Sometimes the dumbest things can be a mental rock to cling to. My problems are a little more severe than hot flashes, but thinking about being too young for menopause is a focus point. And yeah, Dad’s lame ass sense of humor helps. If I can almost smile while cooking alive, maybe there is hope.
Chanting ‘ohmmm’ does not help.
Know what else sucks? The idiots who put me on this tree didn’t even have the decency to chain me to the west face so the trunk shields me from the worst of the dawn. They put me on the south, I think, since my right side’s on fire and my left’s okay. The tow chain is so damn tight I can’t even shimmy around the trunk.
Nothing to do but weather the storm.
Honestly, I think it’s working. Every few minutes, there’s a momentary reprieve where the inferno seems like ‘hey this isn’t so bad.’ It’s like I’m having a colonoscopy and the doctor hits a spot where I can forget there’s fifty feet of hose in a place it doesn’t belong—and then he moves it and I want to just die. Never had the pleasure of a colonoscopy. I’m only eighteen. Merely going by Dad’s rant. Apparently, the day they tell you it’s time to have a camera shoved up your butt is the day you officially become an ‘old person.’ Gotta keep myself smiling here, somehow.
I hallucinate someone whispering ‘what the hell?’
There can’t be anyone here. I’m an Innocent and it feels like I’m barely clinging to existence. Mohawk and Mr. Pistol would be ash by now. If any normal person happened to be close enough for me to hear speaking in the middle of this agony, they’d definitely have seen me and come running over to help.
Unless, maybe, someone saw me smoking or on fire and ran away in fear.
Ugh, great.
I am not a masochist. Pain sucks. However, buttloads of pain do weird things to the mind. My consciousness drifts back and forth between an almost euphoric state and pure hellish agony. Whenever it’s possible for me to collect my faculties, I chant the sun will not hurt me over and over in my head.
The more adamant my thoughts, the less it hurts. Hopefully, it’s not my imagination and my intention is having a real effect. Focusing on defiance makes this less painful—like being yelled at in school.
Yes. I am clinging to life by the power of spite alone.
Screw those guys.
Existence is a blur of light and pain.
No, I’m not trying to be spiritual or metaphorical. I have no sense of time and can’t see much due to the glare. Can’t even feel my body anymore, but I’ll take numbness over burning. Wait, no. I’m not completely numb. Good sign. Means my body hasn’t disintegrated. It’s like I’ve just belly-flopped off a forty-foot diving board and the pain’s faded to a faint stinging all over my body.
Ooh. If I ever see Mohawk again, I’m going to kill him.
Anger plus spite equals win… or at least a funny fail video.
“Sarah!” shouts Dad.
Okay, now I know I’m hallucinating.
A stampede of footsteps approaches on my right. Oh, when did it become my cool side? The left is on fire now.
“Sarah?” asks Dad.
I peel my face—no it’s not melted, merely drool—off the bark and look.
My father’s standing five feet away, gawking at me with an expression of horrified worry—and he’s wearing his red headband. Sophia’s on his left in a pink dress. Sierra’s on his right holding her sword and sporting a Nyan Cat T-shirt and jeans. Not sure if they did it on purpose, but they kinda look like one of those funny movie posters for National Lampoons painted in the style of Boris Vallejo… except Dad’s got his shirt on—thankfully.
Mom’s not here. Should I be surprised? Maybe ‘my vampire daughter’s been chained to a tree, left to die at sunrise’ isn’t a good excuse for her to leave work early. Wait, I really ought to be more confused why my little sisters are here.
Or not. Wow, this sounds so messed up to say, but I think the girls are better equipped to handle dangerous situations than my mother, though she’s pretty deadly with her two-handed skillet.
“Am I hallucinating?” I rasp.
“Dumbass,” says Sierra.
“That’s not nice.” Dad pokes her in the head.
“No, not Sarah.” Sierra points at me. “Whoever tried to kill her with sunlight is the dumbass.”
Dad starts to say something, pauses, then nods. “Oh, yes. Right.”
“Is Hunter okay?” I don’t even bother trying to struggle anymore. “What time is it?”
“It’s almost five in the afternoon.” Dad pats my shoulder. “He’s doing okay. In the hospital with a concussion. They wanted to keep him for monitoring.”
