Ordinary Problems of a College Vampire (Vampire Innocent Book 7)

by Matthew S. Cox

  “Don’t see why they’d search your pockets in your sleep.”

  He leans off the side of the cot and examines the floor. “Might’ve fallen out.”

  I shrug.

  “Bollocks.”

  “Lighters are hardly rare.”

  He pushes himself upright. “That one’s a gift from Churchill himself.”

  “Wow. Impressive.”

  “Not that impressive. The man didn’t exactly know he gave it to me.” Dalton winks.

  I laugh, shaking my head. “Good to see that sometimes you get away with things.”

  He harrumphs. “More often than not, actually. Just always seems to be particularly troublesome during the ‘not’ parts.”

  “Yeah. ‘Particularly troublesome’ is one way to put it.” I wag my eyebrows at him and resume doing calc.

  During school Wednesday night, my mind keeps wandering away from the class to worrying about home. Dalton being there is both scary and reassuring. I haven’t been a vampire long enough to properly gauge how old another vampire is by getting into a scrap with them. The two guys who attacked me had definitely gotten past the ‘newbie’ stage at least, but whether they are twenty years a vampire or a hundred, I can’t tell.

  Still, I’m pretty confident Dalton could beat them, even two on one. Aurélie owned that guy pretty bad. She’s almost 400. The most logical thing is that vampires gradually gain strength as they age, perhaps until they reach some ‘full power’ limit. She’s gotta be there already—I hope. However easily he could kick their asses, his being at the house is potentially a magnet drawing the LA vampires right to my door.

  So is it good to have him there since they’ve been attacking me anyway or bad because it will make them attack us more, even if he’s quite capable of fighting them off?

  Grr.

  Fortunately, I am enough of a nerd that my brain multitasks well with academia. Even though my thoughts roam to supernatural topics so often, the class material still makes sense to me. Sorry, Dr. Mercer, gotta turn your speed setting up to normal again tonight. I need to be home.

  She still runs long, but only by a few minutes.

  Downside: she dropped a megaton bomb of homework on us.

  Whatever. I have time. It’s not due until Friday.

  Famous last words. I shouldn’t have thought that. Gonna regret it, for sure.

  A twinge of hunger nips at me while walking with the other students. It’s highly tempting to lure one into the bathroom and feed, but it’s risky to take meals anywhere I spend a large amount of time or see the same people often.

  So, I make a stop on the flight home near this huge white building with a weird round part on the roof that looks kinda like an upside down old-timey paper coffee filter. No idea what that place is, but it takes up a whole city block. Right off Union Street, I ambush a guy out jogging at night. He’s like forty or so, jogging suit, athletic and damn tall.

  Looking like I’m sixteen does come in handy sometimes. Almost no one has their guard up when I approach them to ask for directions or something innocent sounding. After zapping his brain, I pull him up against a tree on 16th Ave and bite. Already have an excuse ready if some bystander decides to mistake us for a grown man making out with a kid: pretend he’s my father and I’m crying on his shoulder. And blargh. He tastes like this Chinese tofu atrocity my high school used to serve. Must be the jogging/healthiness. Seriously. That place shouldn’t even try to do ethnic cuisine. They struggled to reheat frozen pizza into an edible state.

  Fortunately, no one in the nearby houses is as nosy as Mr. Neidermayer, and my feeding goes uninterrupted—mostly. Someone comes around the corner, walking toward us, within seconds of me finishing and sealing the bite wound. I’m about to practice my horrible acting skills to cover for clinging to a guy who looks way older than me, but there’s no need.

  The guy walking toward me has got to be an LA vampire. Same sorta clothes, same tattoos on his neck and cheek. He’s staring at me with purpose in his eye but not rushing in like he means to go straight to the fighting part.

  “Crap,” I mutter, shove away from the jogger, and leap into the air.

  The other vampire jumps after me, following but not gaining on me. I get the feeling he’s going to tail me to wherever I go. So… I swerve around and land on the flat part of the giant coffee filter building’s roof—and holy crap that round part is huge. Gotta be six stories tall.

  LA Man—not the same guy as the other night—lands in front of me.

  “What?” I ask, managing not to sound too worried.

