Sam I Am

by Heather Killough-Walden

  A wailing erupted from nowhere, a terrible, low moaning, accompanied by the piercing cry of a bansidhe and Logan looked up – as did everyone else. The pale, vaporous forms of wraiths floated above their heads. Someone in the audience screamed, and her partner tried to calm her. Someone else laughed – it was a joke, right? But the laugh was nervous. Several others gasped in awe.

  The indistinct forms dove toward the audience and then pulled up at the last possible second, raising more surprised and terrified shrieks from some of the dancers below. The smaller, fainter ghosts poured in and out of the star holes that had been carved in the black felt paper over the gymnasium lights. Others circled the gym ceiling and then floated toward the stage, where the fake cemetery had been so painstakingly built up around it.

  The band members backed up and watched in awe as the ghosts sank into the soil of the cemetery and disappeared from site.

  While all of this was happening, Sam Hain watched from the center of the crowd, his eyes glinting beneath the strange blue lamplight, his smile an omen of malign intent. “She has hypnotized your guardians!” he shouted next, and the crowd turned to see what he pointed at now.

  Logan’s eyes widened when several jack-o-lanterns once more burst into illuminating flame, shedding light on a group of teachers on one end of the gym. The teachers stood shoulder to shoulder, their arms at their sides, their gazes distant and unseeing. They did not move. Mrs. Stanley from the library. Miss Lieberman, the volleyball coach. Mr. Hoover, the economics teacher. Mr. Trombley, the assistant coach. Mrs. Waynewright, the home-ec teacher.

  All frozen, stunned, paralyzed.

  The students began laughing. Some even cheered. The idea of mesmerized teachers of course greatly appealed to them. And if the teachers were “cool” enough to volunteer to behave in such a manner, then all the better!

  “And worst of all,” Sam continued, his grin truly malicious now. “She has killed – and raised the dead to do her evil bidding!” The mists hugging the ground began to rise, at first blinding everyone as the fog shrouded their faces. But it continued to rise, escalating straight up to the starry-night ceiling, where it blocked out all of the stars as would a cloudy sky.

  Everyone watched as the fog grew thicker and coalesced. Finally, lightning flashed somewhere in the dense thickness of the indoor storm heads. The volume of the music grew.

  At this point, the students were grinning and laughing, thoroughly fooled by the magic that Sam had released into the gym. Logan’s stomach knotted as she thought of where all of this might be leading. She had an inkling – and it wasn’t good.

  Several more lightning strikes and ooh’s and ahh’s later from the crowd below, and suddenly a few of the clouds were parting to reveal a full moon, hovering in a deep dark night behind them. It was an impossibility. Yet, there it was.

  Most likely, the students believed it to be a screen of some kind, strewn across the ceiling. Or maybe a projection and perfect lighting. Logan wondered if it was an image of what the night sky looked like in Samhain’s realm. It was beautiful. And in any other circumstance, she would have gazed upon it with awe.

  “Whoa!” someone exclaimed. “Check her out!”

  “Awesome,” someone whispered. “Jeez, look at the makeup!”

  Logan looked away from the moon and turned toward the rising commotion. The full moon shed an unnaturally strong moon beam on one particular area of the gym floor. Several groups of students stood between Logan and whatever it was they were so impressed with.

  But Logan caught the faint, wafting smell of something dank. There was the sudden scent in the air of mold and rust and upturned soil. And something… worse….

  “Oh my God, there’s another one!” Another moon beam lit up a different section of the gym.

  “That’s Tiffany Preston!” someone exclaimed.

  Tiffany, Logan thought. She was with Sam earlier today.

  “Oh! She’s been bitten by a vampire!” a girl’s voice whispered excitedly.

  “Probably one of the Lost Boys,” someone else joked. They were getting into it now. Though she could still detect the slightest hint of nervousness in their voices, they were less afraid and more keyed up.

  This isn’t good.

  Two more moon beams revealed people down below, and the fourth time, Logan was actually able to see what it was they illuminated.

