Wisdom
Page 43The long, long talk Jack and I had after our fight last night was not something I wanted to repeat. We’d hashed out so much stuff, about Jane, Peter, even me being a vampire, and it had been exhausting. The worst part was that in the end, I’m not sure if I felt any better about anything.
“That good, huh?” Bobby raised an eyebrow.
“Yep.”
“So… you’re not telling him what we’re doing today, are you?” Bobby asked nervously.
“Of course not. There’s enough going on with us without him finding out that I’m still trying to figure out who killed Jane,” I said.
“Why is he so worried anyway?”
“I have no idea.” I shrugged. “It’s not like I’m super fragile or anything.”
“How do you kill a vampire anyway?” Bobby looked over at me.
“Well, we’re not really immortal, per se,” I said, telling him what Ezra had explained to me. “Whatever makes us vampires, it’s basically just a virus that stops decomposition and promotes healing. Our bones are superior, but not unbreakable. In the end, we still come from a human body, and we can’t function without a brain or a heart.”
“Sure, if you can get a piece of wood to break through our ribs, but I doubt that,” I said. “Stop the heart, sever the head, however you can manage it, and we’re dead.”
“Good to know,” Bobby said.
I pressed on the breaks, and the car skidded to a stop as I pulled over. I stared up at the luxurious apartment complex that towered above us and took a breath. “Well, here we are.”
An overcast sky had left the day dim and gloomy, and the sun had just started to set, making the streetlights blink on as I stepped out of the car. I stared up at the building I hadn’t been to in months and felt an odd sense of nostalgia.
“Where did she live?” Bobby stood next to me.
“Fifth floor.” I pointed to it, even though we couldn’t see anything from this angle and distance.
“What’s the plan?” He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets as an icy wind whipped over us.
“I guess we go inside.” I glanced over at the main door to the apartment building.
“Who should I tell Mr. Kress is calling?” The doorman had gone over to the desk to phone Jane’s dad. He had to check with him before he could buzz us up, and I really wasn’t sure if Mr. Kress would.
“Um, Alice Bonham. I’m a friend of Jane’s,” I said.
“I see.” The doorman gave me an odd look for a moment, then dialed up. “Mr. Kress, an Alice Bonham is here. She says she’s a-” He paused, apparently interrupted. “Very good, sir.” He hung up the phone and smiled. “Go on up. He’s been expecting you.”
“Thank you.” I smiled thinly at him and walked to the elevator.
“He’s been expecting you?” Bobby whispered as he hurried to keep up with me.
“Apparently.” I stepped inside the elevator and breathed deeply, trying to hide the nauseated feeling this was giving me. Going back to Jane’s apartment. Seeing her father.
“What does that mean?” Bobby asked, and I shrugged. “Does Jane’s dad like you?”
“I’m not really sure. Honestly, I don’t even know how much he liked Jane,” I said.
I’d been hoping that Jane’s father wouldn’t be home. That’d been part of the reason why I picked this time. Mr. Kress usually worked long hours at the office, so I figured he’d still be at work. I wanted to sneak out before Jack woke up and Milo came home from school, but avoiding Mr. Kress was part of it too.
I hadn’t even spoken to him or her stepmother at the funeral, and I kinda liked her stepmom Blythe. Even when we’d been close, I’d hated eating supper at Jane’s house. Dinner conversation felt so forced and stilted. There was something strangely terrifying about her father.
The housekeeper opened the apartment door before I had a chance to knock. She was new from the last time I’d been here, and I struggled to remember exactly how long it had been since I’d hung out with Jane at her place.
The apartment looked as grand as ever. It wasn’t very large, but it had an opulence to it. Everything in it looked lux and expensive, and I’d hated playing here as a kid because it was like playing in a museum. If I touched anything, I’m sure it would shatter, and incur the wrath of her father.
The housekeeper had led us into the entryway, and I heard the click of Blythe’s high heels on the wood floors. Jane had gotten her high fashion sense from her stepmother. Her real mother had died before Jane was even in kindergarten, and Blythe had done her best to raise her.
“Alice.” Blythe smiled when saw me, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She stopped several feet in front of me and folded her hands over her stomach, almost as if she was afraid to move forward.
“Hello, Mrs. Kress,” I said, unsure of what other greeting would be appropriate.
“You look very well.” She smoothed a golden strand of hair back, and her eyes were red-rimmed underneath her makeup.