An overwhelming burst of joy gets me crying.
“Dalton called Mom like super early,” says Sophia. “He said you were in big trouble, but fell asleep before he could tell her where you were. Coralie helped us find you. Only reason I’m here is ’cause Dad can’t see her.”
Oh, makes sense. I shift my gaze to Sierra. “What’s she doing here?”
Sierra holds up her sword. “Helping you, dork. I came along in case any asses needed to be kicked.”
“No Sam?” I emit a wheezy chuckle on smoky breath. “Didn’t make it a family outing?”
“Umm, actually.” Dad grimaces. “He’s still in the closet portal.”
Sierra looks up at him. “Thought I heard Ronan in his room when I was getting dressed for school this morning. He screamed.”
“Uh oh,” whispers Sophia.
Crap! “Did someone kidnap him?”
“I don’t know.” Dad examines the chain wrapped around me.
Sophia also hunts around for padlocks. “Maybe the mystics grabbed him? I got kidnapped out of my bedroom once.”
“Good grief, Sarah.” Dad scratches his head. “The abductions are getting out of control.”
“Not sure this counts as an abduction.” I shrug, making chain clink. “They tried to kill me.”
“Might’ve been a good scream from Ronan.” Sierra shrugs.
I let my head fall against the tree. “What the heck is a good scream?”
“Like on a rollercoaster. Or they found treasure.” Sierra smiles, walking around the tree. “Whoa… three pairs of handcuffs. They really didn’t want you going anywhere.”
“Yeah, I kinda got the idea from the 200 pounds of steel chain mummifying me. If I still needed to breathe, I’d probably have suffocated by now.”
“Any idea where the keys are?” Dad starts hunting around the area.
“Probably with the two vamps who left me here. I don’t think they’d have been kind enough to leave them in a convenient, nearby location.”
Sophia grins at me the same way she smiles at people who buy her Girl Scout cookies. “I got it. Can open these no problem.”
“You said the same thing about fixing that kid’s clothes,” mutters Sierra.
“Oh, no. What did she do?” I cringe.
Sophia looks down. “Tried to help someone and set a mischief faerie loose. He wasn’t a real faerie, just a weird spell. I fixed everything.”
“Can’t believe you aren’t grounded.” Sierra whistles. “So lucky.”
Dad pats them both on the head. “She’s not grounded because she came straight to me and told me everything she did right away. Everyone makes mistakes. I don’t ask for perfection, kids. Just honesty.”
Sierra mouths ‘goody two shoes.’
“And… because she fixed everything and promised not to use magic at school again except for serious emergencies.” Dad holds his finger up.
Sierra taps her sword at the chain. “I think Sarah’s getting sick of being tied to a tree.”
“Yeah. Just a bit.”
“Sec. I apologize in advance if something unexpected occurs.” Sophia raises her hands.
“Dad!” Shouts Sierra before diving at him, shoving him into a stumbling fall an instant before a gunshot goes off.
Sophia shrieks, whirling to look away from me.
So
n of a bitch. I can’t see what’s going on. My head doesn’t turn far enough. Dad hits the ground, Sierra on top of him.
“Get out of the way, kid!” yells a guy.
“Eat a dick!” screams Sierra. “Vy gryaznyy khaker!”
“Uhh, what?” asks the guy.
“I think she called you a filthy hacker,” whispers another guy. “Random.”
If someone wasn’t pointing a damn gun at my father, I’d probably have laughed. Sierra tried to use a ‘curse’ she heard while playing Call of Duty. Sophia emits a little hamsterine growl.
Three men all scream at once, sounding terrified.
“What the fu—aaaah!” yells one.
The WTF guy runs past me into my field of view. He’s holding a bright green hissing snake like he’s trying to strangle it. More hissing comes from behind.
“Whoa,” says Sierra. “Nice.”
The guy running around in circles in my limited field of view continues to panic for a few seconds—until the snake he’s holding bites him on the face. He promptly falls unconscious, fully out cold before he can even start to fall over. Even though I’m undead, being around snakes with venom so potent it knocks a man on his ass in a nanosecond is not cool. It’s way less cool when I can’t move.
