by Gayla Twist
I was so grateful I’d agreed to fill in a shift at Cup of Joe’s after school. It was something to keep me occupied. I’d already finished all my homework during my free period and worked on some extra credit.
At nine o’clock, I opened my bedroom window, wondering if I would ever see Jessie again, but he was already there, at the edge of the porch roof, with his legs dangling over the side. “Hello,” I said in a hushed voice, and he turned in his seat to look at me. “I’m really glad to see you. I hope you’re not still upset about yesterday.”
Jessie came closer and settled himself near the window. “Not upset, exactly, but our conversation did force me to do a lot of thinking.”
That didn’t sound good. I waited for him to go on.
“There’s obviously some kind of connection between you and Colette Gibson.” He ran his hand through his hair a few times. “I don’t know what it is, and I know you don’t feel like her reincarnation or anything, but you can’t deny that you have some of her memories. At least in your dreams.”
I nodded. He hadn’t made an open admission that he’d killed my aunt, but his statement did send a shiver down my spine.
Jessie sighed. “This is so hard. And especially now, this time of year.”
“Why now?” I asked.
“This is the time of year when Colette disappeared,” he said in a faint voice.
“You mean the day she disappeared?” I asked. “We’re coming up on the anniversary? Is that what you mean?”
“Yes and no. I mean... Not exactly. I always think of it as a feeling in the air rather than an exact date. There has to be a full moon. That’s one of the things I always remember about that night. That orange hunter’s moon hanging in the sky...” He became lost in his memories and stopped speaking for a moment.
“The point is,” Jessie said, coming back to the present, “that you are very much like Colette, but also very much your own person. And,” he sighed again, “I have to admit I think of you more than I should.”
My heart started beating again at a very rapid rate. “I think of you, too. All the time,” I admitted.
He looked deep in my eyes. “Do you?” he asked, his eyebrows lifting high on his forehead.
The yearning deep inside me was so strong it was painful. All I could do was nod.
“Thank you for telling me. That means a lot to me. That will help. That really will help.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I need to ask you to do something for me, and it’s going to be very hard,” he said, his handsome face grave and inscrutable.
My heart was hammering wildly in my chest. “What?” I asked. I knew I was being stupid. He was a vampire. He could very well ask for my blood, for my life. But that didn’t stop me from adding, “I would do anything for you.”
Jessie turned his eyes away from me, running his hand quickly through his hair again. And then, drawing in a deep breath, he said, “I need you to try to forget me.”
“What?” I blurted, too shocked to take it in.
“I need to stop coming here. I need to stop seeing you. I need you to stop trying to see me. You need to forget me.”
“But why?” I choked out, fighting the urge to burst into tears.
“I didn’t kill Colette. But on some level, she must have blamed me for her death. Don’t you see that? Why else would you have had that dream? She thinks I killed her. She thought I killed her.”
“No, she doesn’t,” I protested. “What about the dream in the daylight? That wasn’t her memory. Or maybe it was only a part of her memory that I took and made my own.”
“No,” he said softly, shaking his head. “I have to end this. I can’t take the chance of you getting hurt because of me.” He clutched at my hands. “You have to forget me.”
“How?” I demanded. “If reincarnation didn’t make me forget you, what chance do I have now? We can work this out. We can think of something.”
Jessie kept shaking his head, as if he were fighting an internal battle and he had to keep telling himself no to stick to his convictions. “If I was a human, things would be different. But...”
“If you were a human, you would be in your nineties,” I reminded him.
“Goodbye, my darling Aurora,” he whispered, tears glistening in his beautiful eyes. “You’ve made me happier in these past few weeks than I’ve been in eighty years.” Jessie leaned forward and kissed me softly on the lips. “You must learn to forget me, but I will always cherish your memory.”
I closed my eyes when he kissed me and then didn’t open them again. Not for a long time. I knew he was leaving, and I didn’t want to see him go.
