Vampire Innocent_Book 3_The Artist of Ruin

by Matthew S. Cox

The women go glassy-eyed under the influence of mental compulsion. Conveniently, a campus security officer notices four women following four punks into the woods and comes jogging over to check it out. I intercept and land behind him when he gets close.

  “Excuse me?” I ask in my most innocent tone.

  He whirls toward me, hand on his sidearm.

  “Oh, that’s not nice. Do you pull a gun on every girl who tries to say hello?”

  His expression melts to placidity as my influence blanks his thoughts.

  After walking him into the woods out of sight where the other four are feeding, I help myself to a little blood from the cop.

  “Oh, that totally works for you,” says Kara.

  Still with my mouth clamped on the guy’s neck, I shift my gaze to her with a questioning eyebrow lift.

  “The cute little lost girl thing. Must make it easy to feed on like police and stuff.” She winks and re-bites the student with glasses.

  I shrug. The girl’s not wrong. My advantages as an Innocent aren’t numerous, but I’ll take the ones I do have. Seeming harmless does go a long way toward catching prey and idiots off guard. Like Petra. She thinks I’m harmless. Ooh! Next time I see that bitch.

  The cop groans.

  Oops. I bit too hard. I force myself to think feeding, feeding, feeding—instead of biting to kill. My fangs are even more painful than vampire claws if I’m biting to kill someone. Fortunately, I caught myself in time and I don’t leave this poor cop with a ripped-open jugular that won’t magically heal.

  I instill in his mind a desperate desire to get coffee, and send him on his way.

  Mick’s sitting cross-legged on the ground next to a dazed brunette, reading one of her textbooks. “What the hell language is this?”

  “Calculus,” says Emilio, peering over his shoulder.

  “Phooey.” Mick slams the book closed. “I hate math. Wait. This is math right?”

  “Yeah,” says Emilio.

  Shaking his head, Mick puts the book back onto the pile by the girl’s foot. “Coulda fooled me.”

  I fold my arms and keep quiet, staring at all the textbooks and the disheveled students. They’re definitely not freshmen, either juniors or seniors. That’s going to me be soon, I hope. No need to tell my new friends that I still plan to go to college, even if it’s a local community night class. It’s not quite the same life I would’ve had, but it’s reasonably close to the same experience. Well, not really. Living in the dorms would’ve been way different.

  Once they finish feeding, the guys lead the women back onto the sidewalk like they’re prodding non-sentient androids along.

  “Umm… what are you guys doing?” I ask.

  “Makin’ sure they get back to their dorm okay,” says Andrew.

  Wow. Really? That stuns me. I guess leaving them dazed from a feeding on their own could be dangerous after all. It’s a shock to see other vampires as concerned with their prey as I am. Though, they could be motivated more by avoiding discovery than compassion, but Andrew sounded sincere.

  Upon arriving at the dorm building, my new vampire friends remove themselves from the students’ memories. While the four women stand there in a fog, we hurry off down the street, following the woodsy area. At the end, a Y-shaped road crosses a big highway. Mick goes into a small wooded area for some cover, and glides straight up. The rest of us follow suit. Once we breach the canopy, we turn southward and glide across the highway, heading for an area with tons of trees and big houses on winding roads.

  They head to a smallish house nestled in thick greenery by a curve in the road. Heavy curtains cover most of the windows I can see from the street. I imagine it’s not cheap to live this close to a university, but somehow it seems unlikely that money is much of an obstacle to vampires. Arthur Wolent certainly seems to be rolling in it, as does Aurélie. I’m still working out how to do that whole financial security thing. While it’s only been a month and two weeks since I became a vampire, it’s pretty obvious that waking up undead isn’t an instant ticket to unimaginable wealth.

  “Professor Dingleberry lets us crash in his basement,” says Mick.

  Kara glances at me. “It’s Degelman.”

  “Dingleberry,” mutters Andrew, snickering.

  Emilio cracks up laughing. On the way inside and down the stairs to a finished basement, he explains how Mick programmed the guy to believe his name was ‘Dingleberry’ for a whole week.

  “Wow… that’s cruel,” I mutter.

