“I can do a thorough job of searching Haven Hollow for the chap,” Lorcan finished for her.

  I sighed, figuring we had no other ideas, so we might as well start there. “So what, you’ll fly over town and hopefully spot him?”

  “I can’t fly, my dear.”

  “Well, whatever it is you can do, is that the plan? You running recon?”

  “I shall do whatever I can.”

  With that, Lorcan approached the front door and opening it wide, disappeared. As I watched, he reappeared in the distance, maybe a football field’s length away.

  And he said he couldn’t fly—if that wasn’t flying, I didn’t know what was.

  “Poppy,” I turned around at the sound of Roy’s voice.

  “Hi,” I offered.

  “Do you think Astrid and Finn are safe with Marty?” he asked, shaking his head to let it be known he clearly didn’t. “He’s just a human.”

  “I know, but with Olga’s protection wards in place, no one will be able to get into Marty’s house.”

  Roy nodded and then took a deep breath. “I think we should ask Fifi to step in at Marty’s. At least she could protect Finn and Astrid better than Marty could, if it came down to it.”

  I thought about it for a few seconds before agreeing that it was a good idea. Fifi, as a demoness, would be much better protection for Astrid and Finn than just Marty alone, even though I doubted whether Roscoe would be able to make it past Olga’s wards—Olga’s power was strong and she was easily as proficient at brewing potions as I was.

  “What do you think?” Roy asked.

  “I think it’s a great idea,” I answered as Roy whipped out his phone and dialed Fifi.

  After a very brief conversation, he nodded at me. “She’s on her way to Marty’s now.”

  I nodded and gave him a smile, even as I was very aware of the fact that Fifi had a huge crush on Marty and maybe the two of them in his house wasn’t the best of ideas, given that Fifi and Roy were destined for each other and Marty and I…

  Marty and I are nothing more than friends, I reminded myself.

  “Thanks,” I managed.

  Roy returned the smile and we both just stood there for a few seconds, neither of us saying anything.

  “It was nice spending time with Finn last night,” Roy said finally.

  “Thank you for all your help. You’re a really good… friend.”

  When I said the word, I could see the light die in his eyes just a little bit and the smile on his lips faded. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to—I’d hurt him; it was obvious.

  The sooner his love affair with Fifi could start, the better.

  Chapter Twelve

  “So we just wait here for Lorcan to return?” I asked, shaking my head.

  “Do you have a better idea?” Wanda demanded, throwing her hands on her hips. “Like I said, witch magic doesn’t work on Roscoe.”

  I nodded and breathed out an impatient sigh as her words reverberated through my head and then something occurred to me.

  Witch magic wouldn’t work on scrying Roscoe, but maybe…

  Gypsy magic could.

  “Wanda,” I started as I looked up at her with excitement.

  ***

  “Are you ready?” Wanda asked as we sat in her living room and she handed me the vial of Sleep Oil I’d made for her a few months back when she’d been suffering from insomnia.

  I nodded. Roy, Olga, Wanda and I were sitting on the floor in a circle, trying to pull off this location scrying attempt with my magic. Libby was fussing with something in the kitchen and the sounds she was making made it hard to focus.

  I pulled my handbag toward me and took out the bottle of the Mystic Veil potion and then stared at it for a long time as I thought about what I was attempting to do.

  Roscoe had spent years inside the veil—decades, even. With any luck, the veil would cling to him and the Mystic Veil would lead me right to him, owing to the fact that the potion had already parted Betanya’s veil, which meant it now had the added benefit of knowledge, of learning.

  And parting the veil was the outcome I wanted—the outcome we wanted. Yet, I shivered at the thought. Truly, there was no part of me that wanted to go looking for a vampire as dangerous as Roscoe. I didn’t want to do it any more than Marty wanted me to do it, but the same argument still remained.

  We had to locate him because doing so would be the only way that we could later go after him—once Betanya was well enough. And, I wouldn’t actually be physically anywhere near Roscoe. Instead, I’d be in the astral plane with an astral body. Even if Roscoe spotted me, he wouldn’t be able to hurt me.

