The Fangs of Bloodhaven

by Cheree Alsop

  “Do you think humans and monsters will ever learn to live in peace?” he asked quietly.

  It was a topic of conversation they had spoken on occasionally. Usually it was just a hypothetical question, but this time, Everett was truly worried, not for himself, but for the monsters at the Asylum.

  “I hope so,” his mother answered. “Maybe given a chance, people will start to realize monsters aren’t all bad.”

  “You and Dad have really been amazing,” Everett said. They were words he didn’t say often enough. “I owe you everything.”

  “You owe us nothing,” his mom replied. “You’re our son. Love needs no reason nor any payback. That’s why it’s love.” She pushed his hair back out of his eyes with a smile.

  Everett decided something. “Mom, Adrielle’s a werewolf.”

  Her hand paused in midair. “A werewolf?”

  Everett nodded. “Yeah, and I’m going to see if she can help you with your studies, and Dad’s. Maybe you guys can help each other.” He stood and grinned at the shocked expression on her face. “I’m going to crash. I have some reading to catch up on.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Get some sleep, Mom.”

  He left her sitting in the sunroom with the astonished expression on her face. Maybe Adrielle would be able to give his mother the information she was looking for; but if not, at least Everett was doing what he could to thank his parents for everything they had done.

  He fell onto his bed and opened the book on vampires again. Though it was obvious some of the book had been written in ignorance, there were interesting facts that stood out.

  ‘Signs of vampirism usually surface around puberty. As the body undergoes its natural changes, others begin to take place. The body starts to attack its own blood supply and, for reasons that are unclear at this time, the individual is unable to produce more blood. If additional blood is not available, the organs will begin to shut down. It has been documented that this process is incredibly painful. As discovered in the studies of patients 72X and GN9, if the process is allowed to run to completion, the internal organs dry up completely, followed by the skin, saliva glands, and eyes. This process is so similar to mummification that the resulting creatures have been fondly named mummies.’

  The thought that whoever had written the book had witnessed vampire test subjects who had been denied blood twisted Everett’s stomach in a knot. He shut the book and set it on his end table. Perhaps the less he learned of his kind, the better.

  Only the thought that the government used ignorance as control made him reach for the book again. Everett opened it to a random page. He clenched his jaw and focused on the words.

  ‘If a vampire bites a human, the vampire’s saliva transfers a virus that attacks a human’s weaker cells. At first, the infected human will display symptoms similar to a cold, lethargia, unwillingness to participate socially, withdrawn from communication, and moody. As both the temporal and frontal lobes shut down, the human will begin to exhibit difficulty in following instructions, lack of understanding of language, decreased impulse control, increased forgetfulness, lessened reaction to stimuli, and the inability to solve basic problems.

  As the infection spreads, the physical cells begin to break down, the skin loosens and sloughs off in places, and a smell of decay begins to emanate from the individual. The cerebellum is the next area to be attacked along with the medulla. With the thalamus destroyed, the infected individual is no longer able to understand speech, demonstrates a lack of balance, and a loss of most motor control. The resulting moaning sound emitted from the individual isn’t from pain as was initially thought; instead, it has been found that this is merely a reflex of the infected individual’s unnecessary breathing motion, sending air through the tattered trachea.

  ‘At this stage, the pulse stops completely, the individual demonstrates a complete lack of fear, and with the occipital and parietal lobes disabled, the infected individual is no longer able to think or feel. Lingering symptoms include seeking after only the very basic impulse of life, eating, although such a process is no longer necessary since the individual is now, for all intents and purposes, dead. The motions are merely persisting stimuli of brain synapses barely able to produce life-like mannerisms. It is recommended that at this point, fire is the most efficient means of disposing of an infected individual.’

  Everett closed the book and stared at the gilded front cover without seeing it. By the description, turning from a human into a zombie sounded painful; his own episodes of having his organs in the process of shutting down because he didn’t drink his blood in time was mind-numbingly painful enough. He couldn’t bring himself to think about what the entire body would feel like.

