I wander back to the parking garage, tossing author names around in my head.
It’s distracting to let my thoughts drift. Way too much so for me to have ever done as a mortal walking alone in the dark. A young woman has to pay attention to her surroundings at all time. It sucks so much, but it’s true. Anyway, the parade of famous author names circling around in my head is so distracting I don’t notice the creep coming for me until after he’s tackled me to the floor.
My brain goes blank for a second at the sheer audacity. This guy’s about to get a rude surprise. Guess it’s true what the cop said during the presentation he gave at my old school. A woman who looks like an easy target unaware of her surroundings ends up being targeted.
A second man darts over and grabs my legs as the dude who tackled me shifts his weight and tries to grab my arms.
“Hurry it up,” whispers Leg Man. “Stefano wants it clean and permanent.”
In an instant, I go from annoyed to freaking out. These are not garden-variety creeps.
Snarling, I wrench my arm loose, twist myself over, and slug the guy hovering over me in the side of the head with everything I have. A wet crunch accompanies my knuckles mashing into his head in front of his left ear. He goes flying off to the side like a human torpedo. His head not exploding proves he’s a vampire. We’re a little bit tougher.
Leg Man looks up, startled. He gives me this cocky smirk and grabs my throat, pinning me to the concrete. Growling, I extend my claws, sink all ten of them into his upper arm, and rake downward, using his whole arm as a scratching post. He lets off a horrible scream like I’d clamped a red-hot waffle iron closed on his nether bits. Yeah, vampire claws sting. It’s worse than lemon juice and salt in a paper cut lit on fire.
He goes limp, in momentary shock from the unexpected agony. I take the opportunity to throw him off me and scramble to my feet. By the time I swipe my claws at his face, he’s recovered enough awareness to duck. The dude’s maybe late twenties. Undead pale, longish hair. A leather jacket and jeans make him look like he ought to be playing bass for a band who graduated high school six years ago but still hasn’t played a gig larger than the bar down the street from where they live—because his parents’ friend owns it.
Head smash guy is wearing a MASH-era olive drab Army jacket, also longish hair. He hasn’t tried to get back up yet. Either he’s finding the concrete floor tasty or I hammered him hard enough to knock him senseless. Good chance my middle finger broke, so his skull is likely cracked.
Leg Dude stares at me, specifically my claws, making a face like someone seeing the monster in a horror movie face to face for the first time. He doesn’t seem to understand some vampires have claws. Got a little blood on my shirt, but nowhere near as much as a normal person would bleed from such a wound. I basically shredded ten two-inch-long razor blades all the way down his arm. One sleeve of his leather jacket has become a fringe skirt wrapped around strips of loose flesh. Vampires like blood. We don’t like bleeding. Our blood tends to pool in wounds and not fall out unless the wound is huge—like decapitation or a severed leg.
“What’s Stefano doing?” I ask, glaring at Leg Dude.
His friend moans, gradually pushing himself up onto his knees. “Get her.”
Leg Dude hisses in pain. The flesh strips, formerly his muscles, twitch in response to his attempt to move the limb, but they twist around like a drunken octopus who forgot how to work his tentacles. That is nasty as hell. I cringe away.
“What the shit is this?” yells Leg Dude, gesturing at me with his remaining functional arm. “You didn’t tell me she’s got freakin’ claws.”
The other guy swivels to look at me. I cratered the side of his head. Bone fragments stick out the skin of the opposite cheek. Blood dribbles from both his ears. A dimple the size of my fist remains on the left side of his head, which seems visibly concave. Yeah, his whole skull has to be cracked inside like a hard-boiled egg dropped on the floor. It’s astonishing the guy’s not unconscious. Can’t be much actual brain damage if he’s still sorta awake. He’s about halfway between comatose and flat earther, far from counting as entirely conscious. The only way to knock a vampire out cold is to do enough penetrating damage to the brain to kill a mortal. We get back up from it, but it can take a few hours. Heck, even decapitation doesn’t kill us. It’s seriously annoying though.
“Tell me what Stefano is doing or I’m going to rip your little vampire off and stuff it down your throat.”
