“Dammit. I don’t wanna study tonight. But I also don’t wanna fail her test. I don’t think I could handle that condescending smirk of hers right now. I guess I don’t have a choice.”
“This is crap, AJ. Don’t do the reading. She can’t do anything if everyone fails.”
“If you didn’t want me to study, you shouldn’t have told me about the quiz.”
“Whatever. Mrs. Crandall shouldn’t be such a hard-shell crab.”
Yeah, but failing her test wouldn’t soften that shell anytime soon. As a matter of fact, I’ve always suspected Mrs. Crandall is a little bit (okay, a lot bit) of a sadist who takes pleasure in failing kids and making us miserable. So if there is a mass failing tomorrow, Mrs. Crandall might feel like she’s in heaven.
I walked over to the mini-fridge next to my bed and pulled out a hemoshake. Exhaustion settled in. My eyes were heavy and my brain was this side of mush. I caved to the realization that there would be no studying tonight. So I flipped on the television and zoned out to some Buffy the Vampire Slayer reruns.
Maybe Angel and Spike would send me into a pleasant night of sexy vampire dreams.
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
It was dark. My eyelids were so heavy, I couldn’t open them, but my heart was racing. Something had woken me from my death-sleep.
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
There it was again. My heart pounded loudly in my ears as I heard the scratching on my window. Like an insistent pet, scratching at the door to come back inside.
But my cat was curled up next to me, and I was on the second floor, anyway.
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
Maybe it was a breeze blowing a branch against the window.
I focused my hearing to listen for the wind. But I heard nothing.
I jumped up and flung the shades open. Nothing to see, either.
With my heart hammering in my head, I climbed back in bed and waited for the sunrise.
I wish I could say I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when the sun finally rose, but that definitely was not the case. After jumping out of bed, I hadn’t managed even one ounce of sleep. Whenever I did get my eyes to close, the hairs on my neck would stand straight up, and I’d hear the scratching on my window or a whispering in the distance. I’d check; nothing would be outside.
Still, I was totally creeped out. So to shake myself awake, I decided to pound my fatigue into the ground with a long run.
I threw myself into my running gear. I walked through the kitchen to leave a note for the family and, instead, found a note waiting for me.
Ariel dear,
This necklace is made from red Jasper, mined in Scotland. I hope you like it. I have given your sisters bracelets made from the same stone. I’m so glad you’re a part of our family.
Aunt Doreen
How sweet. The necklace was a simple gold chain with two interlocking triangles carved in the multi-shaded red stone. I clipped it around my neck and hit the road.
The sun had barely winked at me over the horizon, but the air already felt heavy and thick like wet cotton. It was definitely going to be “Mississippi hot” today.
Sweat ran down my face as I sprinted the last block toward home. Even in the light of day I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. I stopped a few times and looked around but saw only the occasional animal or bird.
The feeling never went away.
With each step, my lungs felt heavier, my heart stuttered, and the hairs on my neck stayed at attention. Obviously, the fatigue and guilt were getting to me. Five miles felt like five hundred, but on the bright side, I was too tired to worry about anything but a shower right then.
The house was still quiet, as the rest of the brood wouldn’t start rising for another half hour or so. Hopefully Ryan would make a quick exit like he did yesterday. I really wasn’t in the mood to face him.
“Good mornin’ to ye, dearie,” Aunt Doreen said from behind me. I swear, that woman just appeared out of thin air. “Would ye care for some tea?” she asked.
“No, thank you. I’m just gonna go take a quick shower.”
“I see ye picked up your trinket,” she said.
“I did! Thank you so much. I love it!”
She smiled and touched my shoulder. “That symbol is the Seal of Solomon and it’s verra special, just like you. Ye seem a bit fashed. What’s troublin’ ye, wee one?”
Wee one. That was funny coming from a woman who stood a good six inches shorter than me.
“I’m just tired from my run.”
“Ah, so this running you did, it gives you worry lines around the eyes, then? Doesna seem like somethin’ I’d do willingly if it made me look old before my time.”
“No. The running helps the worry lines. I actually feel better now.”
“Oh, dear me. That sounds dreadful. You must’ve looked a fright before. Doesna seem fair, aye? Such large worries being put on such young shoulders.”
“I’ve heard people say life’s not fair more times than I can count.”
“There’s no’ a truth greater than that one. However, if life were fair, it’d be a smidge more boring, I think.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I smiled and turned toward the stairs.
“Ariel, dear?”
“Yes?”
“Fate is a funny creature. She puts obstacles in your path to see what kind of character ye have. Life isn’t fair, life is a test.”
“Aunt Doreen, if that’s true, then I’m in a heap of trouble because I haven’t studied one lick.”
Malia and Bridget were waiting for me at my locker between first and second period.
“So, did you study for Crandall’s torture session this morning?” Malia asked.
“No, but I had plenty of time, so I should have. I didn’t sleep a wink.”
“You do look like shit, even if your outfit is kickin’,” Bridget said, giving me the once-over.
“You’re the second person today to tell me that. I must really look bad.”
“Just tired,” Malia interjected, shooting Bridget a look. “Which is understandable, given the circumstances.”
