Alex Van Helsing Read Free Page B

watching intently, and so were some other boys passing by. Bill came closer: “What did you do that got you kicked out of your last school? You set something on fire? Steal something? I’ll bet that’s it.”
    Paul moved his own massive form into the space. “Come on,” the British boy said to Alex. “Let’s go.”
    Alex surveyed the scene, his eyes twitching again. Bill had his backpack hanging casually over his shoulder, anexpensive model with countless cords and loops hanging down. Alex shook his head. “We don’t have to do this,” he said.
    “We don’t have to do this here ,” said Bill. “How about later?”
    “Secheron,” whispered Steven.
    “Yeah,” said Bill. “Good one, Steve.”
    “Wow,” Alex referred to Steven. “He speaks.”
    “Secheron,” Bill repeated, by which he meant a small village nearby. Alex had heard there were cafés, curio shops, and ice cream there. It all sounded charming. “After school.”
    Steven raised an eyebrow. For the first time Alex got the impression that still waters ran deep. “Football.”
    “Oh, right.” Bill consulted his brother, casual and businesslike. “Practice. You think…”
    As they were discussing when to beat Alex mercilessly, and whether their weekday soccer schedule could accommodate the beating, they now really did resemble Merrill & Merrill, a law firm. There was nodding and finally Bill turned back. “Friday. Day after tomorrow. Secheron.”
    Paul said, “Oh, you’re going to fight in Secheron? Where, at the ice-cream parlor?” Paul turned back to Alex. “Come on,” he repeated.
    “Fine,” Alex said, feeling exhausted. “Secheron.” Herubbed his right eye, feeling some release when he pressed on it. As his vision cleared he rested his eyes on the cords dangling from Bill’s pack.
    The boys all started to leave.
    Suddenly, Bill Merrill was mysteriously yanked back and smacked his head on the doorjamb. He yelped sharply. “Hey!”
    As they continued briskly down the hall, Alex smiled. Sid said, “What the—?”
    Alex shrugged. In the moment before they moved, he had taken just a few seconds to loop one of the cords of Bill’s pack to the hinge of the door.
    “I am more than just a mouse,” muttered Alex.

C HAPTER 3
    From the moment Alex had walked in the first evening, he had understood the situation by the way Merrill & Merrill arranged themselves, Bill standing like an unhappy guard, Steven leaning against a bookshelf and staring at the floor. They wanted a three-man room to themselves. For the first blissful weeks of the term, the brothers had been lucky; whatever curious fate had failed to fill their room, they had grown used to the luxury, stacking the third bed with DVDs and magazines and books. And then Alex had arrived to disrupt their paradise.
    By now he had already learned to stay out of the room as long as possible. Let the Merrills have it. Letthem study or not study, watch movies on Bill’s portable player or not, but for the love of all that was holy, don’t go back there until it’s time for everyone to go to sleep.
    Tonight he hit the library. The school was quiet in the evening, and the largest group he saw as he passed through the halls was gathered in the student lounge, watching local news on a large TV. Alex lingered at the entrance for a second, catching some of what apparently Mrs. Hostache had been whispering to the headmaster. A boat painter had been murdered in the woods, the third seemingly random attack in the past month.
    That was the dead painter he had seen himself. He felt a pang of remorse over not reporting it, and yet for the life of him he had no idea how he would describe what he had seen—and what he had done. How can I explain that I impaled someone with a tree branch—but don’t bother looking for her? He blinked it away. Now the incident was drifting into the past, into what he had to admit was denial that had taken him through the day without thinking about the girl with the