Dead Vampires Don't Date

by Meredith Allen Conner

  Try walking in my boots for the last few days. There comes a time when desperation is just plain desperation.

  "Okay." I had no idea how I planned to explain any of this to Aunt Tabs. But at least I'd be alive. I hoped that counted for something by the time we were all done. "Do you, uh, need any help," I flapped a limp hand in her direction, "with that?"

  Please, please, please say no.

  "No. I've got this."

  "Indeed you do." Icy soft, the words drifted down from overhead.

  No one moved.

  I couldn't. Morgan looked equally as stunned. Devastated. Terror-struck.

  The wind died down as if it too felt the need to hide. Silence stretched between and around us, cold and solitary despite the fact that we stood mere feet away from each other.

  I forgot to breathe to the point when Ivan dropped down to land near the edge of the pit, the silence was so complete the faint thud of his entrance hit my body with the force of several gunshots.

  I staggered back. Needles scraped my face. My head slammed into the trunk behind me. The rough bark dug into my clothes and my skin. The pain reassured me. I was alive.

  His white hair radiated in an unearthly manner. His eyes glowed as well, bloody orbs of evil glittering with intent and something else. Something like satisfaction.

  The devil relishing, laughing, over new horrified souls.

  I dug my fingers into the bark by my side. Splinters knifed under my skin. Blood welled. Morgan flicked a frantic glance in my direction.

  "No need to draw blood, Ms. Storm. I will be happy to take care of that myself." His long coat fluttered, leather snapped, as he turned to face me. The wind skittered by cautiously, revealing his vest. Rows of knives gleamed, illuminated in the moonlight.

  "I can't scent you." I didn't recognize Morgan's voice as her own, she spoke in such guttural tones. "How is that possible?"

  Ivan smiled, his large fangs prominent. "I can cloak my presence." He tilted his head toward her. "It's something that a very, very few, very, very old immortals can do. We had to hide to survive in the beginning." Ancient memories vibrated through his voice. None of them apparently pleasant. "As our numbers increased we were better able to defend ourselves and we could blend in without having to erase the traces of our existence." He lifted a hand. "You, younger generations, never had to learn this."

  "I sensed you that night." Morgan insisted. "That first night."

  "I know." Ivan nodded. "I wanted you to."

  He'd wanted to terrorize us from the start. Before we knew what we were up against.

  "Are you the one that attacked me last night?" I don't know why it mattered. Or where I found the courage to ask the question.

  "Yes."

  "Why?" I had to know. In a few moments it wouldn't matter, but right now it mattered most to me.

  "Because I could." He didn't even look at me as he said it.

  Deliberate. Methodical. Cruel. An ancient assassin doing what he wanted, because he simply could.

  "We didn't kill the prince." Morgan stated.

  "I know," Ivan said. "I did."

  ****

  Bright static filled my head. Not noise, just static. The white lines that fill the TV screen when a signal gets lost. The ones that dance around in aimless patterns when nothing made sense and every satellite has lost connection and there is nothing to lock onto.

  Those lines filled my head.

  They filled it up until the top of my head exploded. Clear off my shoulders. Straight up into the sky.

  At that moment, the first few threads of anger started to take root.

  "What?" I asked the question quietly.

  Ivan looked at me over his shoulder. "I said I killed the prince." He enunciated every word clearly as if talking to a very small child.

  I repeated it anyway, "You killed the prince?"

  He frowned at me. "Yes. I killed the prince."

  "You killed the prince." I could not stop saying it.

  "I believe that I have spoken quite clearly." He might have been reading Shakespeare, during the Shakespearean era, his words clipped out so distinctly. "Do you have trouble hearing?" In addition to all your other problems was what he meant.

  I opened my mouth, Morgan jumped in first. Rational thought, as well as any survival instinct which may have tried to flare to life, had all deserted me. I couldn't get past the static.

  "Why? Why did you kill the prince?" Morgan kicked the body. The top half of her violet boot disappeared in between two ribs with a wet plop for a moment before she yanked it loose. The leather glistened wetly. Anger heated her eyes.

