Vlad explodes, removing one hand from my neck to shove him back into the counter.
"You stay out of this!" he hisses as I scramble to keep at least one foot on the ground. "You are as bad as she is! Always lurking about-it's like you forget what you're here for!" When James says nothing, he turns back to me. "Tell me why you were in that pantry."
"I was . . . talking with James," I say weakly. Technically it's not a lie.
"Wrong," Vlad says. "Try again."
I can't think of a good excuse. "I was talking with James," I repeat.
"Lies!" he snaps, and drops me so fast that I fall to my knees and heave toward the tiled floor. I fully expect a swift kick to the stomach or a karate chop to the back. I don't expect to feel the back hem of my T-shirt being dragged over my shoulders and torn away while Vlad yells, "And the invitation clearly dictated bathing suits only!"
The shirt catches around my neck and ears, and for a second I am smothered in cotton. When it is finally free and I am allowed to fall back forward, the rush of air feels like the breeze before the storm. I should look at Vlad's face, prepare myself for the coming violence, but any willpower I might have possessed has abandoned ship. I wait for him to strike. If I contract every muscle in my body it will make my skin into a fortress! I think wildly, but the truth is that I will be lucky to escape this without something breaking. Still, he can't kill me in front of all these people. He'll kick me out for spying, but he doesn't know how much I know. Right? Right. No need to panic.
And then I realize that the warm, flat weight on my back is Vlad's book, tucked into the waistband of my jeans.
"Vlad," James says, his voice urgent, panicked, but Vlad cuts him off.
"So," Vlad says from above me, "a thief and a spy. Read anything interesting?"
I feel the cool scrabble of fingers on my back as he slides the journal out, not bothering to keep his nails from scraping my spine. The pain is just the shock I need to scramble to my feet and charge toward the door.
"Let me through!" I yell when I hit the wall of chests and elbows that clutter up the main hallway, and to its credit, the front line tries to part. But the crowd is too deep, there's nowhere for them to go. Whirling around, I see that James is blocking Vlad, arms outstretched. But Vlad is not trying to move forward, and the expression overtaking his face is not one that I've seen before. It's not angry, it's not even jaded or cynical. Instead, Vlad is blinking in amazement.
"Turn around," he says suddenly.
"What?" I ask, confused. If Vlad thinks that I am going to do the hokey-pokey before he kills me, he is sadly mistaken.
"Turn around!" Vlad roars. "Show me your back."
"No!" I yell out of habit, and regret it immediately. Perhaps I should do what the angry vampire says. My eyes search out James's, hoping for some hint of encouragement, but he looks just as confused as I feel. I swing my questioning gaze to Violet, who stands at the front of the crowd.
"Well, there are quite a few freckles on your back," Violet says as though breaking bad news, "but I think Vlad is overreacting. It does not look so horrible."
Vlad turns to address the clutch of students still huddling by the door. "I sincerely thank you all for coming. Do show yourselves out, and feel free to take a carrot for the road." When they make no move to go, he crowds them back through the door. "Really, if you do not move your foot I will have to kick you," he tells some unfortunate student. "Thank you."
He thinks it's me. He thinks it's me because I have freckles on my back. This entire time I've been assuming that Vlad's plan had some basis in reality merely because he had followed it so diligently, but now I see that he is crazy on top of crazy on top of crazy. The realization cuts through the fog of shock and confusion that has been keeping me immobile. I make a break for the side hallway only to skid to a stop when a large form swims out of the darkness.
"Ah, Devon, you are here. Tell Ashley to make sure all of our guests have vacated the premises and then guard the front door," Vlad orders before turning around and starting to walk toward me with a smile that's wide enough to show his incisors. "Now, let me see your back."
"They're freckles," I say and then turn around. "Not a birthmark. Freckles."
Jabbing a finger against the base of my spine, he starts to count. "One, two, three," he says, growing more excited with every number. "Four, five, six, seven, eight. I admit, it is not what I expected, but it is a star. It was said to appear differently every time."
