unvamped

by Elizabeth Stevens

“Charlie, my boy!”

  He spun around, feigning pleasure at seeing Cam. His vampire senses, which had been strong since those dreams, enhanced Cam’s overly perfumed fragrance. Charles tried not to wince as it made his eyes water.

  “Cam, what’s up?” He wondered where the hell that phrase came from. He could understand ‘what’s happening’, that was just young people being lazy. But ‘up’? Well, the obvious answer to that was ‘the sky’ but he never heard anyone say that.

  “Nothing, dude, nothing. Looking forward to the weekend my man! Shall we hang out tomorrow after school?” Cam’s fist pointed towards Charles and he belatedly remembered he was supposed to punch it with his own.

  “Um, sure. I have to meet Courtney at the cinema at seven though.”

  “‘Cinema’,” Cam repeated and laughed, shaking his head. Charles wondered what was so wrong with the word ‘cinema’. “Sure dude, sure. Nice choice. I was wondering when you’d make a move on some hot chick. It’s been forever man!” He laughed and Charles felt like asking exactly how long it was supposed to have been.

  “It hasn’t been that long.” Charles looked around, he heard this as the usual reply to such comments.

  “At least a year, man!” Cam slapped him on the back and he was grateful that he had most of his strength or he would have crumpled to the ground. “Who was it? Melanie? God, I can’t even remember!” Cam led him away, chuckling.

  Charles got through most of the day without having to talk to anyone much more than polite chitchat and only had to endure coy waves from Courtney from across a classroom or courtyard. He slouched into Mr Coleman’s classroom after the last lesson and slumped into a chair.

  “Why so glum, Charles?” Mr Coleman asked, turning away from where he was cleaning the blackboard. “Are your lessons with Ellie not going so well? How is her magic going?” Something about his tone niggled at Charles, but he was too distracted to pay it much mind.

  “I do not think there will be any more lessons, Coleman.” Charles had refused to call a man much younger than him by the title ‘mister’ when he did not have to, so the two of them agreed that he would call his teacher by his last name out of school hours. Charles grasped the bridge of his nose and rubbed it wearily.

  “Why not?”

  Charles sighed. “We argued last night. I foolishly asked her to remove the curse. She was, understandably, upset and refused. We fought and I left. We have not spoken since. Nor indeed even made eye contact.”

  Coleman shook his head. “That is the way of the world. You can’t just ask a person to risk their life for you. It is an offering between only the closest of people.” He came and laid a hand on Charles’ shoulder. “You may be old, my friend, but you are not so wise,” he chuckled and Charles knew he meant no real insult.

  “I do not feel as old as I am. I feel ridiculously young, unable to control my emotions, my thoughts or my feelings. I can barely control my fluctuations. They come and go as they please. Although, less often than they used to thankfully. I suppose I can almost successfully shift senses with Pet’s or Ethel’s help.”

  “Well, that’s a start!” Coleman smiled. “You must be patient-”

  “I am sick of being patient. Surely there is a way to break this confounded curse! If Pet will not remove it…” He sat and steamed silently.

  “You’ve been alive how many years and not yet mastered the art of patience?”

  “I have long since mastered the art of patience, thank you very much. I am merely not accustomed to…”

  “To not getting you own way?”

  Charles scowled at him. “When you put it like that, you make me sound like some infantile human being.”

  Coleman looked at Charles for a few moments as though he was waiting for him to say something else. When he did not, Coleman spoke. “When you think about it, Charles, compared to what you were, you are an infantile human being.”

  Unfortunately, Charles agreed with the man.

  “That really is no help, Coleman.” Charles decided he had enough of this conversation and that they must really be getting on with the task at hand. “Now, tell me more about what I am supposed to have learned.”

  Coleman opened his mouth, but Charles interrupted. “Why in blazes did Pet give everyone memories of me as a human, except me!” he blurted.

  “I suspect she wasn’t thinking about it much, but if there was a reason, it would be to make your life as difficult as possible. Don’t you agree?”

