A Nighttime of Forever

by Matthew S. Cox

  Still… the reek of cosmetics makes me want to check the basement bathroom mirror. It’s not dark out yet, so I spend a few minutes pacing in nervous circles before deciding to be foolish and peek out the door. It’s gloomy in the main basement. Must be raining heavy. I stick a hand past the door. No pain or smoke, so I lean my head out and look around. Shafts of dim light leak in the basement windows like giant laser beams. Looking at them kinda hurts my eyes, but not to an alarming degree. Yay for Seattle rain. It’s a little warm but not painful, so I decide to take a chance.

  Cringing, I speed-tiptoe to the bathroom and check myself in the mirror to see what Sam wrote on my forehead this time.

  Crap. It’s not writing. I’ve got like a pound of foundation, bright red spots on my cheeks, and toner-cartridge-explosion levels of eye shadow. Wow. I look like a toddler’s attempt to draw Effie Trinket.

  No way is that my little brother’s doing. This smells of Sophia’s handiwork. She either wanted some practice, or she thinks McDonald’s needs a new spokes-clown.

  Ugh. So much for skipping a shower.

  I cautiously approach the stairs up to the kitchen. Since the rug looks beige and not grey, I know there’s light, but I’m still not catching fire. That’s weird, but I’ll take it. Step by step, I creep up to the landing outside the door to the kitchen. Hiding behind it, I tug it open an inch and stick a finger into the gap. No pain. Cool.

  Next, I try a foot, and then a whole leg. When I peek my head around and check the window over the sink, I think I understand… it’s super overcast out. My courage isn’t to the point I’d go outside, but with the curtains pulled, I think I’ll be okay inside the house. I pad across the kitchen to the dining room, and find Mom sitting there working on her laptop. She doesn’t notice me slip by and go up to the second floor, also tomb-like in its silence. Wow. Guess the guys are all out somewhere.

  One good thing about that, there’s no competition for the bathroom. After showering and scrubbing the makeup off, I head back downstairs and join Mom at the table. It still feels so strange waking up and not going right away for cereal or a Pop-Tart or something.

  “Morning,” I mutter.

  Mom stops typing and looks over the screen at me. “It’s not―oh. Yeah. Sorry about last ni―this morning.”

  “No worries. It’s gonna take some getting used to. So… Sophia’s using me as a makeup dummy?” I grin.

  “The girls went down to see you, and Sophia thought you looked a bit, umm, pale.”

  I nibble on my lip. “Hmm. I guess I don’t look so hot when I’m out, huh? Do I look okay now?”

  “Yes. You’re no different than you were before. Almost younger even, at least in the face. Like you’re sixteen.”

  “Oh great.” I fake a groan with an eye roll. “Guess I’ll get carded when I try to buy beer.”

  Mom laughs.

  “Not like that ever stopped me before.”

  She stares at me.

  “I’m kidding.”

  Mom sighs.

  “I never bought beer. They just had it at the parties.” Shrug. “Not like it matters anymore. I could drink a whole bottle of Bacardi 151 and it wouldn’t do anything but go straight through me.”

  “I’d still prefer it if you didn’t drink,” says Mom. “You know you’re only eighteen.”

  I open my mouth to argue but can’t bring myself to. Mom’s been through hell the past few days, and it shows on her face. Not to mention, I really am kinda dependent on them to protect me during the day.

  “Sure, Mom. No problem.” I look up with a sly grin. “I’ll assume you mean alcohol… not blood.”

  She cringes. “I’ll never get used to that.”

  “I feel fine. Really, Mom, it’s not like the vampire killed me to do this… He saw me dying and wanted to save me ’cause he thought I was too young. I dunno about you, but I’m glad he did. This beats dead.”

  Mom nods.

  “So, where is everyone? This place is like a graveyard.”

  “Must you?” She shivers, then out of nowhere, bursts out laughing. “I guess it’s a graveyard in more ways than one. Oh, Sarah… I suppose I have to laugh or I’m going to go insane.”

  “Yeah.”

