Allison was already in the library when Shannon and Caleb came through the doors. She'd skipped fifth period. Everyone, even the teachers (especially the teachers), knew. Better—or worse—yet, Allison knew everyone else knew. It was a calculated gamble: Quintus Zima, Dean Procter, and Vince Masterson were often absent whole days, and when they were present it was often wished they were not. And that was just in her grade. Allison thought perhaps an unspoken agreement could be reached, and this one indiscretion could be overlooked in attention to more pressing student matters.
A risky gamble, but one that—for the most part—paid off.
There was a heap of books and paper on the table in front of her when Shannon and Caleb found her. She'd already broken two pencils, which was steep for a single class period, even for her. The grimace on her face was menacing.
"About time you two showed up," Allison growled as they cautiously took seats next to her.
"Sorry, there was this cool new thing we went to," Caleb said. "It's called school."
"Ha ha." Allison's face did not change. Shannon swallowed, opting to look away from Allison's sour gaze. She looked down to the books scattered on the table, tracing her finger over one. Some laid open, giant messes of words and pictures peering up to look at her. Others were shut, toppled on each other and stacked up. Shannon looked at the one her hand caressed; it said simply Wisconsin.
"What are all these?" she asked, sweeping her hand out above the books.
"History," Allison said. "I've gathered every book I could find that could possibly have anything on the history of Clearwater."
"How's it going?" Caleb asked doubtfully, picking up one of the open books and taking a cursory glance.
"Nothing," Allison replied moodily, throwing the pencil she was holding onto the table. Her gaze fell over all the books. "I can't find anything. The whole damn town might as well not exist."
"It's not very big or important," Shannon ventured cautiously.
"You'd still think there'd be something. I can't find anything at all." She looked at Shannon hopefully. "Do you think there'd be anything in the Clearwater library?"
Shannon had to stop herself from wincing. "No. The library's closed. Most of the materials were damaged or destroyed. The city's having a new one built. One no one's been killed in, you know. Getting all new books and materials."
Allison deflated. Her eyes fluttered gloomily across the stacks once more before she looked up at Caleb. "I think it's time to talk to Charlie."
Shannon still did not understand Charlie's significance. She did know Charlie Mouser; she'd gotten to know everyone in her grade, at least by their name. He was the freckled face boy with the thick horn-rimmed glasses who didn't say much. He was nice, though, in what little he did say. But Shannon didn't understand what he had to do with anything; she did not know what they meant when Caleb and Allison said he knew the most.
To be fair, perhaps no one but Charlie Mouser truly understood it at that point in time. There was more behind those thick glasses and freckles than anyone realized.
Caleb rubbed the back of his neck, his face contorting in uncertainty. "Why do we have to drag him into this?"
"It's important," Allison said forcefully. All of them spoke lowly, not wanting to attract Miss Terwilliger's attention, but the intensity of Allison's words was loud. Her agitation had been rising up since before Shannon and Caleb had come in; the two broken pencils were testament.
"You know he's not supposed to talk about this," Caleb persisted. "None of us are."
"And yet he keeps getting the books from Miss Terwilliger," Allison said crossly. Shannon only understood bits and pieces of what they said. "I guess she doesn't mind that he's not supposed to talk about it. We need to talk to him. I'm sure he'll have ideas, he'll know where to start."
Caleb sighed and looked off to the side.
"Look, I know we're not supposed to talk about it," Allison said, trying to adopt a more ingratiating tone. Her voice sounded strained. "But you know that doesn't really stop anyone. We just have to be careful."
"What are you two talking about?" Shannon asked.
Caleb looked at her with a nervousness that he tried to cover up. He looked pointedly back to Allison. "Very careful."
"Come on," Allison said, standing up and leaving no more room for argument. Shannon and Caleb followed her deeper into the stacks, headed towards Charlie's usual home in non-fiction. He was there, amongst the shelves and the dusty books, just as he always was. Just as he was always known to be. Charlie looked up in surprise when they turned around the bookshelf, just as he had the day Caleb came by himself to talk to him.
"Hi, Charlie." Caleb was sheepish as he sat down next to the boy. Shannon and Allison sat down across the table.
"Hi," Charlie said, pushing his glasses up on his nose. Shannon observed that he must have pretty bad eyesight; his eyes were giant saucers behind the lenses.
