But nothing explained my appearance in the mirror or the fact that I craved thick liquid to slurp; warm and salty. I craved blood.
I had to find her. I had to figure out what was happening.
I grabbed a pair of sunglasses and a ball cap - the standard garb of celebrities trying to hide. My clothes felt disgusting but I allowed myself no time to change.
I hit the pavement quickly, a light drizzle of rain meaning it was mostly empty. My energy burned inside me, and I felt I could walk the five miles to the club; my last link to her.
Until I smelled him.
There was a man coming towards me, his clothes ripped and his left hand gripped over his right. He was walking quickly, his jaw set in what I guessed must be pain. I could smell the blood coming from the wound on his hand, and I couldn’t help but stop.
“You ok, man?” I asked, clenching my fists. All I could think about was the warm liquid that was pouring from his veins.
“I just got mugged!” he exclaimed. “Bastard knifed me and took my wallet and phone. Dude, do you have a cell phone? Please, I need to call the police.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” I said, reaching into my pocket and handing it to him.
“Thanks, dude,” he said, and removed his hand from his wound to take the phone and dial. There were emails with subject lines that revealed my name, and he must have seen it. However, the surprise on his face was not my concern. “Hey, are you…”
I couldn’t control my muscles, couldn’t stop myself from launching forward at him, bearing my fangs and letting out an animalistic growl. We crashed into the alley behind us, his screams echoing through the passage way. With anger I couldn’t explain, I hit him, my hand connecting so hard with his face, it drew blood.
That was too much for me, and my body moved before my mind thought. I sunk my fangs into his neck, and once I started, I couldn’t stop. It was like I was famished, and this man was a buffet. I drank until his body was dry.
Drawing back when there was no more blood, I began to shake again. His body lay, drained, in front of me, so obviously dead that I knew there was no point in calling 9-1-1. Tears began to fall down my face, coming in great gasps, and I couldn’t hold back. I felt sadness and fear wash over me in ways I never felt before. I was cold, the rain soaking through my clothes, and while the external pain of earlier had passed, the tightness in my chest was growing unbearable.
The man’s hand still gripped my cell phone, and I reached out slowly, taking it. The battery was dying, although there was probably enough juice left for one call.
When I moved to Hollywood five years ago, I hadn’t left my home on good terms. My family thought trying to be an actor was the stupidest move I could make. It was a pipedream full of bad morals and worse behavior, and if I left, I left without their blessing. Over the last five years, the angry phone calls from home became shorter, and then stopped coming. They hadn’t changed their minds. They didn’t approve, so contact was cut.
And as the glamorous shiny world of fast friends and faster lovers surrounded me, my friends back home eventually drifted out of my life as well. They weren’t replaced. No, Hollywood wasn’t a place of a tight brotherhood where you shared things. You shared drinks, and women, and strip clubs. You flashed your money around as fast as you could, and bragged, but there wasn’t any friendship.
I brought the phone to my ear, listening to it ring overseas. There was still one person who hadn’t abandoned me; one person, who through it all had told me to follow my dream and listened when I talked. One person who believed every word out of my mouth and gave me the best advice I could have ever received.
“Hello?” came a voice over the phone, gruff with age. That’s when I lost it; the tears turning to sobs and hysterics. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t breathe. I was acting like a child instead of a man. “Hello? Who’s there? Liam?”
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself for a few moments.
“Grandpa? I need your help. Can I come over?”
I heard a pause over the phone line, and a million questions catch in his throat. But he asked none of them.
“Of course, my boy. Tell me when your plane gets in.”
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At first, Peter didn’t believe me. Anyone who did right off the bat probably needed help themselves. But it only took one night, one night where he stayed in the room and watched the horrible transformation, to believe every word that tumbled out of my mouth from then on.
Peter took pity on me and allowed me to escape Hollywood; offering me a job as a teacher at the Academy for the rest of the term. I could still be immersed in acting, and yet stay out of Hollywood.
We found out that alcohol stunned the cravings, as it stunned most of your bodies other senses. And, before we figured out that I needed to be tied up every night if I didn’t want to kill anybody, I found Porsche.
I had stumbled upon a redneck high school party in the woods, a bunch of poor kids with beer kegs and bad wine. Drinking from one of them could easily be explained away as an accident. Kids will do stupid things and no one is ever sober enough to remember.
But just as I was about to make my move, Porsche, already 12 years into her dance training and on the brink of her own fame, grabbed me, her confidence enhanced by her popularity. She recognized me, of course, everyone still did, and she knew she wanted to land the superstar at the party. But when she touched me, everything disappeared. My cravings and fangs receded and my body began to warm up. She is one of the most powerful Shields to ever live, and she was unclaimed, living in solidarity as well.
Her identity and skill must also be kept a secret. While supernatural beings can use Shields to protect them and even seek them out, Shields are also mortal and usually their powers intensify in illness, like Porsche. Once claimed by a supernatural being - a witch, a werewolf, a vampire - they usually don’t survive past the first battle simply because their mortality stands out in a room full of immortals.
