Yeah, so what if I’m getting a bit emo. My parents need the feels tonight.
4
Tiny Cake, Big Feels
We end up watching Coco on demand.
Maybe not the wisest choice considering the parents’ mood, but it’s more cute than sad—still, it gets Mom and Sophia crying at the end. Everyone kinda stays there hanging out for a little while after the movie ends. Once the Littles start yawning, Michelle grumbles about schoolwork. She hates having to leave so early (a few minutes after nine) but college is different from high school. Much harder to blow off homework when you’re going into debt for it. Pass or fail, we’re still on the hook for the cash. Good motivation to get it right the first time and not have to repeat a class.
The Littles head off to bed. Hmm. I didn’t see Sierra do homework. She’s got the same kind of laziness I had in regard to schoolwork, but completely ignoring it goes beyond. My lack of motivation did not extend into risking punishment territory. Hmm. Should I bug her about it or let the parents handle it? Don’t want to start a fight with her—we’ve been getting along almost too well to believe ever since I technically died.
Okay, don’t wanna be a pest, but if she’s skipping homework, it could be something bigger going on, especially since she mentioned having nightmares.
I disentangle myself from Hunter, whispering, “Be right back.”
He nods.
Upstairs, I find Sierra in her room, fluffing her hair out the neck of the nightgown she’s changed into. She fires off three seconds of the ‘what are you doing in my room’ glower before softening it to a, “Hey, what’s up?”
“Being worried and overprotective. Also, didn’t say anything to Mom or Dad, but did you have any homework today?”
“Oh, wow, seriously?” Sierra rolls her eyes. “I thought you were freaking out over something actually important.”
“I’m not as concerned with the homework itself as much as why you’d skip it.”
She folds her arms. “I didn’t. Finished it before I left school. I don’t really do anything at lunch. Mr. Hooper put on a documentary in Social Studies, so I got my vocabulary homework done in class. It’s the first day back after a long holiday. Teachers didn’t give us much. I didn’t wanna have to worry about doing homework today since it’s your birthday. You can stop worrying.”
“No, I can’t.” I grin. “Even when you’re all grown up and can kick five men’s asses in a sword fight, I’m still going to worry about you being okay.”
Sierra blinks. “Wow. Umm, let’s hope I never end up having to fight five dudes at once.”
“Yeah, you won’t. Maybe two vampires at once.” I tap a finger to my chin. “If you see a troll, run.”
“I won’t see a troll because I’m not dumb enough to go through strange magic doorways.” She sticks out her tongue.
“Touché. Okay, sorry for bugging you.”
She shrugs. “It’s cool. You didn’t do it in front of anyone.”
“On purpose. Night.”
“Night.” She ducks around me. “Old lady.”
“Hah! Sure thing, kiddo.”
“Bite me,” says Sierra, not looking back as she heads down the hall.
“Okay.” I extend my fangs and follow her.
She squeals and runs to the bathroom, slamming the door. “I didn’t mean literally!”
Laughing, I head downstairs.
Hunter and the parents look over at me.
“Gonna grab a quick bite. Back in like twenty minutes.”
“Cool.” Hunter gives a thumbs-up.
“Don’t bite anyone too grubby,” says Mom. “You don’t know where they’ve been.”
Dad raises a finger. “She could know where they’ve been if she reads their mind.”
She sighs at the ceiling, then looks at me. “Just be careful, okay? Don’t start any fights with other vampires.”
“Really not in my plans. If I got my wish, I’d never fight another vampire ever again.” I step into my sneakers by the front door, then go outside. “If I’m not back in half an hour, send in reinforcements.”
If there’s anything about being a vampire I’d complain about, it’s eating.
Mostly because finding a blood meal is inconvenient. Normal people can just go to their kitchen or get delivery. I need to fly all the way to Seattle. Well, technically it’s not required, but it’s reckless to bite people too close to where I live. The increased population of a big city keeps it hidden. Little chance of me running into the same person twice. Also, people are too distracted with the chaos around them or the need to rush back and forth. In a place like Cottage Lake, there are only so many people around, plus it’s quieter. Sooner or later, someone’s going to start asking questions about large numbers of residents having episodes of brief memory loss and fatigue. I’m sure ‘vampire’ won’t be the first thought on the minds of authorities, probably a radon leak or something similar… but it’ll bring scrutiny.