  It was Randy. From the bakery. He was suddenly, unexpectedly standing a few feet away from her. Out of the blue. Logan stared at him in disbelief, and in horror. His throat had been torn open and his eyes were dead. His clothes were covered in dirt and smudged with mud and blood. His skin was blue and gray and his hair was matted.

  For you, my love. A low chuckle sounded in her mind. It was Sam. I should think you would be happy. More laughter, deep, triumphant, and wicked.

  Bile rose in Logan’s throat. She covered her mouth. But no one else around her realized what it was they were truly looking at. They thought Randy was an actor. An extra. A man dressed up as a zombie so that these kids could have a truly rocking Halloween dance.

  The truth, however, was so much worse. The truth was, Randy Hodges wouldn’t do something nice for someone else unless you either bribed him or threatened him or both. And the more horrible truth was, Randy Hodges was really dead. And Sam Hain had killed him. Now the Lord of the Dead was using Randy’s body in some part of a horrid, gruesome act that was sure to have a devastatingly bad outcome.

  “She will kill and kill again, good people!” Sam spoke, his voice carrying easily over the music and the excited mumblings of the crowd. “And she will use all of her victims in this manner!”

  All eyes were on him again.

  Logan fought the urge to vomit, grateful that she’d only had a little bit of food in the last ten hours. She gazed at Sam Hain, the grand inquisitor in his scarlet garb, with his glowing blue eyes. Had he grown even taller since she’d looked at him last?

  “Who is it?” someone called out. A boy in the crowd. Logan couldn’t tell who it was.

  “We have to stop her!” someone else cried. Several students heartily agreed. A few cheered.

  Oh no, Logan thought. They think it’s a game. They’re getting into it.

  “Oh, she stands among you now,” Sam told them all, his tone lowering dangerously. He scanned the faces of the students and they stared right back, fully entranced by his act and powerful presence. “Wearing the badge of witchcraft as if it were an emblem of pride.”

  Logan waited for him to tell them it was her. She was the Slytherin. A witch from Hogwarts. She was the one he wanted. He had it in for her, didn’t he? She waited and she swallowed very hard, barely managing to get past the painful lump lodged in her throat.

  But Sam didn’t tell them it was her. He didn’t even meet her gaze. He skirted over her as if she wasn’t there – and stared at something just over her shoulder.

  “There!” he bellowed, his voice booming in the air of the gym.

  Logan whirled around to look, as did everyone else.

  “It’s Meagan Stone!” someone said.

  Logan gasped. “No!” she cried out, at once trying to push through the crowd to reach her friend. Meagan stood cowering in the shadows behind the bleachers. But jack-o-lanterns burst into flame along the wall on either side of her, one after another, all pinpointing her location with greedy, orange grins and merciless, burning eyes.

  “Stop that one!” Sam commanded suddenly, pointing at Logan. “She is under the witch’s spell as well and must be restrained!”

  At that, several of Logan’s costumed classmates turned on her. The girls stepped back. The boys came forward. Within a few short seconds, Logan found herself trapped in the tight grips of Trevor Adams, the school quarterback who was dressed up as a Storm Trooper, and Daniel Jenkins, a rather buff track star dressed up as Michael Jackson. Their fingers dug into the skin around her upper arms. She fought wildly in their grasps, but they laughed and got into their roles as appointed deputies
of the inquisitor.

  She turned a wild-eyed gaze on Sam and this time he met her eyes. He lowered his head and slowly shook it from side to side in admonishment. “You will be purified, my child,” he told her. “Later.” And then he was looking up at Meagan again. “First, we must destroy the witch!”

  The crowd roared to life, cheering for the witch’s destruction. Logan began to panic. Her heart hammered wildly, and her vision blurred. “No! Please don’t-” She got no further, as Trevor’s hand clamped down over her mouth, effectively silencing her cries.

  Logan could only watch as the mass of students surged forward, blocking her view of Meagan. Where was Mr. Lehrer? Where was Katelyn?

  They had to stop Sam! With the necklace she was wearing, Meagan would be safe from Sam, directly. But she wasn’t safe from her fellow students, who could touch her no matter what she was wearing. All he had to do was tell them to remove the necklace. As wound-up and willing to go along with this deception as they all were right now, they would be more than happy to do anything Sam ordered them to do.