I didn’t want to go to battle with her. What I wanted was a friend who could understand me and help guide me through this supernatural life. I didn’t claim her, didn’t take her to a witch to put a binding spell on us. There was no need for formalities. Our friendship began on shocked common ground and remained strong on the understanding that we needed each other.
It was Porsche who told me how to survive as a vampire. Together, we figured out everything I needed to know. We figured out when the transformation started and stopped; we figured out that animal blood could do it, if need be. We managed to separate what we thought were myths about vampires from facts. We could walk in sunlight. We breathe, eat, drink and sleep in sunlight. We are alive in the daytime, only cursed at night. At night, we are immortal creatures with no heart beat or pulse; just a thirst for blood. The legends were correct in the weapons of our death. Wooden stakes through the heart and fire were our bane. Decapitation also worked, although that was hard; with our veins hardening and our muscles turning partially to stone every night. Even minor good things, like having a horrid cold during the day and feeling fine at night, didn’t cheer me up.
Selfishly wanting to keep her by my side; wanting someone to understand, I gave her the first scholarship that was mine to give so she could remain at the school and help me. Peter retired at the end of the term, giving me the position of headmaster. He was thinking of doing it anyway, and with my arrival and lack of ability to return, he saw the perfect opportunity. The role of Headmaster suited me perfectly. I could teach the classes I wanted, put on the shows I loved, and I was important enough to blow everyone off at night. My reputation as an arrogant egotistic actor only came in handy, as people gave me the space I needed once the sun went down.
The reputation at the Academy only grew with my presence, and within six months, we were the biggest and the best. We could charge anything we wanted, and people would pay. Our productions became on par with Broadway and the West End. Even when Porsche left for the Russia
n National Ballet, visiting only occasionally, I thought I would be fine. I had settled into a life that made me happy. I could survive this. I figured out I needed to be locked away. I didn’t want to cause a scene anymore; I didn’t want to kill or leave bodies; or have any more attention. I could live on animals most nights and no one got hurt. Except me.
And that’s when Selene started to show up again. She only came at night when I was locked away feeding on a rabbit or a squirrel. And she was even more irresistible than the first night I met her. By night, both in our demon form, she had power over me as my sire. It was like I was a puppet and she was my master. When she was here, I was under her spell and she owned every inch of me. She asked for the key to the chains and I told her where it was without hesitation. When she appeared, we would roam the streets with my mind under her influence and my hand locked in hers.
I would spend weeks in depression after she left; my human emotions coming strong when the sun rose. Covering up those deaths, deaths that I know I caused, was the hardest of all. Occasionally, I considered turning myself in and giving the families some peace. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it … not with the repercussions it would cause.
She chose me because of my power in Hollywood, my influence around the world, because she knew I would do anything to protect my image, and she was right. I knew how to cover up media stories and press releases. I knew how to spin a tale to make it seem innocent or accidental. Soon, whether I wanted to or not, it was me who was making phone calls, spinning tales, protecting vampires around the world whenever they did anything that could reveal what they really were. There was even a photo of me released one night, taken from God knows where, when I was in vampire form. It was an easy spin. I just claimed it was a makeup test for a new theater role, but it scared me. I became more of a recluse; throwing myself into the theater, pushing everyone but Peter and Porsche away. I increased security and never left the grounds. I protected the school and myself every way I could.
Eventually, Selene stopped showing up and I currently was 8 months without her presence - which scared me even more. Either she had grown tired of me, or she was biding her time, waiting for a moment whose perfect reason was unclear to me. But whatever the reason, she wasn’t here and hadn’t been for months.
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As I neared the end of my story, I felt my fangs begin to recede.
“What time is it, Amy?” I asked, jerking her out of the trance that she had settled into. It had broken my heart to not see a flicker of reaction on her face as she listened and I was becoming increasingly anxious to hear her thoughts. But like a good actress, she hid the emotions she did not want me to see.
“5 AM,” she replied, glancing at her watch. Her voice was dead too, and it nearly killed me. I knew I was transforming back. I could already feel my breath coming stronger and the familiar stirring in my chest as my heart began to beat.
“You must be tired,” I said, gently, but she still didn’t move. “You should get some rest. It’s been a long night.”
“It has,” She said, unfolding herself and slowly rising.
“Amy,” I called, when I finally couldn’t take it anymore. She glanced at me, her eyes heavy with fatigue. “It doesn’t change anything. I ... I ... love you. And I’ve never said that to anyone before. Ever. Amy, there’s a million things that we don’t know about each other, although I would be happy to spend a life time telling you everything. But the thing you need to know right now, is that I spent my whole life alone. I was a teenager in Hollywood and I made stupid mistakes, of course. I played the big roles in the movies, but I didn’t for one second believe in star crossed lovers. I didn’t believe two people were meant to be together, or even could possibly want each other beside one night in the darkness. But then I met you, Amy, and everything changed. My whole world fell upside down, even though I was not searching for it. I thought I wanted the darkness, and I found the light instead. I need you, Amy.” I meant it, desperately trying to search her eyes for some flicker of hope. But I saw none. She shook her head, taking a few steps back.