  My mind once again made up, I twisted off the bottle cap and anointed myself with the Mystic Veil. But, the Mystic Veil wouldn’t be enough to get me where I needed to go, and that was where the Sleep Oil came in.

  In order to travel to the astral plane, I had to be asleep and with my nerves on edge the way they were, sleep wasn’t going to come naturally. Not to mention the racket Libby was making in the kitchen.

  “Libby, will you put a lid on it for a minute!” Wanda called out after Libby dropped a metal pan which clanked against the tile floors.

  “Sorry!” Libby responded and, luckily, the cacophony died.

  Anointing myself with the Sleep Oil, the scent of rose and musk filled the room as I placed the bottle on the floor beside me. Then, leaning against the couch, I stared at the ceiling and breathed in deeply, willing my heart to slow, and willing my wayward thoughts to slow along with it. I closed my eyes and focused on entering the astral realm.

  Telling myself repeatedly to relax and go to sleep only seemed to make me more tense. I opened my eyes when my phone pinged and, worrying it might have been Finn, checked it. Turned out, it was only a batch email from Haven Middle School with this week’s newsletter and a bunch of event dates, fundraisers, and sports schedules.

  “Focus, Poppy,” Wanda said as I put the phone back into my purse and, taking another deep breath, nodded as I closed my eyes. This time, the Sleep Oil started to do the trick because my eyelids suddenly felt like they were stuck together with glue. My mind blurred and, still in a lucid state, I fell asleep.

  The instant I felt myself start to teeter and spin through the astral plane, I suddenly crashed down hard on the ground.

  I landed on my feet and it felt like the thud of my landing ricocheted through my entire being. It took me a second or so to remind myself I was in the astral plane and lucid dreaming, thus I was in charge of the dream me. As I glanced around myself, I took in my shadowy surroundings and realized this was some sort of surreal version of Haven Hollow. And instead of daytime, as it was in the physical world, in the astral one it was night.

  I tensed and my heart started racing again as I realized I was in a strange Salvador-Dali like version of Haven Hollow. As soon as I looked at the dream landscape more closely, I remembered I wasn’t in any danger. This was all just a dream—a fabrication. It wasn’t real. I could do anything and go anywhere and nothing could hurt me because all of this was just the workings of my mind.

  Lucid dreams and astral projections were fun for that exact reason—anything was possible. I flexed my knees and kicked off against the ground as I soared into the night sky. Vaulting into the air as if I were powered by a jet engine, I floated up, higher and higher still, heading into the starry sky. Once I was high enough that I could see every inch of Haven Hollow, I studied the details of the miniature landscape below me.

  Cars that appeared to be the size of toys buzzed up and down Main Street. Tiny people walked from one building to another as they talked to each other or their phones. The only light was provided by the street lamps and the fairy lights that enveloped each tree along the street.

  Everything looked the way it should—everyone happily carrying on, unaware there was a feral vampire prowling the town. As to the vampire in question, I didn’t see Roscoe anywhere. That was just an illusion, though. He was here. I sensed that truth with the uncanny awareness of a dream. Yes, he was here, but he was hiding somehow.

  I turned a full revolution and cast my dream sight over the whole coast of Haven Hollow.

  I still couldn’t sense him. It was as if he were somehow covering his trail—that his power was strong enough that he was disabling me from seeing him, but he was definitely here. The whole town seethed with his rotten presence.

  Betanya was still here, and Roscoe wouldn’t stray too far from her—not when he was driven to kill her through the madness of the blood bond. Pulling my dream sight away from the coast, I focused more narrowly on the town again, starting to turn in the direction of my house and Wanda’s duplex when I saw him. He lurked around the very outskirts of town where open fields turned to woods. As I watched, he snuck from one isolated house to the next, halting in concealed shadows as he hunched his shoulders to make himself less visible.