Totally graphic and over the top, yeah, but I have no intention of doing it. Three quarters of intimidation is talking a good game. They don’t have to know I’m too squeamish to follow through. Mashed-Head rushes at me in the wobbly gait of a drunk at a bar fight. He’s fast and strong, but still loopy from the head wound. The punch he throws for my face probably would’ve missed if I stood still, making it easy to slip under it and rake my claws down his back, shredding the heavy material of his Army coat easily. He shrieks in pain, whipping back at me with an elbow I’m a little too slow to fully avoid.
The glancing shot knocks me on my ass without doing serious damage.
Both guys sprint across the parking garage and dive over the side. Considering this is the third floor, I’m guessing they can fly. Part of me is too lazy to chase them since it could take hours. Another part of me is worried about bait goblins. Either those two guys are as new at vampire as I am, or they’re acting like fools, pretending to be clueless, so I chase them into some kind of trap.
I look down at my shirt. Not so much blood it won’t wash out with enough effort. I sacrifice a moment to feeling proud of myself for walking away from a fight without my clothing ending up in tatters. Vampire combat is not friendly to fabric. Speaking of which… I retract my claws before anyone happens to walk by and notice me. They’re a bit long and pointy to pass off as a tragic false nail mishap. No one would believe me if I said I got fake nails from Wish.
Yeah, I don’t buy it. Me kicking ass? No way are those guys total scrubs. I’m less than a year old as a vampire, plus an Innocent. Okay, maybe I’m overplaying the Innocent part a bit too much. We’re not inherently weaker than vampires as a whole, we simply don’t get the really cool extra powers. Like, when I’m 400 years old, I’ll be able to kick as much ass as Aurélie using claws, martial arts, or whatever. I’ll just never have her charm powers or be able to throw cars around like a Fury or jump into the Shadow realm. I keep hearing some vampires can turn into wolves. If it’s true, I so want to see it happen… but it’ll never be me.
Right, so a one-year-old (basically) Innocent isn’t really at a disadvantage in a fight against any other vampire of similar age, except a Fury. Evidently, being stupid strong is an easy power to develop. Personally, I don’t think it’s worth the side effect of their bloodline—random fits of irrational anger. Better than Beasts, though. They sometimes lose control entirely and do serious damage. Beasts are commonly kill-feeders but not because they want to be. It’s easy for them to lose control to whatever darkness powers vampirism and let it take over.
Yeah, I’m totally happy being what I am.
Anyway… no point standing here like a tool. I retrieve my backpack, run to my car, and start the drive home. Being stuck in the car at night instead of flying is kinda frustrating, like being stuck on the road behind someone driving thirty in a sixty-five zone. The longer trip home gives me unwanted time to think about what happened in the parking garage.
I’m not totally freaking out, but I am freaking out somewhat to hear Stefano has so flagrantly given Aurélie’s protection the finger. He obviously sent a pair of new guys to rough me up, planning for me to get away. Does Stefano know I have claws? Maybe not. Not every vampire has them. No idea what the percentage is, but those two definitely did not expect me to be armed. Stefano might assume claws are unlikely for an Innocent, but he’s taking the name too literally. My jury is still out regarding if I turned into one due to my personality or the circumstances of my death. Actual innocence
or niceness may or may not have anything to do with it. Dalton’s a Lost One, which means I should have been one, too. Only, Aurélie explained (due to Dalton not being around) a vampire’s bloodline isn’t guaranteed to pass on to any others they make. Some lines, like Shadows, have a much higher chance of producing vampires of the same type.
The opposite is true for me. If I ever made someone else into a vampire, they almost certainly would not be an Innocent… unless whatever circumstance dictated it for me holds true for them. Aurélie said me not wanting to become a vampire, plus my age, plus the circumstances of my death, and general personality is why it happened. Mercy-Transferences aren’t too common. Could be the only thing required to produce an Innocent is the recipient not asking for it, and the Transference being given as an act of kindness.
