Vampires Drink Tomato Juice

by K. M. Shea

  “Hmn,” Fran said, her forehead wrinkling as she stared at her list.

  “What are you doing?” I asked Brett.

  He shrugged. “I was bored, so I figured I would pop down here and see if Fran was doing anything interesting.”

  “I’m not,” Fran said, setting the list down before picking up a new sheet. “I’m going over the penny war figures. Terribly boring. You should leave, or you’ll be just as bored,” Fran said. “And take Morgan with you.”

  I could see that she was making an opportunity for me, but I would never take it. Not when I hadn’t had a chance to talk with her since Sunday night. “No, Fran, that wouldn’t be right. How about we go out for ice cream? The three of us? I’ll drive! Michael isn’t finished with football practice yet.”

  “Sounds great,” Brett said.

  “Alright. Let me post the results on the school website, and then we can go,” Fran caved.

  On Friday, I was not only looking forward to the weekend but also to visiting Westfall again. Perhaps the day off had given the little unicorn more courage.

  I sat with Dave on the train ride over. (Frey still ignored me in class.) We chatted a little, Dave telling me the pros and cons about being a vampire.

  “Well, you’ll never age anymore…right?” I asked.

  “Yes, but I cannot see my reflection in a mirror,” Dave mourned.

  “So? You can’t visit a fun house at a fair?” I asked, trying to see the downside of such a side effect.

  “No, I can’t style my hair!” Dave wailed, self-consciously patting his forever-in-limbo shock of red hair.

  “Oooh,” I said, enlightened to his dilemma.

  “I can’t tell if I ever have something on my face, or if my nose is broken, but most importantly, I can’t see my hair! I’ll be trying to style my hair without a mirror until Jesus comes back!”

  “Uh, don’t you mean for all eternity?” I corrected.

  “Oh, no! I know an Egyptian vampire who met the guy. He’s totally coming back!”

  “Uh-huh. So, were you a Civil War vet or something?” I asked. All American vampires were Civil War veterans, or at least from the Civil War era.

  “No. I was made a vampire out of pure spite in the ‘20s,” Dave shrugged.

  “Oh? How?” I asked.

  “I annoyed a vampire so much he bit me to shut me up. Didn’t work very well because then I followed him around and complained for five years straight that he has trapped me in a flabby, balding body,” Dave said as the train slowly halted in Union Station.

  “How did you annoy a vampire?” I wondered.

  “I’m not sure. All I know is that one minute I was walking up the road, singing, and the next minute one of my neighbors is biting me on the neck and shouting at me to shut up,” Dave shrugged as we exited the train, Frey shuffling behind us.

  We walked to the MBRC, cheerfully greeting Tiny before parting in the central area of the MBRC. Dave had to ask one of his teachers a question before reporting to Dr. Creamintin for the weekly check in.

  I easily found my way to Dr. Creamintin’s. “Hello, Felisha,” I greeted as I swept into the room, moving past a pair of startled nymphs.

  “Hello, Morgan. Dr. Creamintin said he wants to check in with you before you leave today,” Felisha said.

  “Got it,” I called over my shoulder before taking the winding hallway back to the stable.

  “Good afternoon, boys,” I called, tossing my backpack and jacket in the corner.

  “Good afternoon, M-Morgan,” Westfall greeted, standing by the brush bucket.

  “How are you today, Westfall?” I asked, slowly and cautiously approaching him.

  “Very f-fine, thank you,” Westfall said. “And you?” he asked, his voice climbing in pitch as I drew closer to him.

  I bent over and slowly picked up the brush bucket. “I am wonderful.”

  “Could you, maybe, a-after you’re done brushing, well, Him,” Westfall said, quickly glancing in the direction of the nickering kelpie, “perhaps, try brushing…me?” Westfall squeaked.

  I beamed. “Why Westfall, you’ve come very far in a week. I will be glad to,” I said before walking over to the black kelpie.

  The white horse flattened his ears and snarled, lunging at me as I passed his stall.

  This made the black kelpie trumpet and rear, planting his hooves on the ground with a crack.

  The white horse retreated to the back corner of his stall and glared at me.