  Everett set the book back by his small lamp and settled on the bed. It took until he heard his family walking around upstairs in preparation for the new day before his eyes finally closed. His mind drifted off to memories that felt like dreams.

  He saw himself and a friend sitting on a bench at the playground. They were around twelve. It was evening; nobody else was at the park, though whispers of the children who had played there during the day still lingered.

  Quint leaned forward across the table. “If you’re a vampire, then I want to be one too.”

  “It’s not a good idea,” Everett’s younger self replied.

  “It’s my life,” Quint shot back.

  Everett shook his head. “No. It’s my life. I won’t let it happen to you.”

  “You don’t have to go through it alone,” Quint said.

  Everett sat up in his bed, chasing the memories away. He gripped the quilt his mother had made so hard the fabric tore beneath his fingers.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Vampires are the enemy,” Everett said at the door the next night.

  Xander peered through the tiny sliding window out at him. Everett wondered if anyone ever knocked on the door by mistake. If they knew who was hulking on the other side, they would hurry past and never cross through the alley again.

  When it swung open, Everett stepped inside. “I brought you something,” he said without preamble. He opened the kitchen towel he had wrapped around one of his mother’s amazing loaves of banana bread.

  Xander’s mouth fell open at the smell that filled the small hallway. “What is it?” he asked. His huge hands opened and closed as if he could barely keep from snatching the bread out of Everett’s hands.

  “My mom’s banana bread. You can’t get bananas around here except in Dad’s greenhouse, so when she bakes the loaves, she does it by the dozens and everyone in the neighborhood lines up for a loaf of their own. I figured you’d like it, so I grabbed one before they were gone.”

  “She won’t mind?” Xander asked.

  Everett fought back a smile at the ogren’s worried expression. He doubted even Mr. Moody, who so aptly fit his name because of the fit he threw the last time Mrs. Masterson failed to save him a loaf, would attempt to take it from the ogren.

  “It’s yours,” Everett said, setting the bread in Xander’s hands. Where the loaf had looked good-sized when Everett held it, it appeared miniature encompassed in Xander’s careful embrace.

  A smile spread across the ogren’s face so wide he could have shoved the entire loaf inside.

  “Thanks, little enemy vampire,” Xander said.

  Everett laughed and the ogren joined him. He walked down the hallway to the sound of Xander’s deep laughter bouncing off the walls.

  He pushed the button for the medical floor. With a bit of trepidation, he watched the numbers count up to floor ten. He didn’t know what sort of reception to expect given his last experience with Torrance, but he felt responsible for the teenager and wanted to at least make sure he was alright.

  The doors opened and Everett stepped into the dim lighting. He had to remind himself that humans normally slept at night. At the Asylum, it had begun to feel like everyone kept whatever hours they felt like, whereas at home, despite his family’s best intentions, he was often alone
hours before morning.

  Telling himself he was just going to check to make sure Torrance was alright and then leave, Everett walked to the bed. He paused a few feet away just to make sure he didn’t scare the human if he was awake.

  “Hi, Everett.”

  Everett was proud of himself for not jumping at the sudden voice in the darkness. Torrance seemed to have the uncanny knack for catching him off-guard.

  “Hello. How, uh, are you sleeping?”

  Torrance sat up gingerly with a hand on his chest. “Well, I’m not sleeping,” the boy answered.

  Everett cracked a smile. “So my powers of observation aren’t quite at their best.”

  Torrance chuckled with barely a wince. “Yeah, I noticed. But in answer to your question, I’m doing better. Much better,” he said with a slight tone of bafflement. “I think the nurse’s singing has been helping me heal.” He looked at Everett. “Does that make me sound crazy?”

  “You’re asking a vampire,” Everett replied. “I think that’s the crazy part.”

