Vampire (Alpha Claim 8-Final Enforcement): New Adult Paranormal Romance (Vampire Alpha Claim)

by Eros, Marata

  No way , too precious for words.

  “Listen, John, do you think your mom can make some food and crap for the party at Gramps?”

  John looked at Jonesy, who was being uncharacteristically silent. “I don't know, she is so her .”

  “Andrea will make something,” Jade said helpfully, sensing (no Empath skills needed) there was something brewing with the Jonester.

  Sophie lifted a shoulder. “My mom will pitch in too.”

  I thought Jonesy would break down and french kiss her on the spot. He looked that grateful.

  John's brows plucked together.

  Bry and Tiff said, “Our mom can. Hell, she makes ten pounds of potatoes a day anyway.”

  “Really?” Alex asked.

  Bry nodded.

  Holy shit, that was more food than I could wrap my head around. I started to get a dreamy look on my face and Jade elbowed me. “Snap out of it, stud.”

  I smiled down at her, she just didn't understand the importance of feeding.

  The guys looked damn serious; they understood the food program. Hence, Jonesy coming to me in advance , in order to outline the dilemma.

  “I thought your mom was gonna help Caleb's?” Bry asked logically. His tone said, it's no problem that she can't, but let me know what to tell my mom.

  All comedic quips absent, Jonesy opened his mouth and closed it again.

  Like sharks sensing blood in the water, the kids closed in.

  “What's going on, Jones?” Tiff asked.

  “His mom's doing a puke-a-thon whenever a smell bugs her,” I said.

  “Oh yeah, your dad knocked her up,” Bry said tactfully.

  John looked at him. “Not helpful, dude.”

  Bry shrugged. “What's the big thing? I mean, I've got four younger brothers. And a sister,” he tacked on before Tiff could ream him.

  “Yeah, but are your parents still breeding in their forties?” Alex asked.

  This was going so well, I hated to break up the, let's nail Jonesy fest , but, “Yeah, the food thing is going to be okay, the girls have manned up.”

  Alex pushed up his glasses, and I thought we'd escaped extreme awkwardness when he blew us away with, “So, is it you visualizing your parents having sex that's the problem or maybe it's because the pregnancy proves its existence? The sex.”

  This from the inflatable doll fan.

  Jonesy's veins were standing out on his head. He looked, pissed, ill, or both. “I do not, for shit's sake, visualize jack about my parents!”

  “I wasn't saying that you were. Just that it was a possibility.”

  Bry interrupted, a grin spreading over his face. “You know, Sims, your social skills are really interesting.”

  Alex smiled, affirmed for the next half year from the oldest male in the pack.

  Nice.

  Jonesy would've had a cool rebuttal for sure but the bottom feeders came by just then. Great timing, as usual. Must be done with their involuntary vacation from school , was my dismal thought. Things had been so righteous without their skulking asses lurking around.

  “I guess you heard what happened,” Carson strolled up, his butt buddies tagging along behind him. “After your abusive grandpa man-handled my dad.”

  Brett smiled, he loved the thought of Jade getting the idea that there were problems in my family too.

  “Well, he didn't have the right to come over to his house and try to start something with my dad, Carson,” I pointed out.

  “He escalated it,” John clarified.

  “You think you're so smart,” Diego said, striding over to John and getting right up in his grill. Same height, big poundage difference.

  Bry walked over to the two of them. “Knock it off, Diego. Don't be a tool.”

  He turned to Bry. “Listen Weller, I'd shut the fuck up if I were you, after the way you treated Christi.”

  Bry looked surprised. “I didn't treat her bad. She broke up with me. Her choice.”

  Word traveled fast on the high school gossip highway.

  Brody looked in Bry's direction. “She doesn't want to hang around weirdos. She's got taste, is what she's got.”

  Sure.

  Jade and Sophie were hanging back, uncertain of the outcome with an all-guy group.

  Probably smart.

  Jonesy wasn't unsure, he had rebounded from his earlier awkwardness. “She's the one that didn't fit. Did she tell ya about the IQ relative-to-sibling statistic.”

