Vampire Innocent (Book 3): The Artist of Ruin

by Cox, Matthew S.

  I hurry for the stairwell, eager to get the heck out of there, and rush to the second floor bathroom, debating if I want to make Sophia forget about catching us. Gawd, I hope she didn’t see too much. As soon as I’m in the shower, my thoughts drift back to when my father had that talk with me. As awkward as Hunter can be dealing with girls, he’s got nothing on how Dad was that day. I think I’d just turned fourteen or so and gotten caught kissing a boy. Anyway, he made this big production deal about it. Really, most of what I remember of it is him telling me he’d rather I bring a boy home and be safe than go sneaking around behind his and Mom’s backs. Of course, he’d preferred I not have sex at all until I turned thirty, but this is the real world after all.

  It didn’t help that I knew by then he and Mom hooked up at seventeen.

  And geez… I hope he’s not telling my ten-year-old sister to bring boys home instead of letting them take her elsewhere. She’s not even interested in boys yet. Hopefully, Dad’s only mining her for information about how much she saw so he’s prepared for when it’s my turn in the hot seat. Oh, no doubt about it, I expect to be in trouble. Even though he told me to bring boys here. He’s right. Ever since my change, all three of my siblings have been rather free about walking into my room when I’m out cold. I should’ve taken some precautions like locking the door or at least covering up.

  It’s not like I’m normal and fell asleep right away from being tired.

  Maybe I stayed awake for a few hours watching Hunter sleep before dawn snuck up on me and clubbed me over the head with a plank.

  Ugh.

  I finish up the shower, dry off, and pull the same T-shirt back on before heading downstairs. Sophia’s hanging between the sofa and Dad’s recliner, basically doing a splits like something out of a Jean Claude VanDamme movie. She doesn’t look mortified, so I’m hopeful Dad’s ‘talk’ wound up being tame.

  “So did you guys do it?” asks Sierra.

  “I’m not having this conversation with you two yet. You’re too young.”

  Sierra pauses the game and rolls over to look at me. “That means you did. Was he any good?”

  “Sierra!” I gasp.

  Both of them crack up giggling. Sophia loses her balance and falls forward into a handstand. She winds up curled in a ball on the floor laughing too hard to sit up. That at least reassures me that Dad didn’t say anything too innocence-destroying to her. He wanders out of his office again, gives me the ‘okay, your turn’ look, and goes back in.

  Might as well get this over with. I pad across the living room into the little hallway leading to his office. He’s waiting in his chair, head in his hand. After easing the door shut, I stand in front of him, hands clasped.

  “Sorry.”

  “I’m not going to yell at you for bringing Hunter here. Or even potentially doing what you did together here.” He lowers his hand from the bridge of the nose. “When I told you that I’d prefer you were here and safe, I meant it.”

  My eyebrows go up. “I shouldn’t have though. Sophia’s been visiting me in the night, well… in the day and I knew that. I should’ve been more, umm, discreet. What did she see?”

  “You didn’t look?” Dad tilts his head.

  “No. I promised not to invade you guys’ privacy and I meant it. Only in emergencies.”

  “Well… She said you were half-covered with blankets. She probably could’ve gotten an eyeful of him, but she looked away while covering you two.”

  I nod. “That’s good. I won’t do that again.”

  “You’re old enough, hon. Given the circumstances, and how you’re going to probably be living with us for a while, it wouldn’t be fair to change my policy.”

  “Seriously, Dad. It’s okay. I can hold off on bringing Hunter back here for a while. If they need to slip into my room to feel safe or if they just wanna remind themselves that I’m still around, that’s fine. I’d rather they can do that without worrying about what they’re going to find when they open the door than I need to have him sleep in my bed.”

  My father looks grim for a moment before he breaks into chuckles. “Okay, that works. Hey, I was only going to ask you to hang a sign or something on the knob as a warning when they shouldn’t barge in.”

  “Well…” I grin and stop standing in the posture of a kid about to be chewed out. “If he winds up here again, I can do that. So, umm… what did you talk to Sofia about? You didn’t hit her with the same talk you gave me, did you?”