  Mom types a line or two, clicks the mouse a few times, and leans back to take a big breath. “Sophia’s at dance class. Sierra’s at her friend Nicole’s. Your father’s with Sam at karate. Umm. The sun’s not down yet. Shouldn’t you still be sleeping?”

  “I’m not really sure. You’d think. But it’s crappy out. And I have a feeling this is normal for my kind of vampire.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” asks Mom.

  I fill her in on my being an Innocent, which I suppose is kinda like a tribe or maybe a subspecies, like how cats come in Siamese, Bengals, and such. Dalton said I could find myself waking up before sunset, but he didn’t mention anything about me tolerating sunlight. In fact, I’m pretty sure he warned me away from even indirect sunlight. But this room’s full of indirect sunlight, even if it’s damn near dark out due to the storm.

  For some reason, Mom loves the word ‘innocent.’ She knows about me and Scott. After he pulled that asshole move our first time, I confided in Mom. She wanted me to leave him then and there, but stupid me thought I was in love and decided to give him another chance. Our conversation drifts from vampire stuff to a Scott-bashing party. I do let it slip that his days of being an asshole are over, permanently. After that, we fall into relatively normal chatter about random stuff.

  At least until the doorbell rings.

  I start to get up, but Mom waves me off. “I got it. It’s still not sunset yet.”

  “It’s pretty dark out,” I say, glancing over my shoulder at the living room window.

  “But it’s not past sunset. There’s just a lot of clouds. Humor me?” Mom hurries around the end of the table, rushing for the door.

  The rubber seal squishes open. Wow, has it always been that loud?

  “Mrs. Wright?” asks a man.

  “Yes…”

  “I’m Detective Mark Giancarlo from the Duvall Police.” The fwap of an ID wallet closing follows. “I’m the investigator looking into the murder of your daughter. There’s been an unusual complication. I’m not sure exactly how to say this, but her body was stolen.”

  “Oh. There’s been an enormous mistake,” says Mom. “Sarah’s not dead. She’s right here.”

  Detective Giancarlo coughs. “Excuse me? I was standing right next to you while you identified her remains last Friday.”

  “Come in, please.” Mom takes a step back. “Would you like some coffee or something?”

  A late-thirties guy with neat black hair, polo shirt, and black pants steps in. “I’m fine, thank―” He stares at me and goes pale.

  “Hey.” I wave.

  He looks back and forth between us a few times before walking over to me, his mouth half-open. “I’m at a loss here.”

  His mind swims with the memory of squatting in the grass beside me, examining the knife wound in my chest and my blood-soaked shirt. Aww. He’s emotional. As soon as he saw my body, he wanted to rush home and grab his daughter, who’s only a year or two younger than me. He forced himself to keep examining my wound, but at seeing my own lifeless face staring into nowhere, I flinch away to break the connection.

  “Something wrong?” asks Mom.

  “I can’t explain this,” says the Detective.

  “I’m fine,” I say. “I fainted when he stabbed me. I got a couple stitches and they sent me home. The cut was pretty shallow―it just bled a lot.”

  Detective Giancarlo gives me the ‘bullshit’ face, one eyebrow up. Yeah, I know he stood over my corpse for over two hours in the woods behind that house. A simple excuse isn’t going to work here.

  I stand and make eye contact again. “I didn’t die, Detective. An overworked clerk at the hospital made an error when they had me mixed up with someone else.” My desire to scrub the memory of the crime scene fro
m his head washes over his thoughts like red wine on a paper towel. I want him to remember that he interviewed me in the hospital. Hmm, wait a sec. There’s too many people involved with a murder scene for me to just wipe that away without making a bunch of problems, so I leave the crime scene in his head but replace my corpse with some random image from a movie, and let him believe they found a Jane Doe that someone mistook for me.

  Mom walks up to us. “What’s going on? Why are you two just staring at each other like that?”

  “Sec, Mom. I’m not done rewiring his memory yet.”

  She blinks at me.

  Once I’m sure he believes I survived the attack and someone stole the Jane Doe corpse, I pull back out of his thoughts and offer my most innocent smile.

  Detective Giancarlo’s eyes flutter. “Umm. Right, so as I was saying, I just wanted to drop by and let you know we still haven’t located Mr. Deacon. Has he attempted to contact you?”