Bridget raised her eyebrows and tightened her lips.
“It’s not every day you get to be the last person someone will ever kiss,” I muttered.
“That makes it sound romantic. It wasn’t romantic. I’m sorry he died, but he shouldn’t have done that to you, AJ. He was a prick and though he didn’t deserve to die, he surely didn’t deserve you, either.” Bridget’s hackles were up and she was in full-fledged-friend mode.
“Thanks, Bridge,” I said as the bell rang. “I guess it’s time to face the music that is Crabby Crandall. Hey, are you going to Noah’s memorial service today?”
“You haven’t heard?” Bridget asked.
“Heard what?” I asked.
“Noah’s body is missing. They can’t find it anywhere. My mom thinks he was accidentally cremated and the funeral home doesn’t want to admit it. Apparently this funeral home has a history of mixing people up,” Bridget said.
“Accidentally cremated? Really?”
“Well, what other explanation would there be? That Noah just got up and walked out on his own?”
Fear tickled my spine.
What if he hadn’t been misplaced or accidentally cremated?
What if he had walked out on his own—?
Oh, God.
I needed to puke.
“Hey, we’ve gotta go,” Malia said. “I finally got my schedule this morning. It looks like I’m in three of your classes, starting with Mrs. Crandall’s. Are you okay? You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine,” I said, shaking the fear from my head. “Let’s face Crabby Crandall together, then. See ya, Bridge.”
As we walked toward class, a couple of jocks ran past us, nearly knocking us over. They missed us, but not Meredith Taylor. She was just turning away from her locker when they bumped into her, sending her books and papers flying.<
br />
“Watch it, meatheads!” I yelled, rushing to Meredith’s aid as everyone else in the hall just laughed. “We’re not required to wear helmets in the hall, but maybe we should be. Here, let me help.”
I gathered her papers as she picked up her books. “Thanks,” she said. “You didn’t have to—”
“Sure I did,” I replied with a smile.
She smiled back.
Meredith hesitated. After a few awkward seconds she finally spoke. “You know, for the record, I think it really sucks that you and Ryan had to split up because of your parents.”
“It does suck, but I’ll get over it. I don’t have a choice.”
“Lindsey’s my best friend, and I’m happy she’s finally with the boy she wanted, but I’m worried. I really like Ryan, but I’m just afraid she’s going to wind up getting hurt. Nobody wants to be the rebound girl.”
“I can tell you from experience that good friends ease the pain of a broken heart.” I laughed. “Okay, not really. But they make me laugh and that does help. All you can do is be there for her if she needs you.”
“I can do that,” she said.
“Even though we’re not on each other’s pom-squad, I really hope Lindsey doesn’t get hurt. Getting over Ryan Fraser isn’t very easy. And that’s a fact.”
Meredith smiled sympathetically. “Thanks again, AJ.”
When Malia and I walked into the classroom, the busy hum of chatter came to an abrupt and very noticeable halt. I guess everyone knew I was the last person to see Noah alive. Great. AJ Ashe—kiss of death? Talk amongst yourselves. I took my seat in front of Ryan, who would not meet my eyes, while Malia found a desk on the other side of the room near the front.
The bell rang and Mrs. Crandall and her evil assistant, Mrs. Young (who was, by my estimation, at least 150 years old), entered together.
“Quiet,” Mrs. Crandall barked to the already silenced room. “There will be quiet in my classroom.”
Mrs. Crandall took a long look around the room and stopped when her gaze found mine. “So you’ve returned to us, Miss Ashe. And just in time for a pop quiz. I do hope you did last night’s reading.”
“No, ma’am, I did not. I was a little bit preoccupied.”
“Mm. So I’ve heard. I guess Mr. James’s absence yesterday is excused after all.”
The class gasped collectively, but not one person said a word.
“That’s a terrible thing to say!” I started to stand, but I felt Ryan’s hand on my shoulder.
I kept my bottom in my chair.
Mrs. Crandall quirked a bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrow as she watched our exchange. “Terrible? What is so terrible about the truth? I know you’ve had trouble with it from time to time, Miss Ashe, but I hardly think even you can say speaking the truth is a terrible thing.”
She turned her attention away from me toward Malia. “Class, we have a new student. Malia Gervase. Oh yes, and one more thing. Before Mrs. Young passes out your pop quizzes, I must announce a seating change. Miss Ashe, please trade with Miss Gervase. Also, Mr. Charles left this for you.” She handed me a sealed envelope. “Now, desks clear and pencils at the ready.”
Chapter 11
That wasn’t a pop quiz. That was a massacre. The only thing I answered correctly—the only question I answered period—was Name; and with Mrs. Crandall in charge of grading, I’d probably get points deducted for improper punctuation.
“Painful,” Malia said as we left the classroom. “I bet she gets off on every wrong answer. Do you think maybe she and Mrs. Young grade the tests as foreplay?”
“Ugh. Thanks for the mental image. I can’t believe she made you take the test.”
“She told me I had plenty of time to do the reading so my absence was no excuse.” Malia rolled her eyes. “Where are you headed now?”
“I have early lunch, then study hall.”