  “No. Mostly just suggested she peek before going in, and that I’d ask you to put up a warning sign. Oh, and she wanted me to talk to your mother about the leggings thing.”

  I tilt my head. “The leggings thing?”

  “She thinks your mother is ashamed of her for being too skinny, wanting to keep covering up at dance class.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah.” Dad’s cheeks puff up like a saxophone player as he exhales. “I just got lectured about positive body image by a ten-year-old.”

  “So… Sophia wants to wear a bikini in dance class?”

  He fidgets. “I think she’s more objecting to your mother telling her what she can wear. Honestly, maybe making a big deal out of it is sending the wrong message. She’s already way too aware of that sorta thing, her weight, her shape. Ugh… what happened to kids being kids?”

  “It’s everywhere, Dad. Magazines, TV, ads, and there was this one mom at her dance class who literally shouted at her kid the whole time about not being good enough or she can’t eat this or that because she’d get heavy.”

  He sighs. “What’s wrong with people?”

  “Oh, I fixed that.”

  “You what?” He stares at me.

  I explain my mental surgery to make that woman back off.

  “Sarah, you can’t simple go around mind controlling every obnoxious person you run into.” He keeps his serious stare for less than a minute before grinning. “You’d be in a constant state of feeding.”

  “Huh?” I blink. “What does… wait, are you scolding me for wanton mind control or making a joke?”

  “Yes.” He winks.

  “But where’s feeding come into that?” I scratch my head.

  “You know how using your abilities burns energy?”

  “Yeah but mental influence doesn’t use up that much en—oh. I get it.” I giggle. “Yeah there are a lot of obnoxious morons.”

  “Anyway. That boy’s waiting for you, I bet.”

  “Oh, he’s gotta leave soon. Working tonight.” That word, ‘working’ makes me feel guilty. Both because I’m being lazy-ish and not getting a job for the summer and that I’m slacking off on finding Alex Parrish. Again, not that I have much to go on. Bleh. As soon as it gets dark, I’ll do… something.

  Giggling from the living room tells me Hunter just went by. Sierra’s not much of a giggler, except for prime blackmail moments like this. Only, the ’rents know it happened and I didn’t technically do anything wrong.

  As soon as I walk out there, they both fall quiet. That lasts six seconds before laughter and the “ooh, Sarah’s got a boyfriend” stuff starts. Of course, I don’t take that lying down.

  Tickle war.

  Eventually, Hunter rolls down the stairs like a thunderstorm, smelling like shower. He walks over, leans on the back of the couch, and grins at Sophia. “You did a really good job with the eyeshadow.”

  She covers her mouth, snickering.

  He pats her on the head. “I mean it.”

  “How would you know?” asks Sierra. “You wear makeup often?”

  “Nope.” He reaches for my foot, but I pull it away before he can tickle me. “First time.”

  I hop up and run around to stand beside him, staring into his eyes and whispering, “Don’t worry about the parents. It’s cool.”

  He raises both eyebrows.

  “No. I didn’t play with their heads. We’re eighteen, and they want me to be safe.”

  Hunter gives me a quick kiss. “Ahh. I hate to take off so fast, b
ut I gotta do some stuff at home before work.”

  “Need any help?” I ask.

  “Can you go outside now?”

  I creep over to the window and peek. It’s borderline. For something like dragging Dalton away from certain death, I’d risk it. Chores at someone else’s house, ehh not so much. “Umm.”

  Hunter embraces me from behind. “It’s okay. Stay out of the sun and in one piece.”

  “Wow my life is weird. It couldn’t get any stranger if the CIA showed up and sent me on a mission.”

  “Don’t say that,” yells Dad from his office. “The CIA’s already been here.”

  “Whoa,” says Hunter. “Seriously?”

  “I could tell you, but I’d have to make you forget. So consider it explained and removed.” I grin.

  “Right.” He kisses me on the nose.

  I follow him back to my room and change out of my big T-shirt to a normal one plus shorts as he pulls his socks and sneakers on. We make out a little more, but he eventually drags himself back upstairs and heads home.