“I need to get some sleep, Liam,” she replied. “I have class in a few hours.”
“You can … not go to class?” I offered. “We can talk some more. Anything. Anything you want.” The last thing I wanted was for her to back away and leave.
“No,” She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk some more. I don’t … I don’t want to talk to you again.”
“Amy!” I cried, feeling my heart crack.
“I can’t do this, Liam,” she said, and I could see the tears in her eyes. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry. You’re immortal...and I’m too mortal for this.”
“That doesn’t matter,” I tried to argue. “Amy, please”
“No. Your heart is cursed, Liam; cursed and belonging to someone else. That much is clear.” She was almost at the door now. I shook my head, wanting to cry out that none of this was true, but words escaped me. “Please leave me alone. Please just leave me alone.”
And then she was gone, the door slamming behind her. I heard her footsteps run up the stairs, as if the devil was behind her. And I guess he was.
The sadness hit me like a rock. Tears pricked my eyes and turned into hysterics. I was so tired and hurt. Emotion was controlling me like Selene often did. I couldn’t lose Amy. Not this way, not like this.
A million horrible thoughts poured into my mind, none of them logical. The only one that made sense was a fact: I was alone in this room, and in this world. Utterly and truly alone.
CHAPTER 12: AMYI don’t think I slept for two days straight. I went to the school nurse as soon as I escaped Liam. I needed an excuse to get out of class. Luckily, having infected blood is apparently a reason to get out of class anytime. The one obstacle that stood in my way, however, was my father.
“Please don’t call him,” I said to her, as I got my coat, a note clutched in my hand. “I’ll tell him myself. But really, I just need a day or two to rest. It’s scarier to him if someone else calls him. If I can do it myself, it shows I’m ok. He’s under a lot of stress right now.”
She sighed and then put down the contact book she was flipping through.
“Alright. You’re old enough to make your own choices, Amy. But if things get worse you need to come to me right away.”
“Of course,” I nodded, zipping up my coat and then heading out of the office. Now, I was safe. Liam wouldn’t come looking for me for days, I knew that, and an official record of an excuse from class meant no one else would either. As long as I still met my Dad for lunch, he wouldn’t suspect a thing.
I didn’t want to do anything but shut myself in my room for days. Even though it was impossible to believe, I knew what Liam told me was true. There was no other explanation for what I had seen. The way his face had changed in the darkness and then changed again in the light; the fact that I never saw him after dark; the way he ran off as soon as the sun was setting. All the facts began to add up and I wondered why I didn’t see it before.
I couldn’t deal with this. I couldn’t handle it. It was almost like, wordlessly, he was mocking me. My mortality loomed with every beat of my heart … with every beep of my watch to remind me to take my AZT. Without them, the disease would descend and I’d be dead in less than a few years. They kept my death at bay but reminded me that the Grim Reaper was constantly looming over me.
I spent a good part of the day angry at him. He didn’t think it was something important to tell me when we first got involved? And still, even the fact that he had been cursed and made immortal didn’t seem so bad to me. Liam didn’t need to sleep. He was only a vampire at night. He had gone from one incredibly successful career to another without so much as lifting a finger. Everything had been handed to him. He had never known struggle or poverty, and yet he thought he had the right to complain about his troubles.
I paced the room, resisting the urge to throw something. How could I trust anything th
at came out of his mouth, now? All those things he had promised me - parts, help, fame, schooling - I wondered if any of it was true. Or was I simply a relief for him; a potential snack that didn’t tempt him?
How could I have been so stupid to even think I was talented? I smelled terrible to him and that’s why he wanted me around. He would rather have me, for his own selfish reasons - to be able to kiss and touch and be around a warm human he didn’t want to eat - than choose someone who actually deserved this scholarship and would be good for the school.
I wasn’t about to give it up, of course. No, I decided that late on the second day as I sat on my bed, furiously typing away at my laptop. My disease had given me nothing but trouble, but for one miracle moment it had actually helped me. This was my dream and it didn’t matter what the reason was for it happening. I mean, Hollywood was all about whom you knew, not what you could do. Everyone knew that. So if this was the reason I got here, so be it. Liam wasn’t going to take it away from me.
Angrily, I slammed my laptop shut and got up, stalking to my bedroom door to check the schedule I had taped there. I had rehearsal first thing in the morning and I decided I was going. He wasn’t going to take away anything more from me. If my blood got me here, so be it, but my talent was going to keep me here. I was going to try as hard as I could because I knew another shot like this would never happen again. Even if I had to do it alone.
I picked up my phone and sent an email to my instructors, informing them I would be resuming classes in the morning. There were several messages from Sarah. I knew I had ignored her over the past two days. Two days was the longest we’d come without ever speaking. I couldn’t do it any longer, even if I couldn’t tell her exactly what was happening.
With a sigh, I glanced in the mirror, making sure I didn’t look too upset with the world. And then, I pushed the video call button. She answered immediately.
“Amy, where the hell have you been? Are you ok? I was worried! What’s going on, girl?”
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