Epilogue
Two nights later, it was the gloaming. The moon was full; the woodland creatures were quiet; there was just that unearthly moaning that started when the sun went down and lasted until it rose the next day. I had always found the gloaming terrifying as a child. It sounded so very anguished, like a ghost bemoaning a life misspent.
But this time it was worse. Much worse. Because I knew the truth. I knew it wasn’t a weather anomaly or the wind blowing through the trees. It was a vampire mourning his lost love. It was Jessie.
All I wanted to do was run to him, to take him in my arms and comfort him. But that would never happen. I would never see Jessie again. I wasn’t suicidal. I knew he was a vampire and we couldn’t be together, but that was no consolation when it came to how I felt.
I didn’t know if I was the reincarnation of Colette Gibson. That was something very difficult for me to wrap my head around. I didn’t feel like a reissue. I felt like myself. I felt brand new. But there was no denying there was something between us—Jessie and me. We were connected. I could feel his heart calling to me, and deep within my own heart, I called back.
The End
Thank you for reading Call of the Vampire. I hope you’ve enjoyed the book. If you have, please consider telling a few friends or posting a review. Word of mouth is crucial for authors.
Look for Heart of the Vampire ~ Book 2 of the Vanderlind Castle series to launch July 1, 2013. Look for updates, sneak peeks, and all the Vanderlind news at:
GaylaTwist.blogspot.com
You can also find me at:
Twitter: @gaylatwist
Facebook: Gayla Twist
While you’re waiting for the return of Aurora and Jessie, take a look at this fabulous sample of Fangs for Nothing: Vampire Hunting and Other Foolish Endeavors by my dear friend and good twin, Adrianne Ambrose:
Fangs for Nothing:
Vampire Hunting and Other Foolish Endeavors
By
Adrianne Ambrose
Prologue
“Do you want to see the vampire?” the old man hissed. I was wandering around Chinatown by myself because my friends were lame and wanted to go dancing instead of actually trying to see something of the city. The answer to the old guy’s question was yes; damn straight I wanted to see the vampire. I mean, if there was one available for viewing.
Judging from the thick layer of grime he was sporting, my new friend was more than likely a homeless person. He drew a crude map on the back of a Lone Dragon Restaurant menu some hawker had forced on me earlier and I had yet to throw away. “And take this,” he said, pressing into my hand a dirty, sealed envelope which he had fished out of his crusty overcoat. “Don’t open it till you get there.”
“What is it?” I asked, wishing I had some handy wipes or something. The envelope was a bit sticky and I didn’t want to think about what had made it that way.
“Something you’ll want,” the old dude rasped. He cracked into a jack-o-lantern smile, “Trust me.”
After that, he gave me the usual shakedown for money and I ended up parting with two bucks. If I got to meet an actual vampire, it was a good deal. And even if I didn’t, the old guy looked like he could use the cash.
Following the map, I crossed the street and made a left down an alley. San Francisco’s Chinatown had been crowded with vacationing families pawing through p
iles of silk fans and faux jade talismans when I first started looking around. After the sun went down the tourists quickly evaporated. Besides the old guy and the customers at a few late night noodle shops, I was pretty much on my own.
Making another left down a smaller, darker alley, I nearly bumped into a young woman leaning against a wall. She was Caucasian, but wearing one of those snug fitting Chinese silk dresses with the high collar. Burnt red chopstick pierced a dark brown bun of hair piled on the top of her head. Lifting a clove cigarette to her crimson lips, she gave me the eye. “Are you here to see the vampire?” she asked in a gravelly voice.
“Um, yeah.”
“I thought so,” she said, dropping her cigarette to the pavement and grinding it out with a stiletto clad foot. She grabbed me by the arm, “Come with me.”
Up close I could see that she was probably in her early twenties with large dark rings under her eyes that she’d tried to conceal with makeup. Somewhere in the distance I could hear the muffled throb of music from a dance club. Xander and Rini were going to be miserable that they’d chosen to try to sneak into a club instead of hanging out with me. “So this is a real vampire?” I asked as she hurried me along.
