by K M Smith
Every second Sarah’s heart pumped more blood out of her body. Thump-thump. Adam could hear her heart beginning to struggle. His lips pulled back, fangs fully extended and ready to fulfill his bloodlust.
It was his nature.
Adam leaned over Sarah, took a deep breath, and made his decision. He couldn’t intervene. Not if it meant that her life as she knew it would be over. He raced to the admin building and slammed through the front door, almost pulling it off its hinges as he did so. There was a phone at the receptionist’s desk. He grabbed it, dialed 911 and alerted the operator to Sarah’s location and situation. He returned the phone to its cradle and bolted back outside. Alarms would be triggered by blowing through the doors, but any intervention was welcome at this point.
Sarah was still there, supine, unconscious and bleeding out on the frozen pavement. Thump-thump. Pause. Thump. Thump. Sarah’s heart kept beating, though much more slowly now. If help didn’t arrive soon, it would be too late for her.
The last time he tried to help a human in distress did not end well. As a young vampire, he had very little self-control. Human emotions mixed with burgeoning vampire needs and strengths and his attempt to save a wounded mortal spiraled into a bloodlust-fueled feast, and a dead human. He couldn’t allow that to happen again.
But he was older now, much older. He possessed control, poise, will-power. Where is the ambulance? He closed his eyes and strained his ears—nothing but the buzzing from the streetlights overhead. He threw his head back in anguish. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let Sarah die. With the decision made, it only took him a fraction of a second to plunge his fangs into his wrist and hold it to Sarah’s slackened mouth.
“Drink, Sarah.” He willed her lips to part to allow his healing blood to flow into her body. “It’s okay, you’ll be okay. Just a few drops. You can do it, Sarah.”
She lay motionless as his blood slowly made its way past her lips and down her throat. In the distance, the ambulance’s siren wailed, the tell-tale sign that help was on its way. Adam left his wrist in front of Sarah’s mouth for a few more precious seconds before finally relenting and cleaning her up. There could be no trace of him anywhere on her or nearby. Satisfied that she was clean enough, he retreated to his perch to keep a close eye on her while staying out of sight.
January, 2016
CHAPTER TWO
Alice
The snow squeaked under Alice’s boots with each careful step as she walked through campus. In a few short months, she would move on with life, go to grad school, find a job, maybe have children, but tonight she would relish the ordinary, the now. Dinner plans with her best friend and what they would do after was all that was on her mind. The responsibilities would come, but for now, she intended to wander through Albion and soak up every minute of her last semester as an undergrad.
The night was still and dark. Somewhere nearby, a fire was burning. It smelled like home. This time of year evoked questions of her own existence, and she slowed her movements in contemplation. The frigid night air amplified the sound of her footsteps and brought her deeper into her own memories.
Her mother’s accident had been just that – an accident. Alice’s rational mind knew this. But growing up in a small town, she bore the brunt of playground rumors without any buffer. Finger-pointing and giggling accompanied rude taunts like “her mom’s just a clumsy bimbo” and “too bad, no dad.” After a particularly awful day in fifth grade, she ran home to demand that her mother stop being such a bimbo. The words had stung, even if she didn’t fully understand their meaning. Not then, anyway. Sarah reacted that day as she did every day, with a sad smile, a hug, and hot cocoa followed by snuggles on the couch after dinner.
No family lore existed to help Alice understand the actual events surrounding her mother’s accident. The best Alice could figure, Sarah fell, lost a lot of blood, and someone, some unknown, unseen stranger, called for help. And, Alice survived, when it could have easily gone the other way. Sarah never talked to Alice about her father. He must’ve been in the picture at some point, but as a young child she relied on her imagination to fill in the gaps that no one else would. As the years went by Alice concocted an elaborate story detailing the imaginary tragic death of her father: After a long and tiring day of helping troubled youth at the nearby community outreach center, a drunk driver crashed into her father’s car and both cars exploded in a fiery inferno on impact. The drunk and her father both died, their remains charred beyond recognition. There was no investigation, nothing was left to investigate. The story grew more complex every year, and every year, she believed it a little less.
As a little girl without a father, Alice came to rely on her own strength and the bond she shared with her mother. She never went through a teenage rebellion. When Alice had questions, Sarah would talk through all the angles until they came up with the right answer. Frat parties, boys, mean girls, Sarah took on any topic Alice threw at her. And Alice appreciated her mother’s experience and advice.
As close as she and her mother were, she and Lacy were even closer. On the first day of kindergarten, Alice had fallen on the playground. Lacy ran to Alice and helped her up. Later that morning, Alice shared her snack with Lacy, and their Best-Friends-Forever status was sealed. Coming from single parent homes – Lacy’s mom and dad had divorced when Lacy was just a toddler – the girls were closer than sisters. Through highs and lows of elementary school and puberty they lifted each other up, made up after they fought, and never forgot their roots. When it was time to go away to university, neither Alice nor Lacy could bear the thought of separating. They both applied to Albion College and got in on academic scholarships.