  Torrance gave him a true smile. “Sorry about the other night when I tried to get you taken away. I was scared and angry.”

  “I shouldn’t have held you down.”

  “I shouldn’t have tried to take my bandages off with a vampire in the room. I couldn’t breathe and thought it would help. I definitely wasn’t thinking clearly. Thank goodness the nurse showed up.”

  “Jeraldine’s a banshee,” Everett said. He watched the human closely, worried about setting him off again.

  An expression crossed Torrance’s face as though something suddenly made sense. “I thought I heard Dr. Transton say that the other night, but when I woke up, I couldn’t tell if I was delirious.”

  “I think there are stranger things here than you’ll imagine in your delirium,” Everett replied.

  “I didn’t think banshees were real, or vampires for that matter. I thought they were monsters in stories my mom used to make up to keep us inside at night.”

  Everett nodded. “I guess I thought the same thing about a lot of the monsters I’ve seen here.”

  “There are others?” Torrance asked, his eyes widening.

  Everett went for a change of subject before he got the human too worked up. “A few. Did you reach your mom?”

  “Yeah,” the human replied. “She’s super worried, but at least I caught her before she called on the DRAK.”

  “That’s a good thing.”

  The DRAK were the dark green-suited, armed authorities who patrolled the cities. DRAK stood for Direct Retaliation on Authority of the Kingship. The name didn’t exactly imply fairness in their dealings. If the DRAK felt someone was in violation a law or somehow threatening the security of the Pentagrin, they dealt with it however they wished. In extreme cases, the individual was taken to the headquarters at Regent, but usually a beating within an inch of life was enough to make someone change their ways. Outbursts happened very seldom in the five cities.

  “Dr. Transton says I can go home tomorrow,” Torrance told him. “I don’t quite get everything he said, but apparently the nurse’s songs help speed healing since the body’s not stressed. I’m still recovering, but he says he’s done what he’s able to and I can rest in my own bed.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Everett replied, relieved the human would be able to go home.

  “Come with me.”

  Everett stared at him. “To your house?”

  “To my apartment,” Torrance corrected. “Come have dinner, as a thank you for saving my life. I already told my mom you’d be there.”

  “She’s okay with it?” Everett watched him closely. “Did you tell her what I am?”

  “I did,” Torrance admitted with an embarrassed expression. “Probably not the best thing to do after I told her I invited you.”

  Everett grinned. “So let me get this straight. You told your mother that you’re inviting a vampire home for dinner tomorrow night?”

  “Yeah,” the human replied. “In hindsight, I probably could have been a bit more tactful.”

  “She’s probably terrified.”

  Torrance chuckled. “Yeah, no doubt.” He hesitated then said, “Do you, um, eat dinner?”

  Everett smiled. “I do, and don’t worry. I’m not a blood-thirsty monster.” He paused, then admitted, “Well, I am, but I’ll be in control.”

  Torrance laughed. “Good to hear it.” He paused, then said, “Let’s not tell my mom.”

  “I don’t think...” Everett began.

  Torrance cut him off. “Just kidding. I told her you’re not dangerous. I’m not sure she believed me, but she’s grateful you saved her son’s life. She’ll be nice.”

  “So will I,” Everett promised.

  Back at the elevator, he reached for the button to the sixth floor, but when he pushed it, the seventh lit up. Confused, he rode the elevator down. When the doors opened, the library spread out before him. Everett stepped inside and stared in awe at the bookshelves reaching to the ceiling. He had no idea how the books around him had survived the Ending War, but they carried an air of ancient wisdom as though all the answers in the universe lay within their pages.

  A giggle sounded from deeper within the shelves. Everett’s stomach twisted. Sure enough, a few steps to the right revealed Adrielle and Vanguard.

  “Everett!” the werewolf exclaimed as soon as she saw him. She left Vanguard’s side and hurried over. “How have you been? I heard your human’s doing better.”

  “He’s not my human,” Everett told her, bothered by the term. “But yes, he’s recovering.”

