“Why don’t I believe you?”
“Because I’m lying.”
Malcolm just continued to stare at me, but his eyes narrowed a little. My vision was beyond perfect so I could see him clearly, but I realized that in the twilight he wasn’t able to make out all the details. Still, I was pretty much caught red-handed. “I don’t even know where to start, Noah.”
“Me neither.”
“Could, um, could you come down here, please?”
And, of course, being the moron that I am, I simply jumped the seventeen feet down to the ground without thought or hesitation. Of course I landed perfectly. Of course it freaked Malcolm out even more.
When I stood face-to-face with him, he got a really good look at the scary and sickening remnants of my helpless little meal. He recoiled. Self-conscious, I quickly wiped off my mouth with the back of my sleeve and picked a few nasty clumps of fur out of my teeth. Then I stood there, awaiting judgment. I mean, I didn’t really know what else to do. There were no books or tutorials on how to come out to your friends and family as a vampire.
Slowly, Malcolm came closer. He looked me over like I was an alien. I might as well have been. At least extraterrestrials were an easier concept to swallow than the living dead. His eyes narrowed.
“What the hell has gotten into you, man?” he asked.
“I don’t even know where to start,” I admitted.
“Gee, let me help you. Uh, how about explaining why you just ate a live squirrel?! Or maybe how you just nonchalantly jumped out of a tree?! Or maybe you could explain to me why you’ve started disappearing in the middle of the day, and how you’re acting so weird lately I don’t know what to think, or how I can hardly recognize my best friend because you’ve been lying through your teeth about something?!”
“Um, speaking of my teeth,” I started.
That was enough. Suddenly Malcolm took full note. For the first time he seriously examined what he may have only glimpsed before. He pointed at the impossibly sharp teeth hiding behind my lips.
“Open your mouth a little wider,” he instructed.
I sighed and did him one better. I pulled my lips back and fully exposed my gleaming white fangs, only slightly besmirched by a dash of critter blood.
He jumped back and laughed nervously. “Whoa, those are gnarly, man!”
“Thank you?”
“Where’d you get those?” he asked. Malcolm seemed to be letting his guard down.
I didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing. On the one hand, I wanted to confess everything all at once and have him slap me on the back, say it was no big deal, and then crack a joke. Call me crazy, but I had a feeling that was not going to happen. On the other hand, I didn’t want him getting more comfortable simply because he figured this was all one big practical joke. That was far more likely.
“It’s a long story,” I cautioned.
He glanced around as though searching for a hidden camera, and his goofy, charming, lopsided smile spread across his face. It was exactly what I was afraid of. He thought this was all a big joke. “Okay, I get it. Ha-ha, very funny. You know, you have a pretty sick sense of humor, Noah. Someone tipped you off I was coming to talk to you, and you thought it would be funny for me to think you were…um…doing whatever weird stuff you were doing in that tree.”
“Malcolm—”
“No, it’s cool. You got me! I’ve got to say though, man, you are a weirdo.” He shook his head and laughed.
I stood there, still and cold as stone. I could have just played along. In fact, I was surprised at myself. It would be relatively easy to convince Malcolm of yet another lie versus the incredibly complex truth. But I simply didn’t want to. I was tired of lying. I was sick of feeling alone. “It’s not a joke, Malcolm,” I said calmly.
He stopped laughing. The glimmer drained from his sky blue eyes. He took a step forward. My face was hard and serious. Hesitantly he reached up and lightly tapped the front of my fang twice. His features twisted in confusion once again.
“Those aren’t wax,” he stated.
“No.”
“Did you get them filed or something?”
“No.”
“Can you just tell me what is going on?”
“Can you promise you’ll listen?”
“Of course! I’m your best friend.”
