Chapter Four

For the next several weeks William and Calder found it difficult to pay attention in class. Who wanted to learn about fractions or adverbs when you had a dangerous vampire for a friend? Unfortunately, the school's network would not allow for personal Palms to be used for anything other than school-related research and communication during school hours, and no one whispered while the teacher was talking. They settled, therefore, for playground corners and private lunch tables. After school finally let out, their bedrooms were the place of choice for excited speculation and boasting between themselves.

The sudden seclusion hardly went unnoticed by William's mother, who's curiosity caught her pausing for a few seconds to eavesdrop every time she walked by the closed bedroom door. Every time she asked William what they were doing, he had a response ready that sounded plausible enough that Mrs. Cole was quite sure William was not being truthful. However, as she did not have any evidence to support her suspicions, she stayed quiet. Judith Cole was not the type of mother to pry into her son's business, so long as she had sufficient reason to believe he was safe, and so it was quite by accident when she discovered a book on William's floor while she was searching for dirty clothes.

The fact that there was a paper book at all in William's room was intriguing in itself and to hold it gave the amateur historian in her a thrilling jolt, but it was the title that interested her the most: Favorite Vampire Legends: Frightening Tales Concerning the World's Most Notorious Vampires.

She flipped through the book, blue-grey eyes narrowing in scrutiny. Was this what they were doing all alone? Reading scary stories to each other? It was puzzling. Harmless, she supposed, but puzzling. She put the book on her son's desk, making a note to ask him about it later and resumed the laundry duties.

William's answer about the book that night satisfied her. He explained that it was Calder's book and that he had accidentally left it there the previous day. Yes, they had been reading it, and the only reason they didn't tell her was that they were afraid she would think it was too scary for them.

"It's not," he assured her, "it's just fun." That, with an apology, sated her curiosity. For a few days, anyway.

She and William were walking home a few nights later, each carrying a bag of groceries, when William suddenly cried out, "Angel!"

Mrs. Cole started, for she would not have seen this man had William not pointed him out.

"Hello, William," the man named Angel said, approaching. He was slightly familiar, as was his name, but she couldn't place him. He wore a long jacket and held it tight across himself, as though he were cold. He was quite pale; and his dull eyes suggested great fatigue. Perhaps he was sick? He suddenly looked up from William and caught her eyes.

Mrs. Cole often prided herself on being somewhat intuitive about a person's disposition, but what happened when they caught eyes had never happened to her before, and it shook Mrs. Cole to her core. Something evil and malevolent lashed out at her, but like a mad man straining against his bars it was quickly forced back. Guards of kindness and knowledge blocked the view of the mad man, yet Angel's eyes remained eerily empty and it was a wonder they contained anything at all. The sensation passed, and she took a moment to catch her breath.

"You're William's mother?" He said it like a question that he should know as fact, his eyes narrowing at her like he might have vaguely recognized her if he thought hard enough. Even so, he slowly offered a hand, keeping the other arm tightly against himself.

She took it warily, her stomach clenched in irrational apprehension. His hand was freezing. "Yes, I'm Judith Cole."

"Pleasure." It did not sound like a pleasure to him. He took his hand back and secured it once again over his abdomen.

"Angel saved me, Mum. He brought me back home, remember?"

Of course, now she knew why he was familiar. She hadn't gotten much of a look at him that night, but William had mentioned his name several times during his fantastical story about what had happened. She and her husband Sam had worried about the story, and had, of course, filed a full report with the police that there was a dangerous person lurking in the allies of the eastern part of the city. The part about the monsters, though… They decided that if that was the story that helped him cope, they wouldn't try to correct it. Not yet, anyway.

So this was her son's rescuer. A small bit of the apprehension lifted.

"Oh yes, certainly," Judith Cole said, pulling herself properly together to give him a gracious smile. "You know, Angel, we never did get a chance to thank you for what you did for us. I don't know how we can-"

"It's alright," Angel interrupted. "It was no trouble. Really."