Anyway… I’m going off on a tangent. Stefano, prejudiced dick he is, would take Innocent too literally. He wouldn’t think I’d have claws. Makes sense. Both he and Paolo see me as an irritating, bratty little child thumbing my nose at tradition. However, even if he didn’t expect those two to abduct and destroy me, sending them to attack me is basically taunting Aurélie.
Since I did nothing to provoke him, her decree of protection obligates her to respond. If she doesn’t attack Stefano, she appears weak. If she does attack him, all hell is going to break loose. Might be best not to tell her about it. I don’t want to be responsible for starting a vampire war. Heh. Yeah, right. The idea of me ‘not telling’ Aurélie anything is laughable. As soon as I’m anywhere near her, she’s going to know everything I’m mentally dwelling on. As easily as I can read the minds of mortals, she sees into my head—and heart. Meaning, she’s tuned into emotions. Everyone around her basically has their current emotional state scrolling across their foreheads in marquee text. She’d know instantly something bothered me, then read my mind to find out what I felt super guilty about not telling her.
Given the reason I’m inclined to keep quiet, she wouldn’t (I hope) be mad at me. My silence gives her an excuse not to act. I could also tell Wolent what happened… or simply ignore the attack altogether.
Grr. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, staring out at the highway. Stupid road doesn’t have any answers. Ignoring this is only going to invite more problems, like telling Stefano he can do whatever he wants to me. However, taking any action in response could also be exactly what he’s hoping for. Feels like either option is him winning.
“Dammit!”
I stop myself before breaking the steering wheel.
Is this jerk trying to turn me into the ‘little girl who runs to tell mommy’ about every problem? Even if I talk to Wolent in the most detached manner possible, giving him the story like a reporter describing an event happening to someone else, it could set him off. Wolent is a Fury. I saw the man throw a chair out a closed window… and it landed like a hundred yards away. Their fits of anger are irrational. Something as random as a person wearing the wrong color shoes can piss them off. They could get mad over shoes, start yelling, and the person saying ‘yes, you’re right, I shouldn’t have worn these’ could set them off even worse. Even keeping silent might enrage them. It really is Russian roulette. Fortunately, most Furies understand—once they calm down—and don’t hold grudges. The trick is surviving the short but intense rage long enough for them to become rational again.
The last thing I need at the moment is the stress of an unprovoked vampire attack. The school year is getting close to over. Two more months and I’m done for summer break. Finals aren’t too far off. I really can’t waste the time on vampire politics. Dammit, how do normal college students handle the pressure of immortals trying to kill them?
Oh, wait. They don’t.
Sigh.
Screw it. I’ll worry about this later. Gonna go home and get started on my ‘Poe attempt at a research paper.’
Poe attempt.
Ugh. I bang my head on the steering wheel.
“Dammit Dad! These are your genes!”
5
Left Field Question
Biology tests are surprisingly distracting.
I couldn’t focus on the issue of vampires trying to kill or kidnap me last night knowing I had a test in bio today. Had to put the Poe research on the back burner for the time being. It’s probably quite silly of me to be stressing out over grades within an hour of flaying most of the flesh off a dude’s arm. Maybe it’s not upsetting to me because I know in an hour or so, his arm will be back to normal. Oh, wait. Claws. More like a week. Probably be sore for a month or two. Still, it makes me cringe to think about. Know how every man who sees another man take a hit in the balls winces? Yeah. Same thing with vampires and claw wounds.
Well, that’s what he gets for grabbing me by the throat.
Anyway, biology test.
It’s Tuesday night, about twenty after seven. I’m in Professor Connolly’s class staring at my test paper. Merely having a momentary case of wandering brain, not stuck. I did actually study for this test. At least it’s still light out for another maybe half hour or so. One of the few times being offline is better for me. No incredibly sharp vampire hearing treating me to a deafening serenade of body functions and annoying noises. One guy two rows over on my left and back a seat is trying to play a Kenny G solo with his butt. Don’t need supernatural ears to notice him as the room is mostly dead silent. Seriously, I understand people don’t fart on command, but the guy thinks it’s way more hilarious than it is.