Yanno, maybe I could technically order delivery. My family gets the pizza while I eat the driver.
Or bite the driver. I’m not one of those sick vampires who kills when they feed. Not only is it evil, it’s foolish. Nothing attracts hunters faster than a series of exsanguinated bodies turning up in the same area.
Kill-feeding is also, according to Dalton, addictive. He’s not speaking from experience though. I don’t doubt his claim he’s never fed anyone to death. Seriously, a vampire who’d feel sorry enough at being unable to save my life doesn’t have the dark streak necessary to kill casually. Of course, I got a good close look at the kind of vampire who’d fallen prey to their vices: Ruben. From what Dalton told me, it sounds like kill-feeding is more addictive than heroin. Right up there with cigarettes or smartphones. Dunno if he’s right about it mystically turning us dark inside, but even psychologically, it would have to. A person can’t adjust to casually killing two or three people a month without changing inside. Unless they worked as a claim adjuster for medical insurance, then they’d probably end up killing fewer people after becoming a vampire addict.
Anyway, so yeah. I’m not interested in the supposed power one gets from kill-feeding. It doesn’t bother me at all to ‘miss out’ on it. Vampires don’t have to do it to grow in power, it’s merely faster. And as far as power goes, I couldn’t care less. It’s inevitable my vampire self will become gradually more potent over the decades and centuries to come. Someday, I might feel well removed from the human I started as. Aurélie is sweet—well, as sweet as a vampire her age could possibly be—but there’s no mistaking what she is. Dalton described her as a misericord wrapped in silk.
For now, feeding means I fly to Seattle, find a rando, and do what’s necessary for continued existence. Blood-starvation won’t kill a vampire, but it’s like the absolute worst thing we can experience. Makes the idea of sitting through a forty-hour marathon of acapella disco music sound like fun. Even sun-death is better because the agony only lasts a few seconds. When a vampire isn’t drinking blood, they wither away into a vestigial shadow of humanity, lacking reason, driven mad by constant wracking pain, unable to stop themselves from lashing out at anything around them and trying to devour it.
Kinda like Philadelphia Eagles fans whenever their team loses.
It’s scary knowing I have the potential to be a threat to everyone around me, but at least it’s pretty easy to avoid starvation. Not like we live in the middle of the desert or anything. Honestly, the worst part about feeding for me is looking into the heads of total strangers. I’m already over the creepy intimacy of biting people on the neck. Can’t say there still isn’t some bit of it left, since I generally try to feed on guys if at all possible. Sucking on a woman’s neck is a bit uncomfortable for me, and I won’t bite kids even if their blood tastes like candy or cake.
The whole ‘blood flavor’ thing is entirely in my head, by the way. Something about a person triggers my subconscious mind to assign them a flavor. Fortunately, I can smell it on them bef
ore biting so avoiding unfortunate taste assignments isn’t difficult. Like the one guy in a green blazer my brain wanted to taste like pickles. Having hot dill brine gushing into the mouth is no one’s idea of fun.
Back to the worst part. In order to feed, I have to mind-zap people into standing there dumbfounded for a few minutes. Much easier than trying to hold them down physically. Biting a person struggling to get away is usually a bloody process. It’s the vampire equivalent of a kid in a high chair throwing their food all over the place. However, sometimes—especially with the people I find outside late at night—their thoughts contain horrible crap. Like the one dude trying to rush home because he couldn’t wait to get his hands on his young daughter. Or maybe step-daughter. I’ve tried to forget the whole thing, so the details are foggy.
Shudder.
Thankfully, I haven’t run into any more pedos… but I’ve found quite a few burglars, drug dealers, unfaithful husbands, and two murderers. Well, one murderer and one about-to-be murderer. Yes, I played vampire superhero again and stopped the guy from killing his business associate. Who knew plumbing contractors could be so cutthroat? Basically, my policy is… if someone’s head contains crime stuff, and it doesn’t really hurt anyone, I don’t get involved. Not my circus, as they say. If they’re about to hurt someone, I can’t simply ignore it.