"Are you okay?" William asked, looking at Angel's clenched arms.

"I'm fine. I'm just a little…under the weather. It'll be gone by morning."

"Well, we'll let you get your rest, then. It was a pleasure to meet you, and thank you again," Judith said with the same sincerity that Angel had used, though hopefully more convincing. The meeting had been quite the opposite of pleasurable, though she did owe him a deep thanks. Also, she would never miss an opportunity to demonstrate to William how polite people conduct themselves in conversation. She smiled.

"I don't know what I'd do without my Will." She gave William a little squeeze with her free arm. Angel nodded a farewell to the both of them and moved on.

She watched him as he passed, and Judith's jaw dropped slightly in shock: a bloody hole was pierced through the back of Angel's jacket. Before she could get a proper look, however, he had rounded the corner and was gone. She steered William home, trying to ignore the nagging thoughts that Angel's ailments were not a simple stomachache.

William's 9th birthday was on a Saturday in August a few weeks later. On that day, he woke up early, shouted that he and Calder were going out for a bit before his party that afternoon, and dashed off. When he returned a few hours later, Calder was with him and they were in deep discussion as they made their way down the hall and into William's bedroom.

The party went smoothly, Judith Cole thought, and William happily played with his other friends, the knowing glances and quick smiles to Calder gone unnoticed by all but Judith.

As she put her tired son to bed that night, her foot kicked something under the bed. Bending down, she picked up another book; this one smaller than the one she had found a few weeks ago, and its cover would not close completely. By the dim light of a small lamp, she could just make out the title: Vampires: A Brief Guide. She took another look at William, fast asleep, kissed him, and left with the book.

Sam was not at home due to business out of the country, so Judith made no attempt to hurry as she readied for bed and settled in to read the book. As she opened it, something slipped out and fell into her lap. She picked it up.

It was a wood crucifix about the size of her palm on a red string. The longest part of the cross sharpened to a point and a piece of paper was rolled around it. Unraveling the paper, she read a message in elegant cursive (which she was sure William did not know how to read),

May you never need to use this.

She puzzled at it for a minute before realizing there was handwriting in the book where the cross had fallen out. It said in the same slanted penmanship,

To William Cole on his 9th birthday. Remember, the best way to stay out of trouble is to not go looking for it.

Angel

Angel? The Angel who had saved William and brought him home? The one about whom William insisted had magical strength-plants, and had rescued him from a real life monster?

(Well, of course whoever had attacked and hurt her son was a monster in Judith's book; the fact that this person was still at large gave her no small amount of nightmares when she closed her eyes to sleep.)

She turned the pages of the book to chapter one, read the first sentence, and couldn't stop until she had turned the last page. Phrases jumped out at her; like, "one must drink blood from the vampire itself to be turned…," "vampires know no remorse, and therefore know no mercy. It is best, then, upon meeting a vampire, to kill it as quickly as possible…," "…the head must be completely severed from the body…," "…the strength of a vampire is such that they have been known to snap human spines like matchsticks," and so on.

It was after midnight when she finished and though she turned out the light and pushed herself under her covers, she could not fall asleep. The overwhelming crowd of thoughts and gruesome images jumped and shouted through her head, all vying for attention. One in particular presided through her restless dreams, never yelling as the others, but holding a strong dominance as it ceaselessly repeated in varying forms, Who is this person and what the hell are they teaching my son?

Judith woke up at the usual time the next morning and began cooking breakfast. Not long after, William ambled into the kitchen, still in his pajamas and his dark hair messy. Judith served him his eggs and sat down opposite him, taking a bite before beginning her interrogation.

"So, do you still see Angel much?"

William froze. "Angel?" he asked.

"Yes, the dark-haired man who brought you home. We ran into him on the way back from the store the other night. I gathered from our exchange that you've spoken with him since the night you ran away. Is that true?"

"Sometimes." William mumbled.