When she couldn’t be with Lacy, the night became Alice’s closest friend. After bedtime, with her quilt draped over her shoulders, Alice would open her bedroom window and escape to the rooftop. Nestled in a dark corner, knees pulled up to her chest and head relaxing against the wall, her worries melted away. Those nighttime sessions took on a dreamlike quality all these years later, but Alice belonged to the night. She always had. Basking in the glow of the moon as a little girl gave her strength as a woman to walk through the darkened city streets alone and without fear. The crisp night air empowered her. Whispered words of confidence flitted past her ears and spurred her to embrace life, haters be damned. She loved the warmth of the sun, but the allure of the night kept her moving.
Lost in nostalgia and awash in calm and comfort, Alice stopped walking and lifted her face toward the moon, allowing her full chocolate brown hair to tumble over her shoulders and cascade down her back. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
“Alice!” Lacy called from behind her on the sidewalk. “Hey, lady, are you howling at the moon again?”
Alice smiled to herself then turned to greet her best friend and confidant.
Lacy ran to catch up. “Woah!” She slipped on a barely visible icy patch about eight feet away from Alice. Instinctively, Alice lunged toward Lacy and threw her arms out to catch her, tossing her bag and books to the snowy ground in the process. Closing the gap between herself and Lacy in a fraction of a second, she caught her friend with little effort. They both giggled as Lacy gripped Alice. With her heart pounding, Alice focused on the present situation and positive outcome, and pushed her mother’s incident out of her mind.
“Wow, Alice! That was smooth!” Lacy laughed and squeezed her best friend. “Thanks for catching me, lady.”
“Uh, sure,” Alice said with a weak smile. The way she covered the distance and grabbed Lacy without thinking about it didn’t add up. It wasn’t normal, not for her. But this wasn’t the first time this type of coordinated feat had happened. Something was changing. Lately, she moved with speed and agility, arriving somewhere before she knew she needed to be there, before she should reasonably be expected to be there.
Lacy bumped her hip against Alice’s and brought Alice out of her funk. Shaking off the incident, she grabbed her belongings, and stood to join her best friend. Arm i
n arm, they strode toward Baldwin Hall for dinner.
Everything was fine.
CHAPTER THREE
Adam
Adam made his daytime refuge in an old root cellar near what is now the Goodrich Club. The space suited him perfectly: no landlords, no mortgages, no humans.
No sunlight.
Using his charm throughout the years, he prevented local developers and construction crews from ruining this living arrangement. Charming was easy: a nudge here, a redirection there. Rarely, would it need to be more complicated than that. When someone walked down the street, they didn’t expect there to be a root cellar hidden among the trees. But, if they bothered to look, really look, the heavy wooden doors with iron locks set into a mound of dirt underneath a small stand of old oaks would have been as obvious as the cars in the driveway. Not surprisingly, most people walked right by. The occasional wayward college kid stumbling back to the dorms after partying at Goodrich excepted.
Officially part of the college, but located off-campus, Goodrich Club was prime real estate. The property was old and had been extended, renovated and updated several times over, making it an ideal space for eccentric students and a solitary vampire. Adam and the Clubbies had a symbiotic relationship: he’d watch their backs, they didn’t know he existed.
Inside the root cellar, his sanctuary was tidy and impeccably clean. No clutter, no dust. Marble overlays kept the mudpack stairs dust-free. Poured concrete flooring added to the room’s cool and clean atmosphere. There was only enough room for his bed and a sitting area where he could enjoy his extensive library. He installed electric lights, borrowing electricity from The Club. He had no need for plumbing or heating and ate most of his meals out. The space suited him.
The dark, quiet places on campus called to him. He excelled at moving among the shadows; sometimes, he did it too well. Being the resident vampire in a sleepy, Midwestern college town sometimes got lonely. He was a social creature and like most vampires, he fed off energy, as well as blood. The life of a vampire was such a paradox: they were solitary creatures by nature—they preferred to hunt alone, they preferred to live alone—but they needed people to survive, literally. Vampires tended to seek out places filled with living breathing humans, where they tried to blend in, but suspicions ran deep and quick. Once a finger had been pointed at a vampire, he or she would inevitably have to leave and take up residency elsewhere. If there were too many vampires and not enough humans to support them in one location, the balance could be tipped, and their existence became precarious. A shift in that balance often created a shift in the mental state of the vampires affected, causing them to snap and rampage, bestowing death and destruction on their human lifelines in a matter of moments.
Vampires can’t feed off the energy of the dead.
◆◆◆
Before the hunt that evening, Adam had cruised through campus to check on Alice. Spying her on the sidewalk with Lacy, and seeing that she was safe and heading to dinner, he returned home to prepare for the evening’s main event: the frat party.
Meticulous about his appearance, Adam fussed until he settled on a white cotton t-shirt and black Levi’s. The shirt hugged him where it was supposed to, and the jeans allowed the curvature from the rear to speak for itself. It was cold outside, and before leaving his cellar, he grabbed his black leather jacket. Bare arms in the dead of winter led to too many questions. To complete the look, he slipped on his Church’s leather boots. They were stylish, yet practical. Very Michigander of him. The ensemble, coupled with his lithe frame, cut a fine silhouette. Dressed to kill, he made his way to the fraternity houses.