Really don’t care if some people call it unethical. I’m sure the little girl who’s no longer afraid to sleep in her own house doesn’t give a rat’s ass how ‘unethical’ it was for me to read the bastard’s mind. Same with the plumber who’s still alive because I randomly chose his former friend as a meal one night a few months back. Maybe it means I’ve put myself above normal humans already, but whatever. It’s not my fault people are shitty. Their actions are their own. I’m merely a physical embodiment of karma at work.
And if I ever mentioned this to Professor Heath, he’d ask me if I thought the Universe coerced me into choosing those particular victims on purpose so I could be karma’s avatar. Philosophy teachers and potheads are fairly close except for one major difference: professors get paid to ramble about ‘deep thoughts.’
So, once again, I go cruising around Seattle after dark, keeping about 250 feet off the ground. There’s enough artificial light at ground level to hide me in the air. Same way someone standing right in front of a campfire can’t see too far into the dark. People generally don’t look up unless they have a reason to. One of the many reasons I avoid sneakers with blinking lights. Sophia’s suggestion I put on a faerie costume in case someone sees me flying was hilarious. Someone trying to tell their friend they saw a girl zooming around in the air would be implausible enough, but a giant faerie? They’d either get laughed at or wind up seeing a shrink.
Pity it’s way too much effort for me.
After a few minutes of cruising around in search of a good candidate for biting, I spot a dude in a hoodie—with the hood up—suspiciously checking out a nice BMW. Either he forgot his keys, or he’s about to break into the car. Car theft, or a smash and grab, isn’t bad enough for me to get worked up over. Hey, I’m a good girl, but I’m not trying to play superhero over every little thing.
I glide in for a silent landing a few paces behind the guy—right has he pulls a brick out of his sweatshirt pocket and hurls it at the car window. The brick bounces off the glass with a dull whud, flying back into the dude’s face. He crumples to the sidewalk, mostly unconscious. I blink in disbelief at seeing a YouTube fail video happen in real time right in front of me—then burst out laughing.
The guy’s knocked himself so senseless he just lays there moaning while I recover from the unexpected hilarity. A quick look around confirms no one has come out to see what all the laughing’s about. Good. I grab the guy, drag him to his feet, and pull him into the nearest secluded space between downtown high-rises.
As soon as we’re out of sight, I dive into his head, giving him my usual derp command for feeding. His thoughts swirl back and forth between what he thought was a laptop sitting undefended in the BMW’s passenger seat and utter confusion as to how a brick hit glass and bounced. The scent of his blood—generic fast food hamburger—surrounds us in a pungent cloud. His heart rate’s way up from anxiety over his attempted burglary, making his face red and the veins in his forehead swollen. Or maybe it’s because he just took a brick to the nose.
Miracle it’s not bloody, really.
And no, nosebleeds are not like an open tap. It’s still coming out of the nose. Eww.
I pull his hoodie out of the way, extend my fangs, and bite. Within the first few sips, the taste of his blood shifts from fast food to instant ramen. Ack. Yeah, okay, he does kinda have a pothead college student vibe going. Bleh. Whatever. Much the way people do with instant ramen, I suck it down purely for sustenance without bothering to taste it, and leave the guy staring into the fourth dimension.
Once I’m back in the air, it’s tempting to laugh all over again at the idiot nailing himself in the face with a brick. Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I settle for a low chuckle. Hunter took the night off work to be with me, so I fly at my top speed, gripping the waistband of my sweat pants to keep them from disappearing. They’re coming off eventually tonight, but I’d rather not have it happen to me in midair.
A few minutes later, I glide in to land on the deck behind my house. Despite it not looking dark to me, it feels dark. Not sure if I’m having some kind of weird phantom memory of my backyard being dark or this is simply my brain trying to let me know it’s night.
“Hello, Sarah,” says Glim out of nowhere.
I jump, yelp, and whirl to face him.
