Chapter 24
The nurse ran from the room before Arthur could stop her. He didn’t dare follow. He wouldn’t leave this room unless Young went first. He was quite literally the last thing standing between Brody and certain death.
“You can drop the act.” Arthur stepped forward, finally relinquishing his poor attempt at a British accent. “We both know why you’re here.”
Now that they were alone, Trip did indeed let go of the false concern and fear on his face. His tightly held expression dissolved into a scowl and he squared his shoulders as if preparing for a fight.
“You should go before the sheriff arrives. Last I heard, you’d been arrested. I’m guessing he didn’t just let you out.”
“No mortal prison can hold a vampire.” It was a lie, but Arthur hoped it sounded sufficiently intimidating. “Why are you doing this, Dr. Young?”
Trip blinked at the change in subject. “Why am I threatening you? Thought it was obvious; as soon as the cops get here, you’re toast. So you better start running now.”
“No—I mean why are you trying to kill your own son?”
At those words, Trip’s mouth turned down in disgust. “He’s no son of mine.”
The vehemence of the statement made Arthur take an involuntary step back. “You’d disown him? Why, because he does graffiti? He’s actually quite a talented artist, you know. Just because it’s done with spray paint doesn’t mean it’s not art.”
“Graffiti? Who kills someone over that?” Trip laughed derisively. Arthur would have laughed with him if not for the tension in the air. “You couldn’t begin to understand what’s going on here.”
“I don’t know, I figured out it was you who framed me for Brody’s attack, didn’t I?” Arthur gave him a cold smile. “Try me.”
“You’d really rather stand around waiting to get arrested?” Trip asked.
“I have all night,” Arthur said, a quiet calm coming over him. “I’m nocturnal, after all.”
“Don’t think I forgot for a moment what you are, bloodsucker.”
“That’s not very nice.” Arthur channeled his best embodiment of Salvatore. “I don’t call you a teeth-puller.”
Trip didn’t dignify that with a response. He just sneered, showing off his pearly whites.
Arthur pulled his shoulders back and fixed Dr. Young with what he hoped was a disarming look. “Come on. I’m as good as guilty, right? Satisfy the curiosity of your scapegoat, won’t you? Why hurt Brody?”
“Because he betrayed me.” Trip clenched his fists and stared past Arthur, to where Brody lay completely helpless. “He was going to turn me in.”
“Going to turn you in?” But he needn’t have asked. The final puzzle piece slotted into place, and suddenly the entire affair shifted in a way that allowed Arthur to see it all, every last grim detail. Brody’s attack wasn’t the first time Trip Young had framed vampires for a crime.
“You called Brody to the park that night. You needed the truck to move the body.”
Trip didn’t confirm or deny, but Arthur could see it all over his face—the smugness, the security. He thought he’d gotten away with it.
If Arthur stepped aside, he surely would.
“What was the mayor doing in the park?” Arthur asked softly.
“We meet up there sometimes, to talk, have a few beers away from our families. We’re—we were friends.” Trip’s expression darkened. “Until he turned traitor, too.”
“You’re anti-paranormal,” Arthur said. The sign in Trip’s yard, supporting the mayor’s campaign. The very anti-paranormal platform Roth had run on. “But so was he—”
“Yeah, until a few dollar signs got involved.” Trip rolled his eyes.
“That new city manager comes to sweet-talk George, saying she can boost tourism by leaning into the paranormal elements, and suddenly he’s talking about making Trident Falls more hospitable to your sort, about trying to attract more of you. ”
Despite the danger of the situation, Arthur couldn’t help but feel proud of Nora.
Even if it was all about economic gain, it was a real start.
If she could bring the old mayor around to her way of thinking, maybe she really could help this town now that she had the job herself.
Arthur just hoped he’d be around to see it in the end.
“He was going to accept Nora’s proposal, then.”
“He was going to turn his back on humanity.” Even in the low light, Arthur could see red creeping into Trip’s cheeks.
“I met him in the park with a six-pack, hoping to blow off steam about my worst customer not even showing up for his nighttime appointment, even after I stayed open late just for him.” He gave Arthur a pointed look.
“I’d apologize for Sal, but I think we’re beyond that now.” Arthur shrugged. “What happened next?”
Trip clenched his jaw and continued. “George kept going on and on about all the money we could make if we pander to the paranormal-loving weirdos out there. Turn this place into a real tourist attraction, is what he said. More like a real freak show.” Trip shook his head.
“That’s not why I donated to his campaign, you know. ”
“Killing him seems a little extreme.”