“I’m exactly the opposite. I guess I’ll see you for fourth-period trig.”
“I’ll be there,” I said, pulling out Mr. Charles’s note and an apple from my backpack. I was trying so hard to ignore the oppressive weight that was like liquid metal in my lungs. I felt Noah everywhere, and it was hard to breathe. Was he watching me, or was my guilt working overtime?
Students were filing into the cafeteria or outside to the courtyard with their lunches. I opened the envelope to find Mr. Charles’s distinctive straight-lined handwriting. He never wrote in cursive.
AJ,
Come see me when you have some free time. I have something I want to discuss with you.
Mr. Charles
Perfect timing. I needed to do some research, anyway, and who better to help me than a teacher with an expertise in occult myth? If anyone could find information on the Serpentines, it was Mr. Charles. And while we were at it, maybe I could find out a little bit more about dichampyrs.
You know, just in case I was being stalked by one.
Mr. Charles’s room was the farthest it could possibly be from the main building and still be considered on campus. I knocked and waited for his absentminded “Come in.” As usual, he was hunkered over one of his giant tomes, studying each word as if God himself had written it.
“Mr. Charles?” I said when he didn’t look up from the pages.
“Hmmm?”
“I got your note,” I said. “So, here I am.”
“Oh, yes, hey there, AJ. Come on in, have a seat.”
He moved a stack of papers and books out of a chair next to his desk.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Well, I know you’re doing all AP work this semester, and I was wondering if you had decided what you were going to do your thesis on.”
Perfect. “Well, yes. Sorta. I was planning to research…” What? A family secret that is riddled in darkness and blood-sucking? No, that wouldn’t work. “I was hoping to research a vampire myth.”
“Excellent! You’ve always seemed interested in the occult part of my lessons, so I was hoping you would want to do something like that. Which is exactly why I wanted to see you. I love fate, don’t you?” he said with a warm smile.
“I figure nobody else will do their paper on vampires, so maybe I’ll stand out.”
“Do you have something in mind, or would you like me to give you a topic? I have recently been studying some Celtic songs that I believe were once actually used as spells to cast away…”
“Have you ever heard of the Serpentines?”
He pulled off his reading glasses and raised his brows, eyes sparkling with curiosity. Nothing like a swim on a hot summer day, I thought as I nearly drowned in those deep green pools.
“AJ Ashe, where did you hear of the Serpentines?”
“It was a favorite scary story of my grandmother’s,” I lied. “She, um, loved to tell it on Halloween night to scare the bejeezus out of us before bed. Anyway, when I decided to write this paper, I did some preliminary research and found a little information. But I know there has to be more out there.” Man, I tell one lie to a cop and, the next thing you know, I’m giving Pinocchio a run for his money. I wonder if that whole “lie bump” thing is true?
“As it happens, I do know a little about the Serpentines. Though I’m afraid probably not much more than what you’ve already discovered. Most of the Serpentine history was passed down orally, so I’m not sure that we’ll find much in the way of written information,” he said, watching me intently.
“Oh. Well, okay. I had to try. I’ll probably see what I can dig up on my own. And if I can’t find out anything else, maybe I’ll switch my topic to those Celtic songs you were talking about.”
“Switching topics might be easiest. But before you give up,” he said, opening a desk drawer and riffling though it for a Post-it note and a pen, “call Jill Thompson. She has an antique bookstore over in Yellow Pine. If there’s anything written down about the Serpentines, Jill’s your gal. She has a thing for old vampire myths.”
“Thanks, Mr. Charles.” I folded the Post-it in half and slid it
into my back pocket.
“You’re welcome. Oh, and AJ? I’m glad you’re running for president this year. Class officer always looks good on your college apps.”
After school, I was forced to endure two hours of unending anguish that Coach called “soccer practice.” Chinese water torture would’ve been more fun. We were out of shape and out of focus and, because of that, we did nothing but run. Like I hadn’t done enough of that this morning.
But as much as it pained me, it did help me keep my mind off the feeling that Noah was watching me. My mind was really doing a number on me. Honestly, even if I had bitten Noah and turned him into a dichampyr, wouldn’t I need to be there when he woke up? If I remembered the lore correctly, I would be his master. If he were left to fend for himself, he would be starving and wouldn’t be able to control his need to feed. There would be a bloody trail of destruction following him until he was satisfied. He wouldn’t be patiently watching me sleep, or jog, or have soccer practice.
Yeah, my guilt was definitely in overdrive.
Noah’s family was so distraught over his missing body that they cancelled the memorial service. Not that I blamed them. Having your son’s body misplaced must be pretty upsetting. So the school scheduled a service for Thursday this week in the auditorium. At least we’d get to say good-bye.
I pulled out my phone as I loaded my gear into the car. I had called Jill after speaking to Mr. Charles. She had agreed to stay open a little late for me tonight and said she might have exactly what I was looking for.
Now I just needed a partner in crime. I picked up the phone.
“¡Hola!” Bridget said when she answered. “¿Cómo está usted?”
“Guess you had Spanish today.”
“Sí.”
“Well, how about you bring your brain back to English for a moment? That is, if you’re in the mood for a road trip.”
Bite Me! Page 7