  Adrielle gave him a warm smile. “I’m glad. That was brave of you to save him.”

  “Yeah,” Vanguard replied from behind them. “I don’t know how you kept from drinking the boy’s blood. It was everywhere, pouring, dripping, and soaking into the floor. Horace showed me the security footage. You’re the talk of the Asylum!”

  Everett grimaced at the sound of the warlock’s voice. He schooled his face to be expressionless when he turned. “Hi, Vanguard.”

  “Dude, so, like, are you a real vampire?” Vanguard gave him a skeptical look. “Aren’t you supposed to be blood-thirsty and all that?”

  “Are you a real magician?” Everett replied, keeping his tone mild. “Aren’t you supposed to pull a rabbit from a hat and all that?”

  Vanguard gave a self-suffering sigh as though he had explained the same thing a million times. “First of all,” the older teen said as if Everett was slow. “I’m a warlock. That’s war...lock. It’s like the Ending Wars, with a lock, see? I’m not a magician. Magicians play for audiences on a stage. I play for no one.”

  At Everett’s doubtful expression, Vanguard’s cheeks touched with red and he adjusted his short black top hat. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, my power is the ability to make things disappear, not pull fluffy rodents from my hat. How would that help anyone, for one thing, and for another, what if it pooped in there? It’d be disgusting.”

  Adrielle nodded as if she agreed and Everett rolled his eyes. He had no idea why the werewolf was with the warlock. Her eyes locked on his again and the sparkle in them made his stomach turn over.

  “So, Rett, why are you here?”

  “I’m not sure, really,” Everett replied. He debated whether to tell them that the elevator had chosen the floor, and decided against sounding crazy. A thought occurred to him. “Hey, what do you know about floor thirty-one?”

  “Through the left door or the right?”

  “Uh, right,” Everett answered.

  Adrielle’s eyebrows pulled together to form the little frown in the middle that Everett found enduring. She glanced at Vanguard. “That’s the poltergeist’s room.”

  Vanguard took a step back. “Whoa, man. You need to stay clear of the poltergeist. She’ll take your head off.”

  Adrielle shook her head. “Not literally.”

  “Are you sure?” Vanguard asked.

  Adrielle hesitated, then lifted one
shoulder. “I’m not sure. Maybe she will. I don’t think I’m willing to find out.”

  “What’s a poltergeist?” Everett asked.

  “A very angry ghost,” Vanguard told him. “Watch out. You think humans are scary? Wait until you see what a poltergeist can do. I heard one took down an entire building in Vaporum.”

  “You don’t think something else could be responsible for a building falling down in the industrial city?” Everett asked doubtfully.

  Vanguard shook his head. “Not the way Dr. Transton was talking. Apparently a few people got hurt...” His voice lowered. “Maybe even killed.”

  “I wonder if there’s a book in here on poltergeist,” Everett mused.

  Adrielle sighed. “Everett, you can’t explain everything with books.”

  “I can’t explain you and Vanguard,” he muttered under his breath.

  “What was that?” she asked, her golden gaze sharp.

  “Nothing,” Everett replied with a forced smile.

  “You’d think a book on poltergeist would tear your head off like the real ones,” Vanguard said. He laughed at his own joke.

  Everett exchanged a glance with Adrielle, glad to see he wasn’t the only one confused by the warlock’s sense of humor.

  Adrielle nudged Vanguard’s shoulder. “Let’s get going. I’m tired and all this talk of buildings falling doesn’t help.” She gave Everett a smile. “It’s good talking to you.”

  “You, too,” he replied a bit reluctantly.

  Left alone to his own means, Everett climbed the closest ladder. The further up he went, the crazier the books got. He realized after a few minutes of comparison that the books were grouped by subject, starting with nonfiction at the bottom and morphing into fiction the higher he climbed. With the way they were blended, it was almost as though there were questions as to the line between fiction and fact.