by Jen Pretty
“On this joyous day, we welcome Lavinia to our family. We make official what has been in the making these 19 years. Her beauty is beyond compare and her intelligence will make her a most valued asset to any household.”
A chill ran up my spine. I felt like a horse at auction in the market. He listed more of my attributes and education. I pushed down the sick feeling. The smile on his face as he gazed upon me was the best feeling in the world. He never looked at me as though I were more than a nuisance. I didn’t truly understand what would happen to me that night.
Many of my school friends had spoken excitedly of their presentation parties where being formally presented to society was a big moment in their lives. They said how wonderful it was to attend parties and meet interesting people. I had lived a quiet life, spending all my time on my studies. We hadn’t travelled or met many people and the idea thrilled me.
Music began to play and father took my hand and danced with me around the room. He spun, and I soon became dizzy, smiling and laughing. Father even gave me one of his rare smiles. The night was perfect, and I hoped perhaps now I would please him, and wouldn’t upset him so often.
The rest of the vampires began to dance. Some danced with humans who had come in as the music began. Others drank wine and toasted my father.
When the music finally stopped, I was panting and my legs shook from the vigorous dancing, but my father wrapped me in his arms and held me tight.
I clung to his strong arm and giggled until his teeth broke the skin of my neck. I screamed, but then my body went limp. I tried to raise my hand, but it was as though it was no longer under my control. My mind was dizzy as though I was still spinning around the dance floor. His teeth retracted, but he didn’t pull away from me. I had seen him feeding once before when I crept downstairs at night, but this was different. He continued to drink my blood until I felt sick from the spinning.
I tried to push him away, but I was so weak. I kicked my feet until my slippers fell off and my legs stopped obeying my command. Finally, my vision went blurry and tunneled down. My eyes found my mother's face. She stood by the back wall. Her hand over her mouth and bloody tears running from her eyes. I didn’t understand why she wasn’t saving me. I was dying. My heart slowed, my eyes drifted shut, the last of my blood drained from my body, and then there was nothing but blackness.
--
I sighed and considered staying on the floor but heard soft feet on the carpet outside my door. Too light to be human. It was probably Ryan coming back to try to weasel his way next to my father again.
I sighed and pushed myself off the ground, ready to tell him to get lost when my door, the frame included, came crashing into my apartment, barely missing me.
I jumped back as a wooden stake whizzed past my head. It sunk deep into the drywall, raining dust down on me and shocking me into motion.
A masked man entered through the ruined door as I dove behind the kitchen island. Panic clenched my muscles. I had nothing to defend myself with. I spun, wishing I had a steak knife or heavy pot. Another stake sailed past my head and embedded deep in the cupboard. No human could throw that hard. Now I knew it was a vampire. I grabbed the stake, pulling it out of the cupboard door. I threw it back at the masked vampire.
He dodged behind the wall, then came forward again, pulling his arm back to throw another stake. I grabbed the only thing I had in the kitchen, an electric kettle, and threw it. It hit him in the head knocking his aim off. His next stake missed me, but he recovered quickly and threw another. This one sunk into my arm making me scream. I pulled the stake from my arm, releasing a gush of blood and threw it back. It hit him in the stomach. He yelled and turned, running out of the apartment.
I scrambled up and sprinted to my bedroom, locking the door behind me. My phone was on the nightstand.
I hit a button and waited, my hand wrapped firmly around my still oozing wound.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Yeah,” Jenkins’ sleepy voice came over the line.
“Jenkins, a guy just tried to kill me.”
“What?” he sounded more awake now.
“Some guy just broke down my door and tried to stake me in my apartment,” I yelled.
“Jesus, Nia. Where are you now?” I could hear sheets rustle.
“In my bedroom,” I replied, looking around for another weapon. I had nothing. “I staked him in the stomach, and he took off, but I can’t find anything to use as a weapon.”
“Go across the hall to Mrs. Henderson’s,” he said.
“What if he is still out there?”
“Go, Nia!” Jenkins’ stern voice got my feet moving. I hung up the phone and tucked it in my pocket.
I unlocked the flimsy bedroom door and peeked out. It was silent. I crept back through my apartment and pulled a stake out of the wall. Then stepped onto my flattened door and peeked out the hallway. There wasn’t anyone there. I tiptoed across the hall and raised my hand to Mrs. Henderson’s door but before I got the chance to knock, her door swung open. I screamed and then she screamed and clutched her chest.
“Nia, you scared me. What are you—” she noticed my kicked-in door and as her old eyes flashed back to me, squinted at the blood on my sleeve. “Come in here.”
I walked into her apartment, and she locked the door behind us.
“Here, dear.” She ushered me to her kitchen table and unwrapped a plate of cookies. “Have a cookie.”
“You know I can’t eat them, but they smell delicious.”
“Oh, that’s right. I always forget you people don’t eat.”
I laughed at her use of the term ‘you people’. She was such a sweet old lady.
"What happened to you?" she asked, sitting across from me at the small Formica table.
“Someone tried to kill me,” I said, fiddling with the stake in my hands.