Though not unexpected, she had been afraid of that. "Does he live far from here?"

William shook his head. "Just a few minutes."

"Where?"

William didn't answer.

"Excuse me, William, but I asked you a question. Will you please answer?"

William said reluctantly, "In the flat building beside Sweet Brennan's Bakery."

"What do you do when you visit him?"

"…Have tea."

Judith raised her eyebrows. "Have tea?"

William nodded.

"How long have you been visiting him?"

William did not answer right away, but they both knew he could not escape answering the question, so William finally mumbled, "Ever since he saved me."

Judith kept her shock to herself. That long? He'd been slipping away from her for weeks, and like an oblivious mother, content in her own perfect baby's inherent honesty—the kind of mother she had vowed never to become when he was born—she believed him. How had she let herself become so easy to deceive?

"William, will you do me a favor? Don't go visit him until I've had time to speak to him."

"What! No, Mum!"

"William, please. I just want to make sure it's safe."

"It's safe, I know it is!"

"William. Do not visit him today, alright? And come straight home from school tomorrow."

"No, Mum!"

"Yes, William." Her voice raised to a tone of finality. "This is not negotiable. You will stay home today and come straight home tomorrow afternoon. Understood?" William set his face into a crushed scowl, but nodded. "Thank you."

The rest of the meal was eaten in stony silence.

Judith found Angel's flat easily enough that afternoon. A moment after she knocked on his door, Angel opened it.

He was tall, she noticed, and her already nerve-ridden stomach clenched a bit more. Judith was a little taller than average at roughly 5' 7", but Angel's figure was imposing, both in height and in sheer potential of power. He'd fought off an attacker, after all. His shoulders and head slumped forward a bit, but he seemed entirely comfortable in his own body and command of it. His bulk spoke of muscle rather than fat, and Judith had to remind herself that if he'd saved a child, she was probably safe meeting with him alone.

"Mr. Angel?" Though her posture was habitually straight, Judith pulled herself up. As a former dancer, she was also comfortable in her own body, and while that didn't give her physical strength, she found it gave her an imposing air of a quieter sort when she decided to own it. "I'm Judith Cole, William's mother. I wondered if I could have a word…?"

Angel opened the door wider, backing away, and she stepped in. She had an opener all figured out, but the oddity of Angel's flat caught her off guard as she entered. She stared wondrously at all the wood, old furniture, and paper books for several seconds before realizing where she was and why. Coming to herself again, she made a small swallow before beginning.

"Mr. Angel-"

"Just Angel."

"Very well, Angel. First I would like to extend my gratitude again for what you did for our family."

"It's no problem," Angel replied, "really. You don't need to mention it."

Judith bowed her head in acknowledgement, and then took a breath. "I know William's been coming to see you."

Angel looked like this was not news to him. "Is that bad?"

"It is when he's been hiding this fact from me. For weeks he's been coming here and I had no idea. He said he made a new friend and led me to believe that it was a peer from school he was coming to play with. This deception bothers me."

"It seems like your son is the one you should talk to, not me."

"Oh, I have. And I will again. That's not why I came today." Angel waited expectantly. Judith continued, "I came because I'm concerned. My son has been keeping things from me and sneaking off. I need to know why, and I need to know who you are. I need to know what you talk about and do while he's here. William has never deceived me before as he has these past few weeks. It worries me."

Angel's eyes shifted around the room. "And what," Angel asked, "could I say to comfort your worries that William could not?"

"Not much, I admit. But William's proven to me that he can be untrustworthy, so I need to look elsewhere for my information." She paused, gathering her courage. "Some people will tell me that the fact that you rescued and took care of my son should be proof enough of your goodness, but a mother's job is to worry and be skeptical of strangers, you see. Everything I know about little boys tells me they like to run outside in the mud, pull girls' hair, and scream and shout with other little boys. Not once have I heard of them skipping off on opportunities to get dirty and burn off all their energy on the playground, to come sip tea quietly with an adult." She let her last sentence hang in the air.