  As soon as the door shuts, I lean against it and sigh at the ceiling. He hasn’t been gone for thirty seconds yet and I already want him to come back.

  Sierra poking me in the gut makes me look down at her. “You don’t do the desperate girlfriend thing well.”

  “What?” I ask, chuckling.

  “You’re like a dog. As soon as the human goes out the door it’s like they’ve been gone forever.”

  Sophia perks up. “We’re getting a dog?”

  “I dunno,” says Sierra.

  “Or a cat. This house needs an animal,” says Sophia.

  “We have Sam,” mutters Sierra.

  Dad slides into the room with a necktie around his head like a headband. “I’m not animal enough?”

  All three of us groan.

  The afternoon flies by. Sam’s off at his friend Daryl’s house. Nicole (my sisters’ friend) along with another girl, Megan (that slightly chubby kid from Sophia’s dance class), are hanging out here. Since Ashley and Michelle are both busy with their summer jobs, I spend time with the tween squad. At 5:30 p.m., I head into the kitchen on a whim and check Mom’s planner. Hmm. Tonight’s supposed to be baked chicken legs with some boxed seasoned pasta on the side. I can do that.

  A few minutes after I start cooking, Dad wobbles into the kitchen to grab a diet soda from the fridge. He shoots me a look like a soldier who’d just evaded a minefield. “How can such small girls make so much noise?”

  I laugh. “Class special ability of tween. As soon as they prestige into teen, it’ll get worse.”

  He chuckles. “You’re cooking?”

  “Since you guys are both drowning in work, I might as well.”

  “Cool. Thank you.” He hugs me and heads back to his office.

  Maybe fifteen minutes later, the chicken legs are in the oven and I’m dumping the contents of a pouch into a saucepan. Mom walks in, still in her coat, and stares at me. She blinks once, puts a hand over her mouth, and starts crying.

  “What?” I ask, peering back over my shoulder at her. “Did I use too much butter in this?”

  Mom sets her briefcase down, walks over to me without a word, and clings. After a silent moment, she whispers, “I’m sorry.”

  “Umm. What for?”

  Her mood shifts without a clutch, straight from tears to laughing. “For thinking something mean.”

  “Oh, boy.” I shake the last of the dried noodles and the green flavor powder into the pan and begin stirring it. “Yeah, I know I haven’t been much help around here before things got weird.”

  “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you cooking for us… and you can’t even eat it. And I thought, ‘dying was the best thing that ever happened to you.’ I don’t really mean that. It was just an instantaneous thought.”

  I pat her hands, clasped around me like a belt. “I know what you meant. It’s okay. You guys are letting me stay here for who knows how long. I’m not working. Least I can do is help out a little.”

  “Are you sure you’re still eighteen?” Mom puts a hand on my forehead. “Or feverish? Your sister can’t wait to have her own place.”

  “Which one? Gotta be Sierra.”

  She nods.

  “Yeah. That’ll last only as long as she realizes she can’t just sit around playing video games all day if she gets her own place.”

  “Are you really still Sarah or did some ancient soul take over your body?” Mom steps to the side, giving me the up-and-down look.

  “Mom… I’m eighteen, not blind. You know, most kids my age are fully aware of that stuff. We’re just lazy as hell. And besides, it’s a lot harder these days. When Grandma and Grandpa were my age, they could work all summer and actually afford college. No way in hell can a kid do that now. Boomers screwed us over.”

  She chuckles. “Now you’re starting to sound like your father.”

  I poke her in the side. “Go, change. Relax. I got this.”

  Mom smiles, sighs with exhaustion, and drags herself off down the hall.

  Vampire chef. At your service.

  I had one chicken leg and some of the pasta just to taste it, and it came out okay.

  After dinner, Dad whips out another old movie: Troll.

  This has got to be Dad’s revenge for Sophia putting him in an awkward position earlier. It’s kinda funny to me, but she’s already squealing and hiding behind a blanket. Yeah, she’s so going to have nightmares. Sam is wide-eyed, which is his version of terrified. Sierra’s trying not to laugh out loud. Again, the effects are pretty tame compared to some stuff she’s seen in video games. Though that one game with the zombies that jump out from dark corners got her bad. Like it’s all quiet and somber, the loudest sound being the character’s breathing… then out of nowhere, there’s a screeching zombie bitch in your face. Gah. That one made me toss the controller into the air a few times in shock.