  It was the quintessential moment : Brett, Carson (with Ceci), Brody, and Diego waiting to be Informed by the Jonester.

  John actually groaned out loud.

  “What are you saying?” Brody asked, fists clenched.

  The first period bell shrilled but we ignored it.

  “I told her that siblings only have a difference of fifteen IQ points.”

  “So?” Diego said, like, WTF?

  Jonesy smiled, prepared to drop his delicious bomb.

  Well hell.

  “I told her that since I knew you guys were as bright as yard tools, that put her--ya know—like dog IQ”

  “Hey!” I said, insulted for Onyx.

  Jonesy caught on quick. “Except Onyx,” he excepted hastily.

  Alex slapped his forehead.

  Bry sighed.

  “You stupid shit, you got some kind of a death wish? Come on guys, let's see how he likes being a punching bag,” Brody said.

  “Don't you touch him, you delinquent!” Sophie piped.

  Wow, didn't she know the Rule? Do not engage a violent guy.

  “Yeah!” Jade added.

  Cripes!

  Carson and Brett looked at her. “Stay out of it, Jade,” Brett said, his face pinched.

  Brody walked over to the girls. “You bitches shut up.”

  A red haze made a reappearance, momentarily blinding me. I forgot I was in school, I forgot where I was.

  I forgot everything but getting to Brody.

  I stalked over to him, never breaking stride and took the flat of my foot and drove it into the back of his knee, a new favorite move of mine, collapsing him where he stood.

  He folded like a deck of cards. I was grabbed from behind and threw my head back into the skull that was inches behind mine, hearing a satisfying crunch. The arms that were on me, loosened their hold.

  I turned around and crouched, assuming classic Judo defense position. They weren't going to catch me from behind again.

  Jonesy waded into the fray, a huge ass grin riding his face. He moved directly to where John was, giving me a look to see if I was going down then he rushed Diego. Jonesy body surfed midair, tackling him and the two of them went down together with a crash, backpacks flying.

  Jade and Sophie squealed.

  Ceci yelped.

  Carson and Brett plowed through the melee, eyes trained warily on Alex when they switched their attention to Bry. I guess they weren't such slow learners after all.

  Brody was howling and clutching his nose (which was oozing blood between his fingers), my imminent demise filling his eyes.

  Diego was trying to pound on Jonesy, but John rode him Bronco style, and Diego was desperate to shake John off like a worrisome gnat.

  John clung, both hands buried in Diego's hair. (If he wasn't such a girl about it, there wouldn't be any hair to hang onto.)

  Dave Smith, my weirdass AFTD teacher, moved into the circle of struggling kids.

  Bry took a good one from Carson in the jaw even as he blasted a fist in about the same place on Brett, who stumbled back, losing his balance and falling on top of John, who was riding Diego, who was trying to beat the snot outta Jonesy.

  Wonderful.

  “Okay, what in the world? Boys!” Smith grabbed Brett off John and pushed John off Diego, and jerked Jonesy to his feet by the hood of his zippered sweatshirt.

  He shook Diego and Brody like dogs with fleas. “Do I need to get a Null here boys?”

  “I'm a Null,” John said from the ground.

  “And you've
been so helpful, obviously!” Smith said.

  John blushed and became interested in his shoes.

  “Are we in high school here? Because, I was thinking it was middle school again. Explain. In fact, explain on the way to the Principal's office.”

  Everyone made groaning sounds.

  “You deserve it for acting like five-year olds.”

  He turned to Ceci, Jade and Sophie. “You girls get to class, I will get someone for you if there needs to be a story corroborated.”

  They took off, and Jade gave me the sympathy look.

  ****

  My mom was talking to the principal and was so unhappy.

  “I recognize, Mrs. Hart, that there will be a scuffle or two, even with the upperclassman. But, you understand our policy—our zero-tolerance stance on violence here.”

  Mom pinched the bridge of her nose, carefully avoiding looking at me. “Yes, I am aware, Ms. Chen.”

  “Then you would understand why Caleb will get a warning only because of the event of last week, in which the same group of young men was involved in the attack on your son.”

  “What will be done with them?” Mom asked, hand falling limply to her lap.