Maybe it’s nervous laughter from the inappropriateness of it. Couple years ago, we went to a funeral for one of Mom’s tangential relatives we’d never even met. A great aunt or something. Maybe a hundred people attended, most of whom we didn’t recognize. This one guy came in a little drunk. He didn’t really make a scene so much as let out an unrepentant belch. While everyone else stared on in horror, Sam cracked up and couldn’t stop laughing. Dad needed to go outside with him. Honestly, I think Dad cracked up once he got outside, too.
This dude’s butt sounds more like a depressed saxophone player warming up rather than a traditional fart. It is kinda funny. Even Professor Connolly seems to be struggling to keep a straight face. Guess boys really never do grow up. Connolly is a bit of a comedian. Wouldn’t put it past him to make a quip about ‘biological processes in action’ or ‘we could do without the live demonstration.’
Again, I try to read the question on the test paper, but my mind is stuck on Stefano. It’s been driving him crazy to watch me becoming part of Wolent’s… whatever it’s called. ‘Political machinery?’ I’m not even working hard to ingratiate myself to vampire society, merely doing what’s asked of me as quickly as possible so I can get back to my ‘normal-but-screwy’ life. It is kinda weird to have Wolent smile and back-pat me like I saved him a million bucks for something as basic as taking a message across Seattle. Feels like I’m stuck in one of Sierra’s video games doing the level one missions. The way it’s going, I half expect Wolent is going to send me to a particular address to steal a rare car, eventually.
Grand Theft Bloodsucker.
The whole ‘vampire politics’ thing isn’t as different from the normal world as one might think. Despite being undead, they’re still mostly obsessed with money and power, only they have to take their power behind the scenes. For example, Wolent owns a corporate entity that owns other corporate entities that own corporations and businesses. It’s kinda like how the same three companies own ninety percent of all branded consumer products, even though they’re sold under a hundred or more different brand names. Wolent’s name doesn’t appear anywhere a mortal could find it, but he has decision making power over like forty percent of Seattle’s economy.
He doesn’t really do much with it other than have the power. The ability to control appeals to him more than constantly ‘working the levers’ so to speak. I guess many people who become vampires take advantage of their newfound abilities to seize all the wealth they couldn’t have as mortals. Even as young as I am, it’s easily
possible for me to bend the world around me to my will, albeit on a much smaller scale than an elder. I have no need of a mansion or a stupidly expensive car. Don’t really understand the appeal of yachts either. Not like vampires can go out to enjoy the sun on the water. Cruising at night is kinda scary, though perhaps less so since it wouldn’t be dark to us.
Whatever. I’m happy with our home as is. And no, it wouldn’t bother me at all to use my powers to keep the house if need be. Holding on to what’s ours is different than stealing from someone else.
Right, test.
It’s amazingly difficult to avoid thinking about the Stefano situation, but I force myself to proceed answering questions. Tests have always made me a little bit anxious no matter how much studying happened. I’m not the slacker Sierra is, so except for one time when I had a bad flu, I’ve never gone into a classroom on test day feeling unprepared. Doesn’t stop me from being worried about a random blank-out. No amount of studying will fix mentally seizing up at a critical moment.
Ashley shocked the heck out of me once when she quipped about trying to get up the nerve to go down on her then boyfriend. Said she was afraid she’d choke at the last minute. At that point, I realized she was making a joke. Couldn’t believe Ashley said something so bawdy. Coming from her made it ten times funnier. Like a sweet little old lady dropping an F-bomb.
Thinking about Ash grinning once I caught her double entendre helps me stop worrying about Stefano and concentrate on the test. For a few seconds between each question, I end up second guessing myself all over again about the whole ‘going to college’ deal. Yeah, it helps me feel normal and it’s good for the ’rents mental health, but it’s starting to feel like it’s getting in the way of vampire stuff. Or is vampire stuff getting in the way of school? Should I put this on hold until Sam turns eighteen? If Stefano is coming after me so brazenly, he might do something to hurt my family. Or not. He’s too worried about attracting mortals’ attention. Most likely, he plans to destroy me and mess with my family’s memories to erase me from ever having existed. None of them have any real defense against a vampire’s mental powers.
Vampire Innocent | Book 11 | How To Stop A Vampire War In Six Easy Steps Page 5
