by Vance, Ramy
“Not a clue,” I said, unlocking Gardner Hall’s front door.
“You haven’t been checking Twitter.”
“I don’t have Twitter.”
“A presidential candidate without Twitter?” he said in an exasperated voice. “Well, I do. And here’s what they’re saying: ‘Kat Darling too scared to debate.’ ‘Another pretty girl who thinks she can get by on her looks alone.’ ”
“Ahh, they think I’m pretty.”
“That’s not the point—”
“I get the point. I’m being judged one tweet at a time. Message received.”
“And?”
“And what?” We stood in the foyer of Gardner Hall. My room was one floor below. His five above. And yet here we were, fighting on ground zero.
“And where were you?” He crossed his arms as he waited for my answer.
I was exhausted and had a million things to do. As much as kicking Harold’s ass was something I would relish doing, I had bigger events than worrying about a rez election. But Andrew deserved an answer. Or at the very least, an apology.
That would be the mature thing to do.
But as always, Katrina Darling, a.k.a. The Ex-Vampire, a.k.a. The Girl Trying To Be Human Again, a.k.a. The Cherub, came rushing to the fore to do what she always did … she made things worse.
“I was getting my nails done.” I held up my hands to show him ten very not done nails.
“Oh, ha-ha,” he said. He took a deep breath. “Look, we can still get ahead of this thing. We have to release a statement telling everyone you were somewhere else … somewhere more important. That’s why I want to know where you were. Maybe we can use that. If not, we can always—”
“I wasn’t anywhere. I forgot,” I lied. The sad thing about this whole fight was that I was somewhere more important. And even though I couldn’t mention the fight or Wizard Crusader, I could say I was in a hospital visiting a friend.
The truth. It will set you free.
More clichés and more truth I wasn’t going to share with Andrew or anyone else. I might have had a good excuse, but if I was honest with him, I would say that I didn’t have time to do my own homework, let alone run for Gardner Hall’s president.
But instead I looked into his hurt, disappointed eyes and said, “Look, I don’t know what you expected from me. I don’t know who you thought I was—”
“I thought you were different,” he said in a curt tone. Except to call his tone curt would be like saying a lion “meows.” It just doesn’t do it justice. It was as if a switch had been turned off in his mind and I, the switch’s recipient, went from being someone in Andrew’s life to being dead to him.
No, worse than dead—it was as if he erased me from himself.
That feeling was eerie, annoying and enraged me even more. “Well, I’m not. I’m just like everyone else: selfish, entitled and not about to waste my time on anything I don’t believe in.”
“I see that now,” he said with a voice so robotic and devoid of emotion, it would make the Terminator proud.
“Good,” I said back. “Because the sooner you and everyone else sees it, the sooner I’ll be left alone.”
I walked to the stairwell and started down to the basement.
“You know,” Andrew said coolly after me, “we could have made a difference, you and I.”
“Maybe,” I said with an exhausted sigh. “The trouble with making a difference is that different isn’t always better.”
And with that, I continued my descent.
Plans, Legally Blondes, Sleep and Reversions
I knew I should have felt bad about letting Andrew down, but I didn’t. There was something about the way he’d switched from being my friend to a venomous snake.
Don’t get me wrong—I deserved it. But when most people are let down, they argue, plead, storm off … and then you find an angry letter in your inbox or slipped under your door. That’s followed by the cold shoulder.
Andrew wasn’t like that. He just went cold. Like as soon as I let him down, I became a non-entity in his mind. Weird, but it did give me a wee bit of insight as to why Cassy didn’t like him. Someone who can turn on a dime like that tends to be the kind of person you avoid.
Whatever his problem was, I couldn’t worry about that now. I picked up my phone and thought about who to call. Egya and Deirdre, of course, but there was someone else that could prove more useful than either of them.
Someone who had experience organizing things.
Someone who knew how to mobilize and motivate large groups of people in a short period of time.
I dialed the number and he answered on the first ring. “Hey there, lover,” I said. “Remember when you said you wanted to be part of the team? Well, I have just the job for you.”
“Hell yeah,” Justin said, and I could only imagine him lifting an incredibly sexy arm in triumph.
↔
After I’d worked through the particulars with Justin, I called Egya and laid out the plan to him as well. The Ghanaian cackled as I told him what the stakes were and how we were going to deal with them.
After hearing his role in the whole thing, he didn’t just cackle. He guffawed. For a full minute.
You know what it’s like to be on the phone listening to someone laugh uncontrollably? I did now, and it was something I could have lived another three hundred years happily never knowing.
↔
With the plans set, all I had left to do was wait. Good—I’d planned for that, too. I needed a distraction from the superheroes, from the guy lurking in the shadows, from my crazy life in general.
There was so much I had no control over and only so much I could take. I was only human, after all. If I were a vampire again, all of this would have been so much easier to handle. But I wasn’t, so I focused on what I did have control over … Legally Blonde. I turned on the movie for the umpteenth time and just about made it to the point where Warner Huntington III breaks up with Ella before I fell into a deep sleep.