  I watched the Principal's almond-shaped eyes narrow on Mom momentarily. “They are under the ʻthree strikes, you're outʼ policy like everyone.”

  “So what offense is this?”

  “This is their first offense on school grounds.”

  Mom humphed, crossing her arms. “What about the attack on Caleb?”

  Chen's face became apologetic. “We are aware that these boys have a record now with the police. But we can only manage what happens here.”

  “What about me? I want to tell you what they did,” I interjected.

  Principal Chen held up her hand, and when she lowered it she tapped a large paperweight that held papers anchored on her desk. Actually, they were my friendsʼ records.

  “And you will. Right now, as I understand the story, it appears as thought you were the instigator.”

  Mom leveled me with the Death Glare and my palms grew damp.

  I wiped them on my jeans. “It's not like it sounds, Mom.”

  “What was it like then?”

  “That turd Brody,” Mom scowled, I forged ahead, “he called Sophie and Jade, ʻbitchesʼ.”

  Mom's eyebrows dropped low. “Well, really ?” She glanced at Chen. “How's your tolerance for sexual harassment, Ms. Chen?” Mom was on it, Chen was in trouble.

  Maybe Dad could show and they could tag team her. The thought made me smile, which was not the appropriate response.

  Chen looked at me sharply, her black hair swinging as her face whipped in my direction. “I hope you do not find our interchange amusing, Mr. Hart?”

  “No-no,” I stammered, and I could feel the need to Laugh at Inappropriate Times coming on. Mom saw this and became alarmed.

  Mom distracted her with, “That boy is dangerous. He was obviously trying to incite violence from the others by engaging the girls negatively.”

  My face was contorted, and I was doing the crooked mouth to keep from laughing.

  Chen frowned. “What's wrong with your mouth?”

  The dam burst and I started howling.

  Chen looked at me like I had lost my marbles, which made it worse.

  “Caleb!” Mom nearly yelled.

  “Sorry Mom,” I said, wiping the streaming tears. It was just too much. Here was Chen, with her panties in a colossal wad over me inciting a riot (right) when the older boys were obviously the problem. It was too perfect. Too perfectly stupid.

  “What is wrong with him? This is serious, ” Chen sputtered.

  “I understand but this happens sometimes, when he's under duress.”

  That made me laugh harder.

  Suddenly, two noses were pressing on the glass outside the office; the Js.

  Chen sighed, giving up on me and motioned for them to come in.

  Jonesy took one look at me and said, “Cool it, ya fool.”

  I doubled over.

  John shook his head.

  Mom folded her arms over her chest. “If you can stop being ridiculous for two seconds, maybe you can get to your class? Do you think you can manage that?”

  I hiccuped to a stop. It was critical that I didn't look at Chen.

  The Js saw that I was having trouble and looked at Chen.

  A slow grin spread over Jonesy's face.

  Chen stood up, running her hands down her sensible pencil skirt. She looked like she was in mourning, all black. Black hair, black skirt, hose, shoes and silk tee. Weird. Kinda goth for an in charge chick like Chen. “Your parents are coming to pick you up. There will be a one day, out-of-school suspension for the both of you.”

  John paled.

  Jonesy leaned back in his seat, probably contemplating picking his nose about now.

  John's parents were going to take his entrails out, and hang him with them.

  Jonesy could probably manage Bill and Helen, they were immune to news of their son now.

  “Mr. Hart. Stay out of trouble. Brody Smucker and Diego Billings will have a three-day suspension. Carson Hamilton and Brett Mason will have a one-day.”

  Her eyes bored into the Js.

  John got red as a fire engine.

  Jonesy didn't even falter. “Those clowns should get more days.”

  Mom put her head in her hands.

  Chen said, “That may be, Mr. Jones. I am well aware of Mr. Mason and Mr. Hamilton's social interaction issues.”

  I laughed and she gave me The Look.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, making the crooked mouth again.

  “Caleb, get moving.” Mom pointed at the door.

  I stumbled out the door, barely containing myself. I looked at my watch. I had maybe ten minutes left of first hour, AFTD. Not looking forward to that. At. All.