  I narrowed my dream vision on Roscoe, as if I were a cameraman getting a close-up of my villain. I’d never seen him with my own eyes, no, but even if I hadn’t gotten a full description of him, my dream awareness told me instantly this creature was him.

  Roscoe didn’t look much like a vampire, actually he didn’t fit the notion of a vampire in my head at all. He wasn’t tall, suave and incredibly handsome like Lorcan. Instead, Roscoe looked like the plainest, most ordinary human man I’d ever laid eyes on.

  He wore the blood stained button-up shirt Finn and Astrid had mentioned when they’d spotted him through their windows. A few streaks of mousy brown hair covered a balding dome of a head and his small, dark eyes were set too close together in a pasty, unshaven face. Yet there was something in those eyes that hinted to the treachery within. There was something mad about them—something that seemed like it would be welcome among the feral animals of the forest beyond Haven Hollow.

  I watched in amazement as Roscoe turned his nose toward the siding of a random house. His nostrils flared when he inhaled deeply, as if he were a bloodhound on someone’s scent. He inched his nose along the seam between two planks, sniffing all the while. Truly, he appeared more like a werewolf than he did a vampire, but, of course, I knew better.

  Suddenly, a powerful sucking force accosted me, yanking me downward. One minute, I hung suspended over Haven Hollow and the next, I was shuttling through the air, on a collision course with the ground. It took me a second or so to remember I was in charge of this dreamscape and as soon as I did remember, I righted myself and stopped hurtling toward the earth like a speeding comet.

  Taking a deep breath, I found myself standing on the ground. As soon as I got my bearings, I realized I was now face to face with Roscoe, only a few inches of air separating us.

  He moved so fast I couldn’t see him—but I could feel him as he lunged for me and thrust me against the side of the house. His elbow drilled into my neck and his greasy face hovered only millimeters from my eyes. I could smell his foul breath that reeked of festering and rotted flesh.

  My heart stood still as my brain refused to believe what I was experiencing.

  This couldn’t be happening! I’m in an astral projection, I told myself. I’m in a dream of my own making!

  I should have been in ultimate control over everything, but I wasn’t. I should have been able to fling Roscoe off with a simple thought, but every time I thought that simple thought, nothing happened. Roscoe was still pinning me to the side of the house and I still couldn’t breathe. I shouldn’t have needed to breathe in a dream projection, but there it was—I felt my energy draining away with every breath I wasn’t able to inhale.

  Roscoe inhaled deeply and then growled and I could see the lunacy in his eyes—the fact that he was non compos mentis. He was crazy.

  I struggled to break free—to do anything—mainly to understand what in the world was happening and why and how! How could he have possibly known I was watching him?

  Moving as if he were on fast forward, he dove in towards me and the next instant, shooting pain stabbed through my neck. I tried to push away from him, but he was too strong—like being wedged by a boulder. Seconds ticked by and in those seconds I could hear the sound of him slurping, of him drinking.

  Crushing cold seized me and pretty soon I couldn’t feel my toes or my fingers. Yet, there was a rush of heat pouring through the puncture wounds where he’d bitten me. I felt my blood rushing into his mouth.

  This can’t be happening! My logical mind yelled. This is just a dream!

  And yet it is happening! I argued back. So you better figure something out!

  Even as I continued to try to fight Roscoe, to push him away, there was no loosening him. He was clamped around my neck with unimaginable power.

  I’m an astral projection, I told myself. He can’t hurt me. This is a dream. I’ll wake up in a minute and none of this will be real.

  He ripped off my neck, and the pain made me wish I could wake up—that I could force myself out of this delirious vision setting and find myself back in the real world—in Wanda’s living room. But, that didn’t happen.

  Instead, I felt my eyes widen as I took in every inch of Roscoe’s hideous face as blood dripped from his lips and dribbled down his chin.

  “How?” I managed to croak out.

  His smile was broad and proud. And his fangs seemed to lengthen as I watched them. And then I remembered—being inside the veil for decades had given him witch powers, Betanya’s powers.