  “We’ve decided to go about this a different way. It is interesting that you have not severed ties with your mortal family.” He rests his hands on his hips, sighing off to the side. “Never even thought about doing that, yanno? Might’ve been different for me, but it probably wouldn’t have worked out. Parents were a bit too into church stuff to cope with vampires.”

  No idea why this guy is being social. Have they finally realized I had nothing to do with Dalton firebombing them? “Look. You’re obviously a vampire. You know how stuff works. I have no control over what my sire does, nor could I stop him from doing something he wants to do. He’s really damn old. It’s barely been five months since my Transference, and he didn’t even stick around to teach me much.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?” The guy laughs. “Ahh well. But you do obviously have a way to reach him. He is your maker. As I said, a different tactic. We have invited your brother and his three friends to be our guests. Your boy Dalton’s got twenty-four hours to get his ass back to LA and answer for his bullshit, or we’ll be having some sweets. Kid smells like chocolate. There’s quite a few of us, so I wouldn’t count on him surviving snack time.”

  He just threatened to kill Sam.

  Anger hits me so fast that I’m in midair with my claws out before consciously processing how pissed off I am. There’s quite possibly some ragey-type-screaming going on. My lunge is evidently sudden and unexpected enough that I score a cat scratch on his cheek before he can react. He catches my forearms and swings me around, hurling me into the coffee-filter dome. I bounce off it and flop to the roof.

  Guess what? Concrete is harder than me.

  Ouch.

  Snarling, I jump to my feet and run at him, swiping my claws back and forth at his face and chest. He backpedals, dodging my first few attacks by leaning side to side. When he gets close to the edge of the roof, he catches my left arm, ducks my right hand, then grabs the wrist.

  “Leave Sam out of it!” I shout, gradually forcing my claws closer to his throat.

  His dismissive cockiness cracks to a look of surprised alarm. The tips of my claws come within a quarter inch of his throat before we stalemate. He grunts, lifting me an inch or two off my feet by his grip on my forearms. The instant my chances of overpowering him die, I plow my foot into his groin as hard as I can.

  Something inside him cracks.

  His jaw stiffens. He glares for a second, then releases my right arm to slug me in the face.

  The punch launches me headfirst like a missile, but I stop myself before crashing into the giant dome. My jaw’s busted, but so are his balls—and probably pelvis. He’s doing a remarkable job of not looking as though he’s in utter agony, but every blood vessel in his forehead is swollen up. Surprisingly, he hasn’t gone red in the face. Still pale. A little too pale. Even the Old Guard look closer to being alive than this guy.

  We both stand there staring at each other. I cradle my jaw in both hands waiting the few minutes for it to shift back into place and heal.

  “Where the hell is my brother!” I yell. “Leave them out of it. They’re kids.”

  “Yeah,” grunts the guy. He exhales long and slow, the same way Dad does whenever he hurts himself. A bony crunch comes from his groin. “We know. Your boy Dalton’s got a soft spot for them, right? We can dick around on this roof all damn night, but it ain’t gonna help. Your bro is already in LA. All you’re doing here is wa
sting the last day of his life.”

  A growl comes out of my throat, too deep to be a human voice, as I charge in again. Vampire or not, a shot to the balls slows him down. My second left-handed swipe slices bloody lines across his pectorals. Shallow, but painful. This time, I’m ready for the punch and duck it. Okay, these guys—or at least this guy—aren’t too much more badass than me. They definitely have an advantage, but it’s not impossible. Plus, I’ve got that ‘mom-lifting-a-burning-car’ thing going right now. Gotta protect Sam.

  Still, I haven’t taken any sort of fighting training so my pissed-off-housecat method of trying to shred this guy is only slightly more deadly than two girls getting into a scratching contest in a schoolyard. This guy has been in fights before, but he’s not as good as the dude who Steven Segal’ed me into the floor.

  I really need to stop charging in like a dumbass.

  He stuns me with a rabbit punch to the forehead. Before I can reorient myself, he grabs two fistfuls of my jacket and pins me against the angled wall of that coffee-filter-shaped dome. “You’re wasting time, girl. Go find your master and tell him. He knows where to go… if he’s got the balls. Rumor has it, the man’s got a soft spot for little kids.”

  The way he sneers at me makes it quite clear I’m included in the ‘little kids’ part.