  I was doing okay and then the Js jogged up behind me.

  “Nice in there, Hart. What, you couldn't put a cork in it for like, five minutes? It's amazing Chen didn't do a pecker pull,” Jonesy said.

  John and I flinched. Sounded painful .

  Jonesy ran a hand over the top of his nappy hair and it sprang back to life like an errant rug. “At least Smucker and Billings are outta here for three days. A little break from their suckiness,” he commented and John nodded.

  “Smucker?” I asked.

  “Yeah, that dillweed Brody.”

  “That's him and Christi's last name?”

  John and Jonesy were looking at me oddly.

  “Yeah.”

  “Like the jam?”

  John shrugged. “Yeah.”

  I howled again. Somehow, thinking of those sibs in terms of food was hilarious.

  The Js stared at me, clearly puzzled.

  Jonesy clapped me on the back. “Suck it up, hysteria king, or Smith is gonna stick you in some coffin.”

  Right. I took deep calming breaths. What a weird-ass day.

  I got into class and Ceci gave me a dirty look. Guess she was all put out that Carson the Creep wasn't gonna be at school tomorrow.

  Gramps would say, cry me a river. I was gonna get right on that.

  Tiff gave me the guy nod, lifting her chin up a fraction of an inch.

  I gave it back as Smith tracked my progress to my seat, and I flung myself into it, heaving my backpack on the back of the chair.

  “Mr. Hart. How did your chat go with Principal Chen?”

  I shrugged. “Okay.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I'd like to make a case study on the group of killings that are presently going on in our area.”

  Tiff and I exchanged a loaded glance. We weren't allowed to talk about this.

  He saw our expressions. “The case study's based on whatever is public knowledge.” He put his hand out like, everything's cool here.

  I wasn't buying it. Hadn't Smith just tried to bulldoze the crime scene? What did he care, anyway? And how was he AFTD? He seemed so old to be a paranormal. Like, he was ba
lding for cripe's sake. “I have a question,” I said.

  “Yes, Mr. Hart.”

  “I was wondering when your original inoculation was?”

  Tiff was nodding; see—good question.

  “I was in the first group.”

  “I thought that everyone was done in 2015,” I said, feeling pretty good about knowing more stuff cuz of my dad.

  He shook his head. “No, not all. There were some of us that were a ʻplaceboʼ group.”

  I knew what that was: people who were injected with the real juice, and others just got saline solution. He must've got a kick of the real thing.

  “There were a few in my group that manifested unique abilities.”

  Something stunk. “Who was in your group? Not mundanes, Mr. Smith,” I asked.

  There was a small silence. “Jeffrey Parker, for one.”

  Okay, now we were getting somewhere.

  “He's in some freaky government op thing, right?” Tiff said in typical eloquent style, snapping a bubble.

  Smith cringed, holding out his small trash separator. “There is evidence that points to Parker's affiliation with a government entity.”

  Evidence my ass. Tiff rolled her eyes, throwing the wad of gum in the can.

  “So,” he clapped his hands together, and my earlier humor slipped away like autumn fog facing the cold, “about the victims. Let's talk about a zombie's state-of-mind and how it differs at the time of death—if say, someone is murdered—versus someone that dies peacefully.”

  Was death peaceful?

  I didn't think so.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Mom hovered anxiously around Helen, who was in a reclined position on the chaise lounge on Grampsʼ illegal grass.

  “Are you sure there's nothing I can get you?” Mom twisted her hands together.

  “No,” Helen groaned, her forearm making an indentation on her hair (I hadn't thought that was possible). “I feel ridiculous. I am forty-two years old; I've been pregnant before, this should be easy.”

  Mom said, “Well, I didn't think it was.”

  I vacated, before they discussed the Dreaded Childbirth Stories.

  My posse of dudes were all here, sucking down pops. Jonesy already had the next can of Coke on the picnic table in front of him. He and John clicked cans together. “Happy birthday, Terran.”

  John nodded. “You too.”

  They slugged their pops, and I slid in on top of the bench seat next to Jade. It was the last week of September and the sky had become that surreal deep blue color, the type that it had right before autumn came.