I guess fighting superheroes all day takes it out of you.
That afternoon I dreamt … but it wasn’t just a dream. It was a memory with a very strange twist.
After a long day of battling superheroes and dealing with prophetesses of doom, I wandered into the Other Studies Library to … well, I don’t know why I went. Dreams rarely make sense. All I knew was that I needed to be in the library.
I wandered to the back area where the public part of the library’s museum was housed. There, I found the display cases normally filled with artifacts donated by Others, sorcerers and witches completely empty.
Panic grew in me as I rushed between the cases, looking for some evidence of where the goods were and who could have stolen them. Some of these items were quite powerful, and in the wrong hands could do a lot of harm.
But there was no evidence of a break-in, no indication that the locks were forced. The artifacts were just gone.
The library had security cameras, I thought. Perhaps they had some footage—
“Still talking out loud, Peculiar Girl,” said an old and familiar voice.
I turned to see a very old man dressed in a tweed blazer, giving me a knowing look.
“Dr. Dewey—”
“Ah, ah, ah.” He raised a scolding finger. “I thought we had a deal. No names, remember?”
“Yes,” I said, fighting against the growing lump in my throat. “I remember, Old Librarian. No names.”
“Good,” he said, smiling as I called him by his name.
“You’re dead,” I said.
“I am.”
“And this is a dream?”
“I suppose so, but this is a dream that can only happen because of two very important reasons. Care to guess what they are, Peculiar Girl?”
“Not another riddle. I’ve had just about as much of riddles and prophesies that I can stand and—”
“Indulge an old man, will you?” he said with very serious, caring eyes. It had been months since I’d
seen this man alive and even though I had hardly known him, he had been the first friend I’d made at university. I hadn’t realized it—or probably more accurately, I hadn’t allowed myself to realize it—but I missed the Old Librarian. Very much.
“OK,” I said. “Anything for an old friend. What are the clues?”
“I already gave them to you,” he said, gesturing to the room. “You have everything I can tell you.”
“All right,” I said, drawing out the word. I knew this was a dream and I truly did hate riddles, but somehow I felt compelled to play his game.
“Compelled,” I thought. That’s an interesting way to have phrased it.
I tried to recall everything I knew about dreams. For one, everything came from you, so if I had used the word “compel,” that meant something.
And given everything going on—the curses and everyone being compelled to do things they wouldn’t normally do—it could be because I’m cursed, too.
“You are so smart,” the Old Librarian said. “So, so smart.”
“But I’m not a superhero.”
“No, you are something else. And you are not cursed the way you will think you are. Remember that.”
“I am not cursed the way I will think I am … as in future tense?”
“Indeed,” he said, nodding as a sadness crept into his eyes. “There are forces at play that are playing you. Using you. Tread carefully, Peculiar Girl.”
“Forces? What kinds of forces?”
“Some will say Destiny, others Fate. I say that these are lofty terms used by little people who understand neither Destiny nor Fate. The universe is vast and full of mystery—even more so now that the gods are gone, for we can no longer point to them as explanations for all that we do not understand.”
“And what are you? The anthropomorphization of my subconscious, warning me about something that my conscious mind doesn’t quite see?”
The Old Librarian laughed and wagged a finger. “So smart. Perhaps too smart for your own good. No, I am not your subconscious. I am, in as real a way as possible given that I’m dead, the Old Librarian.”
“So you’re real? I mean, real even though this is a dream?”
“I am as real as the confines and rules of this universe allow me to be.”
“Because that clears things up,” I said, not hiding my sarcasm.
He chuckled and took off his tweed jacket so he could undo the top two buttons of his shirt.
“This isn’t going to turn into one of those kinds of dreams? Because if so, show me the exit.”
“You are so smart, Peculiar Girl, but sadly, not so witty.” He took off his glasses in a very purposeful way, folded them and set them on one of the empty display cases. “I have one more clue I can give you before I go. Not so much a clue, I suppose, but rather a question that you must ask yourself in order to understand why and how I sought you out this day.”
“OK,” I said, goosebumps running down my spine. This is just a dream, I tried to reassure myself, but reassurance would not come. Only dread and fear.
“Ask yourself, Peculiar Girl, now that the gods are gone … where do souls go after the body dies?”
“I … I don’t know.”
“No one does,” he said. “That doesn’t make the question any less important. Now, do what you must.” He pulled at his shirt collar as he stretched out his neck, inviting me to … what? Bite him?
I was human. I no longer bit anyone (well, sometime Justin in jest, but that was it), and yet seeing the large jugular vein exposed on his aged neck, I felt drawn to him.
And the life force flowing within him.
Compelled in that nonsensical way only true of dreams, I came forward, wrapping my arms around him. I placed my lips on his neck, and expecting him to draw away, I held him tighter. But he didn’t try to pull away.
Instead, he stayed perfectly still.
I hesitated, and the Old Librarian said, “Peculiar Girl, do as is your nature.”
My nature? I was human, but if I were a vampire, my nature would have been to … bite.
