Michelle cackles. “Legal poop can be worse than anything you’ll find in a kennel. But I’m not cleaning anything other than wastebaskets. I’m not even in law school yet, so I’m basically an office assistant doing random BS things like running messages, taking meeting notes, or running to Starbucks.”
“Sare?” asks Michelle. “You made a face as soon as I brought up school. Something wrong?”
“Ehh.” I shrug. “It’s fine. Just being ‘meh’ about the programming thing. Not sure it’s right for me. Haven’t figured out what else to do yet, but it isn’t too important. Even if I get a degree in a field with night shifts, I’ll eventually have to disappear and reinvent myself before people start asking why this fifty-year-old woman still looks like she’s eighteen.”
“Try fifteen,” says Michelle while stirring more stevia powder into her iced tea, not looking at me.
I toss a hunk of potato at her, bouncing it off her forehead.
She cracks up laughing.
“You should major in drama.” Ashley crosses her eyes. “Since you basically already are.”
“Hah.”
Michelle scrunches her nose. “What about psychology or something? A therapist who can literally see into people’s heads?”
“Oh, sure. I’ll end up getting carted off by the PIBs for that.” I whistle. “Need to stay low key. Might go for a generic liberal arts degree or maybe English.”
“What about parapsychology?” asks Ashley, in a not-too-serious tone. “You can actually see ghosts.”
“It’s not a real degree… and it’s kinda the exact opposite of trying to stay under the radar.” I stuff my face with another forkful of eggs, potatoes, cheese, and sausage. So what if I got a breakfast skillet at dinner time? I always order these things here. Tradition should mean something, right?
“You should just relax and enjoy life.” Michelle sips her tea and grimaces. “Ack! Too sweet.”
“What did you expect?” Ashley laughs. “You asked them for raspberry flavor in it.”
Michelle takes another sip, still cringing. “Yeah, but I think they put in too much.”
I nudge her. “Maybe you put in too much of the magic powder.”
“Oh, dammit.” She glances at her little bottle of stevia—she brings it with her since no places ever have it—“I put it in twice.”
“That’ll do it.” I wag my eyebrows at her.
“Going to school helps Sare feel normal.” Ashley gathers up the second half of her burger. “Besides, she’d be bored otherwise.”
I stare at my mostly empty skillet for a moment, trying not to feel guilty.
“What’s wrong?” asks Ashley.
“You guys aren’t jealous? I kinda feel like I’m getting away with something here. Cheating at life.”
“Nah.” Michelle frowns, shaking her head. “It’s all good. Don’t really agree with my parents’ views on religion, but I do think my dad’s got a point when he said everyone gets the life they deserve. Maybe it ain’t a ‘god’ up there sending stuff people’s way, but we all get what we get. Waste of energy being jealous about anything. You want something, then work to make it happen. But not everything can be worked for… good looks, who your family is, you know.”
“Getting made a vampire,” mutters Ashley.
“Oh, vampiness can totally be worked for. The hard part is learning it’s real.” I gather another forkful of egg-mageddon. “It’s not even a lot of work. Admission’s pretty cheap, too. Only costs death.”
Michelle coughs on her food.
“Ehh, nah.” Ashley scrunches up her face. “On some level, I am a little jealous of how you’re never going to be forty wondering when you stopped fitting into the clothes we’re wearing now, but I also want to have a family someday and I’m okay with growing older. Besides, people who want to become vampires probably turn into bad ones.”
“Yeah.” Michelle nods. “What’s to be jealous of? She’ll be eighteen forever, never get old or fat, never get sick. She can fly, make people do what she wants, and go places alone without having to be hypervigilant all the time. Totally sucks, right?”
We laugh.
“Total suckage.” Ashley winks. “Though, that last one is tempting. I hate parking lots at night. Not sure it’s worth giving up future kids for though.”
“You could always adopt… or become a crazy cat lady.” I grin.
“Crazy cat lady is happening either way.” Michelle points at her. “She’s going to have six cats, four dogs, and some form of rodent colony by the time she’s thirty-five.”
