Vampire Innocent_Book 3_The Artist of Ruin

by Matthew S. Cox

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “No like seriously a shitload. I think it’s two weeks of everyone’s stuff.”

  “Ahh. Now it makes sense why Dad tinted the windows.” I laugh.

  She stares at me. “You think he did that so you could be their laundry slave?”

  “Nah. Just sounded funny. Be right back.”

  I duck out of my room and down the tiny hallway to the basement proper. And… holy crap. Like fifteen baskets. Well, so much for being bored. This is going to take me all night. At least the time is mostly waiting for machines to run, so it won’t get in the way of watching movies with Ash.

  7

  Kill the Music

  Hunter fights with the gearshift to get it in park, then glances over at me with an apologetic cringe.

  We managed to find a parking spot, but it’s way out at the edge of the lot, and we’ve only got a few minutes before the concert starts.

  “Sorry,” says Hunter as he shuts off the engine. “Mom couldn’t pick him up.”

  “It’s okay. Your little brother is cool. It’s weird seeing a boy talk so much.”

  He gives me an odd look.

  “I mean, compared to Sam. Ronan’s got so much energy.” I hop out.

  Hunter shoves at the massive door, which swings with a low metallic groan before closing with a whud that shakes the car. This thing is seriously a tank. I bet it’s as heavy as Mom’s Yukon and it’s half the size, at least height-wise. He hurries around the front end and takes my hand.

  “And really, if family shit happens, it’s okay. We can always change our plans.”

  He smiles and squeezes my hand. “I’m still afraid I’ll wake up and you won’t be part of my life.”

  “Well, you’re not dreaming.” I lean against him as we walk past dozens and dozens of cars. “I’m here.”

  He slows enough for a little kiss before we keep going. “It is kinda weird seeing Ro acting so normal. It’s like he totally forgot about our dad.”

  I stare down at my sneakers, flashing in and out of view over the paving. “Well, he had a little help with that. Sorry.”

  “It’s fine. He doesn’t need those memories. Better for him he’s a normal kid for a change. Mom thinks he’s buried it all and he’s going to have a meltdown someday.”

  “Well, if that becomes a problem, I can help her understand.” I glance sideways at him with a sly wink. “But I’m sure you don’t want me reprogramming your mother.”

  He chuckles. “Nah, she’ll be all right. The therapist said Ro seems normal. Told my mom something like ‘kids are resilient’ or some buzzword thing like that.”

  We reach the end of the parking lot and join a short line at the entry gate. Seems everyone, including us, bought tickets ahead of time. Eventually, we reach the front of the line and the security guy at the entrance scans a barcode on Hunter’s phone before letting us through. A short bit of sidewalk takes us past a row of portable toilets and to the big grass field around the amphitheater. I don’t mind being all the way at the back of the crowd since my ears are so sharp. Granted, if the volume blows out my eardrums, they’ll grow back. Still, the outdoor concert’s pretty packed. Lawn chairs, towels, coolers, and the occasional beach umbrella dot the area. Nearer the stage, the crowd presses together in a dense mass, everyone trying to get right up on the stage.

  Hunter zeroes in on a small spot of open lawn near the rear edge of the crowd. It’s strange being with someone who’s even more introverted than I am. Large numbers of people aren’t really his deal. That’s fine with me. I don’t need to be shoved and elbowed back and forth trying to muscle our way close enough to see every pore on the Foo Fighters’ faces. Especially not with a little light left in the sky and my being vulnerable.

  Speaking of… the opening act (no idea who they even are) finishes the song they’d been playing since we arrived and makes their way off stage.

  One nice thing about being so far away—aside from not being squeezed like a pack of human sardines—is we can pay as much (or as little) attention to the show as we want. I’m distantly aware of Dave Grohl’s voice booming a greeting to the crowd over the speakers as Hunter pulls me into a nervous kiss. He’s far from comfortable getting romantic with such a big audience around us, even if they’re all more or less focused on the concert.

  The band launches into a song, providing the background music to our personal romance movie. Or something like that. Perhaps distracted by his embarrassment at being watched making out, he mistimes his next attempt to kiss me and we wind up clicking teeth.