  I’m furious, but as much as it pisses me off to admit, he’s got a point—assuming he isn’t lying. Even if I rip this guy into six pieces and drop each one into a separate volcano, it’s not going to matter to Sam, who’s hundreds of miles away and likely surrounded by other vampires. Destroying this guy won’t matter. He holds me pinned against the wall, more to keep me from attacking him than trying to hurt me.

  I grab his wrists, gradually pushing him back. “If anything happens to my little brother, you and your entire bunch of friends are gonna be in a world of hurt.” Ugh. I cringe. Dammit, Dad. It’s your fault I sound like a cheesy Eighties movie when I try to threaten someone.

  He rolls his eyes. “I’m trembling.”

  “It’s not me you need to be afraid of,” I snarl, then shove him back, taking a step after him. “It’s my patron, Aurélie Merlier.”

  “Yeah right. That woman won’t get involved. Maybe in Seattle, but elders are too confined with political bullshit to stir the pot in someone else’s city.” He snugs his jacket, ignoring my attempt to be intimidating.

  “Keep telling yourself that. She adores Sam. Doubt she’ll care about what town you hide in.” I glare at him. So help me, if they hurt him, I don’t care how dark it makes me… I will do anything necessary to kill every vampire associated with that gang.

  He taps his wrist like he’s got a watch on, then flies off.

  “Shit.” I grab for my phone, but stop myself. Calling home and finding out Sam really is missing would crush me too much. I need to be there in person.

  Coralie didn’t show up to warn me about this at all. That has to mean Sam’s gonna be okay. Of course, she’s hardly infallible. It’s quite possible she might not have been able to see it, but that’s not a thought I need right now. My powers don’t include anything like being an oracle or seeing the future, but I’m sensing a beating in my near future. Don’t care. Whatever it takes to bring Sam home.

  Channeling Sierra, I shout an F-bomb at the top of my lungs, then leap into the air, racing home.

  Flying hurts my face.

  I must be going faster than 140.

  My home is a scene of absolute chaos.

  Wait. No imps are involved, so it can’t be absolute chaos. It’s merely ‘utter’ chaos.

  I swoop in via the patio door to find my parents flipping out. Dad’s having a—mostly—controlled conversation with Dalton, demanding he find Sam, while Mom is running around in circles generally losing her mind. The girls are sitting together halfway up the stairs to the second floor. Sierra looks furious, but isn’t doing or saying anything. Rather, she’s got both arms around Sophia, who’s bawling.

  As soon as I walk in, everything pauses.

  “Sarah!” shouts Mom. “Have you seen your brother?”

  “Sam didn’t come home from his friend’s house.” Dad hurries over to me. “Jordan’s parents have called asking if we’ve seen him. Daryl’s parents didn’t and aren’t answering their phone.”

  My phone pings with an incoming text, but I ignore it and give Dalton the eye. “We have a problem.”

  “Bollocks,” whispers Dalton.

  Mom pins me with a stare. “You know something.”

  I glance at the girls on the steps, but only hesitate for a moment. Heck with it. We’re all in this supernatural crap together. “Sam’s been abducted by a group of vampires from Los Angeles. One of them paid me a visit on my way out of school tonight to inform me of this and imply they’d hurt him if Dalton didn’t show up within twenty-four hours.”

  Sophia’s crying stops in an instant. Apparently, learning Sam got taken by vampires and not some random creep has changed her despair into anger. It’s kinda weird seeing her angry. She usually doesn’t ‘do angry.’

  Dalton bows his head. “Right. Nothing for it then but to go there. This shouldn’t have blown back to affect all of you. It’s my mess and I’ll suss it out.”

  “Now can I take sword lessons?” asks Sierra. “No vampires gonna kidnap me and keep all his fingers.”

  Mom bites her knuckle. Dad purses his lips in thought.

  “I’d advise against that. At least until you’re taller.” Dalton glances at her. “Even as an adult, you’d be at a distinct disadvantage in strength and speed. A sharp enough sword might bring the odds closer to even, but…”

  “Don’t care.” Sierra shakes her head. “If a vampire’s coming after me to hurt Sarah, I’m already gonna be in deep sh—crap. Being in slightly deeper poop isn’t gonna matter.”

