The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires(96)

Leland put a hand on Patricia’s shoulder and looked into her eyes.

“I’m sorry I bit your head off earlier,” he said. “But I don’t know what I’d do if anything ever happened to Slick.”

Outside, it was still and dark. The candle on the porch had burned out and all the Creekside trick-or-treaters must have long since gone home. Patricia walked briskly around the side of the house and threw Slick’s underwear, robe, and ruined clothes into the trash, stuffing them all the way down under the bags. Then she ran to the Volvo and locked all the doors behind her. Slick was right. He might still be outside.

Once she had the car moving she felt safer and the anger rose up inside her, making her skin feel too tight. Her movements felt rushed and hurried. She couldn’t contain herself. She needed to be somewhere else.

She needed to see James Harris.

She wanted to stand in front of him and accuse him of what he’d done. It was the only place to be that felt like it made any sense to her right now. She drove carefully through Creekside, using all her self-control to make wide circles around the few remaining trick-or-treaters, and then she was on Johnnie Dodds and she put the pedal to the floor.

In the Old Village she slowed again. The streets were almost empty. Burned-out jack-o’-lanterns sat on front porches. A cold wind whistled through her Volvo’s air-conditioning vents. She stopped at the corner of Pitt and McCants. The Cantwells’ front yard was empty, all its lights dark. As she turned toward James Harris’s house the wind set the corpses hanging from their trees twisting, following her, reaching for her with their bandaged arms as she drove past.

The massive, malignant lump of James Harris’s house loomed on her left, and Patricia thought about his dark attic with its suitcase containing the lonely corpse of Francine. She thought about the wild, hunted look in Slick’s eyes. She remembered what Slick had hissed:

If he did this to me, what’s he going to do to you?

She needed to know where her children were, right that minute. The overwhelming need to know they were safe flooded her body and sent her flying home.

She pulled into the driveway and ran to the front door. One jack-o’-lantern had burned out and someone had smashed the other one against their front steps. She slipped in its slime as she raced up her porch steps. She opened the door and ran to the sun porch. Korey wasn’t there. She raced upstairs and threw open Korey’s bedroom door.

“What?” Korey shouted from where she sat, cross-legged on her bed, hunched over a copy of SPIN.

She was safe. Patricia didn’t say a word. She ran into Blue’s room. Empty.

She checked every room downstairs, even the dark garage room, but Blue was still out. She felt frantic. She checked that the back door was locked, she grabbed her car keys, but what if she went out looking for him, and he came home? And how could she leave Korey alone with James Harris out there?

She had to call Carter. He needed to come home. Two of them could deal with this. She jumped at the noise of the front door opening and ran to the hall. Blue was just closing it behind him.

She grabbed him and pressed him to her body. He froze for a moment, then squirmed out of her arms.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” she said. “Where were you?”

“I was at Jim’s,” he said. It took her a moment to process.

“Where?” she asked.

“At Jim’s,” he said, defensively. “Jim Harris’s house. Why?”

“Blue,” she said. “It is very important you tell me the truth right now. Where have you been all evening?”

“At. Jim’s. House,” Blue repeated. “With Jim. Why do you care?”

“And he was there?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“All night?”

“Yes!”

“Did he leave at any point, or was he out of your sight for even a single minute?” she asked.

“Only when a trick-or-treater rang the bell,” Blue said. “Wait, why?”

“I need you to be honest with me,” she said. “What time did you go over there?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Right after I left. I was bored. No one was giving me good candy because they said I didn’t have a real costume. And he saw me and said it didn’t look like I was having much fun so he invited me inside to mess around on his Playstation. I’d rather hang out with him anyway.”

What he was saying couldn’t possibly have happened because of what James Harris had done to Slick.

“I need you to think,” she said. “I need to know exactly what time you went into his house.”

“Like around seven-thirty,” he said. “Jesus, why do you care? We played Resident Evil all night.”

He was lying, he didn’t understand the severity of the situation, he thought it was just another spray-painted dog. Patricia tried to make her voice understanding.

“Blue,” she said, focusing on him intently. “This is extremely important. Probably the most important thing you’ve ever said in your life. Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying!” he shouted. “Ask him! I was there. He was there. Why would I lie? Why do you always think I’m lying? Jesus!”

“I don’t think you’re lying,” she said, making herself breathe slow. “But I think you’re confused.”