  "Prince Xavier had been deteriorating the last century or so." Ivan nodded towards the body. "He'd begun to enjoy the humans," he sneered the last word. "Not for food, but for their company. He liked them."

  I fisted my hands together until both my nails and the splinters drove deep wedges into my palms. Morgan's eyes flickered.

  Ivan smiled. "He wanted to join the supernatural community with the human one. That can never happen." Royalty did not mix with insects. "He became a liability."

  "Why not tell the queen?" Morgan made a quick move as if to shush me. I kept talking. "She had to know. Didn't she? He was her son."

  I'm not hundred percent certain of how that worked with vampires. I knew he was the prince and she the queen, but I didn't know how that came to be exactly. Mom and son said biological to me. However, we're talking vampires and blood. They mix together naturally, but exactly how, I'm not one hundred percent clear.

  Ivan regarded me as if I was not very bright. Unfortunately, I had to agree with him. I had not seen this coming at all.

  "They're royalty." Ivan sniffed.

  So? We were talking about my life. I didn't get it. What was I missing? I looked at Morgan. Did she get it?

  "Vampire royalty is different." Morgan sighed. "They are a law unto themselves, Kate. You can't just kill them."

  This was it? The reason I'd been tortured, hunted, attacked, questioned, framed as a murder suspect, and forced to bury and attempt to re-bury a dead gooey body? Because he was royalty?

  Kiss my half-bred ass.

  "So, since Prince Xavier decided he wanted to co-mingle with humans, you figured you had to kill him and then blame everything on me?" My voice rose with each and every word until I shouted and screamed loud enough to wake the dead prince in question himself.

  I know his body twitched.

  That may have had something to do with the large rock I found to chuck at it.

  "I am not about to give my life on behalf of a crazy, delusional vampire," Ivan disdained. "My job is to protect the royals. At all costs." He smiled brightly at me. "And there you were. Something that should not be. I get to rid our community of unwanted trash at the same time. It was just too perfect."

  I was beyond screaming. Beyond static white lines. Beyond just about anything that I could comprehend.

  My life had been turned upside down because of this assassin. Because he was a total weenie, a fuck-head of the highest order and wouldn't shoulder his responsibilities.

  Screw that.

  "So you've been asking questions that you knew the answer to, all to set me up as a murderer?" I didn't know why my eyes and ears were not shooting flames. I'd moved so quickly into furious rage I'd bypassed the smoke stage completely.

  "Yes," Ivan said casually, arms crossed, vest exposed.

  He could be casual about this. It didn't matter to him. It was not his life. He'd set everything up. He'd set me up, so his life would be safe. My life didn't matter to him. Or rather it did matter in that he wanted it to be over. I offended him simply by being who I was, my birthright, my heritage, my feet planted firmly into both communities.

  I was a scapegoat. A damn sacrificial lamb, led blindly and duplicitously to the noose.

  I drew in a deep breath of air, filling my lungs with the scents of nature and the righteous fury of outrage.

  Not this witch.

&
nbsp; I was a third generational, love-cursed, half-bred witch. I had fought my way to be who and what I was in this world. No way was I going to let anyone take that away from me.

  26. Fighting For My Life.

  I pulled my wand out of my back pocket.

  Ivan looked at me.

  "Ah, the little witch wants to fight." His emphasis on witch was not subtle. Or discreet. I knew what he meant. I didn't care what consonant he added in front of "itch." Either suited me just fine.

  Morgan leapt out of the grave. She dropped down to the side of where Ivan stood, ten or so feet away. It put us in a triangular position with Ivan and the pit behind him at the top of the triangle.

  Ivan shifted, arms dropping to his side. He widened his stance like a gunslinger at high noon, body loosely coiled and prepared.

  "Are you certain you want to do this Morgan?" Ivan asked. "Your heritage is quite unique. It would be a shame if we lost it."

  Again with the mystery background. What didn't I know about my UDBF?

  "I am quite powerful. I can erase any evidence of your part in this." He tilted his head towards the body. "Mistakes happen. It is understandable that you think you might have developed feelings toward her." I didn't rate a tilt, just a dismissive flick of a single finger.