  “Hmph.” Charles slumped in his chair once more. “Just get on with it, Coleman.”

  “Right, Maths or English first? Modern English, that is,” Coleman added with a grin.

  “I do not care,” Charles huffed like the petulant teenager in him he could not control.

  Charles left Coleman’s classroom an hour and a half later.

  He trudged the path home not much caring where he stepped. Though it was still summer, there had been some rain and puddles littered the streets.

  Once his pants were wet up to the knee, he gave up all pretence of avoiding the puddles and stomped harder as he went through them. He smelled the rain in the air, strong and clean and fresh. He heard the drips and splashes of puddles and the drops falling from the trees. It calmed a part of him slightly, having his vampire senses in control. But it made him miss the rest of it. He may have the sight and smell and hearing, the taste and the invincibility – at least to the point of withstanding violent ‘brotherly’ slaps from Cam – but he still needed human food and he did not dare test his strength or speed for fear of disappointment.

  He thought about the kiss Courtney had planted on his cheek to dispel encroaching thoughts of Pet – both frustration and an embarrassing amount of lust. Courtney’s kiss had held the slightest warmth and was pleasingly soft. To Charles, it held the promise of more to come, though whether he was really pleased about that or not, he could not decide.

  Before he comprehended it, he was passing Pet’s house, seeing easily through the glamour. It still looked old and quaint, robust in the way one knew it would easily stand the test of time. The rain glistened off the petals of the rose climbers and the leaves of the herbs, and the fragrance of the garden almost overwhelmed him. It made him think back to simpler times, when his mother and brothers lived, to the house he was building for his wife and child which, though much smaller, was reminiscent of Pet’s house. He thought, too, to the flowers in the many places he had lived over the course of his years, to the places de Savage forced him to go in the early years, and to the things Charles had been forced to do.

  His heart lurched uncomfortably at the thought of all he had lost. He found it hard to recompense himself with the things he had once owned and the things he now had. Mary and Arthur in no way compared to the family he had lost and barely compared to the temporary companions he had over the years. Cam was nothing even compared to Red, for all his flaws. He told himself Pet could in no way match the beauty or kindness of Cateline, or the vitality or sensuousness of his many conquests, and he almost believed it. Human food was nothing when he thought of the heat and life of blood. As for his human senses, they were weak and disorientating – it made him feel sorry for the human race, to be so inferior.

  He stumped through the front door, having now riled himself into a truly foul mood, shaking his head clear of water droplets. Mary would not have approved but, right now, he did not care one whit for what anyone else would think. As he passed the kitchen, he remembered he had promised that he would do the washing up. He groaned, this new sense of duty forcing him to drop his bag and do the dishes. He had a moment of indecision, but he just had to think of what his real mother would say – or do – if he reneged on a promise and he sped towards the sink.

  As he washed, he found himself calming down. As he wiped his hands dry, he looked at the clock. It was almost seven, strange that neither Mary nor Arthur were home yet. He remembered the voice message recorder and saw that there was one n
ew message on it. He checked his mobile phone, but there were no new messages on it except the usual nonsense from Cam, which these days he usually ignored – not that Cam appeared to mind.

  He pressed the ‘play’ button on the recorder and heard Mary’s voice.

  “Hi Charlie, your father and I will both be late home tonight. There’s some leftovers in the fridge, help yourself to whatever you feel like.” What I feel like is not there, he thought sullenly. “We’ll see you when we get home.”

  Charles looked in the fridge, saw nothing tempting, but knew he must eat. Eating now would stop him waking up in the middle of the night with a stomach screaming for food – or something else. He stared at the contents of the fridge for a while longer and decided to heat up the other night’s Tuna Mornay. He had previously made the mistake of trying to eat leftovers straight from the fridge. Mary had found him one evening and berated him for not warming it up; he had watched her use the microwave device and found that heating up leftovers was much more desirable. He discovered a certain amount of satisfaction from mastering the microwave.