  I can’t help but share some guilt. New vampires aren’t supposed to cling to their mortal life. This is why.

  Dalton either reads the mood in my head or on my face. Rather than head out the door, he steps closer and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Buck up, lass. This isn’t your fault. There’s no need to regret your choices. Going after my progeny is a bit of an abnormal situation. This lot has some unusual means of expressing their dissatisfaction.”

  “Dissatisfaction?” I raise an eyebrow. “You firebombed them.”

  He chuckles. “Aye. And they deserved it. What I mean is, extending the aggression up or down a vampire’s Transference line is generally not done without them being directly involved. Since you didn’t help me torch the place, it’s unorthodox for you to be threatened.”

  “Yeah, but it happened.” I fold my arms.

  “I’m merely saying that it’s not going to be that way every time someone gets cheesed off at me. Though, I shan’t imagine I’ll be doing much of anything shortly. Fifteen or so on one never ends well for the one.”

  A storm of emotions rages through me. Dalton’s going to go surrender himself to save Sam. I’m angry with him for putting my brother in danger, for exposing my family to something like this. But, I’m also angry at them for attacking the guy who gave me the Transference. Part of me wants to fly down there with him and help fight… even though I suspect it would only result in both of us being torn to shreds. Still, just sitting here saying or doing nothing while he leaves to his death doesn’t feel right either.

  “I’m going with you.”

  “Don’t, luv. Out of sight, out of mind. They’ll kill you to hurt me, then finish me off. But if you stay here where they’re not thinking about you, should be nothing to worry about.”

  “Nothing? I’m worried about Sam. Worried about you,” I shout. “What if you go there and get ripped apart? How does Sam get home? And they have no reason to simply let him go.”

  “Hi,” whispers Sophia.

  I look over at Coralie descending the stairs. Sophia scooches over to one side, squishing Sierra against the banister, making room for the woman to walk past them down the steps. S
ierra evidently doesn’t see her as she shoves at Sophia for squeezing against her. Mom and Dad don’t react to her either; neither does Dalton. Upon reaching the bottom, she shimmers, an aura of faint light surrounding her form. At that point, the ’rents jump back startled and gawk at her. Sierra gets this ‘oh, that’s what happened’ expression and stops giving her sister grief.

  “You should not do this.” Coralie walks straight up to Dalton. “Sarah’s fears are the most likely outcome. They intend to kill the boys once they no longer require them.”

  Mom looks around for something to punch.

  Dad puts an arm around her, staring at the three of us—me, Dalton, and Coralie. “We have the advantage of daylight. What if Allison and I went there during the day when they’re stuck asleep?”

  “Went where exactly?” asks Mom.

  “Umm.” Dad glowers at no one in particular. “Wherever they are.”

  “I do not see that ending in any way but tragedy.” Coralie offers a sad stare. “They have mortal servants.”

  “There’s no way I’m just going to sit here and wait,” yells Dad.

  “Dad… Dad…” I put myself between him and Coralie. “Don’t yell at her. She’s only trying to help.”

  My father gets that look on his face that suggests disaster. Last time he made that face, he nearly flooded the house. Mom ended up calling a plumber to fix the sink and the damage he caused. “I can at least help. Couple crossbows with stakes should do the trick, right?”

  I push him back toward Mom. “No, Dad. Stakes don’t really work. Trust me.”

  “So what the hell are we supposed to do here then?” asks Dad. “Dalton goes there, they kill Sam. He doesn’t go, they kill Sam. We go there, they kill us… and Sam.”

  “Do you think Aurélie would leave Seattle?” asks Dalton. “That woman could walk into the place and gobsmack every last one of them.”

  “And possibly risk major problems with the LA elders?” I ask. “I’m sure she’d do it for Sam… but last resort.”

  Mom and Dad start arguing with Dalton about the situation. Mom’s getting all lawyery about it, basically telling him this is all his fault without sounding like she’s directly blaming him for being a reckless idiot. Dad’s frazzled out of worry for Sam and keeps bringing up new and bigger ways he could possibly fight vampires. Since I shot down his idea for stake-throwing crossbows, he’s all about flamethrowers now. Like mounting two of them to his new car. No idea where the heck he expects to get those things in twenty-four hours. Besides, I think they’re illegal in California.