  "But consider what she is." He sucked loudly on a fang. "A powerless cur. She has no coven, nor family to speak of. No one will miss her." He held out a white hand to Morgan, palm up. "Do you wish to truly die for her?"

  I closed my eyes. If this was it, I hoped she'd take his offer.

  "I can keep you safe," he continued. "I am certain you can find a way to compensate me for that."

  Eewww.

  My eyes popped open. Forget it. He did not just say that to her. Morgan is gorgeous and I expect every man to lust after her. It's a given. For everyone except Ivan.

  In a strange way, he struck me as bloodless for a vampire. Empty. Soul-less. Lacking the desire for anything.

  The rush of heat in his gaze disturbed me. I checked on Morgan. I couldn't tell if she was upset or not. She'd done her blank thing. Not a trace of emotion showed anywhere on her face. Her eyes were empty green marbles of colored glass.

  "Morgan." Ivan took a step toward her, hand still outstretched, appealing to her.

  I didn't see it. He had no appeal at all. Full stop. I was ninety-percent sure Morgan would agree. But they're both vamps. There is a lot I don't know and will never know or understand about vampires. It's part of who they are.

  And if I was in the wrong, I didn't want to know about it. They could get it on after I was gone.

  I swung my wand with a quick twist of my wrist. The big rock hit Ivan right where I aimed. Smack dab in the back of his head.

  I had my hand on a stake by the time he was on me. That was as far as I got. He moved that fast. The weight of my body bent the wrist I'd automatically thrust out when I slammed into the tree. Glowing crimson eyes filled my vision.

  Then he was off me and I fell forward.

  My knees hit the ground, a jagged rock stabbed through my jeans. I felt my skin tear, the wetness of blood. I uttered the spell as quickly as I could. Fresh blood would only complicate things.

  I jerked back to my feet in time to see branches go flying as something hurtled in between two trees. Leaves rustled, a thick limb snapped. The moon danced over purple.

  Morgan.

  I hadn't let go of the stake. A tiny rustle from the right. I flung the sharpened piece of wood as hard as I could, head over end. Diving down, I rolled into the shrubbery in the opposite direction.

  Sharp branches and needles poked at me, snagged my hair, as I crashed through the vegetation. I didn't worry about the noise I made. There was no point. I couldn't compete against his super senses and strength. I could only do what I could do.

  My shoulder crashed into something hard. The impact halted my roll. Jarred me. I heaved to the side, twisted and shoved.

  Completely disoriented, I fought my way up. Adrenaline keeping me in motion even as I tried to make sense of where I was. And where Ivan might be.

  I grabbed another stake. My left shoulder throbbed, not great, but still operable. I leaned into the tree trunk at my side, using it for protection. I pulled the stake in front of me.

  Shit.

  It was broken. Wooden stakes. I'd rolled through the woods with wooden stakes on my back. I snapped off the lower half. A stake is a stake. If I had to stick tiny ones all over him I'd do it.

  I felt the brush of air half a second before I went flying.

  I landed ten feet off the ground. Face first in a tree. I grabbed onto a branch as I fell and swung my legs. The air left my lungs when I landed on another branch. My stomach took the brunt of the impact.

  I gasped, a fish out of water, dangling head down. I couldn't stay where I was. Too dangerous. Too exposed. The simplest method would be to push off. And that's just what I did.

  Before I thought it thoroughly out.

  The small amount of air I'd managed to draw inside, fled completely as soon as I hit the ground. For a second I worried it wouldn't ever come back.

  My bones continued to wobble while I struggled to put my legs underneath me and I gained a new appreciation for the old HC insult "bag o' bones."

  I knew I'd cut myself in several places, but I didn't have the air, nor the ability to formulate a coherent spell just then. I crawled desperately in the direction my front half was pointed in. I rammed straight into small tree.

  "I do not want to hurt you, Morgan." Ivan's cool voice bounced chaotically in the night. Behind me? To the side? I shook my head. It didn't help. It made it worse.

  "She is not worth this." The sickening thud of flesh on flesh reached my ears. I knew that sound. I'd lived that sound.