  “Shhh, shhh,” I said, approaching the black kelpie. “He’s just bad tempered. Ignore him.”

  The black horse affectionately pressed his head, which was the length of my upper body, into my chest.

  I smiled and stroked his cheek bone before retrieving a brush. I kissed him on his muzzle before starting my work.

  “Westfall,” I called over my shoulder, “are your teachers pleased with your progress?”

  “Indeed,” Westfall nodded. He scooted back in the direction of his hay pile. “They were the ones who suggested I ask you to brush me.”

  “Cool.”

  “Morgan, are you alright?” Dr. Creamintin called from the hallway, his voice getting louder as he drew closer, “I heard horses.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine Dr. Creamintin,” I called, moving to the front of the stall, a brush hanging from my hands. “The white horse got cranky, so the kelpie corrected him,” I smiled as Dr. Creamintin—with Frey in tow—entered the stable.

  “White horse? What the—,” Dr. Creamintin skidded to a stop once he set his eyes on me.

  Frey stiffened. I could see his hackles rising, even though he wasn’t currently a dog.

  Dr. Creamintin groaned as the black kelpie lipped my shoulder behind me. “Devin! You cursed Pooka!”

  “…What?” I asked, confused by Dr. Creamintin and Frey, who was growling.

  What really distracted me, however, were the human arms that abruptly snaked around me and pulled me against a distinctly male chest.

  “You can’t say I didn’t do it right under your nose, old man,” the chest rumbled as a rich voice right behind me said.

  I blinked once and turned my neck. The black kelpie was gone. Instead a tall, sleek but muscled young man who was probably in his early twenties held me. He wore solid black, and his hair was a beautiful, luxurious black shade with body in it most girls would kill for. His skin was fair, but his eyes were a luminous mixture of white and yellow—the same full-moon shade as the black kelpie’s eyes.

  “Who are you?” I calmly asked—impressive considering how freaked out I was at this new development.

  “I’m your kelpie,” the stranger said with a gorgeous smile before moving to nuzzle my neck.

  Frey started towards us, but he didn’t need to. In a split second, I pushed the strange newcomer far away, snatched up a hoof pick, and held it threateningly close to his throat.

  “What?” I asked my voice dangerous and low.

  “Now, now, Morgan. Granted, Devin has severely wronged you, but he meant no harm. He is the Pooka. Mischievous jokes are his forte,” Dr. Creamintin soothed. “Why don’t you come out of that stall, and we’ll get this mess straightened out.”

  “I have been REALLY GOOD about accepting all of this,” I said, my voice hitching as I backed away from the horse-guy, gesturing with the hoof pick. “REALLY good. But you mean to tell me that this whole week, I’ve been brushing, hugging, and touching a horse who was really this guy?” I shrieked, pointing with the hoof pick at the yellow-eyed stranger.

  Dr. Creamintin stared wide-eyed at me as Frey sniffed the air. “Ummm…” the good doctor said.

  “I HATE YOU ALL!” I screamed, sitting down with a huff as tears of humiliation and embarrassment leaked out of the corners of my eyes.

  “Darling,” the horse guy said, holding his arms out as he chuckled in a rich voice that sounded a lot like his nicker.

  “GO AWAY,” I shouted, throwing the hoof pick at him. It bopped him in the head and made him paus
e.

  “Well done, Devin,” Dr. Creamintin said. “That is yet another human you have psychologically scarred. This is not good for your record young man, even if you are a council member.”

  “Hey, I was nice to her,” horse boy protested, rubbing the spot where the hoof pick had cracked him.

  “Nice to her? What on earth were you doing to her? She was practically soaked with your scent every day,” Frey accused.

  “Quiet mongrel,” horse guy coldly said. “This is far beyond the likes of you.”

  “Why you—,” Frey snarled.

  I sat in a heap on the stall ground, pretty much forgotten as I bawled my eyes out. This really was the final straw. I could accept the fact that my weird teacher was a vampire. I could put up with Frey’s moodiness. I was even happy to help Dr. Creamintin with his patients, but hugging a horse, kissing its muzzle, innocently thinking it was just a horse and then TA DAH, it’s a GUY. Well, I just couldn’t take it.