  “No.” I shake my head, acting the innocent, frightened teen. “Do you think he’s going to try and hurt me?”

  “Hard to say. It’s always a possibility, but given the impetuous nature of the attack―no premeditation―I’m inclined to think he’s running scared and probably won’t make it too far before we catch up to him.”

  “That’s good to hear,” says Mom.

  Detective Giancarlo asks me more questions about that night. For the most part, I give him the truth, except for the part about me dying. I’d caught Scott cheating on me a week before and finally decided to break it off with him. We were at a party at this girl Bethany’s house. Her backyard’s right up against the woods. Being an idiot, I told Scott I needed to talk to him in private, and once we got out of sight from the party, I let him know we were done. He got upset, begged for another chance, and I said I couldn’t trust him―so he pulled out a knife. From there, ‘truth’ deviates to me passing out at the sight of blood, and waking up during the ambulance ride to the hospital.

  “I don’t know where Scott is,” I say, which is true. Dalton never told me what he did with the body. Since he hasn’t been found yet, and vampires can fly, I’m betting Scott’s taking a swim in the Pacific. “He hasn’t tried to call me or anything.”

  He nods. “All right. I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”

  “Thanks.” I do my best nervous smile. “I hope you guys find him soon. Ashley said she saw a bear.”

  “Yeah. We haven’t been able to verify it, but I do remember talking to her about that.” He nods at me, then Mom. “Well, thank you for your time. As soon as we hear something, I’ll let you know.”

  As Mom walks him out, I sink back into my chair with a stupid grin on my face. Wow. That’s so easy. No wonder people don’t believe in vampires. I just made a detective totally misremember finding me dead, and I’m still pretty new at this.

  “What did I just witness?” asks Mom, gliding back in from the living room.

  I explain what I did, grinning a bit like when I finally made a gingerbread house that didn’t collapse. Oh wow, am I seriously hoping my mother’s proud of me for mind-zapping a cop?

  Mom paces around. “You just altered the memory of a police detective. That’s got to be illegal. I… shouldn’t know about this. If I don’t report it, I could be disbarred.”

  “Tell a judge that you observed a vampire erase the memories of a cop and you won’t be disbarred, you’ll wind up in a hospital.”

  She laughs. “Maybe you’re right. But still… I don’t want you doing that again.” Mom stops pacing and faces me. “Err, unless you’re keeping the vampire stuff hidden. That’s fine.”

  “If it’s a problem for you legally, I could help you forget you watched me manipulate him.”

  Mom makes a face almost as horrified as the first time she walked in on me with Scott.

  “Only if you want me to.” I hold up both hands in a show of surrender. “Swear.”

  She looks up at me, mouth open, but instead of speaking, her attention focuses on something behind me. Mom walks past me out into the living room again. “Oh, drat. Your father still hasn’t fixed that bulb.”

  “Huh?” I pad up behind her and follow her gaze to a light fixture in the stairwell to the second floor. It’s on the wall directly above the start of the stairs, so basically like fifteen feet off the ground with no easy way to get to it except for a huge ladder. “Oh, that one.”

  “The big ladder’s in the garage. I guess I’ll be right back.”

  I grab Mom’s shoulder. “Don’t be a derp.”

  She starts to question me, but her voice fails her when I float straight up and pull the cover off the light. “Oh, wow. Still an old bulb in here. I thought we were converting to LED for the environment.”

  “You shouldn’t go flying around in a dress when you’re outside. Anyone could look right up.”

  “Mom!” I glide down to land beside her, a little blush on my face, holding the dead incandescent up.

  She grabs the LED off a nearby shelf that’s been waiting for Dad, pulls it out of the box, and trades it for the dead one in my hand. “This is really going to take some getting used to.”

  “Yeah… Don’t let Dad do stuff like this now, okay? He almost fell last time.”

  Mom puts an arm around me. “Does that mean you’re volunteering to get the leaves out of the rain gutters too?”

  I laugh. “Sure, why not? Dad and ladders don’t really get along.”

  “Be careful.”

