"Birks. It's what my sisters and I call all the random guys in Birkenstock sandals."

Sid looked, and Alex silently indicated a blond guy with dreadlocks and the eponymous sandals. "You don't like Birkenstocks? They're, like, totally comfortable."

Alex nodded as they climbed. "They are that. What's the blond guy reading?"

Sid peered down.

"It's, uh-"

"Don't tell me. L'etranger."

"No . . ."

"a la Recherche du Temps Perdu."

"Wow!" Sid marveled. "How do you do that?"

"Birkwatching, man," Alex said, shaking his head. "Travel around enough, you gotta do something with your time." He saw a paper sign tacked near the staircase that said, LIVRES EN ANGLAIS / ENGLISH BOOKS, and tapped it.

The third floor was better lit than the second, with some love seats and wooden chairs and a cus.h.i.+oned bay window that looked out on the street below. Past the bestsellers and necessary English translations of Camus and Proust they found collections of short stories.

"What are we looking for, exactly?" Sid asked.

"I have no idea. I probably would have done better with your library," Alex said.

"My library is gone with the wind." Sid shook his head in sadness.

"Oh G.o.d, I'm sorry," said Alex. "I can't believe I keep forgetting that." Sid had had two shelves of books, many of them nonfiction, but he had reams of vampire novels and stories. He was a connoisseur of all things vampire and was in the process of creating stacks of character sheets for a game that as far as Alex knew no one else at Glenarvon played-Scarlet World, a role-playing game about vampires. Sid liked to dig deep into primary texts, old stories. "I never rip off a movie unless I can find a book to back it up," he had explained, and Alex wasn't sure what that meant but it seemed to mean something to Sid. Everyone had a hobby.

Sid scanned the floor-to-ceiling shelf in front of him. "These are stories, but-if we have to write something, I mean-we need something about, you know, how to write, don't we?"

They began to move around the shelf when they heard someone say, "That's brilliant," in a p.r.o.nounced British accent. As Alex and Sid stepped into the Language Arts section, they saw Paul, who was rummaging through books with Minhi and jos.h.i.+ngly fighting over one.

"I spotted this!" Minhi said.

"But it's called Master Plots," said Paul. "As in, all the plots. In one book."

"What did you find?" Alex asked. Behind Minhi, he saw Vienna, wearing her jaunty green scarf.

Minhi turned around, letting Paul have the book with a shake of her head. "Hey, guys!"

"We're looking for something to help us write a story," said Paul. "And we just found one called Master Plots."

"Can I see that?" Sid asked, taking it. He thumbed through, showing it to Alex. Inside were countless outlines: "The Romance," "The Action Story," "The Mystery." Sid shrugged indecisively.

"There's another one here," said Vienna, taking another copy off the shelf.

"I don't know," said Sid.

"What is it you were hoping to find?" Vienna asked him. Her eyes ran past Alex, and Alex felt himself trying to make eye contact, feeling mildly crushed that she failed to connect.

"Sid's something of a purist," said Alex. "He reads old books, old stories. Am I right?" He looked at his Canadian friend.

"Something like that. I guess I'm looking for something less-mercenary." Sid shrugged again.

Vienna scanned the books. Her scarf danced a little as she eyed something on the top shelf. She reached up to take the book, bouncing slightly on the b.a.l.l.s of her feet. She pulled down a tattered, leather-bound book, inspecting it for a moment, and then turned around. "What do you think of this?"

Sid took it, reading the cover. "Do you know this book?"

"I just thought it looked old," she said, smiling.

Sid read the t.i.tle aloud. "The Skein: A Study of Narrative Form, by David Cracknell." The book seemed to wheeze and crack as he opened it and he began gingerly flipping pages.

The short story, unlike the novel, allows no freedom to lose the rhythm that is key to every moment. Rhythm finds its way into the reader's mind, and the author fails if he does not maintain it.

Sid looked up. "It's a theory book."

"Esta bien," said Vienna. "We tried."

"No, no," Sid said, smiling. He seemed relieved. "No, this is the one for me."

"Way to go," said Alex to Vienna, and she curtsied slightly, jokingly. Paul and Minhi were reading through their own Master Plots books, and Alex began to search the shelves, looking for something that might call to him the same way. But his heart wasn't in it. In truth he had no intention of giving the story compet.i.tion more than a cursory effort. There was too much going on in the off-hours. There was Ultravox, after all.