  I was shocked out of my crying when I heard Westfall. “Morgan?” he asked.

  I pulled my head out of the huddle of my arms, my mascara probably horribly smeared. The little unicorn had dared to enter the stall and lowered his head so it was mere inches away from mine.

  His doe eyes were shadowed with concern for me, and he adorably tipped his head.

  I sniffed before breaking into sobs and stumbling to my feet, throwing myself against Westfall.

  I threw my arms around his neck and cried into his black mane. “Westfall! It’s not fair,” I wailed.

  The little unicorn stiffened for a moment before warmly draping his head over my shoulder.

  “Frey is so mean, and then pretty horses that I like suddenly turn into hot guys. I-I—,” I broke off into sobs.

  After several minutes, I finished crying and stepped back from Westfall, rubbing under my eyes to try and remove any dripping mascara.

  “Feel any better?” Horse Guy asked me, still in the stall with us.

  I scowled and spun on my feet, bending over to pick up the brush bucket. “You shut up! I never want to see you AGAIN!” I shouted, throwing the entire brush bucket at him.

  “Ow!” he yelped as the various brushes, picks, and horsey items rained down on him.

  I stalked out of the stall and stomped over to the hay bales Westfall usually hid behind.

  I threw myself at the base of the stack and folded my arms, stewing as Westfall hesitantly joined me.

  I was going to scalp that black-haired boy if I ever saw him again. Little did I know “Devin the Pooka” was going to become a big part of my life.

  Frey was sent to escort me home, which he did only relatively unwillingly. Before I left, Dr. Creamintin said that Westfall had undergone a significant breakthrough by comforting me in my hysteria.

  Being home over the weekend was a nice reprieve. Fran and I hung out with our friends, watched movies and even did our nails.

  Monday went by fairly well. I talked to Brett a lot during class, and Hunter tried cheering me up in math class by offering to “visit” whoever was making me so unhappy.

  I probably would have been unwilling to return to the rehabilitation center if it wasn’t for Frey. The werewolf surprised me silly in Spanish class.

  I was wrestling with my backpack, digging out my Spanish textbook, when Frey entered the classroom.

  He tossed his head, making his fluffy hair flop for a moment.

  “Hey, Frey!” Dani and Toni chorused across the room.

  Frey did not respond to them.

  Instead, his lips formed a dazzling smile while he shifted his gaze to me. “Hi, Morgan.”

  “Hi,” I growled an automatic reply as I finally managed to dig my book out. I thoughtlessly set my book on my desk. It was then that it sunk in: he had acknowledged my presence.

  I froze as Frey walked past me and stared at the moody werewolf, wondering what he was up to. (I would be hard-pressed to admit his greeting made my toes curl in my shoes.)

  Dani and Toni were frowning at him. He had probably committed social suicide again by ignoring them, but not for long. Frey was tricky. He would get back into their good graces.

  What really shocked me dead was when Dave announced we were going to do partner work. Usually, I worked in a group of three with Samantha and Emily. They sit on either side of Frey, so I started gathering my stuff up to move in their direction.

  Before I slid out of my seat, there was the heavy tap of books being dropped on the desk next to me.

  It was Frey.

  The werewolf hefted himself into the desk and smiled.

  “You know,” I blinked at him, “if this is all out of pity or a way to goad me into returning to the MBRC, it isn’t going to work,” I informed him, even though I knew that wasn’t entirely true.

  “Well…we’re friends, right?” Frey awkwardly asked. “Plus, I don’t know Spanish.”

  “…If you don’t know Spanish, why are you in here?”

  “I have to keep an eye on Dave, and he doesn’t teach any first-year classes.”

  “Right, of course,” I sighed, looking at the worksheet Dave had given us. Apparently, I would be doing it without any help.

  I glanced up at Dave and blinked. He was pointing to his nose and then me before making disdainful expressions.

  Deciding that he was weird, even for a vampire, I wrote his actions off. If I had sat down to think about them, I probably could have stopped a lot of future drama.

  I am ashamed to say that I allowed Dave and Frey to drag me to the MBRC without much resistance. Acknowledging my presence had raised Frey in my esteem. And yeah, a part of me wanted to return to the interesting center.