He hadn’t fed in three weeks and the cycle was shifting toward belligerent. Belligerent meant messy. Messy meant covering his tracks, and that was too much like hard work. He’d gone out with the intent to feed. Which, he did. But everything else that came after…that was unexpected.
Adam entered the party with a large group of pre-partied undergrads, their inhibitions lubricated, and their minds set on one thing. They made their collective way to the basement where the black light made everything glow and for reasons Adam couldn’t understand, encouraged dancing, drinking and making out in public.
Early in the evening, an angsty freshman caught his eye and he spent much of the night stalking her. Dressed in typical Midwestern college girl fashion, she had Adam, and undeniably, most of the frat guys, hooked at first sight. Short-short cutoffs and heeled black leather booties showcased every inch of her well-toned legs. She topped it off with a black, cowl-neck sweater that allowed just a glimpse of her ample cleavage to those who might be interested but covered enough of her body to keep her from getting frost bite in a pretty uncomfortable place. This was Michigan and it was cold, after all. Adam curled his lip. This is going to be fun.
Angsty Girl stood in the middle of the dark, beer-soaked dance floor, arms crossed, eyeing her friend with disdain. From the vibes she was putting out, she preferred to be the one sloppily making out with the upperclassman. But ass is ass, and Adam was certain that the upperclassman wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between the two girls if his life depended on it. Maybe it will later.
Features set to portray the pained outsider who just needed someone smart and angry to really understand him, he strode to the middle of the dance floor to start the chase.
“She’s a bitch anyway,” he said in Angsty Girl’s ear as he passed by. She pulled her attention away from the preoccupied pair and allowed her eyes to follow Adam’s glowing shirt over to the corner near the DJ booth. She threw him a look and a hip pop that screamed “follow me or don’t, I don’t care,” and she made her way up the stairs. He was pretty certain she did care, and any human male who received that look would be wise to follow her. She didn’t know he wasn’t human, so he played along.
Her scent led him to the kitchen. Adam had purposefully taken his time getting there so she’d be able to pose and perfect her angry yet disaffected, and maybe just a little sexy, stance. It was crowded in there but not well-lit thanks to a recent round of rowdy beer pong that had left half the overhead fluorescents broken. The noise precluded anybody from concentrating too hard on their surroundings, and Adam threw up a little confusing breeze around the place to help advance his position.
Angsty Girl stood resting against the counter, her elbows propping her up, and popping her bosom forward, making the outline of her body very enticing. Too enticing, as it turned out. A tall, brooding, not unattractive fraternity brother with a lot of swagger noticed her and reached her before Adam did. “Beer sucks here; wanna crash the party upstairs?” he asked as he ran his fingers through his hair, trying too hard to look pissed off at the world.
Angsty Girl collapsed her sexy posture and flashed a mischievous eye at Adam, who’d been watching the encounter from the other side of the room, before draping her hand on the poser’s shoulder and leaning up to whisper seductively in his ear, “Like I’d go anywhere with you.” She leaned back against the counter and smiled sweetly as he let her know what he thought about her, his body language and impolite gesture leaving little to the imagination as he walked away to pounce on his next victim.
Adam stood on the far side of the kitchen with his arms crossed over his chest. He gave an impressed frown and nod and walked toward the front door of the fraternity house. Angsty Girl didn’t wait long before following him. Her pheromones changed from reproach to interest as she moved through the room. Without looking back, Adam smirked as he casually moved through the front door and out into the cold Michigan night.
Angsty Girl crossed the threshold of the doorway and stopped just outside while her eyes adjusted to the dark. Adam looked up when she paused at the threshold. Illuminated from the open door behind her, her curves were displayed in silhouette. Any other girl would’ve rubbed her arms to indicate she was cold—but not Angsty Girl. Confidence oozed from her erect frame, by all accounts immune to her surroundings. The bench across from the fraternity house offered an exc
ellent vantage point for Adam to study her. Starting down the stairs, Adam swore he could hear the opening sequence of AC/DC’s Back in Black playing as she tossed her hair and swayed her hips in time with the music in his mind.
“You’re not interested in a private party then?” he asked as she approached.
“Not with assholes who think they can get away with being assholes because they’ve got money and good looks,” she said, standing in front of him.
Adam nodded and a small jolt of electricity ran up his spine. The game was on. This girl would jump ship at the faintest hint of interest on his part, and she’d be gone before he could charm her. Convincing her to come with him of her own accord would be more fun anyway, and then he would charm her so she would only remember the interlude as he wanted her to.
“Fuckin’ posers,” Adam said with a scowl pasted on his face. Outwardly cool, he couldn’t help but laugh on the inside. How many characters had he played over the course of his residency here? Angry outsider was just one in a long line of them.
“Right?” Angsty Girl said with meaning. “I don’t know why I even come to frat parties.”
“What else is there to do in this podunk town?” Adam commiserated and looked away, scowling at the night as though it too had offended him simply for being dark. Non-committal body language and moody dialog should make him more attractive to this woman, but he couldn’t wait all night to find out. More extreme measures would be taken if the conversation didn’t turn his way soon.
