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

by Matthew S. Cox

  “Sarah!” shouts Sophia.

  I jump and spin.

  My kid sister’s blonde, angelic face peers at me from the center mirror above the sinks, kinda like one of those magical paintings in Harry Potter that move. The mirror isn’t very large. I’m not the biggest person in the world and I don’t think it’s going to be possible for me to fit. In fact, asking Daryl to squeeze through it might be pushing things.

  Literally.

  I’m going to have to push him.

  “Soph? What the heck? That’s so damn dangerous. Why are you in the mirrorverse alone!”

  “I’m not alone.” She leans to the side, revealing Sierra—who’s wearing a red headband. “And Coralie is here, too. She’s helping us stay safe… and find you. Come on!”

  The glass in front of her shimmers, for an instant appearing like thin plastic film before disappearing entirely. Sophia reaches an arm out into the bathroom.

  “Uhh, Soph, there’s no way Dalton or I can fit into that little rectangle.” I glance at Sam. “But the boys should make it.”

  Banging at the door pauses. A gunshot goes off in the hall outside, leaving a slight bulge in the door behind Dalton’s head. Multiple pings echo and someone yells in pain. Heh. Maybe that’ll convince them not to try shooting anymore.

  “Uhh, are you serious?” Jordan stares. “What the heck is that?”

  “No way.” Daryl shakes his head hard enough to make his somewhat chubby cheeks wobble. “That’s seriously messed up.”

  Ronan jumps up on the sink without hesitation and climbs into the mirror. “Come on, guys. I do this all the time. It’s fine. There’s cool stuff in here.”

  Another pound at the door leaves a bigger dent, and nearly breaks the hinges.

  “Ooh, he’s a strong one,” mutters Dalton.

  “C’mon. Go.” I point. “Hurry. It’s a safe way out. Blix, go with them to make sure they stay safe.”

  Blix salutes me and zips across into the mirrorverse.

  Coralie appears in the room beside me. “Safe is debatable, but it is likely less dangerous than your current situation.”

  Sam jumps up on the counter and dives into the mirror without hesitating. I grab Jordan and chuck him through the opening before facing Daryl. He starts backing up. Ugh. No way is he going into the mirror struggling, so I hit him with the same mental stun I use before feeding, then heft his semiconscious body up like a log and stuff him in. As expected, he gets stuck at the gut. Trying not to hurt him, I shove as gently as possible while increasing force. The kids pull his arms.

  The door flies open, throwing Dalton forward onto the sink counter.

  A small group of vampires force their way in right as Daryl’s legs slip into the mirror. This sight, as one might expect, stuns them into staring. Okay, maybe I’d been wrong. I could probably fit into that mirror, but that’d leave Dalton alone.

  He jumps off the counter, grabs me, and starts trying to shove me into the center mirror. “Go!”

  “And leave you alo—?”

  One of the gang vampires shoots at the portal mirror, but the bullet goes in rather than smashing the glass. Sophia screams in startlement. Two other vampires rush at me and Dalton while the other guy keeps shooting at the mirrors. Glinting shards of glass rain down over the sinks from the other two.

  My first instinct is shotgun, but I forgot to pump it after the guy in the hallway. With little time to think, there’s no choice but to drop it and rely on the sword. Dalton gets into a close-range knife fight with the other one while I wave the katana around like I’ve got a bee in my pants, trying to keep the guy back.

  A lucky shot at the portal mirror cracks the metal frame, causing a minor explosion of paranormal energy. The blast wave is powerful enough to knock us all to the floor and bend the stalls.

  “Dammit! That was our shortcut… guess we’re in for some bad luck now,” I mutter.

  “Technically,” says Dalton from the floor, “the bloke who smashed the mirror’s in for the bad luck.” He casually inserts his knife into the ear of the vampire on top of him, twists it, and yanks it out. “Quite rude if you ask me.”

  The one on top of me grabs my wrist, pinning the katana to the floor. He thinks he’s got me, but… surprise bitch! Claws. I slash my left hand at his face and neck. The guy leaps back, shrieking in pain. Dalton tosses the ‘unconscious’ one off him, then absorbs three bullets to the chest from the guy in the doorway who broke the mirror.