“Oh, my! I don’t know what this world is coming to. Who would want to kill you? Such a sweet young lady.” She nattered on for a while longer about back in her day. Thankfully a knock at the door and Jenkins’ voice calling from the hall interrupted her. I jumped up and walked to the door before Mrs. Henderson could get herself up from her chair.
“You ok?” he asked, his eyes tracing over me until he saw the blood on my arm. He grabbed my hand and pulled my sleeve back, but the skin had knit back together already. Still hurt though so his rough handling made me hiss at him.
He raised a bushy eyebrow. I wanted to laugh at the thick caterpillar on his face, but I was figuring out what had just happened and who was responsible. I couldn’t find any humour in the situation.
“Come on. The Blood Guard is on its way. They had a team a couple of hours away so we’ll leave your apartment for now and you can come down to the station.” Two police officers were standing at the door to my apartment.
“Ok,” I said. I turned and thanked Mrs. Henderson, who gave Jenkins a plate of cookies, and then I followed him down to the police car outside.
“Someone tried to kill you?” He asked when we were in his car and driving through the city.
“So it would appear.”
“You know why someone might want you dead?”
I paused. I wasn’t sure how much to tell him, or if I could hide any of it from him. If I kept quiet, I would have to go home. I couldn’t live on my own.
“Nia, this is deeper shit than you have ever been in. Your father is already on his way. There is no point lying.”
“Fine, God, Jenkins. I was just on the internet and accidentally saw a video of someone killing someone else.”
“A video?”
“A live cam.”
“And who was this person?” he asked.
“Ed Florence.”
The car swerved. A horn blared. Jenkins straightened back into his lane, and visibly collected himself. He took several slow breaths.
“You are in a lot of trouble.”
“Yeah, I got that, thanks,” I said impatiently.
“Ok,” he said taking
a deep breath. “Let’s just wait for the Blood Guard.”
He pulled the car into the garage at the police station and killed the engine. We got out and walked through the station to an interrogation room. My nose burned with the smell of vomit and urine. I sat down in the cold chair.
“You need anything?” Jenkins asked.
“No, I’m fine,” I lied, as I set my head down on the table and closed my eyes. I had put in a lot of time and effort keeping away from my father. One stupid mistake and now I was back within his grasp and probably going to end up floating, face down, in a river.
Jenkins left me alone for a few hours. I gave up sulking and played games on my phone for a while. I was about to log into my on-line TV account when Jenkins returned.
He wasn’t alone.
“Lavinia,” my father said in his uptight, proper kingly voice.
“Father,” I replied in a mocking tone.
He scowled at my tone. “What mess have you gotten yourself into?”
“Nothing I can’t handle. You didn’t need to come.”
“Yes, well…” My mother cut him off when she came bustling in. She nearly had a cow when she saw the dried blood on my sleeve.
“What happened? Oh, my poor baby!” she cried.
I rolled my eyes. 200 years old, but still her baby. "I’m fine momma. It was just a cut.”
“They said someone tried to stake you!” she smoothed my hair back and put her hand on my cheek. Her eyes darted around my features. Trying to find other injuries, but there were none.
“Well, they didn’t succeed,” I replied shortly.
“Lavinia, do not speak to your mother in that tone.”
Here we go.
Momma turned on my father, pointing her finger at him. “She nearly died! Go talk to your Blood Guard and let me have one moment of peace with our daughter before you chase her off again!”
It had been ten years since I’d seen my mother, but I had never heard her stick up for me before. Or talk back to my father, for that matter. Some things change, I suppose.
My father turned on his heel and walked back out the door. Jenkins followed, leaving me alone with my mother.
“I’m sorry, momma.”
“It’s ok, darling.” She knelt on the floor in front of me and wrapped her arms around me. I hugged her back. She was warm and smelled like candy and home. I missed her for the first time in a decade. What’s a decade when you live centuries or millennium?
I grew up with the finest of things, attended the most expensive schools and wore the finest clothes. I always had enough to eat and they guarded me against the illnesses that killed most children of the time. The best thing, though, was my mother. She spent every waking moment with me and sometimes slept with me at night. Her gentle love was the counterbalance to my father’s strict, controlling nature.
“I can’t come home,” I whispered into my mother's hair.
“I know,” she said, but her voice caught at the end. We embraced each other in the interrogation room for several more moments. I knew she was crying, but she covered it well, and when she let me go, she wiped her face on a silk handkerchief from her purse before she looked back at me.
Her candy scent clung to my shirt the way I wanted to cling to her. She was my safe harbour and I felt like I was a child again when she was near.
“I love you, momma.”
“I love you too, sweet Nia.” She brushed my hair back from my face, and we both took deep, steadying breaths. Then I laughed at the irony of us. What a pair.
“You need to go somewhere safe. Please, Nia?”
The door opened, and Jenkins walked back in with a harassed look on his face. My father had that effect on people.
“Your father wants you to go home-”
“No,” I cut in.
“I figured you would say that, so witness protection and the Blood Guard have come up with a coven that can keep you safe.”
“It would have to be a major city coven, to keep her safe,” My mother said, looking suspicious. “What city are you speaking of?”
