Chapter 26: What Exactly Did You See...?

Which is technically true, since I never actually issued a formal invitation. I just failed to uninvite them when they showed up uninvited. There's a difference.

Probably.

"Furthermore," Dad continues, gaining confidence, "if vampires had been in this house, we would all be able to smell them. Vampire scent lingers for hours. Days, even."

Murmurs of agreement ripple through the assembled pack members, who are all nodding like this is basic supernatural biology 101.

Which it is.

"Exactly my point," the Alpha says, taking another deep breath through his nose. "There is no vampire scent in this house. None whatsoever."

Mr. Jingles's face starts turning an interesting shade of purple. "But I saw them! I saw them clear as day!"

"What you saw," says one of the other pack members—Mrs. Rodriguez, who's never liked Mr. Jingles and makes no secret of it—"was probably the cable repair team. They wear dark uniforms, and some of them are pretty pale."

"Cable repair team?" Mr. Jingles sputters. "I know the difference between a cable technician and a vampire!"

"Do you?" Amy asks innocently from her position near the stairs, where she's still technically maintaining submissive posture but somehow managing to radiate sarcasm. "Because you once called animal control about Mrs. Henderson's cat, and that cat has been dead for three years."

"That cat moves!" Mr. Jingles protests. "Dead things don't move!"

"Ghost cat," Amy says solemnly. "Very different from vampire cat."

"There's no such thing as vampire cats," says another pack member.

"What about ghost vampires?" asks someone else.

"Or vampire ghosts?"

"Those are definitely different things."

"Are we sure?"

The conversation is rapidly descending into the kind of supernatural taxonomy debate that could go on for hours, and I can see the Alpha's patience starting to wear thin.

"Enough," he says, his voice cutting through the chatter like a blade. "Jingles, are you certain you saw vampires entering this house?"

"Absolutely certain," Mr. Jingles says, but he's starting to sound less confident and more desperate. "Six of them, dressed in black, moving like—"

"Like predators, yes, you mentioned that," the Alpha interrupts. "And you're certain they entered this house specifically?"

"This house exactly," Mr. Jingles confirms, pointing at our front door like it might suddenly confess to vampire harboring.

The Alpha nods slowly, then turns back to my father. "Beta Claw, if vampires had been in your house, where do you suppose they went?"

Dad spreads his hands in a gesture of complete bafflement. "I honestly have no idea, Alpha. If they were here—which I'm not saying they were—they certainly aren't here now."

"And they left no scent trail."

"None that I can detect."

"None that any of us can detect," the Alpha corrects, gesturing to the assembled pack members who are all shaking their heads in confusion.

"Maybe they didn't actually come inside?" suggests one of the younger wolves. "Maybe they just... walked past the house?"

"I saw them go inside!" Mr. Jingles insists, his voice reaching frequencies that probably hurt dogs in neighboring counties.

"Maybe you need glasses," Mrs. Rodriguez suggests helpfully.

"My eyesight is perfect!"

"Your judgment isn't," Amy mutters under her breath, which earns her a sharp look from Dad but makes me love her even more than I already do.

The Alpha holds up one hand for silence, and the room immediately goes quiet except for the sound of everyone breathing and Mr. Jingles making frustrated squeaking noises.

"Let me understand this," the Alpha says slowly, his voice taking on the tone he uses when he's about to make someone's life very difficult. "Jingles, you're claiming that six vampires entered this house, spent enough time here to conduct whatever business vampires conduct, and then left without leaving so much as a trace of scent behind."

"That's... that's exactly what I'm claiming," Mr. Jingles says, but he's starting to sound less sure of himself.

"Vampires who can completely erase their own scent," the Alpha continues. "Vampires who can eliminate all evidence of their presence. Vampires who are apparently better at stealth than any vampire in recorded supernatural history."

"Maybe they're really advanced vampires?" Mr. Jingles suggests weakly.

"Really advanced vampires," the Alpha repeats, his tone suggesting that he finds this explanation about as believable as a unicorn riding a bicycle.

"Or maybe," says another pack member, "you were watching one of those vampire movies again and got confused about what's real and what's television."

"I don't watch vampire movies!" Mr. Jingles protests.

"You have the entire Twilight collection on DVD," Mrs. Rodriguez points out. "I've seen it through your living room window."

"That's for research!"

"Research into what? Bad acting and worse special effects?"

"Those movies are very informative about vampire behavior!"

"Those movies think vampires sparkle in sunlight," Amy says. "Real vampires burst into flames."

"Actually," I start to say, then catch myself before I can correct her with information I definitely shouldn't know.

All eyes turn to me, and I realize I was about to share vampire biology facts that would be very difficult to explain without admitting I've been getting up close and personal with one.

"Actually what?" the Alpha asks, his attention now fully focused on me.

"Actually... nothing," I say lamely. "I was just going to say that Amy's right. Movies aren't a reliable source of vampire information."

"Unlike some people," the Alpha says, his gaze shifting back to Mr. Jingles, "my Beta's daughter appears to have common sense."

I try to look modest and responsible instead of like someone who's been making out with vampires and lying to everyone about it.

"Now," the Alpha continues, "Jingles, I want you to think very carefully about your answer to this next question."

Mr. Jingles swallows audibly.

"Are you absolutely, completely, stake-your-reputation-on-it certain that you saw vampires entering this house?"

The silence that follows is loaded with the weight of Mr. Jingles's entire future in the pack. If he sticks to his story and he's wrong, he's going to look like an idiot who can't tell the difference between vampires and cable repair technicians. If he backs down now, he's going to look like a liar who made false accusations against the Beta.

Neither option is going to end well for him.

I almost feel sorry for Mr. Jingles.

Almost.

Then I remember that if the vampires had actually been caught, my entire family would be dead right now, and my sympathy evaporates like morning dew in hell.

"I..." Mr. Jingles starts, then stops, looking around the room at twenty pairs of werewolf eyes that are all staring at him with varying degrees of skepticism and annoyance.

"I saw something," he says finally. "I definitely saw something. But maybe... maybe it wasn't vampires."

"Maybe it was cable repair technicians?" Mrs. Rodriguez suggests sweetly.

"Maybe," Mr. Jingles admits reluctantly.

"In black uniforms?"

"Possibly."

"Moving like predators?"

"Cable repair technicians can be very... focused," Mr. Jingles says weakly.