  “Must you?” asks Dalton with a sigh. “This shirt was expensive.”

  The guy glances down at his gun as if it malfunctioned.

  I spring upright, moving to attack the guy I clawed, but he punts me in the chest, launching me backward. My ass lands in a wall urinal and I crack my head against the top part. Grr. Disgusting. At least it’s been dry for a long time. Dalton throws his knife, burying it in the forehead of the guy with the gun. Screaming mostly out of anger, I let off a war cry and rush at the other one, sword high. He catches my forearms, stalling the blade a few inches away from the top of his head.

  This one’s noticeably stronger than me. Trying to overpower him and slice into his head is about as productive as attempting to push over a skyscraper with my bare hands. We sway about, almost nose to nose, the guy trying to throw me off my feet again, but I manage to keep myself relatively in place with flying.

  The ka-chook sound of a shotgun echoes in the bathroom.

  His eyes go wide. “Oh shi—”

  Boom.

  And… I’m wearing his head. His brains are in my hair. I wipe the gook out of my eyes and peer over the smoking neck stump at Dalton’s cocky grin. Speaking of cock, he attempts to pump the shotgun again, but makes a sour face at it and drops it.

  “Broke?”

  “Out of ammo.” He grabs his knife back from the one guy and takes a second one off the belt of the shotgun decapitation victim.

  “Can I ask a stupid question?”

  “No question is stupid but the one you don’t ask,” says Dalton in a posh accent.

  “Thank you, motivational poster guy.” I shake my head. “Is it normal for a head to entirely explode when hit with buckshot?”

  “Hmm. No. That’s kind of unusual. Must’ve had some special ammunition.”

  “Right.” I look at the smashed mirrors. “Damn. So much for that. And you wouldn’t have fit anyway. Not leaving you alone in here.”

  Dalton tries to close the door, but it’s a little bent and won’t fit the doorjamb properly.

  “What do we do now?”

  He glances back at me. “Well, we either try to stay in this room until sunrise in hopes that you’ll wake up before them and drag me out of here… or we fight our way out now.”

  “Fight?” I gawk at him. “Wait, you mean there’s more of them?”

  “By my count, yes. But it’s quiet. Maybe they’ve decided to be smart and not all sleep at the same place.” He examines his fingernails. “Nothing quite like a large incendiary device to make vampires reevaluate their procedures. Let’s get out of here.”

  I nod.

  We haul ass out of the bathroom, run down the hall around the L bend… and skid to a stop in the huge outer room full of massive machines. A line of vampire gang members stands in our way, like fifteen or twenty of them. Giant machines hem us in on both sides, and there’s enough superstructure overhead to make flying fast difficult. They’d surely catch up to us before we made it to the door.

  “Umm… I think we’re fighting now,” I whisper.

  Dalton tosses and catches his knife. “Aye, looks that way.”

  23

  Of Course

  He glances at me. Sarah, make a hole and get the heck out of here. This isn’t your problem. I don’t want you to get hurt over this.

  I think about the katana stabbed into my shoulder so deep it scratched my pelvic cradle. “Too late.”

  The gang vampire in the middle of the line steps toward us, glaring at Dalton. He’s the only one of
the men to have long hair. Though the guy doesn’t look any taller than the others, and he’s not overly muscular, he gives off an air of power that the rest of them lack. Fortunately, it’s nowhere near as strong as Aurélie’s. I saw her get really pissed once at a social event, and she leveled the entire room with a wave of mental radiance. No one dared to even speak.

  “The pendejo is ours now, Armand,” says one of the three women among them, flashing an irritating smile at us.

  “Wait.” I point at their apparent leader. “Your name is Armand? Like seriously?”

  Armand peels his melting scowl away from Dalton and turns it on me. “You have a problem with my name?”

  His thick Spanish accent is almost enough to make me laugh despite the really crappy situation. “Not a problem really, but come on, man. Every vampire movie ever made names the dark, broody guy ‘Armand.’ Couldn’t you come up with something more original, or were you trying to be campy on purpose?”

  Armand snarls.

  “That was perhaps not the best thing to say,” adds Dalton, whispering behind his hand at me.