“Las Vegas.”
My mother pursed her lips and nodded slowly like she didn’t want to admit it was a good place. I hadn’t met the coven leader of Las Vegas and probably didn’t want to if he was powerful enough to protect me.
“Can’t the Blood Guard just go kill Ed and I can get back to my life?” I moaned.
“You know how this works, Nia. You are the only person who witnessed this murder. Without proof of a crime, the Blood Guard can't act.”
“As if I’m not a reliable witness,” I muttered.
Jenkins' eyebrows went up into his hairline.
“Fine, whatever, Bert,” I sneered.
He narrowed his eyes at me but said no more. I counted it as a win.
“All right, well, your father left. If you are ready to go, we can leave for Vegas now.”
“Fine, let's stop by my house so I can pack. I better stop at Brian’s and tell him where I’m going too.”
“You can’t do that Nia. Nobody outside of witness protection, Blood Guard, your family and myself will know where you are. We can’t risk anyone else. Buy new things in Vegas. I’m sure Mr. Merewin will help you out.”
“I have my own money,” I said.
“Not anymore, Nia. You can’t use your bank accounts or even use your name. You will have time to pick a new one on the way.”
“I like Nia!”
“Tough,” Jenkins said. “You shouldn’t have been messing around with evil murderous vampires. I told you that someday all of your crap would catch up with you.”
“Ok, Mr. High Horse! I get it! Let’s go then.” I moved toward the door.
“Nia,” my mother's soft voice brought my attention back to the room. She walked over and wrapped me up in a hug again. Her strong arms pushed my broken pieces back together for a moment before she let me go and I shattered once more.
She didn’t say another word, just disappeared out the doorway. I took a deep breath and let my mind settle, then waved Jenkins on, and he walked me back down to the garage where we got in a plain car with tinted windows, and he drove us out of the city in silence.
Las Vegas was across the country — 12 hours of endless highways and several rest stops. I didn’t understand why humans drank so much coffee if it meant they had to stop every few hours to urinate. Apparently, it’s a touchy subject as it caused Jenkins to scowl so hard his eyebrows nearly touched when I brought it up. I kept the heat blasting to stay warm, though Jenkins complained. I counted the beads of sweat that ran down his forehead to disappear in his eyebrows like they were 2 super absorbent sponges until he yelled at me to stop staring at him.
As the scenery slipped past, I fell into a memory of travelling with my mother and father.
—
France 1880
“Lavinia, while we are in the city, you must behave like a proper lady. I won’t have you running about the market making me look like a fool.” My father’s stern voice echoed through the carriage.
“Yes, father,” I said solemnly before turning my eyes back to the passing hills lined with vineyards. Their perfect rows mocked the landscape which fought to shake them off as it rose and fell in steep green hills.
We often travelled once I was a vampire. We had been visiting a wealthy family of vampires who lived in a castle near Paris, but father felt the political atmosphere in the country at the time was getting too close to violence and wanted to stay clear of it.
Also, it was getting colder and being locked indoors through another winter would be torturous.
We had been travelling by carriage for five days, switching horses and drivers at small towns along the route so we could continue without stopping. The villages and long stretches of bumpy roadway offered little in the way of diversion. I was pleased to be finally nearing Montpellier. The bustling city was near the Mediterranean Sea where we would take a boat south for the winter months.
As the s
un rose, neat rows of grape vines traced the hillsides that led to the city. I could feel the pulse of a city nearby and as we traversed the last hill the city lay before me like a beacon. Its white stone buildings with beautifully carved facades called humans from all around to buy and sell and trade. The church spire rose in the center like God himself had reached down and formed the peak from heaven above.
The clothing of that time was uncomfortably restrictive. Tight corsets and wide skirts were in fashion. They were excessively elaborate, and father deemed we must look like the height of royalty.
Father wore a coat and breeches. They were the finest materials, but still infinitely more comfortable than what popular fashion forced me to wear. Mother never complained, always smiling and seeming the perfect royal wife.
When our carriage finally stopped on that Sunday morning in front of the church, the bells tolled and everyone from the streets and surrounding communities filed into the ostentatious place of worship to hear the bishop speak and pray for their wretched souls.
My legs had nearly seized, but I walked from the carriage to the church doors, humbly behind my father, his tall hat perched regally on his head. His presence caused other men to move aside and make way. Mother and I were caught up in his wake as he strode to the front of the church and sat in the first pew, where another group of vampires waited, leaving space for us.
I sat beside a female vampire dressed in similar fashion to me. She fidgeted uncomfortably, and I felt a kinship to her as the bishop had us rise for the opening hymn. The man waxed on about sin and deliverance, his monotone voice barely changing in pitch. Later, the church pew creaked beneath me when I shifted, but a scathing look from father sufficed to still me. The girl beside me caught my eye and winked mischievously. I decided she was perfect and hoped we were seated together because we would stay in their home while in Montpellier.
After the final hymn was sung, and the Bishop released us from our stained glass prison, I followed behind father. He spoke in French to another expensively dressed vampire.
“I will have my driver follow you through the city, Lord Mackreth,” He said.