  Mom’s catching flies less than a half hour into the movie. Out cold, mouth wide open. Then again, that’s pretty common for her when her work is crazy busy. Eventually, I’ve got Sam clinging to my left side while Sophia hides under my right arm. Sierra leans against Dad, tossing popcorn into her mouth one kernel at a time.

  As soon as the credits start, Sierra reclaims the living room TV for PlayStation duty. Sam’s gotten over the scare, at least outwardly, and heads upstairs to get some computer game time in before bed. Sophia keeps clinging to me. To take her mind off the movie, I start asking her about random stuff like cosmetics and dance class. She’s a little more into the dance thing after the recital, since I guess she’d built up the fear of performing in front of people to way scarier than it turned out to be for her. It didn’t suck anywhere near as much as she thought it would, so she’s enjoying the classes more.

  An hour and a few minutes later, the ’rents shoo my sisters upstairs for bed. I get up, stretch, and let out the kind of sigh someone would let out before having to change a tiger’s litterbox—if tigers used litterboxes. I mean, they’d be huge, and probably smell horrible. I’d rather clean one of those than go zipping around Seattle all night hunting for a heroin addict, but, yeah. I’m way too nice to ignore a sweet old man asking for help. Even if he was frustratingly vague.

  So, I head down to my room and Google the crap out of ‘Alex Parrish.’ I find a few on Facebook, but the one that’s probably him hasn’t been updated in like four years. Okay, that’s useless. Searching for his grandfather, Daniel, leads me to an obituary in the Seattle Times website. That gives me an address in Ballard where, I hope, his wife still lives. Normally, I’d worry about her thinking me crazy if I showed up asking questions about where I could potentially find Alex because her dead husband asked me to help, but I have powers of mind control.

  Okay then.

  A sleeveless T-shirt that shows an inch of my stomach plus shorts is not going to work for this. I change to a Godsmack tee and black jeans. Dark colors are best for flying as I’m harder to see. Unfortunately,
my only black shoes are either heels, ballet flats, or this pair of cute suede boots with a bit of a high heel. Bleh. Oh, there’s Uggs… I still have black Uggs. Yeah that’ll work. Wait, no. They will probably fall off me in midair. Imagine some poor guy walking down the street and taking one of my Uggs to the head. He’d probably think the city’s pigeons had gone super basic.

  I really need to get another pair of like Doc Maarten’s or something. My last set disappeared from my locker in gym three months before graduation.

  Grr.

  Ooh. I have a feeling Mandy Thompson took them. I ought to pay her a visit now and ask her again. Anyway… white sneakers it is. Those are upstairs. Oh, I should probably change my bedding too since they still smell like sex. After stripping the sheets, stuffing them in the washing machine, and re-dressing the mattress, I head upstairs.

  My parents no longer asking questions when I put my shoes on late at night to go out is a little worrying, but I guess they’re adjusting to my new nocturnal self. Dad, in his recliner, glances up from his book as I pull the door open. He waves in a ‘be careful, have fun, and don’t murder anyone’ kind of way. I smile, return the wave, and walk outside.

  The instant the door thuds closed, Glim appears beside me.

  “Gah!” I yelp and jump back, clutching my chest.

  He smiles the same smile Sam puts on when he startles me.

  “Good evening, Sarah.” He bows, sweeping his trenchcoat around like a cloak.

  “Hey… So I was just about to head into Seattle. Found an address for the grandmother.”

  Glim peers up at the stars. “I apologize for taking so long. The young man the spirit wants you to find is in a small house in Beacon Hill.”

  I stare at him. “Seriously? You found the guy? With just a name?”

  “The darkness speaks if you know how to listen. Having only a name and no connection to him is why it took so long for an answer to float back to me. Do you think there are many young men named Alex Parrish laying about in a house full of drug users?”

  “Well, no… I suppose not. Definitely worth a look at least.” I grin. “What’s the address?”