He turned, opening his mouth to ask Vienna if she would be entering the contest, and discovered she was no longer standing there.

Alex looked across the room and saw Vienna in front of the bay window, looking out into the street. Alex grabbed another copy of Master Plots off the shelf and walked over.

"So what about you?" he asked.

She didn't respond, and Alex followed her eyes through the window, moving closer to look down to the cobblestone streets below.

Someone was standing across the street, stock-still and staring up at the window.

Her again. Elle wore black pants and boots and a pair of dark gla.s.ses, and had a white leather coat pulled close and tied with a belt.

Alex darted his eyes to Vienna, who had not diverted her gaze. "Do you know that girl?" he said softly.

Vienna spoke low after a second and he saw her scarf dance. "No."

Elle pursed her lips in a smile. She had spotted him.

"Tell the others I had to run," Alex said. He launched himself down the stairs, past the cafe, and onto the first floor. He slammed past shoppers in line at the checkout counter and hurtled outside, aware of the sound of the bells jingling on the door.

All up and down the street, people moved slowly, hands thrust in their pockets against the October chill. Elle was no longer there.

Alex looked down the block and saw the white coat disappearing around a corner. He ran for it.

Elle could be insanely fast. If Alex had seen her disappearing around a corner, there was a good chance it was because she was toying with him. So be it.

Alex turned onto an avenue called Matthias, which was lined with dark wood, bars, and restaurants. People were gathering, meeting one another for early dinner. As the street sloped down he saw it terminate at the docks of the marina, the gray water of the lake yawning in the distance.

There she was, running faster now, headed for the docks.

By the time Alex reached the docks, he had lost her. He nodded at a yacht's captain as he stepped out onto one of the narrow jetties, moving past a myriad of small craft, the sound of wind and the clanking of boats and lines filling the air.

What was she doing here? Alex ran through all that he knew about her from when he had faced her before, in the hidden school called the Scholomance. Was she watching for him? She had been staring at Vienna, though. Or she had been staring up and Vienna had spotted her. Spotted was an obvious and inexact word in this case-Elle had been standing out like a sore and bone white thumb; she had wanted to be seen.

Alex stepped along the boards, feeling the chill against his sport coat. He reached the end of the pier and turned left, looking around him, moving along a walk that led to other piers of the marina. A stone picnic table sat up ahead, a long, thick umbrella still piercing down through the center of it. The blue cloth of the umbrella fluttered, and he reached out to move it aside.

As he touched the umbrella, a white hand reached around and grabbed his wrist.

Alex saw his own reflection in Elle's Italian sungla.s.ses as she dragged him off his feet, swinging him off the pier for a moment and around. She let go and he hit the boards, rolling and sliding, catching the brunt with his shoulders.

He got to his feet and into the warrior stance Sangster had taught him, half turned, weight evenly distributed, toes curled to provide extra balance, one foot forward.

"Why are you following me?" he demanded.

She stopped, putting her hands in her coat pockets, spiky blond hair lifting in the wind. As she smiled, her fangs showed. Elle's teenage look notwithstanding, there was no telling her age. She was out in the late daylight, so she could handle some sun. That meant she could be hundreds of years old, he had learned. The Polidorium hadn't told him that-Sid had, because when it came to knowing about vampires, the redheaded Canadian had some game.

"At this point it looks like you're following me," Elle said, shrugging.

Alex looked around. He wasn't carrying any weapons. That didn't necessarily mean he couldn't handle her-without weapons he had defeated vampires before-but the odds were against him. And he had too many questions. If she wanted to talk, he was more than interested. He relaxed his stance a little, holding up his hands. "Why did you try to poison me?"

"Poison? Are you talking about the worms?" she responded. "Well, naturally because the Scholomance wants you dead."

"You say it like you're not a part of them."

She seemed to blur for a second and suddenly she was behind him, her arm wrapped around him, her dead hand up under his chin. Not squeezing. Just making a point. "Oh, I'm a part of them, boy. But let me tell you how this goes. They want you dead because they consider you a threat the way nits turn into lice. They don't want you to suffer; they want you out of the way."