  “What?” I glide back up to the light. “It’s not like I can fall. So… how many vampires does it take to change a lightbulb?”

  Mom chuckles.

  The front door opens. Sam, in his karate uniform, zooms up the stairs below me, heading for his bedroom.

  “How’d he do?” asks Mom.

  “Fine. He’s into it enough to want to keep going at least.” Dad kicks his shoes off and tosses them in the pile by the door, then walks up to kiss Mom. “How are you doing? Sarah still sleeping?”

  “Nope,” I say. “I’m a little high right now.”

  Dad peers up at me hanging in midair. “Holy crap!”

  “That was awful,” mutters Mom.

  I grin to myself and put the dome back over the light.

  “Wow, that’s unnerving.” Dad exhales, shakes his head, then chuckles. “But it sounds like you’re back to normal.”

  “Pretty good actually.” I glide down to land between them. “Or should I say doesn’t suck? Or, wait. I guess I do.”

  Dad hugs me. “I’m so glad you’re okay… You and your lame puns.”

  Come Alone

  16

  Mom and I fill Dad in on the detective’s visit, which is so totally weird I can’t even.

  It’s like I’m sitting here conspiring with Ash and Chelle to come up with an alibi for a party we snuck off to―only it’s my parents who are trying to get the story straight. Weirdest part of this whole thing? Fangs? No. Drinking blood? Nope. Flying? Nah. It’s watching my parents agree to lie to the police and the entire world.

  Once we’re all on the same page―brief stay at the hospital for a superficial slice―we wind up staring across the table at each other in nervous silence. They look like a couple of teenagers who just snuck three cases of beer past a bunch of cops. I wonder how wild my parents were at my age. Probably not too crazy… I mean Dad’s a computer nerd and Mom’s a lawyer. Dad’s idea of being wild probably involved pirating software, or maybe staying up too late as a kid and watching R-rated movies on cable after Grandma went to sleep. And yes, my parents already called the extended family and told them of the hospital’s error.

  “Well, this is our new normal,” says Dad.

  Mom glances at her phone while nodding. “No truth stranger than reality.”

  “Expecting a call?” I ask.

  “Checking the time. Need to pick Sophia up soon.”

  Oh right, two-hour dance classes twice a week. Holy crap. It’s Thursday already, the one-week anniversary of the a
ttack.

  “I called USC earlier.” Dad fidgets with his fingers. “Told them we got bad information from the hospital and you hadn’t passed away, but wouldn’t be in any shape to go to school out of state.”

  It surprises me how little it disappoints me to lose that. I’d been looking forward to it for months, ever since we toured the campus. Except for being too far away to hang out with Ashley and Michelle, I’d been pumped for the shot of independence. Still not sure where USC came from or why it got stuck in my head. Maybe the picture in the brochure in the guidance office did it. Some part of me probably wanted to experience living in a place that got actual sunshine.

  But yeah―rainy, foggy Seattle’s about perfect for me now.

  “Cool.” I pick at my nails, examining the subtle―but noticeable―points.

  “I know going there meant a lot to you,” says Mom. “It’s not your fault.”

  I look up, shrugging. “It’s cool. Really. I don’t even remember why I got so fired up about USC in the first place. Besides, it’s not like I got caught with a bunch of drugs and kicked out of school. I can’t go.”

  “Well, I’m sure you could make it work somehow.” Dad rubs his chin in thought. “I mean Lost Boys was set in California, right? It’s not like the sun’s out 24/7.”

  “Lost Boys?” I ask.

  Dad grabs me by the shoulders and starts pushing me into the living room. “Turn in your vampire card, young lady. You have to watch that movie.”

  I laugh, flailing. “Hey, not now. Okay, okay, fine. I’ll watch it―later.”

  He laughs.

  “But Dad, the whole point of going to USC was for the sun and the beach.” I lean back and stretch. “And I don’t think I’d enjoy sunbathing now. Really. I’m okay with it. No amount of nice beach days is as awesome as flying.”

  Mom rolls her eyes. “You sound just like some of the test pilots.”

  “How fast can you fly?” asks Dad with the eagerness of a small boy.

  “I dunno. Feels pretty fast.”