James steps between us and points at what I assume are different freckles. "Nine, ten, eleven, twelve. I could make anything. I could make the Big Dipper."
"It is true," Violet says solemnly. "I see a heart. And a pineapple."
Vlad levels her with a dark glance and then reaches out to grab my arm. James knocks it away.
"Don't touch her," he says, all traces of diplomacy gone as he steps between us once again.
"This is getting tiresome," Vlad says. "Do you think you can keep her for yourself? Because you did not provide much help. But I will make a deal-move away and I will-" He stops abruptly, his eyes trailing over James's shoulder, to where I am doing my best to blend in with the counter. "Why does she not appear more confused?" he asks and then looks back at him with a chilling anger. "You told me she had forgotten."
"Guess I lied," James says, and though it comes out laconic, I feel his muscles tense in preparation for Vlad's next move. The other vampires are sharing nervous looks; Neville, especially, seems like he is about to be sick. But even his expression changes to shock when Vlad starts to laugh.
"I suppose it is only fair," he says when it's faded to an intermittent chuckle.
"How is it fair?" James snaps.
"I lied to you," Vlad says. "That nonsense about her blood being able to restore your humanity? I made it up so that you would come here and help search."
"No. I don't believe you," James says, but I remember his note.
Vlad chuckles again. "Ask Neville if you do not believe me. No one knows more about the girl than the Danae."
If possible, Neville's face has gone whiter. "I have never heard that particular myth, no," he says. "But I should say something-"
"See!" Vlad says to James. "There is no reason to guard her anymore. Step aside."
But James just backs closer to me, close enough that I could reach out and grip his back. I'm sorry, I think, hoping that for once he will hear it. I can't see his face. I wish I could see his face.
Vlad's eyebrows dart up. "You are making a dangerous choice," he says. "Even if you survive this, which is highly doubtful, you will have to-Violet, please get out of the way, I am trying to threaten him."
Violet is standing by James's elbow, tugging up the arm of her sagging costume with purpose. "I do not think that it is Sophie. And even if it were, I think I have changed my mind about helping."
"Me too," Marisabel says defiantly, pushing away from the refrigerator to flank James's other side. "I think it would be for the best if you left."
Vlad's lips curl in disbelief before he lets out a bark of laughter. "Neville, help me."
But Neville doesn't move; he begins to ramble. "I think you have been under a lot of pressure. I know I myself am crippled by the number of take-home essays that dragon who teaches German has been assigning. Perhaps you should rest awhile, and then if you still think that she exists, we will-"
"If she exists?" he roars. "If she exists? You are Danae! She is the reason you exist! Your entire organization began as a pact between families to protect her."
"About that, yes, well, you see, I didn't really think that it would come to this, but I suppose . . ." He pushes his shoulders back, gathering courage. "I have a confession to make. I am not in the Danae."
"Not Danae?" Vlad asks. "But you know everything about them. Your knowledge surpasses mine, even after decades of research." Striding across the room, he grabs Neville's arm and pushes up his sleeve. "You have the mark!"
"Let me rephrase," he says, extracting his hand. "I was in the Danae, but I was expelled for reasons that I would rather not go into."
"I knew it!" Marisabel says. "I told you he was fishy, I told you!"
"I am indeed fishy," Neville says sadly. "But you have to understand-being expelled from the Danae is a death sentence. I barely escaped execution. And I thought, what better place to hide than with a family of Unnamed?"
He is cut off by Vlad's hands wrapping around his throat and slamming him into a cupboard. "You will take me to them," he orders with murderous softness, "and you will tell them that I have found her, like we planned. I do not care if they kill you."
"Even if I take you to them," Neville rasps, "they will not care!"
"What?"
"They do not believe the child exists," he says. "I am sorry. I should not have encouraged your wild goose chase, but I thought I would be even safer in a human high school. No one expects to find vampires in high school," he says, attempting an apologetic smile.