Allison stared at Caleb. Caleb did not look at her, but Shannon was rather certain he could tell. Even though this was Allison's show, she was waiting for Caleb to set the stage. He would have to speak, and all three of them knew it.
"I've got a question for you," Caleb said, rubbing the back of his neck again, a nervous tick.
"Again?" Charlie asked, half-amused and half-nervous.
Caleb winced. "Yeah, sorry. But...we need your help."
Something Shannon would never know was that, ironically, it was Vince Masterson and his two dancing fists that made Charlie acquiesce. Charlie Mouser was not exactly a distrustful person, and he liked the three people at the table with him—Caleb in particular, because he knew Caleb the best. But he was cautious, and this was a sensitive topic. He didn't want to get himself into unnecessary trouble.
The shiner on Caleb's eye was the decision maker. He understood that immediately. He saw in Caleb an ally, in the way that kids who are targeted by the same tormentors sometimes do. For that, Charlie could help him out.
"Okay," Charlie said. Allison broke into a small grin, making Shannon figure she must be ecstatic. "What can I do?"
Caleb looked at Allison expectantly. It was her turn, now. Shannon waited patiently, in some ways just as curious as Charlie to hear what Allison would say. She was definitely curious to hear what Charlie would say; she wanted to get to the bottom of his importance.
"You already know what we're gonna ask, don't you?" Allison said.
Charlie sighed and shrugged. "Sort of. What do you want to know?"
Allison looked all around the table and past the bookshelves a bit dramatically. Shannon had the strange feeling of being unable to turn back. A flight of fancy, perhaps, but she held her breath until Allison began to speak.
"What kind of monster do you think would kill a dog and break into a butcher's shop?"
Charlie frowned. There was vague recognition in his eyes. He asked, "What was taken from the butcher's shop?"
Allison looked at Shannon hopefully.
"I—I heard nothing, really, just some stuff was messed up," Shannon stuttered. She'd spoken to Mary Dent a few days after it had happened; Mary had been quite assured that the alien was back and at it again. Despite that, Shannon had no reason to doubt the girl when she said that nothing had been taken.
"And what about—" Charlie stopped abruptly, blue eyes impossibly wide behind his glasses. Shannon, Caleb, and Allison immediately followed his gaze just in time to see someone step out from around one of the bookshelves.
"Oh, hi guys," Ollie O'Brien said, smiling sweetly but a bit bashfully at them. Tension melted out of Allison's entire body, hitting Shannon in the face. The four of them said their own hellos, and Ollie made to go to the table across the aisle when she paused and narrowed her eyes. She leaned in a little closer to the table the group occupied.
"Charlie, your glasses are brown," Ollie said, the smallest trace of frown on her lips. Charlie grimaced.
"Oh, uh, yeah," he said, touching one side of the frames absently. "They're an old pair."
"I know," Ollie responded. "Did your regular pair get broken again?"
Charlie did not respond. He reached down to the backpack at the side of the table instead and pulled out two pieces of a pair of glasses snapped at the bridge, identical to the ones he was wearing except in color: black. Shannon Malone, inexperienced as she was with Quintus Zima, Dean Procter, and Vince Masterson, could tell just by looking at Caleb's face—marred by the dark smearing colors of a black eye—that no accident caused those broken glasses. Ollie held out her hands.
"Can I take a look?" Ollie asked. Charlie nodded, placing the pieces in her hands. "I'll see what I can do."
"Thanks, Ollie," Charlie said. Ollie nodded and disappeared back the way she came.
"Dean or Vince?" Caleb asked, echoing Allison's words from just a day ago. "Or Quintus?"
"Quintus?" Charlie asked doubtfully. "He never gets his hands dirty."
Caleb snorted. "No, no. I guess he doesn't."
"Dean," Charlie said after a moment. "Fifth time this year. I don't think he knows what else to do with himself."
"He doesn't have the brains to figure anything else out," Allison said. The four of them laughed, but it was gentle, quiet, barely there. Silence held them captive then for a moment or two, and then Allison said, barely a whisper, "Anyway."
"Yeah," Charlie said. "Sorry. I was gonna ask about the dog. Do you know how the dog was found? How it was...killed?"
Shannon played with her fingers. "Yeah. He was, uh...he was all torn up. Ripped to pieces."