I bit down hard on his neck, positioning my fangs to pierce his jugular vein. The blood erupted out of him. Warm and glorious and comforting and—
Holy shit, I’m killing him, I thought, pulling away from him and from my dream.
I woke up in a near scream. Thank the GoneGods it was just a dream.
↔
I woke up desperate to get the taste of blood out of my mouth. Dream or not, that felt way too real, and the memory of how glorious blood tasted when you were a vampire came flooding back to me. Also, killing the Old Librarian—someone I had considered a friend—was terrifying.
And what was up with all the riddling stuff? I knew it was just a dream, but I also knew enough about dreams to realize that sometimes they shouldn’t be dismissed. I’d have to mull over the Old Librarian’s words, but later. Now I needed to get ready for tonight’s festivities.
When I got up, I found Deirdre meditating naked in the middle of the floor. And given she was in the lotus potion, she looked damn good. Then again, Deirdre was blessed with such a perfect body that she’d look good picking her toenails naked.
Moving as quietly as I could so as to not disturb her, I made my way to the other side. Something was off and my first thought was that the room was pitch black. But it was nighttime and we were in the basement, so darkness wasn’t unexpected. What was strange was how well-adjusted my eyes were. I could see everything—including Deirdre’s lotus-ness—so well that I thought she must have left the lights on …
But they were off.
OK, light streaming from beneath the door? I looked at the threshold, expecting to see an overbearing glow entering my room, but instead I saw the usual amount of neon.
Whatever, I thought. Still got my spaghetti brain on. A shower will wake me up.
I grabbed my toiletries and walked into the bathroom. Showered, did a couple unmentionables, and it was time to brush my teeth.
Shoving my toothbrush into my mouth, I considered all I had to do today. The gathering would start in a couple hours and—
As I brushed, I felt two familiar bumps in my mouth.
Very familiar.
Parting my lips wide, I looked into the mirror and saw—
“No, no, no!” I cried out.
Deirdre was in the bathroom in a flash. “What is it, milady?” she said, before narrowing her eyes in confusion. “Milady, you have fangs.”
Regression is a Bitch
Deirdre reached out to me with one hand while balling the other into a fist. I understood the conflict in her being immediately. The fae saw vampires as abominations created by dark magic. Fae, being fae, did not dabble in dark magic. Ever.
But their sworn enemies and counterparts—orcs, goblins and trolls—did, and Deirdre, being a fae changeling warrior, was sworn to fight those forces of evil until her dying breath.
And here I was … a vampire. Something that could only happen because of dark magic.
But I was her friend, too. The girl who she’d sworn her sword arm to on the first day of school and someone with whom she’d fought side by side in numerous situations.
I was a vampire and she didn’t know what to do.
Well, that made two of us. I touched one of my fangs, pressing my thumb into its point and drawing blood. I looked at my thumb, which immediately healed. How vampire-y of me.
“What … what happened, milady?”
“If I knew, I would tell you,” I said, flexing my muscles as I felt familiar strength flowing through my veins.
I was starting to feel old urges. Hunger for blood was one, but that wasn’t the worst urge surging through me.
An old selfishness crept into my being. A feeling that I was no longer concerned with mortals and their little ways … that I was something more—something else.
“No,” I said, chasing that sense of superiority away, “this is just the curse. Before sleeping I thought to myself that all t
his would be easier if I was a vampire again. What is the human expression? ‘Be careful what you wish for.’ ”
I stopped talking, mulling over my choice of words: “What is the human expression?” “Human expression?” It wasn’t taking long for me to revert to old habits.
I slammed my hand onto the porcelain sink, shattering it. Shit … how was I going to explain that to the residential admin? “Sorry, but now that I’m a vampire again I simply don’t know my own strength.”
I’d worry about that later. For now I had bigger demons to de-fang. Namely, myself. Looking at myself in the mirror, I growled, “I’m human now.” I didn’t know who I was speaking to—Deirdre, myself, whoever was left in the universe to listen. “I will not be taken back to who I was. Not now. Not ever.”
Deirdre stepped forward and clasped me with two strong hands. It was a changeling show of solidarity—a clasp meant to be strong and unbreakable. In other words, she meant to hold me tight to let me know that she was on my side … but I pulled away as if she were a toddler trying to grab my legs.
Even at my most vampiric I couldn’t have so easily pulled away from a changeling who meant to hold me. My strength wasn’t just back … I was stronger than ever.
“Milady,” Deirdre said, her voice quavering in near helplessness.
I smiled. When the changeling saw my fangs, she growled. I retracted them, making my smile more human. “Find Egya and tell him what’s happened to me. Tell him that everything will go ahead as planned. That we only need to break the curse and I’ll be human again.”
Of course, in my vampire-y selfishness, I didn’t add: “And we’ll save everyone else in the process.”
↔
Popping my fangs back in, I went to my room to dress for tonight’s festivities. It was strange, but only hours ago I’d dreaded tonight. Now I relished the hunt. I would smash my fist through Wizard Crusader’s helmet, imprinting its metal into his brain. I would—