Oversized fangs stick out from a crooked grin surrounded by a greyish face made luminous in the strong moonlight. Yellow eyes glow like embers, sparkling with delight. He adores sneaking up on people, especially people like me who react in cartoonish ways to being startled. At least he’s not recording me for a scare-cam video. Sam sometimes startle-pranks me—well, at least he used to before the vampire stuff. I’d scream, jump, sometimes fall over, but end up laughing. Sophia doesn’t like scare pranks. After she’s done screaming, she cries. Sierra usually punches him in the face if he makes her jump. He stopped pranking Sophia out of guilt, Sierra out of self-preservation, so it leaves me.
Seems he and Glim have something in common—laughing at people they startle.
“Hey.” I grab my chest and take a few deep breaths to calm my racing heart. Yeah, it still reacts to emotions. And no, I don’t mind. In fact, it’s awesome. Makes me feel human. Can’t imagine how bizarre it must be for other bloodlines because their bodies behave as dead as they are. Also, kinda strange for him to show up at my house. Hope he’s not here to warn me Petra or St. Ives are planning to do something nasty. “What’s up?”
He pulls his hand out from under his black trench coat in the theatrical manner of a stage magician. Seconds after his hand stops palm up in front of my face, a chocolate cupcake covered in pink frosting appears in a wisp of black vapor. A lone, unlit candle sticks up from the center of the icing. No, he didn’t summon it out of thin air. His mind powers are based on illusions. He made me not see the cake until he wanted me to believe it appeared.
“Happy birthday.” He grins. “Sorry if it’s a bit small.”
“Thank you!” I take the cupcake, then hug him. “It’s not the size of the cake that matters, it’s how you use it… or something.”
He chuckles. “Forgive me for not lighting the candle. I’m not a big fan of fire.”
“Yeah…” I cringe. Fire isn’t a friend to any vampire, but Shadows are a bit drier than most. “I’m a little old to make birthday wishes anyway.”
The patio door slides open, revealing Dalton. One of these days, I’ll tell him the beige blazer over a T-shirt look stopped being cool in the Eighties. “Oy, luv. ’Appy birthday.”
“Thanks. Wow. Didn’t expect you guys would pay much attention to birthdays. I really appreciate it. Like having both of my families
here.” Grinning, I put an arm around their shoulders.
Glim still tenses up at being touched, but he’s gotten better at it. He doesn’t object to contact; he’s simply not used to being able to show himself and not have people freak out. Even most other vampires shy away from Shadows—though it might be more from how powerful they can be rather than their frightening appearance.
“Eh, we mostly don’t.” Dalton glances off to the side, totally overacting nonchalance. “Don’t rightly even remember what month mine was anymore, but you seem to fancy the notion.”
“At least for now.” I let a sad sigh slip out.
“Tonight is not the time for darkness.” Glim lifts my chin on one finger.
“Funny to hear that comin’ from you.” Dalton chuckles.
I smile. “He’s right. Gloomy thoughts can wait a few decades.”
The patio door slides open again. Sierra pokes her head out. “Dalton, can I ask you something?”
He twists to look at her. “Aye, lass. Go on.”
“Umm, like in private?” Sierra bites her lip.
“If she asks you to turn her, you will say no.”
“Duh.” Sierra rolls her eyes at me. “I’m at least gonna wait until eighteen. Being stuck as a kid forever would suck.”
I whirl to stare at her. “You are not becoming undead.”
“Chill. It’s called teasing you.” She makes a silly face. “I don’t wanna become a vampire.”
Hmm. Maybe she’s trying to arrange some kind of birthday surprise for me. I shrug. Dalton and Sierra slip into the house. In the brief moment the door’s open, Hunter’s voice—in conversation with the parents about his classes—makes me feel a little less guilty about standing out here while he’s waiting on me… but Glim is still uncomfortable hanging around the family. Neither Sierra nor Sam would bat an eyelash at his appearance. Sophia might scream if she didn’t expect to see him, but she already knows about him from me telling stories, so even my ‘delicate’ sister should be able to handle having him around.
Vampire Innocent (Book 10): A Vampire’s Guide To Adulting Page 5