For the moment. I couldn’t be sure how he’d react to the news that his best friend was now a murderous mythical creature. To be perfectly honest, if I were him I’d probably stay far away from me. I was no longer the sweet-natured, selfdoubting average teenager. I was something much darker, much more complicated. If even I couldn’t fully understand it, how could I expect Malcolm to? But I didn’t think I could bear losing his friendship on top of everything else. I ran a quick checklist in my head for any possible excuses I could present to him that wouldn’t push him away further. I drew a blank.
“Okay, here goes. Are you ready?”
Malcolm nodded his head anxiously. “Yes, yes! Just tell me already!”
The evening was rapidly giving way to the solid cover of night. A dying shade of navy blanketed the backyard where Malcolm and I stood. I breathed in and took the plunge.
“I’m kind of a vampire.” I waited for a reaction, but Malcolm’s face was blank.
“Come again?” he said.
“Um, I’m kind of a vampire?”
“What do you mean ‘kind of’ a vampire?”
“I mean I’m a vampire.”
“What do you mean you’re a vampire?!” Malcolm was starting to get frustrated, unable to wrap his mind around this information.
I didn’t blame him, but I was getting tired of saying it. “I mean, I’m a real-life, undead, cold as ice, can’t spend time in the sun, frozen in time, bloodsucking vampire!”
“That’s impossible!”
“I know! But here I am! I don’t know how to explain it!”
Malcolm stopped to let the concept soak in, like a bitter pill dissolving on the tongue. “So…like, what are the rules exactly?” he asked.
“I don’t know!” I was almost frantic at that point. All the confusion and conflict roiling around inside me spilled out.
“I’m a freaking vampire!” I continued. “I am not supposed to exist! All of this is absolutely crazy! Maybe I can go make out with the tooth fairy, who knows?!”
“So that’s why you ate that squirrel?” Malcolm asked carefully.
“Yes,” I sighed.
“And why you’ve been acting so weird at school?”
“Yes.”
“So do you drink human blood?”
“No. I try not to.”
“You try? That’s comforting.”
“Sorry.”
“Do you want to kill me right now?”
“Any more than usual?” I joked.
“That’s not funny.”
“No. I don’t. I’m not hungry right now.”
“But when you are hungry, you want to eat people?”
“I don’t want to, but my body craves it.”
“Wow. I don’t know what to say. That’s pretty morbid.”
“Tell me about it.”
He stopped to think it all over for a moment. I was surprised he was taking it as well as he was. Then again, that’s Malcolm—solid and loyal, even in the most improbable and inconvenient of situations. A “lifeboat” friend, as Mom would say. Someone you would want with you if you were stranded in the middle of the ocean. I trusted Malcolm with my life. Well, with whatever was left of it.
“How did this happen?” he inquired.
“Honestly, I really don’t know. Want to come inside?”
“Promise you won’t eat me?” he kidded. I think.
“Not funny.” A hint of his signature smile flashed across his face, and he shrugged. I smiled in response and shook my head.
“So I know this is probably a sensitive subject,” he began, “but is the reason you darted out on Paige because you wanted to kill h
er and drink her blood or something?”
“Even more ridiculous.”
“It gets more ridiculous,” he responded skeptically.
“You really want to know?” I asked him, leaning in.
“Yes?” He was hanging on my every word.
“I turn into a butterfly!” I whispered confidentially.
“Now you’re just messing with me!” he laughed. He punched me in the arm, gasped, and recoiled to cradle his hand.
“Gah! Dude, what is up with that? Seriously, what kind of metal are you wearing under that shirt? You should cut it out, it’s annoying!”
I rolled my eyes. He caught this and his tone quickly morphed into one of secretive curiosity.
“Is it a vampire protection thing or something? So people don’t, I don’t know, stake you?”
“No, Malcolm, that’s just my skin. And I really do turn into a butterfly.”
“Really?” He sounded disappointed.
“Really,” I assured him. “Just come on in and I’ll explain everything I know.”
