Fangs

by Anna Katmore

  Uncle V growls into the phone, but I’m sure Aunt Ellie is still in the room scowling at him with her doe eyes. If she weren’t, he would vent his anger about catching hell from his wife. “Go to the dungeon,” he repeats, now in a forced calm tone. “You’ll find tools and weapons there. Certainly, an ax to chop a hole in that witch barrier.”

  “Rats live in that cellar,” I whine with a murmur and a grimace.

  “Do you want an escape or not?”

  “I do.”

  “Then don’t be a wimp and get over it.”

  I shudder at the idea. Seriously, it’s rats! “What if I leave the circle and just don’t eat for the next few weeks?”

  Uncle V laughs in my ear. The scornful sound proves that Aunt Ellie must have left the room. “Then you’ll turn into a vampire-zombie. But don’t worry, I’ll fix it with a blood bag when I come and take you home for Christmas. Wouldn’t want to travel with a decaying corpse.”

  A frustrated growl rolls out of my throat as I lean against the wall in the upstairs hallway and roll my eyes. “You’re so warm-hearted, Uncle V.”

  “Hashtag—who needs family,” he replies.

  Okay, I guess I provoked that one. When I don’t say anything for several seconds, Vlad heaves another sigh that sounds at least a little sympathetic. “Eleanora says she loves you. And don’t give up, she believes in you.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” I mumble then drop my hand with the phone as the flat tone reveals that he hung up.

  And, here I am…alone again. Man, now I understand why they call solitary confinement the worst punishment in the world. That combined with no blood and no Wi-Fi, and a vampire doubtlessly goes apeshit after a couple of days.

  I’m going apeshit! And, bloody hell, I hate this oppressing darkness. I need light in here. If not from a chandelier, then at least from a torch. Or a candle. I’d be fine with a campfire, dammit.

  I trudge back into the master bedroom and kneel down on the stone floor. From the fireplace, I take out a flat piece of wood and a solid stick that looks as if it won’t break with a little pressure. “Stupid, ancient man from Hell!” I mutter as I rub the stick hard against the wood, waiting for the friction to start a fire. “I hope I catch the vampire-pox in this place and die so you can forever blame yourself for killing your last relative in the world.” I rub and rub, but the only thing burning is my biceps and my rage. “Why all the effort to save me, huh? Get a kick out of torturing the poor nephew who can’t live a week without your help? Ha! I’ll show you. I’ll not only survive this fucking haunted house, I’ll be the king of it and return as your worst nightmare. I’ll burn your ass with your own weap—”

  “Hello?”

  Struck dumb, I freeze, and my head snaps up.

  What the hell was that?

  Chapter 9

  One tooth short of a meal

  Quentin

  “Quentin?”

  Abby’s uncertain voice comes from downstairs. Holy bat shit, what is she doing here?

  “Are you home?”

  I drop the wood and scamper to my feet, tiptoeing to the wide-open door. I don’t dare shout back because if she stinks like yesterday, she’ll only bring the pestilence into my house. On the safe side, I stick my head into the hallway and sniff. Nothing. But she’s too far away to tell for sure.

  Silently, I sneak to the stairway. She left the front door open. A flood of light sweeps across the threshold and illuminates the great hall just enough to reveal the nosy girl taking a few reluctant steps in the direction of the kitchen. A blue linen backpack hangs over her shoulder. I wonder if she brought more stuff to torture me with.

  “You know the no-light thing is getting creepy…” Her voice bounces around in the dark.

  With one hand on the rail, I quietly walk down the stairs but halt in the middle of the staircase and take a slow, deep breath. Abby’s scent filters through my nose. Cookie. A-positive. Ah…delicious Heaven, the garlic stink is gone. My canines start to hurt as they slowly slip from their sockets, wanting so badly to sink deep into her throat.

  “Quentin?” her shy voice drifts to me once more as she looks into the kitchen. “Are you here?”

  “Hello, Abigail…”

  A soft shriek escapes her as she whirls around and presses a flat hand to her chest, taking a few gasping breaths to calm herself. Her eyes dart around. “Jesus Christ! You scared me to death!”

  Obviously, I didn’t. But I can suck you dead if you let me.

  “I’m sorry,” I drawl and descend the rest of the stairs. Her intoxicating scent gets stronger with every step I take. Her healthy and promising heartbeat also calls to me. She’s even tied her hair into a ponytail to give me easy access to her neck.

  When I reach the bottom landing, Abby steps into the pool of daylight.

  No!

  Carefully, I edge closer to the light, as far as I can without burning. Man, this is getting really warm. Better than any open flame.

  “I know you can’t walk in pure sunshine because of your disease,” she says with her head curiously tilted, “but don’t you think you’re overdoing it a little with the encapsulating?”

  “No. Would you like to stay for dinner?” Saliva gathers in my mouth. I think it even rises in my brain because I find it hard to concentrate all of a sudden. “You could be my special dish.” No, wait. That was wrong. Right? Right. “Guest.”