Ashley holds her hands up, head tilted to one side. “Guilty.”
Random conversation about cats turns into Michelle and Ashley making a game out of guessing what I’m going to switch my major to. When Ashley abruptly gets up to go to the bathroom, I don’t need powers of telepathy to know she’s spotted our waiter and is about to tell him it’s my birthday. Fortunately, Denny’s doesn’t really do the shouting, clapping, and embarrassing the hell out of people thing.
“So you are really enjoying running at 110 percent all the time?” I lean my chin on my hand, glancing sideways at Michelle.
“Yeah.” She stretches. “Still not up for the kinda chaos chasing you around these days. I thrive on challenging stress. You’re up to your eyeballs in ‘oh hell no’ stress.”
I collapse forward on the table, laughing. “Just a little.”
“Freakin’ brownies?” She gives me a flat look. “Still ain’t sure you’re not messing with me.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me. I’m trying to forget the whole thing. Vampires are weird enough.”
“Glowing space kitten,” whispers Michelle.
I snort-giggle. Ouch. Of course the sound makes me laugh even harder.
“Careful, don’t choke.” Michelle pats me on the back. “Don’t forget to breathe.”
If I actually needed air, I’d accuse her of trying to kill me. Fortunately, breathing is just something my body does to appear alive these days—so laughing myself into a choking fit is harmless.
“Honestly, Klepto is super cute. I don’t mind her kind of weird.”
Ashley returns with a smile to prove she’s arranged some kind of birthday embarrassment, even if only a cake. I resist the temptation to peek at her head. Not long after she swoops into her chair, the waiter shows up with a small ice cream cake. The thing’s about as big around as a DVD, maybe three inches tall.
“Happy birthday!” He sets the cake down in front of me. “Can I get you guys anything else?”
“A knife?” I blink at the confection in front of me. “I am not eating this entire thing myself.”
“Be right back.” He grins and hurries off down the aisle.
Michelle leans her elbows on the table. “So, I’ve been thinking.”
“Uh oh.” Ashley pretend cowers.
“Funny.” Michelle tosses a napkin at her. “Anyway, we should make a pact to have dinner here together at least once a year. Probably on Ash’s birthday since it’s not so close to New Year’s.”
“Hmm.” I shift my jaw side to side.
“Oh, damn. Sorry.” Michelle cringes. “Never mind.”
“Huh?” Ashley blinks. “What?”
“Yeah, I’m with her. What’s wrong?”
Michelle exhales. “I didn’t mean to be a downer, demanding you watch the two of us grow old.”
I shrug. “I’ve already obsessed over you guys getting old plenty. Avoiding you won’t help. Can’t do anything about it, so I’m dealing.”
“We’ve already established you technically could do something about us getting old.” Michelle chuckles.
“You guys don’t want me to, so I can’t. Besides… I can’t. It requires hurting you two.” I gesture at Ashley. “Look at her. It would be like smothering a kitten. I couldn’t possibly.”
Ash laughs. “Okay, a pact then. No matter where life takes us, we’ll all meet at this Denny’s on my birthday until we die.”
&n
bsp; “Umm, I can’t promise that. Already died,” I whisper past a grin.
“You know what she means. Stop playin’.” Michelle nudges me.
“Done,” I say.
“Done.” Ashley grins.
“Settled then.” Michelle claps.
Hmm. Something’s not right. I gaze around, surveying the room. Nothing appears unusual, which feels unusual.
“Umm, what are you looking for?” asks Ashley.
“The weird.”
“Huh?” Michelle raises an eyebrow.
I chuckle. “The weird. A guy showing up to rob the place, or a ghost wandering by, or some bizarre new gremlin type critter showing up. Vampires Dalton pissed off trying to kidnap me… something weird. It feels so strange being this ordinary. Tonight feels like any other time we hung out here. It’s kinda freaking me out.”
Ashley rests her hand on my wrist. “Ordinary is what you wanted, right?”
The waiter returns, sets a knife down beside the ice cream cake, and hurries off.
I pick it up and start cutting the giant ice cream puck. Thirding it isn’t too much of a portion for anyone who still has to care about calories. “Yeah, it is what I wanted… but I don’t trust it to stay.”