And with that, we went into the kitchen, where Malcolm drank some apple juice and I filled him in on the utterly bizarre events of the past few weeks. There were all kinds of questions that I couldn’t answer of course: How did it happen? Who did this to me? Were there other vampires among us? How dangerous was I? Could I turn back? Every day seemed to spawn more questions than I knew how to deal with. Part of me was relieved I finally had someone I could confide in. Part of me felt guilty for burdening him with this difficult knowledge. I wasn’t sure how Malcolm was going to process it all, but to his credit, he just took it all in and asked what he could do to help. I just told him to keep his ears open for now. I wasn’t sure what else either of us could do.
Mom found us there hours later when she returned from her shift at the hospital. At first she was surprised, then worried. But after I explained the circumstances, she joined us at the table. The three of us sat talking until the early hours of the morning. Amid the lingering air of confusion and inescapable tension, there were four chuckles and two smiles. I counted.
****
It was painfully clear from our conversation that I couldn’t keep going as I had been. My “need to feed,” as Malcolm put it, would only get worse and continue to endanger the people around me.
Priority Number One: I needed blood. Lots of it. So, with that in mind, we came up with a plan. Basically, my mother devised a way to fudge the blood bank records ever so slightly and steal some blood. Since the blood would need to be refrigerated, we installed a mini-fridge in my room to house the gruesome snack. To test the system the next day, she went in to work, donated blood, and brought me home a special treat.
It was incredibly awkward and disturbing to drink my own mother’s blood. I gagged a little, thinking about it.
It was about two-thirty in the morning that I had my first taste of human blood. Mom was just coming home from an extra shift. I heard the car from miles away, with its distinctive engine rattle, as though there were a fork in the garbage disposal. I had just finished an exhaustingly productive six hours of Call of Duty, and was ready for a little distraction. And possibly a little nourishment.
I heard the key click into the brass lock. The old mahogany door swung on its tired hinges. I hung anxiously on each sound, as the moment drew closer when I would finally taste exactly what I craved—without it costing someone’s life. I started to feel giddy, like a kid on the night before Christmas. Except my present came in a box labeled “Hazard.”
I must have paced around my bed fifty times before I worked up the guts to open the box. Mom had already gone to bed. Yes, I was starving. Yes, I wanted blood so badly I could already taste it. Yes, knowing it was my mother’s made me dry heave.
Finally, I opened the box. There they were. Two bags of crimson blood. I swallowed back the lump in my throat as I pulled the first bag out of the box and snipped off the top with a pair of scissors. Instantly the smell hit me. A strong scent of iron. I swear my eyes nearly rolled back into my head in anticipation. Still, I couldn’t forget that this liquid had been pumping through my mother’s veins only hours ago.
“Just take it,” I said to myself.
Before I could think anymore, I squeezed my eyes shut, threw my head back, and did the deed. As soon as I drank, I felt as though I’d emerged from a deep sleep. I was recharged. I was ready to go. I was…dizzy.
The world suddenly tilted violently on its axis and tunnel vision set in. I thought maybe because the blood wasn’t fresh, it was no good or something. I pondered this for only a second, however, because the dark at the end of the tunnel began to move rapidly toward me. The darkness quickly closed in and consumed my sight. My head snapped back and the force swept my feet right off the ground. I crashed to the floor as a ringing in my ears began to build. My eyes fluttered open and shut, but all was still dark. The ringing swelled like an orchestra. Then all of a sudden it was dead quiet.
My eyes flew open and I could see again, but I quickly realized that I was not staring at my ceiling. I was watching TV. Not just any TV, I was watching the TV in Mom’s bedroom (the show Castle, to be precise). Was I dreaming? I wanted to get up and walk through the door, but I quickly realized that I wasn’t in control of my movements. My head turned to the mirror. Staring back at me from the reflection was my mother.
Whoa!
She smoothed down her hair, checked the bags under her eyes, and then went back to watching the show. Everything she did, I did. Everything she saw, I saw. I tried to close my eyes, I really did. I tried to make it stop. Nothing worked. How was this happening? It was like Being John Malkovich gone terribly wrong!
