When we arrived at Antun’s home, he was standing in his big hat and sunglasses, and folded into his arms was the journal.

  I tried not to scramble out of the car. The thing just screamed I’ve been stolen, save me with its antiquated design that looked like it belonged in a glass case, and here he was carrying it around like some discount paperback. “Antun, what’re you doing with the journal? What if somebody sees and we get caught with a very stolen ancient item? Not to mention it’s probably very fragile!”

  Antun flapped his hand forward in his own reproach. “Drew, love, famous people can get away with an awful lot if they go about things the right way.” He winked before turning toward the house. “Wear confidence like a tailored coat and no one will dare bother you, dearest.”

  We followed him in, going up the stairs after we had been proclaimed guests. The coffee table was strewn with papers full of sticky notes and annotations.

  “I was thinking,” Antun set the journal down, “That we should divvy up the journal, work in individual pieces instead of all of us looking at the whole thing. Maybe by narrowing our individual focus down, we’ll get a better idea of the big picture when we come together to discuss.” He looked in question towards us. We both nodded.

  “I think it’s worth a shot,” I said before turning for Michael’s opinion.

  “Just as well that I focus on something else for a while. That voice has been ringing in the back of my mind, distracting me all day. Maybe if I take a break from thinking about it, I’ll have a better chance of figuring it out.”

  “Like I said, it's worth a shot,” I replied. “So, Antun, how should we divide and conquer?”

  He handed a small stack of papers to both of us, making it so each of us had about a third of the journal to focus on.

  I took up a spot on one end of the couch, sitting cross legged with a pillow on my lap to hold the papers as I read. I had a blank spiral notebook resting on the arm of the couch for taking notes.

  Davor had indeed been crazy, or at least he sounded fanatical enough. But there was something that had been bothering me.

  “Antun?”

  “Hm?” He put a finger on his place on the page before looking up.

  “Why did Davor turn those ten people? He could’ve just let them die. He seemed evil enough of a person to do something like that.”

  Antun took a deep breath. “I suspect,” he sighed, “That those ten are the only ones to survive his attempts at harvesting reincarnation energy.”

  He turned back a few pages in his own notes, then read, “Attempts with venom: 8. Successes: 0.” He turned back another page and swallowed. “Attempts without venom: 250. Successes: 0.”

  He looked up from the page. “He wrote down the different variables he tried changing in order to harvest energy: with and without venom, obviously, but also human vs animal, and then further narrowing to domestic vs wild. For as sick a man as he was, he did quite well in the sciences. Experimentation was a hobby for him, likely to help him with this. Fanatical yet methodical, sounds just like him.”

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  “Gross,” I complained.

  “Sick,” Michael agreed.

  “His mistake was when he decided to go after the herds, in order to have ‘more consistent results.’ The villagers immediately blamed the odd old man in the tower when the livestock began to go missing. They hired a mercenary type hunter to try to track him down. He was immediately caught by the hunter while nabbing a pair of sheep.”

  “How?” Michael interrupted.

  “Huh?”

  “How was Davor incapacitated? I mean, if it was vampire versus human, I’d usually put my money on the vampire.”

  I had to agree with Michael. How had Davor been defeated?

  “There are ways to slow down a vampire. The two most common are decapitation or fire, although an injury made by yew wood is also harmful. Davor was decapitated and captured, then burned. If a vampire is decapitated and then burned, that will kill it. Depending on the injury from yew wood, a vampire may just be very ill for a while or it may kill them.”

  I heard the sound of a pencil on paper as Michael wrote down those notes. I would too if I had just found out the only ways I could die.

  “That yew sword back at the museum, you’re saying that could’ve really been used against vampires?”

  “Oh, most definitely. Yew is not an easy plant to work with. Almost the entire thing is poisonous. There’s only one part that isn’t, a berry-like bit around the seed. But if you bite the seed you’re going to die anyway so most people don’t deem it worth the risk to try.”

  “I’ll say,” Michael added. “Yew toxins can cause an instant heart attack.”

  “College botany?” I asked, an eyebrow raised.

  “You know it,” he winked in response.

  “Okay, so we know that Davor tried several different variables throughout his time as a vampire to try and become a god. We know that Davor’s ten vampires all had a similar experience to Michael, so it stands to reason, then,” I said, “That Michael was likely bitten before he had a chance to die. Michael, your accident, would you have expected to die from the impact?”

  Michael thought for a moment, then looked truly thoughtful.

  “What is it? Do you remember something?” I asked.

  “When I crashed, I remember the seat belt tightening and I remember the airbags exploding, but…” he looked between Antun and me. “I was outside of the car when I woke up. Shouldn’t I have still been inside it? If I had been, I…” he choked and cleared his throat, “I definitely would’ve died. My car was completely totaled in the accident, the front was completely smashed in and the windows blown out.”

  Windows blown out? Wait a minute…

  “What kind of car was it?” I asked.

  Michael gave a look of utter confusion, “What? That seems especially random.”

  I persisted. “Was it an old car or a newer one?”

  Michael looked unsettled. “It was my first new car, I didn't get a chance to pay it off or anything before the accident. At least there’s insurance.” Antun lifted his brows and nodded in agreement.

  “It wasn’t until the late 60s that laminated glass was a requirement in vehicles in the United States.”

  Both of the men stared at me.

  “My dad was into restoring cars before his arthritis made him quit, or at least let other guys do the more fine detail parts so he wouldn’t get a flare.”

  I shook my head, “Anyway, you said the windows were blown out?”

  He nodded, still not catching what I was getting at.

  “That shouldn’t have been possible. The glass would’ve been shattered inside of the laminate or whatever fancy windshield you may have had, but the glass would still be in the windshield or door, not blown out.”

  Michael’s eyes widened in understanding.

  “Someone pulled you out before you had a chance to die, then they turned you.” Antun’s smile was grim. “At least we’re getting a better picture of what happened.”

  We all nodded solemnly.

  They had to have been superhumanly strong if Michael said he was supposedly crushed, and insanely fast to get to Michael before he died. Was it truly an accident? Or did someone choose Michael?

  “Whoever it was,” Antun said, his tone grave, “They must’ve been watching you.”

  My gut twisted. Michael had been chosen.

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