  “Oh, she’s a good girl.” Mick pokes me in the stomach.

  “That is kinda mean to do, don’t you think?” I ask.

  “The guy’s a douchebag,” says Kara. “If you were one of his students, you’d find it hilarious.”

  I gaze around. All the basement windows are covered with thick tint film plus dual layers of curtains. Big TV, Xbox, small pool table, two beds, a giant couch, and a selection of guitars decorate the place. The seventies-chic wood paneling is about the only serious flaw here.

  “Not bad,” I say. “So does the guy know you’re here?”

  “Yeah.” Andrew nods. “We’ve come to an arrangement. We pull some strings for him with the administration to give him a little power and nice pay, and he gives up his basement for our needs.”

  “So he knows about… us?” I ask.

  “Yeah. You really are new, aren’t you?” asks Emilio. “Lots of our kind have mortal helpers.”

  “Oh. I have, umm, ‘mortal helpers’ too. I just didn’t expect Lost Ones to do that.”

  They laugh.

  I wind up on the huge couch playing a fighting game against Mick while Emilio tinkers with a guitar. A few minutes into our third match, Andrew walks by naked. That of course, distracts me into losing that round. I turn my head, following him to the other side of the room and one of the two beds, where Kara’s waiting for him, also naked. He climbs up and they embrace, kissing.

  Ooo-kay. I guess they’re super casual about that. Sex right out in the open. Wow.

  Crimson faced, I stare at the screen, refusing to look toward the sound of squeaking.

  Mick chuckles. “We’ve been living together for a while.”

  “So they’re involved?” I ask at a whisper.

  “Nah. Just having fun.”

  Right. I don’t need to know.

  A while later, the guys have switched off to some multiplayer PC-based game they’re all playing together. Kara’s still sitting on the bed, but she’s put a T-shirt on. Since the guys are thoroughly occupied by their game, I head over to her in an effort to be social.

  Apparently, I’m too quiet, as she jumps when I reach the corner of the mattress. I catch a flash of red on her left forearm. A knife falls from her grip as she hurries to clamp a hand over the cuts, staring up at me like I caught her touching herself.

  Aww, shit.

  “Umm. Sorry. I have a thing about knives.” Okay, there’s lame and then there’s what I just said.

  Kara eyes me in silence, probably waiting for me to get all judgmental on her or something. After a moment, she looks away and mutters, “Thing about knives?” before licking the blood off her arm.

  Oh wow. Such a stupid thing for me to say, but she’s not calling me out on it. “Yeah. I got killed by one.”

  “Huh?” She turns back to look me not-quite-in-the-eye. “How’s that work?”

  I sit on the edge of the bed and tell her about Scott, Dalton, and how I wound up a vampire. The whole time, she listens intently while rubbing her fingers back and forth over the once again pristine skin on her arm.

  “Wow, that’s kinda messed up.”

  “Just a little.” I shrug.

  “No, I mean… we almost have the same reason for being a vampire.”

  I glance sideways at her. “Jackass boyfriend?”

  She looks down, ashamed. “Nah. My stepdad.”

  “Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault. My mom hooked up with him when I was around ten. Think it was
’97. Anyway, he was kinda okay at first, but something about him bugged me. Year later, he’s slapping my mother around, yelling at me for any little thing. He eventually figures out that hitting me, or threatening to hit me, controls my mom way better than hitting her. When I got a little older, he tried playing grabass with me, but I did pretty good staying away from him.”

  I grumble. “Son of a bitch…”

  “He came home late one night all kinds of pissed off. Mom had gone somewhere and wasn’t home, which made him madder. I’m seventeen then, so he sees me and figures I’m as good as her for sex.”

  “Holy shit.” I gawk. “I’m so… so… sorry.”

  “I tried to fight him off, and wound up going for a knife. Even with him drunk, I couldn’t take him. He still penetrated me, but not with his junk. Stabbed me real good.” She pats herself in the gut. “I ran away, but I was basically dead on my feet. Wouldn’t have lasted more than an hour or two according to Mick. The guys found me. You know, smell of blood in the air and all that. I guess they could have flown me to a hospital, but that might not have saved me anyway. Besides I wanted the Transference.”