  Ow.

  I bury my face in the crook of his neck and try not to laugh.

  “Sorry,” he whispers in my ear, holding me close. “You’re not crying are you?”

  After Ashley’s steamer trunk knocked a tooth out of my head, you’d think something as small as this wouldn’t register as painful, but ouch! “No, I’m laughing.”

  He fidgets.

  “I’m not laughing at you.” I lean back and look him in the eye. Wow, his face is red as a strawberry. “We both missed.”

  “You’re blushing,” says Hunter, barely loud enough to hear over the music.

  He’s so awkward around me, it’s as endearing as it is annoying. I’m not going to compare him to asshole again. Nope. Instead, this time, I’m going to feel like an idiot for wasting so much time on that guy when I had Hunter right there, too shy to even talk to me. I don’t fault him for it though. He respected that I was with someone else. Yeah. Go me. Great judge of character.

  “Yeah. Maybe I am.” Great. If I wasn’t blushing before, I definitely am now.

  We cling to each other, mutual awkwardness enough to keep us from doing much else. As much as the sudden urge to give myself to him rears up, I stuff it back down. I can be patient. It’s not like I don’t have all the time in the world.

  “Hey, loosen up,” I say, tickling his side. “You managed to get a day off. Enjoy it.”

  He squirms, grinning, and clamps on, pinning my arms. “I am having the time of my life.”

  Sounds sarcastic, but I know he’s sincere. I fake struggle. Even without my vampire strength, I could break free of his hold, but I don’t. I like having his arms around me. I twist my head to make eye contact, but he’s gone past awkward into worried.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. This is perfect.” He smiles.

  “You look like you’re waiting for me to get upset or something.”

  He leans close and kisses my ear before whispering, “Not gonna read my mind?”

  I point up at the sky. “Still too bright out. And please don’t think I’m just going to do that every time you make a weird face at me. It’s invasive. I’m not that girl.”

  Hunter shifts his grip around me to my middle, letting my arms slip free. “I’m being silly. Worrying you might not wanna stay with the poor kid who has to work over the summer.”

  “I’m not working this summer for, umm, reasons.”

  He squeezes me. “I know your parents are loaded.”

  “Oh, well, yeah. That’s part of it, but they wanted me to get a job for the experience. We’re not rich, just comfortable. I mean, Dad’s car is older than I am. But, stuff is a little complicated for me now, yanno? Hard for me to keep a day job.”

  “Duh.” He bows his head against my left shoulder. “Yeah, good point.”

  One song drifts into the next. Hunter holds me, except for when we both get into the music and dance along with the crowd. Maybe an hour later, the sun’s gone down enough and I have to concentrate on suppressing my enhanced ears so the concert isn’t painful. It’s kind of like how I can turn night vision on and off. Nothing like ‘learn fast or go deaf’ to teach me how to vampire, right?

  The band invites this kid on stage during a lull between songs. He’s like twelve or so with long hair. Dave hands over his guitar, and the kid starts shredding. The crowd goes nuts. Before long, the next song starts with the boy playing lead. Wow.
He’s pretty good. Nothing like seeing a kid younger than me playing guitar like a pro to make me feel like a total failure at life.

  So far, everything my parents have tried to get me to do, I’ve quit. Piano, violin, taekwondo, Girl Scouts… none of it ever lasted long before I gave up. Maybe that kid’s a prodigy, but I could’ve made up for lack of inborn talent with effort. Heh. How Sierra of me. I still think my mother created my siblings by cloning me and breaking aspects of my personality apart into three different people. Sierra’s my apathy and laziness. Sophia’s my girly side and appreciation for cute stuff, and Sam… well, I guess he’s the part of me that reacted to being murdered with a ‘well, that sucked. Now what?’ attitude.

  “What are you thinking about?” asks Hunter.

  “That little kid on the guitar makes me feel like such a slacker.”

  He laughs. “Kid’s gotta be an old soul.”

  “Reincarnation?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

  “Sure, why not?” He grins. “Maybe he used to be a professional musician.”

