Part 10 (1/2)

It took me a minute to process that. ”My uncle?”

”The vampire!”

I should've guessed. ”And what are you again?”

Clyde shut his eyes like he was about to go catatonic, so I took on the kind of voice a vet might use while administering annual shots. ”Easy.” The words felt idiotic, but . . . ”Some of my best friends are werepeople.” My best friend. ”You can tell me.”

”'Poss, 'possum,” Clyde replied, rising. ”I'm a wereopossum. I can play dead in human or 'possum form. That's . . .” He pointed. ”Travis. He's a werearmadillo.”

I'd figured that much out. ”Kieren sent you.”

Travis uncurled and bobbed his bulky head.

”We're supposed to vampire-proof your house,” Clyde explained. ”We started here, in your bedroom, and thought we'd work our way out. We would've asked first, but n.o.body was home and Kieren said it was an emergency, so -”

”How did you get in?”

Clyde shrugged. ”The front door was unlocked, which isn't very safe. Vampires have to be invited in, but there are all kinds of other -”

”Yeah, I know.” What was with Uncle D? I wondered, not for the first time. Didn't he have the good sense to be afraid?

Sidestepping the stinky, sticky fluids, I paced the floor of my bedroom. My nice, normal, sensible bedroom, the one I hadn't bothered to redecorate since I was about twelve. A full-size canopy bed with a calico-print bedspread, matching nightstand and dresser in an eggsh.e.l.l ivory, moth-chewed Oriental rug that clashed with the bedspread, a rattan chair. And Travis . . . G.o.d, I'd never seen a wereperson in animal form before.

Something occurred to me. ”Vampire-proof it how?”

Holding up the spray bottle, Clyde answered, ”Holy water for the window panes, and in the bag, we've got -”

”What's in your other hand?” I asked.

”Uh.”

”Are those my panties panties?”

”Well,” Clyde replied, ”we might have gotten a little distracted.”

Oh my G.o.d. ”And where the h.e.l.l is Kieren?”

”Investigating something at school that will just blow -”

”You,” I said to Clyde. ”Put. My underwear. Down.

”And you,” I told Travis, grimacing at the yuck on my hands, ”fix yourself.”

Glancing down, I noticed the shredded boy-clothes, recognized them as remnants of what he'd worn to work. ”No, wait,” I said. ”I'm going to grab some of my uncle's things and bring them back here. Then I'm going downstairs so you can do whatever you need to do to become a fully clothed, boy-shaped soph.o.m.ore again.” I pointed at the bag on the floor, the one with a Celtic cross half falling out of it. ”Take that with you.”

After Travis and Clyde collected their antivamp kit and left, I blew out the garlic-scented candle, cracked my windows, cleaned the floor, showered, scrubbed the tub, and then decided I'd feel better with some protection handy.

But the gun I'd inherited from Grampa Crimi? Gone. I'd always kept it in my chest at the foot of my bed, beneath the Mexican blankets. I double-checked between the folds to be sure.

Kieren had warned me against carrying it, bringing it to work. Because the gun couldn't protect me, he'd said. Because it could be taken away.

Kieren's truck pulled up alongside me as I was walking to school the next morning. I'd gone the long way, through the residential neighborhood, to think.

”Hey,” he called from the driver's seat, ”get in.”

I kept walking. I hadn't called or e-mailed him last night, hadn't counted on seeing him until I got to school, hadn't figured out yet what I wanted to say.

”You're mad?”

I didn't slow down.

”Yeah, Clyde called me when he got home. I'm sorry, Quince.” He stopped and leaned over to open the pa.s.senger side door. ”I'm trying to apologize.”

I didn't get in. ”They were in my bedroom!”

”They weren't supposed to do that, just go into your house like that.”

”Clyde was rummaging through my underwear!”

Kieren's expression became dangerous, possessive. It was clear Clyde hadn't bothered to mention that tidbit.

I pressed. ”I want my grandfather's gun back.”

He narrowed his eyes. ”The gun?”

”Don't play dumb,” I replied, lowering my voice as a jogger sped past. ”You knew where I kept it, you sent in your little friends, and now it's gone.”

”Quince, please get in the truck.”

”No.”

He killed the ignition, got out, and joined me on the sidewalk. ”Did you see them take it?”

”No. But they had a bag with them. It was probably in the bag.”

Kieren put his hands on my shoulders. ”I did not take the gun. I swear to you I didn't. I didn't ask Clyde or Travis to take it either, but believe me, I'm going to talk to them this morning about a few things.”

I shrugged him off, tired of touching that only went so far.

”We're going to be late for school,” Kieren said.

”I'm not going.”

”But -”