  He roamed about the house, carrying his now-hot Tuna Mornay around. He wandered into the living room and looked around, making sure that he did not drop his dinner on the carpet. He then wandered into the dining room, adjacent the living room, and looked once more at the photos Mary and Arthur displayed of their family life together. He looked at his supposed first steps, his supposed first day of school, his supposed tenth birthday, and a whole two and a half walls of pictures of him and Mary and Arthur at various stages of life. He peered at the most recent picture taken before he woke up human. He was reasonably sure that he did not actually look like that. He wore braces, had blemishes, a hairstyle that he never would have chosen, and wore an absolutely hideous checkered shirt.

  He wandered back towards the kitchen. He picked his bag up off the floor, juggling his bowl, and wandered up the stairs. There were more family pictures up the stair well and he tried hard to ignore them. One picture drew his attention; it was a picture of Mary and Arthur with him as a newborn. He liked to think that if he squinted really hard, he saw how the picture was supposed to look; Mary and Arthur stood in front of their house, holding nothing in their arms and looking fondly at each other.

  He grumbled, climbed up the rest of the stairs, and went into his room. He put the bowl on the bed and tossed his bag on the floor. He had no idea when Mary or Arthur would be home, so he decided to eat his dinner quickly and get ready for bed. He was in no mood to be properly human that night.

  He left his bowl on his desk and had an extra-long shower. Once finished, he peeked out his bedroom door, dripping water on the carpet, listening for voices or noises that would indicate his ‘parents’ were home. He heard nothing for a few minutes, and then heard the front door open. He shut the door, turned out the light and leaped for the bed, stubbing his toe on the bed leg and stuffing his hand in his mouth to muffle the groan.

  He lay in bed, facing away from the door, until he heard the door open, saw a sliver of light fall across his room, and then the door closed again. He breathed out and flopped over on his back. The curtains wavered slightly in the breeze from the window he had not known he left open. The breeze carried the faint smell of Pet to him. He growled, got up, closed the window and climbed back into bed. He gathered the blankets around him and waited for sleep to claim him.

  ****

  The next day passed in a blur of frustration, anger, resentment and uncertain anticipation for his coming date. At least he looked forward to Cam’s nonsensical drivel for a while, which he hoped would take him mind off his worries.

  Unsurprisingly, Cam successfully made him think of nothing except said drivel. Part of him relished the therapeutic way Cam’s incessant talking put his mind at ease. The other part of him wanted to strangle Cam, rip out his throat and beat him with his own arms. He followed Cam down to the Mall, nodding at intervals to make Cam think he was paying attention.

  Cam did not leave him until Courtney had arrived – wearing a rather short skirt, a revealing top and some very tall high heels – and he had had enough time to have a proper letch. Charles felt his blood boil at the look Cam gave her. It was times like this when Charles remembered that these girls were someone’s daughters. He, at least, had the decency to hide any lecherous thoughts he had; it was only proper.

  “I’ll see you later, dude.” Cam slapped him on the back and Charles nodded to him, silently cursing him. Why was he stuck with a ‘friend’ like Cam? “Courtney, looking good!”

  “Um, thank you, Cam.” She smiled but it was obviously for Charles. “Hi, Charlie.” She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

  Charles bowed to her, “Courtney. Do you want to pick a movie?”

  “Okay...how about...”

  Charles tuned out at that moment as Pet and Mike walked into the cinema. Charles’ heart rate increased, his breathing became more shallow and his already heightened senses rose to further heights. He heard Pet’s heartbeat – steady and strong – and he heard Mike’s heart thump along next to hers. It brought Charles some satisfaction that their heartbeats were not in sync.

  With his mind firmly on Pet’s heartbeat and scent, Charles handed over the money the cashier asked for in response to whatever Courtney had ordered and he followed Courtney to their theatre. As they went, Pet’s heart and scent lessened and Courtney’s came hard into focus. Where Pet’s heart beat steadily, Courtney’s fluttered as though she was nervous. Charles heard her breathing – quick and shallow – and he could tell she was sweating.