"Are you sure?" Charlie looked at Shannon long and hard. Shannon was taken aback by his sudden seriousness and intensity. She swallowed and nodded in certainty. Charlie pushed his glasses up and frowned thoughtfully.
"What is it?" Allison asked. "You have an idea, don't you? What is it?"
"What about blood?" Charlie asked, ignoring her. He still looked at Shannon. "Was there a lot of blood left around the dog?"
"Oh, I, uh...I don't know," Shannon replied. She thought back, trying to remember what exactly her father had said. "I guess so. I guess there'd have to be—if the dog was all torn up. Don't you think?"
"What is it?" Allison asked again.
Charlie didn't respond right away. He sat silently, his frown deepening. Shannon thought that perhaps she could see his thoughts flying through his eyes; she tried to pick them apart, but they went too fast. She could not see inside his mind to know, to understand. Next to her, Allison was getting impatient; the lines in her forehead deepened as she waited. When Charlie finally spoke, he still did not answer her question.
"Are you sure that all that was stolen from the butcher's shop was meat?"
"I think so," Shannon responded.
"What?" Allison asked sharply. Shannon laid a hand gently on Allison's arm, shaking her head slightly.
"Well, I don't know for sure," Charlie said, "but it sort of sounds like a vampire."
"A vampire?" Allison asked dubiously. "You mean like the 'I want to suck your blood' sort of thing?"
It was obviously trying her not to roll her eyes.
"Yeah," Charlie said.
"Aren't those just like a myth?"
Shannon didn't think Allison's doubt was particularly fair. She was the one who started all of this, the one who'd proudly proclaimed that—of course—she believed in monsters. Now she was acting like it was all irrational. Shannon herself was not sure that she believed it either, but Allison had been expecting an answer such as this. Allison had wanted an answer such as this. Her disbelief was coming a little late.
Charlie shrugged. "Could be, I guess. I've never seen one. But there are books and things on them. Someone says they're real."
Allison looked at him, frowning. "Is there anything else you think it could be?"
"I guess, maybe," Charlie said, a bit bemused. "I suppose there are a lot of things it could be. Could be a human. I just can't think of anything else that would have a reason. No monster, at least. Not a whole lot of monsters would break into a butcher's shop for nothing."
"But vampires would want blood," Caleb said quietly, almost thinking out loud. "From the dog, too—that's why the dog was so bad off."
"And Mrs. Levi's Pomeranian!" Shannon exclaimed, the thought coming to her suddenly. "A woman who lives near a friend of mine lost her dog recently; I didn't really think much of it. She's a house dog but I always see her running all over town because Mrs. Levi lets her. I suppose a vampire could've gotten to her, too?"
Charlie nodded. Allison huffed.
"I thought vampires drank human blood," she said. She folded her arms moodily across her chest.
"A vampire that's starving would drink whatever it could get," Charlie said.
Allison tossed her head haughtily. "Oh. A starving vampire."
Allison's discontented frown took up practically her entire face. Charlie broke his gaze away. He looked between Caleb and Shannon while Shannon wondered about Allison's sudden attitude shift.
"Like I said, there are books and things on vampires," Charlie said, careful not to meet Allison's steely eyes. "I've read a few. There are probably some here in the library, but you'd have to go through Miss Terwilliger first. She doesn't lend those kinds of books out very often." He added like an afterthought, "Just if you wanted some more information."
"Really?" Caleb asked.
"Oh, yeah," Charlie said. "She keeps them in the back, in her office. If you know the right things to say, you can convince her to let you see them, even loan them out."
"What are the right things to say?" Caleb asked.
Charlie looked at him with searching eyes. Big, blue searching eyes, amplified behind the lenses of his glasses. Caleb's nasty black eye did more good that day than anyone would ever know.
"Come with me," Charlie said. "I can get you into the backroom."
Caleb raised his eyebrows. He nodded, and neither of them said anything more as they got up from the table and headed towards the front of the library to where Miss Terwilliger would undoubtedly be, going through check-ins and doing repairs. Shannon was tempted to go with them—she wanted to see these books Charlie talked about, books with information on all kinds of improbable creatures—but she stayed with Allison. The other girl sat annoyed, looking at the tabletop.
"It's not a vampire," she said assuredly. Shannon looked at her curiously.
"I thought you believed in monsters."