Alex grabbed her wrist and twisted, moving away, and she let him. Then she grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him against a metal pole.

"But that's just being shortsighted, Alex," said Elle. "I actually would prefer that you suffer. At least a little."

"Why? Because of my freaking name?" Alex brought up his knees and smashed at her leather-bound torso with his shoes, sending her backward. He scuttled in the opposite direction, moving farther away and into a fighter stance again. This was insane. She could rip out his throat any time she wanted, and she wasn't even trying.

He edged back against the umbrella and the table, ready to either fight or turn and head for the mainland.

"You don't know who you're s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g with," she said through bared teeth. "And I'm not letting you destroy what's left of my life. Tell me-what do you care about?"

Alex was struck by the strangeness of what she was saying. This sounded personal, and that made no sense at all. "Care is a big word coming from you," Alex said. "You said yourself that you guys don't give a d.a.m.n about anyone, isn't that right? No empathy, no love?"

There was a rapid plodding of footsteps up the marina, and Alex heard someone calling his name. Alex glanced past the poles to the main pier and saw his friends. Minhi, Paul, Sid, and Vienna were coming down the dock, splitting up. He saw Paul and Minhi go off on one trail, Sid another. Vienna was coming his way. In a moment she would reach the end of the pier and she'd be able to see him.

Vienna reached the end and turned left, and suddenly she was staring at Alex and Elle. She backed up instinctively, stopping at the edge of the water.

"What about this one?" Elle said, looking beyond him with a knowing smirk, her eyes invisible behind the gla.s.ses.

Suddenly she lunged, breaking into a jaguarlike run; he actually caught a blur of her nails reaching all the way down to the boards of the dock as she moved, and as she drove past him it felt like he had been sideswiped by a train.

"No!" Alex shouted, turning. Vienna was frozen at the end of the dock. Alex was running after Elle, trying to catch up, but the vampire was too fast.

Vienna hadn't had time to move a step when Elle sliced by her, a small cloud of material puffing into the air as she ripped half of the girl's sleeve away.

And then with a barely audible splash the vampire in the white leather coat was gone. Alex was running to the edge of the dock. He saw Vienna twisting, about to fall backward, and he caught her.

Holding Vienna by the waist, he looked past her, searching the water.

Elle was nowhere to be seen.

Alex became aware of Vienna suddenly-she was shaking. He moved her a few steps from the edge and held up his hands. "It's okay," he said. He looked back at the water and started searching the surrounding area. He was thinking he might catch her climbing up somewhere else.

This doesn't happen. That was what his father used to say about anything paranormal, any movie about monsters or vampires or zombies. Doesn't happen. For a moment, Alex wished he could go back to the days when he clung to that mantra.

Paul, Sid, and Minhi came running up. "b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l!" Paul shouted. "That was that-that-"

Alex turned to Sid. "Did you see?"

"Absolutely I saw," Sid said, eyes wide. "She jumped in the water."

Vienna was still shaking, staring at her sleeve. "What-"

"I didn't know they could do that," Alex said, frowning. According to lore, and according to Sid, vampires could be killed by holy water but were allergic to any running water, and would seek to avoid crossing it. They certainly wouldn't jump into it.

Sid looked troubled to be caught off guard. "Well, you know, I guess the deal is this is a lake, so it's standing water. As opposed to running."

Minhi touched Vienna on the shoulder. Vienna screamed.

"Hey," Alex said, snapping his attention back to her. "Did she get-are you hurt?" He looked from her sleeve to her face, the giant brown eyes staring at him. She was holding her arm close to her body. "I'm gonna touch your arm, okay?" She nodded.

Alex gingerly took her forearm and brought it forward, glancing over it. Her olive skin was slightly pale and blotchy from cold and fear. "Okay. It's-she didn't leave a scratch," he said. He looked at the others and back at Vienna. "It's okay; I do this all the time."

Minhi rolled her eyes. "Let's go," she said, and hugged Vienna.

Paul and Sid turned their attention back to the water. "You think there's one o' those entrances right here?"

"Not on the surface," Sid said. "I think she swam to it."

Alex looked back toward the village. "We should go."

Alex took off his sport coat and handed it to Vienna. She stared at the coat for a second, then slipped her own off and put his on, silently.