  It’s too loud here to think such deep thoughts. I’m also distracted by wanting to get Hunter somewhere more private. Okay, that’s new. Well, maybe not new. I certainly took the initiative back in his bedroom before his jackass of a father interrupted us. Not sure if it’s because of my change or if it’s my reaction to him being so shy and polite, but at the moment, I don’t really care.

  “Who’s this?” asks a woman behind me. “Haven’t seen her around before.”

  I twist to my right, peering toward the voice.

  A young-twenties girl in a white shift with perfect blonde hair and blue eyes stands five feet away, giving me the raised eyebrow. The instant we make eye contact, I can tell she’s a vampire. Can’t place her type though, but if she’s not an Innocent, she’s good at faking life. On second thought, she’s definitely not like me. She’s smoking hot, not cute.

  Two guys with her, one on either side, are both somewhat older than her, but not by much. The dude on the left looks like he leapt out of a time machine from the Eighties. Flat-top afro, shiny pleather jacket, parachute pants. Whoa total ‘Can’t Touch This’ moment. The other guy’s less obvious with a flannel over a T-shirt and jeans ensemble. Between that and his long, brown hair, he kinda resembles Axl Rose’s half-brother.

  “Friends?” asks Hunter.

  “No… I’ve never met them before.”

  Both men give me the ‘aww’ look. Grr. Well, I guess it beats a ‘rip her head off’ stare.

  “Wow. They got you too young,” says the woman. “Shame.”

  Oh, it’s only been months and this is already so past old. “I’m not as young as I look.”

  All three of them laugh.

  “Neither are we, hon,” says the black guy.

  “You’re so new you still smell like plastic wrap.” The blonde laughs. “I’m Amy. This is Dante”―the guy with the flat top nods―“and this is Luke.”

  “Yo,” says Luke.

  “Guess you guys have been around a while, huh?” I ask, hooking my thumbs in my jean pockets. “I’m still new at this.”

  “Obviously,” says Dante. “We’ve never seen you before.”

  “You guys weren’t at the thing.”

  Amy tilts her head at me. “What thing?”

  I explain that little soiree Aurélie took me to.

  Dante groans. Amy laughs.

  “Oh they’re still doing that?” Luke shakes his head.

  “Your, what is it, ‘peeps’?” asks Dante, elbowing him.

  “Sharing a bloodline doesn’t equate to sharing all ideologies.” Luke folds his arms.

  Amy leans close for a conspiratorial whisper. “Luke’s an Old Guard, but don’t hold that against him. I pulled the stick out of his ass years ago.”

  I blush while giggling.

  “Oh, she’s adorable,” says Amy. “So, anyway, welcome to Seattle.”

  “Thanks. I kinda grew up here.”

  Amy throws an arm around my back as the guitar-playing boy shakes hands with Dave and jumps down off the stage. “You know what I meant. Welcome to the real Seattle.” She makes a little biting motion at me.

  “Right. Thanks.”

  “So you guys don’t hang out with the, umm… others?” I ask.

  “Nah. We kinda keep to ourselves. Any city with our kind has its outcasts.” Dante glances around the crowd as if looking for his next meal. “No need for politics. This is real freedom. I can’t understand why the Old Guard insists on recreating the same damn thing we had to deal with as mortals.”

  “Politics sent me to Vietnam,” grumbles Luke. “I had enough of it.”

  “Wow.” I stare at him.

  Luke chuckles. “Wasn’t back home but half a year before I turned.”

  “Sorry,” I say, eyes downcast.

  “I kinda miss the sun.” Amy squints up at the massive spotlights on the crowd. “I used to be such a beach bum. I’m so jealous of girls now. Last time I was on a beach, they had actual cops running around measuring our swimsuits to make sure we didn’t show an illegal amount of leg.” She rolls her eyes.

  “You’re making me feel like a baby,” I say.

  “Well you are!” Amy pats me on the cheek. “In more ways than one. Tell me you weren’t like fifteen when you died.”

  “Eighteen. I just look really young. It’s so annoying.”

  “Oh. She’s one of those.” Dante smiles at me.

  Amy glances at him. A moment later, she shoots me a look of clear jealousy. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out a telepathic explanation went between them, and she’s probably hating on me for being able to tolerate some sunlight.