Sierra leaps off Dad and runs out of my view, shouting a war cry. Dad gets to his feet and tries to go after her, but another guy rushes him. They start brawling. My computer geek father decides to pull a Jean Claude VanDamme. As in, he’s blocking every punch thrown at him with surprising ease and skill. It would be a lot better if he didn’t use his face to do it, though.
Driven by sheer determination to protect us, my father flies into a furious blur of punching and grappling. The dude’s obviously been in more fights than my father and appears to know what he’s doing, but Dad is highly motivated.
They essentially stalemate and end up rolling around on the ground.
Directly behind me, it sounds like Sierra is sparring with the third man. I squirm, trying to look. Seems as though he keeps trying to get past her so he can help his buddy beat Dad up—but Sierra’s not having it. She also hasn’t sliced him yet, basically doing a lion tamer routine.
“Out of the way, kid.”
“Touch me and you’re pulling back a stump,” says Sierra.
“Nice!” yells Dad in the midst of his brawl. “Who let you watch American Psycho?”
“No one. I’m quoting Kerrigan from Starcraft. You lose twenty geek points.”
“Damn,” mutters Dad right before emitting an oof as he suffers a gut punch.
Sophia darts up beside me and raises her hands.
The dude trying to get past Sierra rushes to his left, grabs Sophia by the hair, and drags her backward onto her butt.
She screams, mostly in pain from having her hair yanked.
Ooh, you freakin’ bastard. Nothing makes me want to resort to violence as much as watching someone inflict pain on one of my siblings. I tug at the chains… but I’m only human strong now. Absolutely zero chance of me doing anything.
Sierra takes revenge, running up behind the guy and delivering a fairly brutal kick to the balls that knocks the man to one knee. She two-hands her sword, twisting up for a power swing, then yells, “There can be only one!”
Holy crap, Sierra!
The man screams and backpedals. Sierra stalks after him, herding the guy away from us. Oh, whew. She was only trying to scare him.
Dad gets his guy in a headlock, punching him repeatedly in the jaw. “Please tell me you were kidding.”
“If he touches Sophia again, I won’t be kidding.” Sierra snarls. “Might not be his head I cut off, though.”
The guy makes a dash toward Dad, but Sierra zips in his way… a little too fast to be normal. It worries me, but considering my present circumstances, I can’t be upset at Dalton for giving her another little boost.
Sophia makes a series of determined faces at me. Dad and one guy roll back and forth, slugging each other. Sierra zigs and zags, keeping herself between the other dude and either Dad or Sophia. She’s maddeningly fast, and the guy trying to get around her is starting to come unglued and laugh maniacally.
He reaches a point of frustration where he attempts to charge straight through her, perhaps hoping she’ll hesitate.
Sierra puts the tip of her sword at his throat, pushing him back while managing not to draw blood. “Look, pal. I respect you’re trying not to hurt us because we’re kids, but I can’t let you beat up my dad. Since you’re messing with us at all, I know you’re also trying to hurt my big sister. Back off.”
“Almost got it,” whispers Sophia.
Dad appears to get the upper hand, rolling on top of his guy and delivering a series of powerful—for him—punches to the head. At least until the guy throws him off to one side.
“Get the other brat,” yells the dude by Sierra. “She’s trying to let the target loose.”
Ooh. I’ve never been called ‘the target’ before. Is that better or worse than ‘bitch’?
The man who threw Dad wobbles to his feet, staring at Sophia. “Fred, the blonde kid is just staring at the target. Relax. What’s she gonna do?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Mike. Maybe turn our guns into freakin’ snakes? Or did you already forget that happened?” Fred redirects his scowl onto Sierra. “Will you get that damn sword out of my neck?”
“Are you gonna go away?” asks Sierra.
“Maybe I could turn the chain into a snake,” whispers Sophia.
“Please don’t,” I mutter.
Mike runs at Sophia. She screams and starts going in circles around me and the tree I’m stuck to. Sierra looks back and forth between him and Fred, hesitating. If she goes after Mike, Fred’s going to jump on Dad—who doesn’t look like he’s up for fighting a fresh opponent. At least Dad kicked the crap out of Mike too, so he’s having trouble catching Sophia.
“I can wait!” I yell. “Can’t do a damn thing in the daytime anyway. Knock those idiots out or something!”