3
The Big Day
An odd, rubbery smell abruptly manifests in my room, smothering a faint essence of strawberry.
In most situations, random smells coming out of nowhere would worry me; however, I’m in bed. It means they didn’t simply start spontaneously without cause. I’ve slept and come back to consciousness. Vampire sleep takes a lot of getting used to, as in it’s been six months and it’s still weird as hell. Before my Transference, I’d often lay in bed staring at the ceiling for an hour or so before passing out. Now, the instant the sun comes up, I’m out… and most of the time, sleep is dreamless. Since I spent my entire life struggling to fall asleep, it frequently feels like I’m lying here waiting to fall asleep but have already passed out and woken back up.
Honestly, the ability to zonk in an instant is awesome. Vampirism would’ve been worth it to me purely for that. Anyway, the sudden presence of smells means I’ve slept already. The rubbery aroma is intense and weird, and surprising since Hunter didn’t spend the night here. Nor are we using protection. I mean, seriously, what’s the point? My inner bits don’t work and I’m immune to diseases. Can’t suffer them; can’t transmit them.
Not planning on having tons of intimate partners anyway. So far, it’s only been Scott and Hunter—for however long it lasts. We’re not having trouble, not even close… but me being an immortal and him not being immortal is going to eventually make things weird. Maybe it won’t feel odd to me after being with him the whole time, but I’m not sure how to handle everyone assuming he’s my father someday. Seriously, forty years from now, he’ll look older than my father does now and I’ll still be the same.
It’s too weird to think about.
The faint strawberry scent is Sophia’s shampoo. She must have been in my room while I slept. Considering the fragrance of cosmetics isn’t hanging in the air, she didn’t use me as a practice dummy again. Don’t smell lipstick, so Sam didn’t write ‘happy birthday’ on my forehead like he did last year. Despite taking a while to pass out, I used to be a heavy sleeper. Some things are still true. It takes a lot to wake a vampire up early in terms of noise. Takes much less to wake us up in terms of messing around with our bodies. If any vampire ever dares to question how much I love my family, all I’d need to do is tell them Sophia painted me up like a clown and it didn’t make me stir in the slightest. Had no idea she did it until seeing myself in the mirror after waking up. The process by which we identify who is messing with us and their level of threat remains a mystery to me… but it works. Ask the guy Dad hired to fix the furnace last week. He walked into my bedroom by mistake. His merely entering the room woke me up at around eleven in the morning. Fortunately, my basement is dark enough for me to be online. I managed to erase his memory of me leaping out of bed to defend myself before my consciousness slid kicking and screaming back into the abyss.
Other ways to wake up a vampire before they’re supposed to get up include exposure to sunlight or the death wails of another vampire nearby. If a mortal is stupid enough to stab, attack, or destroy an unconscious vampire in a place where multiple vampires are sleeping, the others all wake up. I’ve even heard rumors about once a vampire gets old enough, they can sense people near them even when asleep and, sort of like cats, can choose if they need to wake up or not. If they do, it usually ends pretty badly for the mortal, since most vampires awake when the sun’s up are out of their mind feral—kinda like what happened to me in that motel room. One second, some guy opens the door and gives me a face full of bright sunlight. Next thing I know, there’s blood everywhere and the door’s closed. Total blackout. Somehow, despite killing a few people there, guilt isn’t overwhelming. Having no memory of it whatsoever helps, plus it had been completely out of my control. Not like I made a conscious decision to hurt anyone.
Hmm. Aha! Balloons.
Upon finally recognizing the rubbery smell, I open my eyes to find a bundle of brightly colored balloons bearing a ‘happy birthday’ sign floating beside me. Despite not needing to, I stretch and yawn before crawling out of bed. Old habits die hard or some such thing. It’s 2:39 p.m. according to my alarm clock. Slacker life. But hey, I have a good excuse. Short of having another stranger barge into my bedroom, I can’t get up any earlier.