BING!
She picked up her phone and opened a text from someone named Rick:
THANKS FOR ALL YOUR HELP LATELY. LUNCH TOMORROW?
Then as suddenly as it happened, it stopped. I was back to being me, lying on my floor, looking up at the ceiling.
I jumped up and surveyed my room. It was my room. Not Mom’s. I breathed a huge sigh of relief and rolled my neck around on my shoulders. Then, out of curiosity, I sneaked over to my mother’s bedroom. The door creaked ever so slightly as I peeked inside. She was watching TV from her bed, texting on her phone.
I put this together quickly: Drink Mom’s blood = Be in Mom’s head. It had to be something like that. Things that once seemed impossible to me now popped up in my brain as completely logical.
If I was right, did this mean that whenever I drank a human’s blood, I could see into his or her thoughts? I didn’t see anything when I…you know…I drained the blood of the squirrel or the dog.
I wondered if it was a fluke.
There was only one real difference between my mom’s blood and the others: She’s still alive.
Chapter 10
In homeroom the next morning, I didn’t tell Malcolm about what had happened. I wasn’t sure what that experience meant and, honestly, I was kind of embarrassed. Plus, I’d unloaded enough insanity on him already. When the bell rang, we were off to our lockers. As I pulled out my books for the next class, I felt a soft tap on my shoulder. I spun around to see Paige standing before me, looking sprightly as ever.
“Hey, Paige.”
“Hey, Noah!” I glanced over to Malcolm, but he had moved a respectable distance away to give us a moment. Not so respectable that he couldn’t eavesdrop, however. “So, do you want to stay after school today to work on the romance project?”
“That depends on which romance project you are referring to,” I said faux-suavely.
“You dork,” she laughed. “Of course I can stay after.”
“Good. See you in history.”
“Bye.” I watched fondly as she skipped away toward her next class.
Malcolm sidled up to me. He could hardly contain himself. “That depends on which romance project you’re referring to,” he mocked in a high-pitched voice.
“Shut up!”
“Seriously. Great line. Wish I�
��d thought of it myself.”
“I hate you.”
“Oh, by the way, I did a little research into that Viking ritual thing you mentioned.”
“You mean the one that creepy Internet stalker mentioned?”
“Yeah, although I don’t know anyone at this school with that handle. So it’s a classic case of human sacrifice. I think it was recorded around the first century. If a slave girl volunteered to burn herself on her lord’s funeral pyre, she joined him in the next world as his wife, which was a major bump in status. Then they would live happily ever after…in death.” He looked at me expectantly.
I felt like I was missing something obvious. “Why would someone tell me that?” I asked him.
Malcolm shrugged.
“I mean, say it is someone we know,” I said. Why would someone randomly tell me about some ancient Norse ritual? It’s not a joke. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Maybe you just don’t have the right sense of humor?” he tried. “I don’t know, man. I can’t say a whole lot of things make sense right now.”
“What if it wasn’t someone from this school?” I asked.
He nodded as if he were doing a complex equation in his head.
“Yeah, I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
I felt as though I were watching a storm gather, the particles of moisture and energy collecting in a dark, agitated swirl. “I mean, Norse mythology. Norse tradition. Old Norse tradition of human sacrifice.”
“Still not following you.”
“You remember that girl at the party that I was apparently flirting with?”
“I guess.”
“Well, I looked up some stuff on her tattoo and it’s a traditional Norse design.”
“So, you think the mystery chick that you hit on once at a party is stalking you online?”
“Think about it. No one knows who she is or why she was at the party. This is a small town. No one’s seen her since. She has a Norse-style tattoo and obviously knows my name. She could be DOUBLEHELIX1178. Of course! I don’t know why I didn’t put it together before, it’s so obvious!”
Suddenly it dawned on Malcolm, too. His eyes opened wide, and he pointed at me in excitement. “You know who else she could be?”
I Heart Vampires Page 11