  “I can’t do the beach thing. Intense sun is still barbecue city.” I squeeze Hunter’s hand. “And really, I tend to stay inside anyway. It’s way too, umm, tiring—even on rainy days.”

  “Oh.” Amy sighs. Sadness washes over her.

  I don’t really understand how anyone who’s become a vampire could miss being a human. Maybe my opinion is distorted because I’m not entirely shut out from daytime, but I’m also weak (so I’m told) compared to other types. I guess since I don’t mind that, I’d be willing to trade power for normality, so perhaps it does make sense how she could be jealous. Dalton’s first progeny did that whole ‘I miss the daytime’ emo thing.

  “Nice choice.” Amy gestures at Hunter. “Mind if I have a nip, too?”

  “Umm.” I glance back and forth between them. “He’s not my dinner. He’s my boyfriend.”

  The three of them freeze, staring at me.

  “Boyfriend?” asks Amy, both eyebrows up. “Are you serious? He’s still alive.”

  I smirk. “Well, yeah. Being alive is a reasonably good quality to have in a boyfriend. Dead ones aren’t much for conversation.”

  Dante and Luke chuckle.

  “Oh, wait…” She lifts my chin with one finger, studying my face. “You’re the one who’s still living at home with her mortal family. Aww, that’s so cute.”

  My eyebrows draw together into a flat line.

  “Geez, kid,” says Dante. “That’s rough. You think it’s gonna be easier, but it’s only making it worse.”

  “Making what worse?” I ask, not quite glaring at him.

  “The eventual, inevitable result of you being immortal and them not.” Dante offers an apologetic shrug. “There’s a reason almost all of us disappear from our old lives.”

  “I couldn’t do that to my family.” I kick at the grass. “Besides. If I disappeared, I’d have decades of feeling like total shit for doing that to them before they actually die. At least this way, I have time with them before they’re gone—and no regrets.”

  Amy nudges Dante. “Aww, give her a break. She’s so young. It’s hard for children to leave the nest at that age.”

  I bristle at being called a child, but I’m angrier at myself since I spent the past few weeks clinging to a giant teddy bear.

  “And you didn’t exactly
have much of a home life to go back to,” says Luke. “Neither did I.”

  “Hey, my mother did what she could. It was kinder not to make her deal with this bullcrap.” Dante points at his fangs.

  Amy breaks eye contact, guilt all over her face.

  “Ames?” asks Luke.

  “Heh. I tried letting my parents and brother know I was still around, but they all freaked out. Stupid religious idiots.” She sighs. “The way they reacted, you’d think their daughter had died and become an undead monster.”

  The guys chuckle. Hunter stares in awkward silence. I let off a nervous laugh.

  “So, I made them forget seeing me again, and let them think I’d been murdered. You know, Indiana girl gone to LA to get famous and goes down the wrong alley at night.”

  Dante glances at the stage, then grins.

  I quirk an eyebrow at him.

  “You’ll see,” he says.

  “It’s kinda cute you’re trying to cling to being normal.” Amy laughs again. “You should totally do pigtails.”

  I roll my eyes. “Oh, yeah, then I’ll look like a tall twelve-year-old.”

  “Well if you’re gonna act like a kid…” Amy examines her fingernails.

  “Aww, leave her alone. She is an Innocent,” says Luke. “Can’t help it.”

  “Great.” I fold my arms. “I’m being teased by ‘popular girl’ again. I thought I left that clique BS behind when I graduated high school.”

  Dante laughs. “Nah, that ‘clique BS’ is ten times worse for our kind. Another reason we keep to ourselves.”

  “Guilty,” says Amy raising her hand. “I used to be a popular kid in school. But, you know—and I don’t tell a lot of people this—I never liked it. I didn’t ask for these looks. I can’t stand shallow people.” She rambles for a while about how she wound up with a football player for a boyfriend who treated her like his property. Even her parents went along with it because ‘that’s what girls did back then.’ All about appearances. She even told them he got rough with her, but they both simply told her to ‘be nicer to him’ as if the violence had been her fault.