  “Not trying to do anything there. I’m serious. Armand? Really?”

  He roars and lunges at me.

  This guy… yeah, he’s way faster than me. Before I know it, there’s a hand around my neck and I’m against the wall, dangling off my feet. Must’ve slammed me pretty hard since the katana went flying out of my grip and my back hurts. He’s holding me up by one arm, not all that impressive for a vampire. We’re strong as heck and I don’t weigh a lot. He’s probably about to say something condescending—but he’s evidently not prepared for me raking at his forearm. His fingers snap open in response to the pain of my claws tearing into his skin. Wow, I guess it’s true. Claws might be rare or absent entirely for Scions. They have no idea how much these little bitches hurt. I drop back to my feet and fly straight up to avoid being grabbed trying to go around him.

  Gotta give the guy credit… he didn’t scream in pain or even grimace much.

  Dalton’s a two-knife whirlwind, eyeball deep in angry vampires. For a second or two, I stare in total awe like I’m on the movie set of Pirates of the Caribbean. Blades of all sizes, including one legit cutlass, flash in a continuous ballet of bloodletting. Only the red spurts hanging in the air or a few scraps of severed cloth seemingly floating give away that we’re all sped up. Some of the vampires appear to be moving in mild fast-forward to me, though Dalton is faster than them—mostly. Armand feels stronger.

  Fortunately, he can’t fly, or doesn’t bother. I’m not sure if the gang has lost interest in ‘the kid’ or they simply don’t notice me hanging out up in the rafters, but the whole crowd converges on Dalton. Armand can’t get to him due to the sheer number of other vampires surrounding him. Even without a mind link to my sire, I know he’s worried—he’s not making any wiseass comments each time he stabs someone. Really, he’s actually kinda good at that. The knife in his left hand, he almost exclusively uses for defense except for a few surprises when he spins around like a bullfighter to avoid someone. Already, five gang vampires are out cold, bleeding from head wounds.

  I can’t believe no one’s shot him yet. Either this group didn’t bring guns or they’re trying to keep it quiet enough to avoid police showing up, merely for the inconvenience of having to send them away or kill them.

  Also, I can’t sit up here and watch them overwhelm him.

  Okay, time to help. I target one of the vamps on the opposite side of the crowd from Armand. Hey, I’m not a chicken, but there’s also no reason to be stupid about this. Five-month-old vampires don’t pick fights with centenarians. Like something out of one of Sierra’s video games, I jump off the steel rafter and dive-bomb him, the katana held over my head in both hands.

  The combined force of my drop plus as hard a downstroke as my arms are capable of splits the guy in half from the top of his head to the middle of his gut. No one’s as shocked to see that as I am. Well, maybe the guy I hit is, but he’s not going to be seeing much of anything for a few days. Fortunately, the melee is so chaotic only two vampires notice me nearly cutting their pal in half—and they both come after me.

  I try the parrying thing since the chick’s got a knife in her hand, which is a lot shorter than my blade. She yanks her hand back fast enough to evade the katana, and stabs at me before I can recover my swing. My attempt to dodge turns it into a slash that rakes over my chest and right thigh.

  Merely a shallow cut, only about an inch deep. Ouch.

  The guy stabs me in the left kidney, pulls his blade out, and tries to get me in the head. Good thing for me that my legs give out from pain. His blade goes over my head. I fall in a spinning motion and rake the katana around in a slash that takes his right leg off an inch below the knee.

  Howling, he falls over backward, calling me all sorts of unpleasant things.

  “Not bad for a baby,” mutters the woman right before kicking me in the face.

  Oh, that’s a broken jaw.

  I go from sprawled on the floor in front of the guy to like twenty feet away, crumpled up against one of those giant machines in an instant. Pretty sure I slid across the floor, but I don’t remember it. The blood smear I left behind is fairly compelling evidence. Dazed, I push myself up, but the bitch comes out of nowhere, grabs two fistfuls of my hair, and proceeds to pound my skull over and over into the metal machinery behind me.

