained a lot of height and body mass in the past few years. He wasn’t the scrawny little boy I had known. Brown eyes shrouded with concern and alarm as he looked up at me.

His brow furrowed. “Sloane?”

“She’s a vampire, Frankie,” Mira hissed.

Frankie looked between me and Mira, blanching. “What?”

I felt something tear inside of my head and I yelped and doubled over in pain. I pressed my hands to me temples.

Small hands covered mine, and the pain eased. I opened my eyes to see Lina standing over me, green eyes intent on mine.

“Lina, get away from her!” Frankie yelled. I heard running footsteps.

“No,” Lina shrieked. Frankie stumbled and shouted out in pain. “Mom, leave her alone!”

“Lina, she’s a—”

“I know!” Lina grabbed my hand and yanked at my arm. My head throbbed, and I winced. She stopped, looking at me. “Sloane.”

This time I stood up.

Mira stood on the steps, and Frankie was standing up from where he had fallen. Lina had done that to him. She had forced him to stop.

Frankie had a cut above his eye. I could smell the blood. It made my hands tremble. I hid it by crossing my arms. I could ignore it.

Mira stared at me. “Why did you come?” she wanted to know.

“Because you needed me,” I said.

“I needed human you. You should’ve stayed back wherever you were. You shouldn’t have come.”

“You said Mikko was missing,” I shot back. “If you didn’t want my help, you shouldn’t have asked.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” she snapped, gesturing angrily. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell from thousands of miles away that you were dead. I’m sorry I missed out on that part of your life.”

Her words were like knives, pushing in deep and twisting. I bit back the angry tears. I had already cried when I touched Lina. I didn’t need to cry any more than that.

“What do you want?” I demanded. “An apology? I knew how you’d react, so I didn’t tell you.”

“You should’ve kept to yourself.” She looked at me with those eyes. There was blue fire in them that turned her face into the picture of a wounded animal. I could see the glassiness, the tears welling up.

I fought back my own traitorous tears. “I’m still an open book to you,” I told her. “Maybe I should’ve warned you and maybe that’s my bad, but if I had, would that have changed anything? Mikko would still be missing; Frankie and Genie would still be back; and I’d still be here.

“And with or without your help, I’m still going to find him.”

She had no reply to that. I saw Frankie looking between me and Mira, unsure of what to do.

“Annie’s looking for him,” Lina told me.

“Lina,” Frankie hissed. But he was torn between whether to step forward and grab Lina or hide behind Mira.

Hide behind Mira.

I ignored the prickle of tears at that thought, pulling my hand from Lina’s. “Go to your mom, Lina,” I said, not breaking eye contact with Mira.

She protested. “But I want you to come in—”

“Lina, no!” Frankie and Mira shouted.

I smiled bitterly. Vampires had to be invited in; Mira and Frankie knew it. “Go to your momma,” I said again. “They don’t want me around.”

She started to cry. “I don’t want you to go away.”

I finally broke away from Mira’s gaze to look at Lina. I kneeled in front of her and brushed her hair from her face. “I’m staying in town, sweetheart, alright? Just go inside. I’ll see you soon.”

She looked between Mira and me. Then she hugged me. “Come back soon.” She ran back to her mom, skillfully dodging when her mom tried to reach for her. She flitted back into the house, shooting a dirty look at Frankie and her mother.

“I’m going to go check in at the Super Eight,” I said, looking back at Mira. “Let you guys get used to the idea. I’m going to look for Mikko.”

“Not a chance in hell we’re going to get used to this,” Frankie muttered.

“Whatever, kid.”

I felt their eyes on me as I went to my stolen car. I even felt them when I got inside and was hidden by tinted windows. I could feel their gazes until I turned off their street.

I was two blocks away before I had to stop because I couldn’t see past the tears. I put the car in park and put my feet up on the seat and my head between my knees, sobbing.

That could have gone better.

I checked in at the Super Eight and was led to a room with an unattractive view of the parking lot. The sheets were the only things about the room that were clean, but that was all that needed to be clean. I’d slept in worse places.

I needed to shower and get into a change of clothes. I’d been wearing the same clothes for almost 48 hours and even though we don’t sweat, vampires can still get a layer of grime on us if we go too long without showering.

I pulled off my clothes, leaving them by the bathroom door before stepping onto the tile. The bathroom wasn’t too dirty, either. There was grime in the corners of the room, but the tile was pretty clean and there was only a spot or two of mildew in the shower. I would take the win for a room that was $38 a night plus tax.

As I passed the half mirror over the sink, something glinted and I stopped, looking in the mirror. I froze.

The necklace. The flower necklace.

It was there.

With all the commotion with Mira and coming back, I had completely forgotten about the dream that Mira had woken me up from.

But now, for the first time, I had taken off the shirt that had hidden it. And it was there, against my skin, cold to the touch. It was settled just below the dip in my collar bones, resting against my sternum.

I reached out in horror to touch it and it zapped me, just like it had in the dream. As it shifted against my neck, I felt a faint buzz of magic brush against my skin.

I don’t know how long I stared at that necklace. My mind alternated between going a million miles a minute and just stopping in utter disbelief.

But what finally stopped me staring at myself in the mirror, trying to force myself to do anything else, was a realization. The dream had been real. The necklace around my neck proved it.

Whatever I had seen of my mother hadn’t been real and corporeal, but it was her. Maybe she was a ghost. I had no idea.

But what I did know was that my mother had been dead for over a decade at this point. I had seen the body myself at the wake.

I had never seen Mickey and Bell’s bodies.

Were they still alive?