  He wondered what made her react that way. He smiled mentally. He had given her his most charming persona the day before and had some experience with making women react similarly. He squared his shoulders and decided he would throw himself into this date with no more hesitation. Charles carried a drink and some popcorn, but he indicated his elbow to Courtney. She giggled and put her free arm through it, taking a sip of her drink. Charles heard her splutter slightly but politely ignored it.

  Once in their seats, Charles put the popcorn on the empty seat next to his and guided Courtney into her seat. He was not entirely sure that young men these days acted in such a way, but the women he had known in the past had appreciated the way he operated. Courtney smiled at him and sat down, putting her cup in the holder on her opposite side to Charles. He sat down and offered her the popcorn; she declined so he put it back on the seat next to him.

  For a moment, he thought he caught Pet’s scent again, though was not quite sure. He concentrated harder, but the moment passed.

  The movie finally started and Charles took Courtney’s hand. He felt her body temperature rising and her heart race faster. He paid little attention to the movie; some kind of comedy with some romance and attempted action mixed in. He concentrated instead on tracing little patterns on Courtney’s hand. She wriggled around slightly, leaning closer to him and looked over at him. He took the hint and kissed her.

  It was nothing like that first touch with Pet, but it was pleasant enough. Charles felt her respond to his touch as she put her hand on his neck. He traced kisses down the side of her face and onto her neck. He felt the blood rushing through the veins in her neck and felt himself responding in a way he had not in a long time. She gasped and he bit her.

  Only, he did not have fangs any more.

  Worse still, she appeared to like it.

  Charles was not opposed to a woman who liked to be bitten but there was something about a woman who liked to be bitten by a human that turned him off.

  He managed to get through the rest of the movie without showing too much of his discomfort. He walked Courtney out and saw her into her parents’ car, making sure he did not leave until they were out of sight.

  As he turned to walk back to Mary and Arthur’s, he came across Lee.

  “You been on a date?” Lee asked, surprising Charles by falling into step with him.

  “I saw a movie with Courtn
ey.” Charles nodded.

  “Ah, what did you see?”

  Charles thought back through the last couple of hours. “I actually do not know.”

  Lee surprised him again by laughing. “You let her pick?”

  Charles nodded again. “Did you see a movie?”

  Lee shook his head. “I was at the arcade with Ryan.”

  Charles was confused for a moment. “Ah. The games, with all the noise.”

  Lee laughed again. “That’s the one.” He fell silent and Charles sensed some melancholia about him.

  “I hope you do not mind me asking, but are you all right?”

  Lee looked at him, shock showing clearly on his face. “I...uh...sort of.”

  During a fit of charity, Charles had offered to tutor Lee in English and History in exchange for some extra help in Science and Maths. Up until that point, their relationship had been purely academic, but oddly they had got along quite well for a werewolf and an ex-vampire. An inexplicable, growing affection for the wolf was the only explanation Charles had for his next words.

  “Do you...want to talk about it?” Charles avoided Lee’s gaze, waiting for his answer.

  “I... Well, it’s just that... You know how wolves regulate?” Lee asked and Charles made a noise of confirmation. “Well, I’m late. I haven’t regulated. Mum seems to think it’s because I don’t want to...change.”

  “Change, how? You mean into the wolf?” Charles clarified.

  “Yes, and no. I just... I’ve seen cubs change when they regulate. They become animalistic jerks. I don’t want to be that...”

  “You do not have to.”

  “Don’t I?” He looked at Charles in disbelief. “It’s just all so unknown and, well, scary. How did you deal with...changing?”

  Charles was taken aback by that question, and not just because it came from Lee. “Not well, it is true. I had a lot of difficulty finding the person I wanted to be... A good seven hundred years almost. But, not all incarnations of yourself are going to be bad.”