  I sit there, blown away by her story. Not in my darkest nightmares could I imagine having to suffer the kind of life this girl did.

  Kara play-punches my shoulder. “Don’t feel guilty. I didn’t have a nice cushy home or anything. Mom could’ve protected me from that guy, but she didn’t. I gave up on her when I was twelve. Hope she’s all kinds of fucked up that I’m ‘dead.’”

  “Wow,” I mutter, biting my lip. She probably misses her mom somewhere down deep, or has a lot of pain she can’t deal with, or both. This girl, Liz, from my school wound up in the hospital for cutting herself when I was a junior. I didn’t know her, or know anyone who did know her, but the rumors going around were all pretty mean, calling her nutso and so on.

  Kara manages a weak smile. “So your asshole ex killed you?”

  “Yeah.” I rehash my story, in greater detail. Only, I leave out that I’m still living at home.

  “Wow.” Kara holds up a fist, which I bump. “Guess we’re both charity cases.”

  I shrug. “I guess. Something like that. Good thing for me Dalton’s such a softie about kids.”

  She lets off a sad laugh. “Sucks that you had a good family. Hope they’re not too messed up over what happened.”

  “Sorry yours wasn’t the greatest,” I mutter.

  “Hey, not your fault.” Kara play punches me in the shoulder. “I’m way past being jealous. What happened to me happened. Lot of kids have it even worse. Lot of kids have it way better. No point bitching about it now.”

  “Umm.” I offer a cheesy smile. “My family’s okay. You know how you were talking about mortal helpers before? I, umm, kinda went home.”

  She gasps, covers her mouth, and erupts in giggles. “Holy shit, that’s hilarious.”

  “What? Hilarious?”

  “You obviously told them what you are now if you’re still there.”

  I nod.

  “And they’re cool with it? Like wow… that totally sounds like a TV show.” Her laughter fades off to a somber sigh. “I thought about visiting my mom, but she went to Florida after Bob died.”

  “Bob was your stepfather?” I ask. “What happened to him?”

  Kara flashes a devilish smile. “Craziest thing. A bear broke into their house and ripped him up. Weird, huh?”

  “Yeah.” I stare down at the shaggy, brown rug between my sneakers. It looks like it’s been here since the sixties. Probably the source of the faint ‘wet dog’ smell saturating the basement. “Crazy, but that, umm, bear probably saved your mom’s life.”

  “Probably,” says Kara in more of a whisper than a voice. The mood lingers for a few seconds more before she snaps her head up, grinning. “So, sun’s gonna be up soon. You can join me and Emilio on this bed since it’s bigger. If it’s too weird, go on my side so you’re not touchin’ him.”

  I shrug. “Okay.”

  “You can have the couch,” says Andrew. “If you want. I can floor surf.”

  After the conversation I had with Kara, I feel comfortable enough not to mind sharing bed space with her. “It’s cool. Us charity cases gotta stick together.”

  Andrew looks at me curiously.

  “Another stabbing victim.” Kara pats me on the back.

  “Yeah.” I go over another (much more brief) account of the night I became a vampire. Upon hearing Dalton is a fellow Lost One, they all howl and cheer, welcoming me to the club.

  I didn’t bring a change of clothes, having expected to crash fully dressed in a basement somewhere. Kara offers me a Type O Negative band shirt. I bite my lip, glancing around again at this basement, which is one big open space. The only thing even approaching cover or privacy are the four support columns in the middle—also covered in wood paneling. Oh hell. Peer pressure is a bitch. We’re all vampires, right? No big deal.

  Not wanting to seem like the uptight prude, I change right there beside the bed, attempting to act as casual as possible. Much to my surprise, the three guys don’t react much at all to my boobs. Though, I swear Mick gave me a look that says ‘aww, damn, she’s too young.’ I think he meant that in the sense of being turned into a vampire rather than he abandoned plans to hit on me. He’s probably a lot older than the twenty-five-ish that he looks. The dude’s giving off serious paternal vibes.

  While I’m standing in only panties, Kara leaps up and pokes at my chest where Scott stabbed me. She rubs her fingertip up and down the almost two-inch line. “Oh wow, you’ve got a mark.”