Sophia must’ve put the balloons here before she left for school. The Littles ought to be home soon, no doubt they’re on the bus already. Keyboard clicking upstairs tells me Dad’s working. Mom, of course, isn’t home yet. As much as she might’ve wanted to, she didn’t take my birthday off. As a kid, I used to have birthday parties here at the house, inviting a handful of friends from school. The parties gradually became less and less epic as I got older. What started as basically having my entire school class over became inviting maybe eight or nine sorta-friends from school… then trips to the movies with only Ashley, Michelle, and sometimes this other girl Paisley, but we kinda went in two different directions after eighth grade. No bad blood or anything, we simply stopped hanging out. She’s way more of an outdoorsy ‘go do stuff’ type than me. You know, hiking, camping, canoeing, fishing. Paisley didn’t really like the geeky stuff Ash, ’Chelle, and I are into.
I may not be anywhere near as bad as Sierra, but I’m still way more likely to play video games than randomly go biking on a wooded trail. Much less effort involved. Lucky for me, I have Dad’s genes and never needed to exercise to stay thin. Granted, we are kinda too thin, but whatever. Can’t be perfect.
After a quick shower, I throw on a tee and sweat pants. The Littles are already home by the time I go upstairs. Sam and Sophia appear to be doing their homework right away while Sierra’s firing up the PlayStation.
“What?” She glances at me as I stroll by on the way to the kitchen.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You looked at me like ‘you haven’t been in the house two minutes yet and you went straight to the game.”
“So? You haven’t been here two minutes yet.” I grin. “I wasn’t going to say anything. Are you okay?”
She plops down on the floor facing the TV. “Yeah.”
I stop short, leaning over the back of the sofa. “Not a convincing ‘yeah’ there, kiddo.”
“Don’t read my mind.”
“Boy issues?”
She gasps, then whirls to glare at me. “I said don’t read my mind!”
“I didn’t. Merely guessed. It’s way too bright in here for me to be online anyway.”
“Oh. Duh.” She slouches. “It’s not really a boy thing.”
Hands up, I back away. “Cool. No worries. Don’t want to pry. You know I care about you guys.”
“Yeah.” A little blush reddens her face. “Sorry for snapping. I fell asleep in class today, had a bad dream, and jumped awake looking li
ke a dumbass trying to do kung fu while drunk. This boy I kinda like laughed at me.”
“Ahh. Don’t sweat it. Everyone looks like an idiot at one point or another. Besides, you’re eleven and we don’t live in a Hallmark movie. No boy you even know now is going to be the one you spend the rest of your life with. You’re probably not gonna meet him until you’re twenty-eight working the late shift at Starbucks.”
She laughs, then gives me a dark look. “Hey, not cool. You think I’m gonna be slinging coffee when I’m old?”
“The amount of time you throw at video games compared to school, probably. Either that or you’re going to be a superstar game designer driving a Lambo.”
Sierra groans. “Please. I’d never want one of those things. They’re for stuck up jerks who want to wave their money in everyone’s face. And seriously, what’s the point? You can’t drive one of those cars as fast as it can go without getting like all the tickets. Someone who spends more money than a house on a car two people can barely squeeze into is an idiot.”
I snicker. “Sounds like you’ve got life all figured out.”
“I dunno about life, but I’ve got Call of Duty down to a science.” She grins.
“Those idiots still bothering you?”
“Not really, but I don’t talk much on voice chat anymore.” She sighs at the rug, uncomfortable and a little frightened.
I move around the couch to sit beside her on the floor. “Want to talk about the bad dream?”
“It’s stupid. The giant five-headed tarantula thing chased me around the school.”
“Ugh. Sorry.”
Sierra stares at the screen, guiding her soldier down a narrow alley. “Umm, why are you apologizing? You killed it.”
“Because the only reason you’ve seen any of this horrible crap—”
“Stop.” She leans against me—which for Sierra is the equivalent of Sophia bursting into tears and clamp-hugging. “You’re still here. I don’t care about a couple weird dreams. I’m already nuts, so you didn’t make me any nuttier.”
Vampire Innocent (Book 10): A Vampire’s Guide To Adulting Page 3