  Logan tried to turn her head to get a look at the stage; maybe Dominic could help. But Trevor had her in a steel grip. She could barely move at all. If she struggled much more, he would end up squeezing her so tight, he would inadvertently cut off her air supply. She was getting dizzy as it was.

  “She is not a witch!” came a booming voice from the other side of the bleachers. Logan glanced in that direction to find Mr. Lehrer grasping different objects of unknown mystical power in his clutched hands. Lehrer shook his head. “She has been falsely accused!” he shouted.

  Logan blinked, causing her thus-far unshed tears to stream down her cheeks. She was confused. What was he saying? Of course Meagan was a witch.

  He’s playing along, she realized.

  “Said the demon to his next victims,” Sam hissed. “You see the objects in his hands!” he bellowed. Light illuminated Mr. Lehrer’s hands, and Logan could see her history teacher blanch. “Items of evil! Given to him by his horned and winged master!”

  The crowd went wild, students booing and waving at Mr. Lehrer, making the sign of the cross and damning him to Hell. Logan could feel the boys’ grips tighten on her to a painful degree. They were getting riled up. Dangerous. It wasn’t even a game any longer.

  Something had changed. It was something subtle and deadly. The act had become a reality, as impossible and improbable as it may be, and everyone in that gym had a part to play.

  “Bring her!” Sam commanded, turning to point to the now-captured Meagan. Logan noticed that her friend’s protective necklace had been removed. She wasn’t surprised. It had most likely been torn off by frenzied students.

  “Her pyre awaits!” Sam waved his hand to the right and a previously unlighted area of the gym was at once highlighted by moonlight and bizarre, internal lightning.

  A bonfire base of twigs, sticks and logs had been built up on one end of the dance floor. An enormous wooden pole rose from its center, and dangling from the pole were black metal manacles – two for the legs, two for the wrists.

  Meagan screamed then; Logan recognized the sound of her voice. She was terrified. This was a nightmare come to life. Sam was good at those. As they dragged the young witch kicking and screaming across the gymnasium floor, Mr. Lehrer leapt forward, trying to wade his way through the throng of students bent on the very real destruction of their fellow classmate.

  But they would not let him through. And when he began to chant – most likely a spell of protection for Meagan – several of the students pounced on him, dragging him down to the ground and out of Logan’s line of sight.

  Logan truly felt like dying. Sam had indeed known all along what she and her friends had been planning. Everything had fallen apart and the Death Lord was in complete control. Her friend was going to be burned alive by students who thought it was all pretend. And there was nothing Logan could do about it.

  Yes there is.

  There it was; his voice again. So calm and clear in her head. Logan closed her eyes as the sounds of the gymnasium around her faded away.

  Surrender, Logan. Take off the necklace and come to me. I will spare the witch. She relaxed in her captors’ grips as Sam’s voice entered her bloodstream, an audible sedative laced with liquid warmth. It felt like heaven. All I want is you.

  I can’t, she thought back at him. Can’t move….

  At once, the boys holding her let her go. Just like that.

  Logan steadied herself and opened her eyes. She looked around. The cheering had stopped. Everything seemed to have slowed or come to a halt. A student was standing beside the pyre, a flaming torch in one hand. He was bent over the mass of knotted wood, the blaze inches from the nearest branch. But his eyes were on Logan.

  Meagan was caught between the steely, determined grips of no fewer than four masked men. Her shirt was torn and there were red, welted lines on her forearms and neck where people had grabbed at her. She was breathing hard and her teeth were gritted with both fear and resolve. But her eyes were on Logan.

  Mr. Lehrer was bound, hand and foot, with something that resembled electrical wire. The cords cut deeply into his skin and she could see that the circulation in his hands had been cut off. He was being guarded by half a dozen students. His glasses were broken. But his eyes were on Logan.

  On the stage beyond the spirit-filled graveyard, three men stood in the garb of eighties vampires. Their instruments were quiet. Their speakers, quieter. And their eyes were on Logan.

  Where is Dominic?

  “What will it be, Logan?” Sam asked, turning to face her. There was an edge of impatience in his tone. A warning in his arctic eyes.