“It was an accident,” Trip huffed. “I shoved him, he shoved back, I pushed hard, and he fell. Slammed his head into the corner of the bench. Our bench.” Pain flickered in Trip’s eyes—perhaps a symptom of guilt or regret—then he shook his head.
“Whatever. I got Brody to bring the truck, and he was supposed to keep his mouth shut. But when he realized some so-called private detectives were snooping around, he got nervous. Didn’t want to take the fall for me if we got caught. ”
“The second time you were more prepared,” Arthur said. “You got my dental impressions so it would be a match.”
“Yeah, first time I used a scalpel to make it look as good as I could. Drained the blood, dumped him near the only two bloodsuckers in town. Figured even McMartin couldn’t mess that up.”
“But you didn’t account for one of those vampires being an excellent detective.” Arthur straightened his back. “We tracked down Brody in no time.”
“Lot of good that did you, right?” Trip grinned humorlessly. “I should’ve known not to trust him. He’s rotten to his core, just like his mother. I tried to keep him from being a paranormal sympathizer, but it didn’t take. Your kind tend to stick together.”
“Brody’s not a vampire.” Arthur shook his head. “Is he?” But no, that didn’t make much sense at all. Arthur would have noticed. He glanced at the monitors again to make sure, but they still showed a pulse.
“He’s a freak. Paranormal witchy freak. Just like his mother, who lied to me about it, by the way.” Trip raised a finger, pointing aggressively at thin air. “Gonna fix that mistake soon, though.”
“I don’t think so.” Arthur advanced on Trip. “It’s you who should be fleeing. As soon as the sheriff gets here, I’ll tell him everything you said. Brody will corroborate it when he wakes up.”
“Just keep telling yourself that.” Young grimaced. “It doesn’t matter what you say. The sheriff will never believe you over me.”
As if on cue, the door burst open and McMartin rushed in looking haggard, his hair thoroughly mussed and still wet, as though he’d not had time to style it after a shower.
“There you are, you vamp! Thank god you were here, Trip—”
Before McMartin could get out another pompous word, Trip shoved him back, toward the open door. The back of his head collided with the steel with a crack loud enough to make Arthur wince in sympathy. McMartin dropped like an oddly costumed bag of potatoes.
“What is it with you and giving people head wounds?” Arthur looked down at McMartin’s awkwardly sprawled body. He appeared to be breathing, at least. There wasn’t much else Arthur could do. Not without leaving Brody to Trip. “And why would you hurt him, anyway? He’s on your side.”
Trip began to pull a few things from his pockets. “He is, just a bit too early for my taste. See, Brody’s still alive, and I need to pin his death on you before he wakes up.”
“But you pushed him—”
“Out of the way of a vampire attack he wasn’t anticipating. He’ll be grateful it was only a head wound when he wakes up and I explain how I chased you off after you did your worst. Now…” Trip pulled a flashlight from his pocket and brandished it before him. “Get away from here, you beast.”
He clicked the light on. It wasn’t white like a normal flashlight, but a soft purplish color. He shone it at Arthur like it was a lightsaber.
“What’s that supposed to be?” Arthur asked.
“It’s— Why aren’t you burning? This is a UV flashlight!”
Arthur scrambled out of its beam. “Oh, good lord, don’t shine it on me! Do you know how bad UV radiation is for your skin? Why do you even own such a thing?”
Trip waved the flashlight around more. “You’re a vampire. Sunlight kills you!”
“No, it doesn’t. You’ve seen me out during the day!” Arthur huffed. “Please tell me you have more sense than this.”
“But—that stupid husband of yours—”
“Watch it.”
“—you said he wanted a nighttime appointment to avoid the sun!”
“We’re nocturnal. We like to sleep during the day. You don’t see bats and raccoons bursting into flame just because something wakes them up before sunset, do you?” Arthur was really tired of that particular myth, and not just because of the sleep deprivation.
“But everyone knows—”
“Just because they put it in a movie doesn’t make it true.
The sun would have to be monumentally closer to the earth to cause any kind of lethal damage.
A little low-level radiation isn’t going to kill me—skin cancer on the other hand, well, it still won’t kill me, but have you ever had a melanoma removed?
I may not be mortal, but my pain receptors work just fine. ”
“Whatever.” Trip discarded the flashlight. “I’ve got other tricks up my sleeve.” He retrieved something else from his pocket and threw it at Arthur weakly.
A head of garlic bounced off Arthur’s chest. It didn’t even hurt. “Why are you wasting food?”
“It’s garlic! It repels vampires!”