Don’t attribute to the supernatural… “You’re right,” I said, sighing again. “You’re exactly right.”
“As for advice, it’s pretty much the same, too. Be honest, set boundaries, and do the best you can.”
“Thanks for listening, anyway.”
“You know what you’re going to do next?”
I didn’t. I had some ideas. But I had to think some more. “I think maybe I’ll call her up and ask her to a movie. A late show.”
“That’s the spirit,” she said approvingly. “Good luck to you, Sam.”
The line clicked off.
AARON HAD TAKEN over the kitchen counter for some kind of expansive packing project—cardboard boxes, packing tape, rolls of bubble wrap, and things to be shipped. Dozens of things to be shipped, like he’d saved them all up for one big ship-fest.
One of the things to be shipped caught my eye. Cardboard box with a nostalgia-inducing look to it. Realization hit like a kick in the gut, and I picked up the toy.
“This is a Hoth Imperial Base,” I said, staring at the box in awe. When I was about ten, this was the coolest thing ever—that picture with the dinky little plastic action figures, the guns that never stayed in the plastic hands, the elbows that couldn’t move, that glorious Star Wars logo that would set any kid’s heart racing.
“Pristine, in original packaging,” Aaron said, emerging from his room, roll of packing tape in hand.
I said, “I had this when I was a kid. It had, like, an ice bridge you could blow up, and if you put the action figure on the thing just right you could launch it, like two feet.” The urge to open the box, pull the whole thing out and start putting it together was strong.
“Don’t you dare think of it,” he said, grabbing the box out of my hands. Like he could read my mind.
“Do you really make money selling this stuff?”
“I make rent, don’t I?”
“Well, more power to you,” I said, and wandered back to the game console. Ginny still hadn’t logged on. I was thinking of heading to Psalm 23 on the off chance her friends might be there and I could ask them what was up. Because that wasn’t creepy or stalkerish.
My mind wasn’t on any of the games I tried, so I went to writing. Which didn’t much work either.
Twenty minutes later, my console pinged—Ginny was logged on. But she wasn’t at her Xbox, she was texting. I dropped everything to IM her.
—Hey! I missed you, what’s up?
—I’m afraid I might have kicked the hornet’s nest.
—What?
—I found Clarissa Carter, she’s staying at the Brown Palace. But she’s not alone, she’s got a whole crew of people with her and I think they might be vampires.
Oh, this was bad. —Are you sure?
—I only saw them once it got dark.
—Did you see Jack? Was Jack there?
—I didn’t see him. I might be in trouble.
Jack wasn’t there. Or no—she just hadn’t seen him. But Carter really was working with vampires, and looking for access to Rick and the Family. Had Jack given it to her? Or had she just gotten rid of him?
I played video games because I was so shitty at this kind of thing in real life.
—Where are you? I typed back.
—Downtown. Have to take the light rail to my car.