Alphabet Allie's Arc

Chapter 20 of 20

Allie left the University behind and followed the path deeper into town. The bricks turned to smooth gray stone. Signs on the buildings all started with V. She was still smiling about Unique when she saw the van parked at the curb. It was small and boxy, white with black letters on the side that spelled VAN. The back doors stood open. A man climbed out carrying a case shaped like a fat wooden teardrop. He was short and thin, with slick black hair and a red vest under a black coat. His eyes were red too. When he turned to shut the doors, Allie saw two small fangs press against his lower lip. She stopped on the sidewalk. Grown-up. Sharp teeth. Her stomach tightened the way it used to before she raised her hand in class. The man saw her and paused. He opened the case. Inside was a polished violin, honey-colored, with the word VIOLIN written in gold across the front. "You are staring," he said. His voice was quiet and careful. "Sorry." Allie held up her notebook. "I was counting. Van. Violin. Vest. Vampire." She hesitated on the last word. He tilted his head. "You know what I am." "You start with V," she said. "Same as everything on this street." He looked down at the violin, then back at her. "Most children run." "I like the letter V," Allie said. "It's pointy at the bottom. Like an arrow that says here." His mouth twitched. It was almost a smile. He lifted the violin from the case and tucked it under his chin. "I was going to practice inside. My neighbors do not like the sound." "Where do you live?" He pointed down the street. At the end stood a heavy metal door set into stone. The door was gray and orange, thick with rivets, and the word VAULT was stamped across the front in tall white letters. "You live in a vault?" Allie said. "It is quiet. It is dark. It suits me." He drew the bow across the strings. One long note came out, low and warm. Not scary. Sad, maybe. Like the note wanted company. Allie wrote in her notebook. Van. Violin. Vault. Vest. Vampire. Voice. She turned the page around and showed him. He read it. He read it again. Then he lowered the violin. "You wrote me down." "You start with V," she said. "That means you belong here. Same as the vault." He was quiet a long moment. "No one has written me down before." "Play it again," Allie said. "I want to hear the whole song." He lifted the bow. The note stretched into a tune. Allie sat on the curb and listened. When he finished, he bowed to her, small and stiff, and carried the violin toward the vault door. He looked back once before he went inside.