  “Today, I think I would like for you to work at the main information desk in the center chamber,” Dr. Creamintin said, scratching at his beard with a capped pen.

  “Is this just pointless busy work because you don’t have anything for me to do?” I asked.

  “No,” Dr. Creamintin insisted. “You will be an asset to their work. The front desk is often forced to research topics on humanity that you will instinctively know. You’ll be saving them a great amount of time.”

  I sighed. I didn’t have much of a choice. Frey and Dave had already left for their check in with other management, and Frey had my round trip train ticket. (Cheeky canine probably took it for that exact purpose!)

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  “Excellent. Aristotle will introduce you to the employees at the desk,” Dr. Creamintin beamed.

  “What what? I shall do no such thing!” the fluffy little owl argued.

  “Cease your complaining, Aristotle. Until Dave and Frey return, you haven’t any work to do. Now go introduce the poor girl,” Dr. Creamintin ordered.

  “Nevah, I say, nevah!” the owl decided, shaking his little butt.

  “Too bad, I say, too bad,” Dr. Creamintin mocked before snatching the little bird off his stand on Felisha’s desk and throwing him out of the office.

  “Blackguard!” Aristotle called as Dr. Creamintin helped me out of the office as well.

  “Beak brain!” Dr. Creamintin said before slamming his office door shut.

  Aristotle scoffed mid-flight, his little wings flapping to keep his chubby body aloft. “Very well, then. This way, child. This way. Step quickly!” he said before flying off down the hallway.

  I nearly lost the owl when we flew into the main chamber, and he disappeared behind a flying pegasus. In the end, I wandered up to the information desk, alone, and was surprised when Aristotle swooped down and landed on my shoulder.

  “Ahem! Attention, attention,” Aristotle called to the magical beings behind the large, pentagon-shaped desk.

  The same beings were positioned there as the ones I saw on my first excursion to the MBRC. There was a caffeine-high hobgoblin, a polite lizard/gator creature, a regal centaur, the perverted fairy, and a baby dragon that was slightly bigger than a housecat.

  “What’s wrong, Aristotle?” the lizard creature asked, hold
ing the squirming baby dragon in her webbed paws.

  “This is a human. Dr. Creamintin has decided to lend her to you for the day. She is perfectly average and perfectly normal,” Aristotle announced.

  I wondered why everyone’s eyes lit up during Aristotle’s proclamation.

  “You are to treat her kindly and with the respect that is due to any possession that belongs to Dr. Creamintin,” Aristotle continued.

  “Excuse me?” I sputtered.

  “That is all. Good day,” Aristotle finished, taking flight.

  “What’s your name, honey?” the lizard asked.

  “Morgan,” I supplied.

  “Morgan,” the lizard smiled, which was actually a more soothing gesture than you would think. “I’m Corona. This is Doggy,” she said, holding the baby dragon up a little higher. “The little fairy is Gristles. Keep an eye on him. He’s a little…mischievous. The hobgoblin is Toby, and this is Orion,” Corona said, motioning to the centaur.

  “It’s very nice to meet you all,” I hesitated, searching my brain for the right words. “What can I do to help?”

  “I think it would be the most helpful if you worked with Toby. Don’t you agree, Orion?” Corona asked, waiting for his regal nod before turning back to me. “Toby handles a lot of questions about human society. He’ll refer some of them to you,” Corona explained, welcoming me to duck behind the desk.

  “Yo,” Toby waved before he started scribbling down a note with enough fervor to break the pencil.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand. How can I help you?” I asked, glancing around the desk.

  A sunny-looking dryad danced up to the desk. Orion shifted to help her, his black horse body moving beneath him.

  “We don’t know much about average humans,” Corona said. “At least not nearly as much as you do. We get asked all sorts of questions about humans, and we’re expected to find the answers. Please, take a seat,” she said, motioning to an empty chair next to Toby’s chugging computer.

  As I reluctantly sat, Corona dropped the baby dragon and turned away, moving to speak to a harpy that was waiting in line.

  “Patients, beings who want to be rehabilitated, send me questions See? I answer them real fast, 1 2 3 done Like so You get?” Toby said, his pale green fingers clattering across the keyboard.