  Logan straightened and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and reached behind her neck to unclasp the necklace. Then she held it out before her in one hand, an offering and a sacrifice in one gleaming, silver symbol.

  It’s over, she thought. “You win,” she said out loud.

  Sam watched her for several long, tense heartbeats and the atmosphere in the room became thick with a kind of doom. A finality. Where was the music now? There should have been music; loud and ominous and terrible.

  “No!” Mr. Lehrer yelled from where he was captive and bound yards away. Someone kicked him hard and he fell to his side, his knees curling in toward his chest.

  Meagan struggled wildly where she was being held by the pyre. It did no good. And she knew that crying out against what was happening would only bring her more pain. She wisely chose to remain quiet.

  Then Sam smiled. He slowly closed the distance between him and Logan and she forced herself to remain where she was. When his hand slid around hers to take the necklace from her, Logan closed her eyes once more.

  He lifted the silver from her grip. And it was gone.

  Logan’s eyes flew open. She was standing in a field of black roses. A full moon cast a blue light over the land. Sam stood before her, dressed in dark blue jeans and a black, long-sleeved button-up shirt over a black t-shirt. The red robes of a high inquisitor were gone. The pyre of wood was gone. The students were gone, the school was gone.

  “You won’t miss them,” he told her gently. All hint of nastiness was gone from his impossibly handsome features. His blue eyes no longer glowed eerily. “I won’t let you.”

  “My family –”

  “They will forget you. And you won’t have to worry about them any longer.”

  “But, James –”

  Sam raised his hand then, placing his finger across her lips to silence her. The touch was shocking. His skin was cold, but the contact made her feel instantly warm all over.

  “Let go, Logan,” he said as he drew nearer, until his boots touched hers and there was no space between them but for a few inches of over-charged cosmos.

  Logan said nothing. She knew he was right. He was the Lord of the Dead. He was more powerful than she could imagine; if anyone could make her forget, if anyone could make her feel pleasure and happiness, despite ever
ything – it was Sam. Because he’d been around since life began.

  Death was life’s eternal shadow.

  He must have known he had her then, because he cupped her cheek, his touch tender and loving. And then he lowered his head and she closed her eyes as his lips delicately brushed hers.

  So soft, she thought.

  But he came back for more. And the second kiss was not quite as gentle; lasted a little longer, and she could taste the cinnamon on his tongue.

  He pulled away for the slightest of moments – long enough to look into her eyes. And then the smell of spice and wood smoke and caramel apples at once engulfed her as he trapped her face in his hands and ensnared her with a kiss that was all hunger, all desperation. It literally took her breath away.

  He opened her up and drank her in, relentlessly demanding more, bruising her lips as he forced the kiss deeper and deeper. She went weak in the knees beneath his erotic assault, her hands fisting in the sleeves of his shirt for balance. After a few eternal minutes of this impossible, blissful torture, Logan began to sense a change in his kiss. It was his teeth. She could feel them now with the tip of her tongue, long and incredibly sharp.

  His arm snaked around the small of her back, an iron band that pulled her tight against him. His other hand slid from her face to her neck, encircling it lightly. Logan barely noticed when he unknotted the Slytherin scarf.

  Long moments later, Sam very slowly ended the kiss, pulling away to gaze down at her once more. His eyes were no longer completely blue; the pupils had expanded so large, their darkness nearly engulfed his now glowing irises.

  He mesmerized her with that indomitable gaze as he gently curled his forefinger beneath her chin and tilted her head to the side. Logan felt the Slytherin scarf slip completely away. Cool air caressed her exposed skin, but it wasn’t cold. She wasn’t cold.

  She was on fire. She closed her eyes as he lowered his head once more. Without hesitation, Sam sank his fangs into the taut flesh of her throat, piercing the same holes he’d left before.

  Logan gasped, and then cried out under the shocking, painful assault. It hurt this time, just as it had before. But his grip on her was nothing short of unbreakable, and as he pulled his first swallow of her blood from her body, she whimpered beneath the deadly, excruciating sensation, her nails digging into the hard muscle of his biceps.