  I planted my knees, grabbed hold of the small tree and pulled myself halfway erect. The tree snapped. I fell forward, straightened my right arm and caught myself partway.

  "I will protect you." A thud then a soft moan. "To waste your life because of her is insanity."

  I locked my knees, pushed upright. I swayed, shuffled my feet to gain some balance. My eyes pin-balled around, keeping me off balance as if I stood upright in a small boat in the midst of a turbulent storm.

  "You are too," this time Ivan grunted, "valuable, Morgan."

  A loud crash. Loud enough for me to know it came from behind. I swung around, staggered. Lurched forward. Bounced off two trees, took down one medium sized one.

  Moisture trickled down my cheek. I could almost breathe, once I could, I'd work a spell. Do something. I tripped over a rock, stumbled, but kept upright.

  Morgan screamed.

  I ran. Blindly. The wind stirred, moving leaves and branches, allowing the moonlight admittance. Morgan hung in front of Ivan. A foot off the ground. His hands wrapped around her neck.

  I reached for a stake. Discovered my wand still clenched in my hand. I zapped power out. Searching for and finding several rocks and downed branches nearby. I sent them in a flurry towards Ivan.

  They pelted him in the back, along his legs, upside his head. I didn't try to direct the flow, other than at him. I concentrated on a large volley of missiles.

  I'd gotten much better at my speed and accuracy. It comforted me to simply hold my wand. I think better with wand in hand. I'd done a lot of thinking and target practice lately. It was paying off.

  Ivan dropped Morgan. She flopped to the ground, completely still. I gathered more magic. Centering myself, drawing on the nature around me.

  More and more objects lifted into the night, hurtling out, propelled by my power. My magic. My rage.

  In a move so fast reality appeared to have slowed, Ivan unsheathed his sword. The blade shimmered with strength, radiated power. Spoke of death and intent.

  He gripped the hilt solidly with both hands. Faster and more efficient than Babe Ruth in his heyday, Ivan knocked aside every object I sent at him.

  Small, large, short, thick – he parried every bullet
I slung. Morgan stirred. An arm twitched. I dug deep. Grasping for reserves I wasn't sure I had. Or could maintain.

  The ground rumbled beneath my feet.

  Ivan took a step forward. Toward me. His sword flashed. Glinted. Disappeared from my vision. Flashed again. Met and dispensed with any and everything that came at him.

  Morgan rolled to her side.

  He glided toward me. Closer.

  I dug deeper. Reached inside. Searching, hoping, begging for anything. Something. I didn't know if I could do anything to hurt Ivan. But I had to try. I had to keep going.

  Morgan's life depended on it.

  Ivan continued moving forward. Blade slashing.

  My life depended on it.

  My stomach burned. Power welled. Heat spread upward and outward, encompassing my chest, my shoulders, my neck. Up and over my face. It poured. Molten lava. Down my upper arms. Into my elbows. Gathering speed and strength. An avalanche of hope, of witchy magic.

  It stormed through my forearms and out of my palms in a force so powerful it lifted me off of my feet. The earth rose beneath me, a volcanic upheaval.

  All of this - everything I had - went spinning toward Ivan.

  It hit him mid-step. Massive sword raised. Tipping just on the downfall. My power grabbed him, caught him in its grip and spun him around and around and around.

  His black coat spread outward from his body like the giant wings of a bat, fluttering helplessly against the gale. Drifting, seeking purchase.

  I cupped my hands together, the base of my wand lodged deep in my grip. I lifted my arms.

  Bolts of witchy electricity zigzagged in the air.

  Morgan rose to her knees.

  I pushed with everything I had. Everything I am. And threw it out.

  27. He Just Won't Die . . . Oh Wait, Scratch That.

  I blinked several times. My ears rung. I swatted the leaves from my face, spat a couple out and sat up. I'd landed in a bush. Possibly two of them.

  I wasn't certain. I wasn't clear on much.

  "Morgan?" I whispered, coughed.

  If I'd flown from the direction in which my feet were currently pointed, that meant she had to be somewhere on the other side of the pine tree right in front of me. Had I gone over that?