Dad intercepts Mike, dragging him away from Sophia. Fred tries to go around Sierra again. She whacks him on the knuckles with the flat of her blade.
“Ow, brat!” He jumps back, waving his hand rapidly.
Mike gets Dad in a headlock. Dad punches him twice in the stomach, breaking loose, then backs off to ‘fighting distance.’ Sophia emits an adorable little snarl like an angry Ewok, thrusting her hand out toward the guy.
All of a sudden, Mike barks a weird bellowing derp noise like Quasimodo stubbing his toe. He stumbles as if he’s gone from zero to ‘too drunk to stand’ in an instant, then falls to the ground as if a puppet had its strings cut. Dad begins whomping on him, punching the defenseless guy in the head repeatedly. Two good shots knock Mike out cold.
Dad looks like he got run over by a stolen U-Haul, but he’s still conscious.
Fred stares. “What the hell…?”
Sophia smiles at him, holding up her hand as if cupping a bit of powder… then blows across her palm.
He appears confused for a second, then his eyes cross. Fred falls over backward, unconscious.
“They broke the number one rule,” says Dad. “Always take out the mage first.”
“That’s the number two rule.” Sierra shakes her head. “Take out the healer first.”
Dad holds a finger up. “Mages are squishier and more deadly. They have priority. Also, we don’t have a healer.”
“Gawd, Dad!” I yell. “You are not reducing me to a save-the-village-girl side plot from one of your D&D games.”
“No!” Sophia shakes her head. “Don’t take out the mage first! Bad!”
“You’re only saying it because you are the mage.” Sierra tries to ruffle her hair, but Sophia dodges, sticking her tongue out.
Dad takes a few breaths to compose himself, then walks over. Surprisingly, he isn’t limping. “Nice work.”
“Sorry for not stabbing the guy.” Sierra looks down.
“No, hon.�
�� Dad hugs her. “It’s perfect. You did great. He wasn’t trying to kill you.”
Sophia points at me. “They tried to kill Sare.”
“With the sun. Dumb… so not really trying to kill her.” Sierra sniffs at me. “She’s not even burning too bad. Doesn’t smell like you’re failing to grill steak.”
Dad frowns. “My steaks are not that burnt.”
“Well-done is a crime against humanity.” Sierra folds her arms.
“Very funny,” I mumble. “Hey, guys. I’m really quite done with this tree. Please get me out of here.”
“Okay.” Sophia takes a deep breath, raises her hands, and whispers, “Please don’t mess this one up.”
“Soph?” asks Sierra.
“Hmm?”
Sierra grasps Sophia by the hand and pulls her around to the other side of the tree. “Might work better if you look at the actual locks.”
“Oh,” says Sophia. “Good point.”
I brace for weird. My sister and magic haven’t exactly been predictable… like ever.
A moment later, a ripple of clicking and clattering breaks the silence. The handcuffs pop open and the chain goes slack. Sophia emits a gleeful squeal, as if she’s surprised what she wanted to happen actually happened. Granted, opening locks is—according to Darren Anderson—one of the most basic things possible to do with magic. Gravity decides to remind me how it works. I collapse in a heap. Ouch.
Dad rushes over and scoops me into his arms. “Sarah… are you okay?”
I stare into space. “I am… in a world of shit.”
“Full Metal Jacket. Nice.” Dad kisses me on the head.
“Umm…” Sierra grimaces.
“She’s fine. Sense of humor is intact.” Dad winks, then pulls me upright.
I cling to him, beyond relieved to still exist. “You guys are awesome.”
My sisters hug me.
“Wow, Dad. You actually beat the snot out of him,” says Sierra.
Dad points at his temple. “Never forget the headband.”
18
Friends in (Very) Low Places
Sam stood at the edge of the cliff, staring down at Ronan.
It felt weird to think of him as a ‘best friend’ since they’d only known each other a few months. He’d been hanging out with Darryl and Jordan for years. However, having Ronan ‘in the know’ about the supernatural stuff allowed them to talk about things and have experiences in ways he couldn’t with his other friends. Not that he disliked them or didn’t want to hang out with them anymore… but Ronan started feeling more like a brother than a friend. Part of the family.
Vampire Innocent | Book 11 | How To Stop A Vampire War In Six Easy Steps Page 16