"Mrs. Cole, what is it you think we do here?"

"Honestly, I don't know. But I've talked with William's friend Calder's mother—I'm sure you know Calder—she confirms what I have observed: that they lock themselves up in their rooms everyday after school. I need to know that what they're doing is safe and healthy. I need to know if you've been telling them things or showing them…something, I don't know. All I know is, I'm worried and you seem to be the cause of it."

"The boys aren't exposed to anything here I wouldn't tell my own 9-year-old son."

"And what are they exposed to?"

Angel shrugged. "I'm a good storyteller. They like hearing adventure stories."

Judith bit her lip. "Stories like the kind from Favorite Vampire Legends?"

Angel raised his eyebrows ever so slightly, but that didn't ease the unnerving intensity of his gaze. His eyes are dark, Judith thought, and not just in color.

"Angel, I don't mind William listening to scary stories. Goodness knows, if it gets him to read, I may even encourage it. But I draw the line at graphic books about vampires."

His eyebrows raised again, slightly. "You read it?" he asked.

"Yes I read it. Cover to cover. It is obvious to me you do not have a child, Angel, for I do not believe you would want them to read such dark and disturbing material. No 9-year-old needs to know how to become a vampire or how kill one or how to recognize one. It's simply too gruesome to fill a young mind with." Judith was aware that she had ended her sentence with a preposition, but she was also aware that this was not the time to correct it.

Angel did not respond, much to Judith's annoyance. An apology was generally customary in these circumstances. Instead, Angel watched Judith in the way that one who has just presented a riddle watches the person who is puzzling the riddle out. A complete silence fell over the flat. An old clock ticked quietly somewhere in the room. Other than that, the only sound that could be heard was their breathing.

No wait, her breathing. Judith stared at Angel and inwardly started. He was staring at her as still as a statue; and he wasn't breathing. Had he not just blinked, she would have thought him a wax figure. Her eyes tried to play tricks on her, to tell her he was indeed breathing, just shallowly and slowly, but it was no use: the folds from the way his sweater hung off his body were as still as carved stone.

Angel's eyes shifted from Judith to a small table behind her. She turned and saw a wooden stake resting there. Her eyes grazed the titles of various books on the shelves beside it. Demons and magic and curses and witches and vampires jumped out at her. Her mind began to twist down impossible and strangely logical paths.

He didn't breathe. He was pale as the moon. He sported a puncture wound all the way through his torso one night, and not a week later was completely healed. He lived an old-fashioned life surrounded by books of the supernatural, of creatures of the night. He had wood stakes. He had tales of dark adventures.

William-an honest kid, Judith credited to herself-insisted that Angel had saved him from a real, snarling, reptilian monster and knew about potion-making.

It all began to fall impossibly into place, each piece making a louder click as it snapped into the next bit of logic. She turned back to Angel, who seemed to have been waiting for her to figure it out. Her eyes met his and the same shocking sensation overcame her as it had the other night. With a jolt, she understood.

She knew what he must be, though her common sense told her he couldn't. But she could be sure… There were tests. She'd just read about them. Judith withdrew Vampires: A Brief Guide from her purse.

"Take this back. William is too young to have it." As she handed the book back to Angel, she purposefully let the cover open slightly so that the cross slid across the smooth pages and onto his open palm. The wood seared his skin and Angel growled—growled—as the book and cross clattered to the floor. He looked up at her in shock, cradling his hand, his eyes no longer dark.

Though her heart pounded, Angel's deformed face and knife-sharp teeth were not the most terrifying thing she'd ever faced. The most terrifying thing she'd ever faced was the night she thought she'd lost her son. She crossed the distance between them in two strides.

"You're not to come near my son anymore," she commanded in a low, clear, unwavering tone, her face inches from his. "If you ever hurt a hair on him, I will kill you."

Then she turned on her heel and left.