  There’s nothing at all sexual about her touch, but I still feel myself blushing. “Yeah. I think it’s because it would’ve been a mortal wound if not for the Transference. Or something.”

  “Probably.” She shrugs.

  “Mind if I ask a possibly awkward question?”

  She shrugs. “Go for it.”

  “I couldn’t help but notice you don’t have a gaping abdominal wound… Do you know why I’ve got this scar, but you healed?”

  “Oh.” She manages a sad smile. “I guess because the wound I had would have killed me, but it hadn’t done it yet. Mick draining all my blood ended my life. So when they gave me the Transference, my body went back to normal. You were probably kinda half dead when he started.”

  “Ahh. Okay.”

  I pull the shirt on. Annoyingly, it’s not oversized and doesn’t cover below the waist. Oh well. Not like anyone who knows me is going to walk in on me. A little while before sunrise, we pile up on the bed. I’m almost sliding off the edge with Kara in the middle and Emilio sliding off the other side. After some reshuffling, I wind up beside him with Kara draped on top of us, mostly on him.

  Yeah. ‘Casual Friday’ has nothing on these guys.

  15

  Rebecca

  Consciousness returns the next afternoon and leaves me momentarily confused as to why I have a girl’s arm across my face. Once I remember I’m in Portland, hanging with a couple of Lost Ones who are friendly if a little ‘wild’ for my taste, I push myself onto my side and peer down off the mattress to my iPhone on the floor.

  It’s 2:14 p.m. Cool. I can slip out, grab the doll, and probably get back here before they notice me gone. Not that I need to be sneaky or anything, but the faster I get home, the happier I will be. I gingerly extricate myself from the tangle of limbs and slide off the mattress to all fours before sitting back on my heels and gathering my hair behind me.

  Being a vampire saves a lot of time. I don’t need use the bathroom—good thing too as there isn’t a toilet down here. I don’t need breakfast, or really even a shower. Because of the Innocent thing, my body still sweats enough that I do need to wash every so often, but I can go at least a week before any smell is noticeable. Considering the sharpness of my nose, it would likely take two or three weeks until a normal person noticed my extreme laziness.

  And thinking of vampire BO, I glance over at Emilio and Kara, wondering
exactly how sex works with a boy vampire. Like does stuff still come out? Since she didn’t run off to clean up, I’ll guess that’s a no.

  Anyway. Eww. I have better things to worry about at the moment.

  I’m about done getting dressed when I feel watched. All four of my hosts are up and staring at me.

  “How the hell are you awake?” asks Kara.

  “What she said,” croaks Mick from the other side of the basement.

  “Something wrong?” Emilio forces himself to sit up, but he looks like a damn zombie.

  Eek. All three of them kinda do. Grey, drawn skin, sunken eyes, and stiff limbs.

  “No. You’re safe. I just wake up early. It’s normal for me.”

  “Oh.” Kara passes out.

  The guys also evidently get the feeling they’re in no immediate danger, and collapse unconscious once again. I guess someone being in their sanctum and moving around while they sleep scared their subconscious enough to prod them awake.

  Before I do something amazingly stupid, I double check the weather app on my phone. Sure enough, it’s raining here. Good. That means I can go outside. I make my way upstairs into an annoyingly warm house. It’s not really that hot, it’s only the sun telling me I’m burning energy to tolerate it. It’s probably in the lower sixty-degree range, but it feels like it’s in the nineties. No sign of any mortal occupant. The professor who owns this house is most likely at the school. Not like universities shut down totally for the summer. I borrow an umbrella from a bin by the front door and step outside into a downpour.

  This presents another problem as I don’t really fancy walking a few miles in the rain. Flying with an umbrella would be annoying as hell, but that’s not a problem as I can’t fly in the daytime anyway. My parents hooked me up with an Uber app on their credit card for emergencies back when I’d been planning to go to USC. The sort of ‘out drinking and we don’t want you driving’ emergencies they expected would crop up. I’m sure they won’t mind a short ride around Portland. And I could always pay them back if they want me to. All I’d have to do is compel someone to give me a job. I could compel someone to give me money, but that feels wrong.