“Shhh,” she hushed me, pausing to listen. In a voice just above a whisper she asked, “You never met a vampire before?”
“Not exactly.”
A grave look crossed her face and she nodded. “Okay.” Hiking up her dress she pulled something out of her black lace garter. “You’ll probably want to hang on to this.”
I was so intrigued by my glimpse of the top of her stocking that I almost didn’t grab the thing she thrust at me. “What is it?” I fumbled. It was a long cone shape with a very pointy end. I became acutely aware that Miss China Doll Dress had just handed me a stake.
“Come on,” she began pulling on my arm again, hurrying me further down the alley.
At that point I was pretty excited. I was armed, had a hot babe at my side and I had been assured by no less than two San Franciscans that I was about to meet a vampire. The only thing that gave me pause was the stake didn’t have the heft I would have expected. It felt more like balsa wood than an implement strong enough to drive through a vampire’s ribcage and into his heart if necessary. Not that I was planning on snuffing a vampire or anything, but it was good to be prepared. China Doll didn’t seem too ill at ease so I let her confidence bolster me. It was weird that she was my voluntary guide, but I assumed I was reasonably safe. Unless she was one of the vampire’s servants who brought him his dinner each night, choosing from whoever was foolish enough to wander the abandon streets of Chinatown after sunset. That idea made me slightly uncomfortable. She was urging me faster and faster down the darker and darker alley.
“Um,” I was starting to feel a little nervous. “You know, my friends would probably really like to meet the vampire too. In fact, they’re waiting for me right now. I should probably go get them and then I could meet you back here.”
“Here,” she said, jerking me to a stop. “We’re here.” We stood in front of a large wooden door. It looked about a zillion years old and the large windows on either side of it had been bricked over. “Do you have something for me?” China Doll asked. When I gave her a confused look she added, “Something the old man gave you?”
“Oh… yeah,” I pulled the sticky envelope out of my jacket pocket.
“Open it,” she commanded hammering on the door with three loud strokes.
My hands trembled slightly as I worked at tearing open the envelope. “Hurry,” she told me. “What does it say?” The clouds that had been crowding the sky all evening chose that moment to part and the light from the moon shown down on us. As I pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it, I could hear someone on the other side of the door turning a very rusty lock. “Read it. Read it now.”
I squinted, confused, “Two for one drinks until midnight?”
The door flew open. “Velcome to Fangtopia!” a balding Dracula in plastic fangs called out. Before I could get my bearings, I was ushered inside. “Fangtopia is San Francisco’s only roving vampire dance club.”
“He got two for one drinks,” China Doll chirped in a bright voice, instantly more cheerleader than seductress.
“Congratulations,” Dracula said as if he was genuinely happy for me. “Now all I need is to see some ID. And there’s a twenty dollar cover charge.”
I peered into the poorly lit room. About a dozen Goths dressed in black swayed listlessly on the dance floor. Others lounged on battered couches looking bored. The whole place smelled a little too much like sour dough bread. I wouldn’t have wanted to go in, even if I had a fake ID.
My vampire host was getting impatient. I could tell he didn’t like me sizing up the club. “Come on, kid,” he said, clapping his hand on my arm. “You got twenty bucks or what?’
“Suck it, Dracula.” I jerked away from him, dropping the stake in the process. It bounced off the dance floor with a hollow fwap, nothing more than spray painted plastic. “I’m out of here.”
Chapter 1
“San Francisco sucks!” Xander snarled in an overly loud voice. I mentally willed him to keep it down as I felt the glare of huffy San Franciscans from every corner of the airplane. Unfortunately, he kept talking at the same volume, “I mean, how many posers can you cram into one city?” I glanced over at his black boots, black slacks, black belt, black shirt, enhanced black hair and chipping black fingernail polish and tried not to crack a smile, fully restraining myself from busting his chops. It had been a long trip and Xander was not a fan of irony, especially if it was directed at him. And, after all, it was Xander’s father, Mr. Mega-Lawyer, who was the unwitting sponsor of our trip by always paying off his son’s credit card debt without bothering to check on the purchases.