"I do." Allison seemed almost insulted. "But it's not a vampire. Those are just urban legends. They're not real."
"How can you be sure? I mean, if you believe in other things, why not believe in vampires, too?"
Allison rolled her eyes stubbornly but didn't say anything. Shannon decided not to push it, and sat with her own thoughts instead. She thought of a butcher's shop window, smashed to pieces and scattered on the ground. She thought of a dog, a dead dog she'd never seen, torn up and ripped open. She thought of another dog, a tiny, white one, scuttling around town and disappearing into thin air. She thought of a monster she didn't know if she believed in. She thought of a Follower, a monster she supposed she had to believe in. She thought about what might have killed Sarah Benadine.
She thought about if she really wanted to know.
It was about another ten minutes before the boys returned. Caleb had a single book under his arm, thick and old-looking. He threw it unceremoniously onto the table, and all, even Allison, leaned in to get a look at it.
Ockham's Guide to Vampires and Creatures of the Night
"Who's Ockham?" Allison asked.
"The guy who wrote the book, I guess," Caleb said. He gingerly touched one of the ragged edges. There was a moment of time in suspension as they all gazed down at the brown, aging cover.
"What are you guys looking at?"
Four heads whipped up, bodies moving guiltily to block vision to the table. Ollie O'Brien was back, looking at them bemusedly as they frantically tried to hide what they were doing. She held Charlie's glasses in one hand.
"Nothing," Allison said, a little too fast. She allowed a pause of time, then said, "Just some book about...the war. Kind of interesting."
"Oh," Ollie said. It did not seem that she believed that, but she did not ask further. "I fixed Charlie's glasses. Just wanted to give them back."
"Oh, thanks, Ollie," Charlie said, rushing forward to take them. Shannon gazed at them, her eyes slowly widening. There wasn't a mark on them, not a single sign that they'd just recently been in two pieces. They seemed as good as new.
"Well, I'll see you guys around," Ollie said with her strange, tiny smile, and walked away again. Almost simultaneously, the four of them breathed out in relief.
"A book about the war?" Caleb asked teasingly.
"Oh, shut up," Allison snapped. "We're in non-fiction; I couldn't think of anything else. You didn't say anything."
Caleb waved his arms dismissively at her. Charlie laughed, and then looked between the three of them significantly.
"I think I'll leave you to it," he said. "I'm not sure I really want to know what you're up to."
Shannon smiled softly. Perhaps he'd be better off that way.
"Thanks, Charlie," Caleb said.
"Just...don't get yourselves expelled, okay?" Charlie said tentatively, looking down at the old book one more time.
"We'll do our best," Allison said. Charlie nodded, and then walked off in the direction Ollie had just gone, leaving them alone in non-fiction, his own little corner of the universe. They stood in thoughtful silence, and then, practically in unison, they turned their eyes and their attention to Ockham's Guide to Vampires and Creatures of the Night.
"Well?" Allison said expectantly. She looked at the faded words doubtfully, and she seemed in no hurry to dive in.
"S'pose we should have a look," Caleb said, sitting back down. Allison and Shannon followed his example. Shannon watched the pages, and suddenly remembered Charlie's glasses. There was no prompting, but it seemed significant in some way.
"Did you two see Charlie's glasses?" Shannon asked before anyone could do anything more with the book. "Did you see what Ollie did to them? You couldn't even tell they'd been broken. It's strange."
Allison looked at her with pensive, guarded eyes. Enigmatically, she said, "You'll see a lot of strange things here."
The air held weight over them, and then Caleb coughed. Jerkily, he nodded at the table and at the book.
"Like that," he said. Shannon smiled crookedly.
"Yeah," she agreed. "Like that."
She didn't ask what Allison meant. She already knew she'd never get an answer. Not one that would satisfy her, anyway. Putting all thoughts of Charlie's miraculously fixed glasses out of her mind, she considered the book. She wondered what kind of insights it might have. Only one way to find out.
A vampire that's starving would drink whatever it could get.
***Ugh, I have such a love-hate relationship with vampires. When they're written well, I love them. You know, when they're actually scary, like in Dracula. But in stuff like Twilight...not a fan. But I kind of wanted to return them to their roots and see how it goes. What are your thoughts on vamps? And, of course, thanks to everyone who voted and commented :)***