  After the seventh time my nose bounces off the metal, I get my hands up to brace against the greasy steel. She keeps pushing, but we’re either an even match in strength or I’m starting to panic. Another vampire walks up behind us with a metal baseball bat balanced over his shoulder like a cocky major leaguer who thinks he’s going to hit a home run.

  Grunting, I push with both arms and a foot at the machine, but the bitch holds me down while the guy wallops me in the left thigh, breaking the bone. That hurt so much I barely even feel anything more than an endorphin high.

  There may have been a few more hits from the bat, but they don’t register in my memory.

  Next thing I know, someone’s dragging me across the floor over to where Dalton lays semi-conscious. He looks like he got run over by a city bus, two taxis, and a high school marching band. I’m probably in similar shape, though the pain is coming from so many places at once I can’t tell what hurts more.

  The vampire bitch tosses me to the ground next to Dalton.

  Armand strolls up to stand near our heads, arms folded, an arrogant sneer on his face. He observes us for a moment, savoring his victory. I really want to taunt him that he’s a total badass for needing twenty-on-two to win, but my jaw hasn’t knit yet.

  This isn’t good.

  Oh, aye, says Dalton in my head. Appreciate you trying at least. Important thing is the boys are okay.

  Yeah. My heart sinks at the thought of my family losing me again, that grief I tried to spare them from by going home. Better me than Sam. I glance at Dalton’s bloody face and think, ‘Hey, you’re not bad at the fighting thing.’

  He chuckles, spraying goopy blood from his lips.

  Armand squats, grabs a fistful of Dalton’s shirt, and pulls his limp body up so they’re face to face. Our mind link tells me he’s overacting being injured to the point of paralysis, but we’re surrounded by at least twelve—and both pretty battered. Even if he catches Armand off guard, it’s probably not going to matter. Then again, if we’re dead anyway, no reason not to try.

  “Ahh, the fancy rat,” says Armand. “Thought you could make short work of us. I despise mercenaries. There’s no creature as low as a man who’d sell his allegiance. You fight for nothing but greed.”

  “Nope,” I rasp. “There’s lower.”

  Armand whacks me across the face with the back of his left hand. “Quiet.”

  I snarl and start pushing myself up, but two vampires grab my hair and shoulders, pinning me to the floor. “What’s low is a coward who abducts children as bait. Dalton came here to—”

  He slap
s me again, setting off an explosion of pain in my face and a gusher of blood from my nostrils. Yeah, that’s a broken nose. Oh, I really don’t like this guy. In fact, if by some miracle this isn’t my last night alive, it’s tempting to ask that Petra bitch to make him one of her ‘art projects.’ Alas, she doesn’t torment vampires, only mortals.

  But that’s how much I hate this guy right now, wanting him to be on the receiving end of her.

  “Hit her again, your hand’s going up your arse,” rasps Dalton.

  Armand laughs. “You, my friend, are going to have a date with the sun… but only your legs. Tomorrow will be arm day. Then the rest. And, that cute little one you brought along as an apology gift will be a nice—”

  A curtain of darkness races from right to left behind Armand. His neck bursts into a geyser of blood as his head falls forward, tumbling, long black hair trailing after. The wraith-like apparition swerves back and flies at me. Both vampires holding my arms release their grip and dive to the floor screaming.

  Glim appears out of the blackness, standing behind a third gang vampire. As smoothly as the soldier he used to be, he grabs the guy, one hand muffling his mouth while he rips the man’s throat out with the other.

  “Cor blimey!” blurts Dalton. He shoves himself up, overpowering the two vamps holding him and swiping the cutlass from Armand’s belt before the body finishes collapsing over forward.

  The woman who’d beat the crap out of me grabbed the katana—nice of her to keep it close, right? I jump on her while she’s prone on the floor trying to avoid the big scary shadow monster illusion. Claws are sharp and mega-painful, but metal blades are still better for piercing bone. Still, while sitting on her back, I grab her head in both hands and mash her face into the floor repeatedly, gouging at her head with my claws. Payback’s a bitch, right? As soon as she stops moving, I extricate my fingers from the holes they made in her skull, grab my katana, and leap upright.

  Well, mostly upright. My left femur is still not quite back to full strength. Okay, so I’m levitating in a generally standing position until I can put weight on that leg.