“For me it was the dog poo,” sniffed Rini from where she nestled in her cozy seat by the window. She always looked a bit like one of those kittens with the flat faces and when she curled herself into a ball, it didn’t help. I was wedged in the middle seat, naturally. Rini went on, “I mean, don’t let your dog crap where you eat, right?” I had to agree with her. Downtown San Francisco seemed reasonably clean in the touristy spots, but we’d stayed at a cheap hotel in the heart of the Mission District. Once you got into the more residential areas, the City by the Bay was oddly smeared with feces. Rini went on, “Did you know that there are five dogs for every child in San Francisco?”
“Really?” I was surprised. “Is that true?” Rini stated emphatically that it was true. I had my doubts. I mean, it felt true, but I also knew that Rini liked to be the authority on everything, even if that meant flat out making things up. The flight attendant started her safety spiel, so I didn’t shake Rini down for where she’d found such an interesting statistic. I always pay attention to the safety instructions. I look for my nearest exit, even if it is behind me, I double check my seatbelt and I make sure everything around me is in an upright and locked position. It’s not like I’m afraid to fly or anything. But I do dread a few aeronautical possibilities, including plummeting to a fiery death, motion sickness, smelly people sitting next to me and the person in front of me fully reclining his or her seat. Besides that, I’m totally cool on a plane.
Xander fired up his iPod and turned up the volume, even though you’re not supposed to do that kind of stuff during takeoff. Normally, I’d have said something, but I really just wanted to get home with as little hassle as possible. We were all feeling crabby and discouraged. San Francisco had not quite been the Mecca for vampires that we’d anticipated.
Don’t get me wrong, there had been plenty of vampire clubs in the city by the bay. There were also a lot of vampire bars, vampire tours, vampire drycleaners, vampire gift shops and even a vampire tacoria. What there hadn’t been were any vampires. Or, at least, none that we could find. There were a ton of people posing as vampires, or as familiars, or even as vampire furries, which I still couldn’t quite wrap my head around. Essentially, there had been a
lot of people hanging around dressed in black, sipping Bloody Mary cocktails and wearing fake fangs, but we discovered no legitimate presence of the undead.
New Orleans had been pretty much the same deal. The people were nice. There was a real southern southerness that I thought had its charm, but no vampires. I mean, none that made themselves known to us. It was quite the disappointment, but I’m not sure why. It’s not like Anne Rice has a direct line to the occult and that’s why she located all her stories there, right? At least, I didn’t think she did.
*****
My name is Herbert Lehmer. Yeah, I know. I think it was some kind of practical joke my dad played before he decided to kick the bucket.
I like my last name because it’s kind of like those fuzzy creatures with the big eyes that hang out on Madagascar. But people are usually too fixated on my first name to pay too much attention to my last. Without fail, the first thing that flies out of people’s mouths is, “Oh, like Herbie the Love Bug?” After that they always laugh hysterically and look all pleased, like they’ve just said this amazingly original joke and have not, in fact, told a lame joke that I’ve heard two zillion times before. Every once in a blue moon, I hear, “Oh, like Herbert Hoover.” That’s not too great either, but at least it’s a change of pace and shows a sense of history.
Anyway, the whole Herbie the Love Bug thing got so bad that even Xander got sick of it by the time we hit middle school. That’s why when we started high school, he started calling me Sherbie, which is short for Sherbet. (Get it? Herbert, Sherbet. Yeah, it’s not really all that close, but whatever.) Anyway, it caught on and now I go by Sherbie, which I’m not in love with either, but I guess it’s the lesser of two evils. I’m definitely going to change my name when I go to college next year to something cool, like... uh... yeah, I don’t know yet, but something at least as cool as Xander, which he swears his parents gave him as a nickname, but I’m pretty sure he ripped off of Buffy.