  She probably can’t see me well from where she’s standing, but I can see her puzzled frown without trouble. “Why do you sound so strange?” Abby demands. “Are you still feeling sick?”

  “Problem with my teeth,” I lisp. The damn things are piercing my bottom lip. Coppery liquid seeps from two puncture wounds. If my blood could save me from starving, I would suck myself dry. Eyebrows tilted to a narrow gaze, I take a sip anyway and swallow. Nope. That helps shit.

  “You have a toothache?”

  I have vampire teeth, and I’d be happy to give you an exclusive feel.

  “Maybe you should go see a dentist in town. I’m sure my gran knows of someone. She won’t be home until late because it’s gin rummy eve at her friend’s house, but I can ask her tomorrow.”

  “I don’t need a dentist. I just need the right girl to eat.”

  Now she laughs, and I have to go back two lines and analyze what caused it. “You’re funny,” she says. “But speaking of dinner, I brought you some of Nana’s apple strudel.” She slips off the backpack and removes a plastic dish with a red lid from inside. “I always eat some when I’m sick. Then again, I eat this all the time, period.”

  She holds the container out to me, a little in the shadow. I could grab her wrist and haul her out of the light right now. But that would probably make her scream, and I know how her shrieks in this place sound. Inwardly, I flinch at the memory of the assault to my ears.

  I take the box and leave her wrist untouched. “Thank you.” When I open the lid, a sweet cloud of cinnamon and apple wafts into my face. “Smells good.” It really does. Sadly, it won’t sate my hunger, even if I eat tons of it.

  Slowly, I lift my gaze. Her neck on the other hand…

  My eyes narrow as I channel my thoughts. Come to me, Abigail Potts. Let me drink, and don’t scream.

  “So…” She twirls, stepping farther into the sun as she looks around, her gaze travelling up the wall to the dark ceiling. “What have you been doing all day?”

  Goddammit! I expel a frustrated breath. “I tried to start a fire.”

  She scans the huge fireplace in the wall to her left. “In there?”

  “No. Upstairs, in my bedroom.” To give my fangs a chance to retract, I break off a little piece of the sweet and shove it into my mouth. In the first month after my uncle changed me into a vampire, I still ate a lot of human food, simply out of habit. Eventually, I stopped because my body couldn’t digest it anymore and it came up the same way it went down. The apple dessert tastes nice, though, and it distracts, regardless if I have to throw it up later.

 
I put another piece into my mouth and speak around the bite. “Unfortunately, I was sent here fast without any idea of what this place looked like. I didn’t even bring a pocket lighter. You don’t happen to have one with you, do you?”

  “Sorry, no.” Abby scrunches her face. “Can’t you buy the things you need in town?”

  Probably. If I could get there somehow. I don’t think she’d understand my dilemma with the vampire trap, however, so I give her a nonchalant shrug. “When I can finally walk outside, most of the shops are already closed.”

  “Ah, yeah, that’s a problem indeed.” She scratches her head. “If it helps, I could go shopping for you. Just make a list of the things you need, and I’ll get them in town tomorrow. In the meantime…” She leaves her backpack on the floor and runs outside.

  Fricking hell, no!

  Through the open door, I see that she’s not really leaving. She gathers a few things from the ground and then hurries back in. With a beaming smile, she presents two stones the size of a fist to me. “These are flint stones. You can use them to start a fire. They’re everywhere out there.”

  Seriously? I trade the apple strudel container for the flint and cross to the fireplace where a low stack of weathered wood waits for my experimental fire making. A few hard knocks of the stones against each other, and sparks fly like fireflies.

  I didn’t notice that Abby left again until she suddenly hunkers down next to me and unloads an armful of twigs and old leaves. “You must blow when the first smoke comes up,” she commands and leans down to gently blow on the kindling. Seconds later, it catches fire with the sparks I produce. Dumbstruck, I stop.

  “No! Go on! You mustn’t stop.” She blows harder and faster when I knock the rocks together again. “Come on, blow!”

  Totally overburdened, I do what she says and bend down farther, which is hard because she doesn’t let me stop working the flint stones. I blow and laugh, and she laughs, too. And suddenly, we watch in amazement as the flames lick up the dark.

  “Whoa!” I throw my hands into the air, totally filled with the pride of a caveman who produced his first real fire. “Look at that!”

  “Well done,” Abby cheers, and I lower my hands again. She’s so close, our arms touch, and her cookie scent folds me in a warm cloud of ease. Tilting my head, I smile at her. I could slip my hand behind her neck right now and haul her closer for a bite.

  Or I could… “Thank you.”

  Abigail Potts gives me an innocent and most beautiful return smile. “You’re very welcome.”

  The moment is strange. Tranquil and nice. For the first time since I came to Transylvania, I wonder if company could be of more value than blood in this castle. Because, right now, it sure feels like it.