  And that meant I was now in trouble. Big trouble.

  He eased his elbow off my neck and what little control I still possessed returned. Remembering I was in the dream state, I forced myself to fall back, through the house wall, and I suddenly found myself dropping down into my own bed. But there was no comfort to be found here, not when Roscoe was capable of the things he was. I shot bolt upright, screaming out the pain and fear I couldn’t voice just seconds earlier.

  And that was when I realized I was back—I was back in Wanda’s house, sitting on Wanda’s floor. I looked up and found Wanda, Olga and Roy all looking at me with expressions of concern on their faces.

  I stumbled, trying to get to my feet, but I simply collapsed against the couch. Roy immediately caught me, holding me at arm’s length as if to judge what was wrong with me. Couldn’t he see the blood? Couldn’t he see the fang marks in my neck?

  Every muscle felt drained. I barely had the energy to open my mouth. I almost passed out as I struggled to catch my breath. I had to… I had to…

  But, my brain refused to function. I had to do something, but Roscoe had taken all my energy. He’d drained my astral body, and that meant he now had the taste of me. That meant he could come after me in the real world. It meant he could track me as surely as I’d tracked him. It meant… it meant I was in trouble.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Wanda demanded, but her voice sounded distorted—like she was talking underwater. “You should be asleep.”

  “I… I was,” I managed, and my voice came out breathy, exhausted.

  “Poppy,” Roy said, pulling my attention to him. “What happened?”

  I nodded and tried to summon whatever energy I still possessed and yet I felt completely exhausted, taxed in a way I’d never felt before.

  “I found Roscoe in the dream and… he bit me.”

  “Nein!” Olga responded on an inhale.

  “That’s impossible,” Wanda started, shaking her head.

  I reached up delicately, to touch the bite marks in my neck—to prove to them that I wasn’t making this up. But, when my fingertips touched my skin, there was nothing—no blood, no raised bumps, no disturbance of the otherwise smooth skin.

  A chilling silence echoed around me and I opened my mouth to explain further—to tell Wanda that Roscoe wasn’t just an ordinary vampire—that due to the blood bond with Betanya, he had witch powers. But, when I started to explain, the exhaustion claimed me and before I knew it, everything turned black.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I was asleep again.

  I knew as much because I was no longer sitting on the floor in Wanda’s duplex. Instead, I was back in my house.

  I have to get to Wanda’s, I thought to myself. In order to wake up again, I had to be in the same place astrally as was my physical body.

  I staggered along the hall upstairs, the same sense of exhaustion claiming me, even though I did my best to shake it off—to no avail. Clearly, I was no longer in charge of the dream and that was a realization that was deeply upsetting.

  Just get to Wanda’s, I told myself again. Then you can wake yourself up again and figure this out.

  I nearly broke my neck tripping down the stairs, but managed to reach the foyer. All the while, my heart hammered through my brain.

  Get your keys, Poppy, I ordered myself. Right. There was no way I could walk to Wanda’s in my current state. I could barely make it down the stairs. Reaching for my purse, which was hanging on a hook by the door, I reached inside it and pulled out my keys. Then I tripped again in my haste to make it down the porch stairs. I had to take a break and lean against the railing as I breathed in deeply and tried to steady myself.

  I couldn’t understand how this felt so real—how although I was in the astral plane, my body wouldn’t work just like it wasn’t working in the real world, before I’d fallen asleep again.

  Just keep going, take one step at a time. You’ve got this.

  The voice sounded through my head, but it wasn’t mine. In fact, I had no idea to whom it belonged. It was a man’s voice and deeply accented English. Maybe it was nothing more than a product of my own panicked mind…

  The morning sun blinded me through the Jeep’s windshield as I crawled into the driver’s seat and then took a deep breath before slamming the door shut. Even as I sat there, I felt myself fading—my energy was failing by the second.

  My hands shook on the steering wheel and my vision started to blur when I jammed the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life, and the sound pulled me out of the daze that started to overcome me.