  When Abby holds my gaze for a long while, I start to believe that she sees just a little bit below the surface of this minute. How much truth she finds there, I don’t know. She rises, and I follow suit. Slowly. Never breaking eye-contact. As we stand face-to-face, neither of us speaks, but I reach out and skim my fingers down her bare arm, tracing the move with my gaze. Damn, it’s so good to touch someone. To feel somebody. To know that there’s a person who will come back and assure me that I’m not forgotten.

  Abigail angles her head, studying me with more wonder in her eyes, but she doesn’t flinch away. “You’re lonely here, aren’t you?” she says quietly.

  My gaze moves to her eyes. I swallow. “You cannot imagine just how much.” My voice is raspy with homesickness. Thick with insecurity and regret.

  “When will the film crew come over?”

  Right. The lie I told her at our first encounter. “I don’t know. I need to get a few things taken care of first. Could be a few days. Or weeks.”

  “That’s a long time to be alone.”

  I nod.

  Her features soften so much that it looks like her skin could be made of silk. “You know what?” She takes my hand, and all I can do is stare at her tender face. “I’m here for the entire summer. So, until your crew follows, I can come up here every day and be…” She shrugs and grins, rolling her eyes in the sweetest way. “Well…company.”

  I know that she didn’t say the word she was truly thinking. The corners of my mouth ride up a little. “You want to be my friend, Abigail Potts?”

  She bites her bottom lip. “If you let me.”

  Slowly, my fingers close around hers. “I think I would like that.”

  Her beam gets brighter, and suddenly, she pulls me along. Thankfully not into the light still shining through the open front door, but to the wall where she takes one of the ancient torches down. “Do you think they still work?”

  “Worth a try,” I answer and get another one. We push them into the fire, and when we take them out again, both burn a glorious orange. With this, it will be easy to start the fire in my bedroom. But before we get there, I have something else in mind.

  “You seem to have known this castle far longer than I have.” With the torch lighting my way, I head to the iron door that leads to the underground level and stop there. “Have you ever been to the dungeon?”

  Abby shakes her head. “There’s supposed to be a torture chamber in the cellar.” The aversion in her eyes tells me that this might be the one place she wouldn’t think of going, even in her wildest dreams.

  “Someone said there might be tools downstairs that could come in handy in the castle.”

  Her nose wrinkles. “And you want to go down there now?”

  Better together than alone, so yes, that was my plan. But when I turn back to the door, the memories of the disgusting rat swamp me, and I hesitate. “Ladies first?” I ask her with a grimace.

  Standing with her back to the wall, she shakes her head. “It’s your home. The honor of the lead is all yours.”

  “How very kind of you,” I counter her false sweetness. Then I shudder as I lift my hand to pull back the iron bar. My arm hovers.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  My face a whiny countenance, I look at her. “There’re rats in there.”

  She laughs. “Well, if you want those tools, you’ll have to deal with them.”

  “You aren’t scared of rats?”

  “Oh, sure I am. But you’ll go in there before me, and whatever comes our way will eat you first.”

  “Well, thank you, Miss Potts!” I give her a cynical chuckle before I cautiously pull the bar aside. The door creaks as if it wasn’t opened just three days ago. Abby hunches her shoulders. With the torch in hand, I bend around the door and spy inside. Everything looks calm.

  “Is the coast clear?” Her nervous voice drifts to me from behind.

  When I nod and open the door wider, she steps beside me, and we both let our torches light the narrow stairway.

  “Okay. Looks like it’s safe to gohooo—” Abigail’s last word pitches up into a screech when a speedy rodent hops up the stairs. I don’t know where exactly she tosses her torch, but suddenly, she’s clinging to me, her face buried against the crook of my neck, her whimper muffled by my shirt. The rat races between my legs then zooms across the hall and takes flight into daylight. It’s gone before I even realize what has happened. Only the girl remains where she ended up, her torch burning quietly on the stone floor.

  I have my arm around Abby and feel, for the first time, what a delicate little thing she actually is. Slim. Soft… Warm. Slowly, I tilt my head. Her heart pounds an alluring rhythm against my chest. She’s dangerously close. And her throat is the most delicious thing I’ve seen in days.

  I really don’t want to bite her, I swear. But, fuck, my canines shoot out of their hiding spots like somebody just said, “black pudding.” I pant against her skin. God, please give me a little self-restraint here.

  “Is it gone?” she squeaks as she clings to me, her fingers digging into my chest.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  Slowly, she lifts her head just a little. “Are there more?” The tension in her neck presents the carotid in a beautiful light.


  “No…” I rasp, fixating on that spot. Sorry, but it’s just too hard to refuse a cookie when it’s practically throwing itself into my mouth.

  My upper lip twitches back, baring my fangs. Damn, she’ll do me so much good.

  I feel how Abby wants to detach from me, but I can’t let her go. My arm around her is steel. When I lean in and touch my teeth to her neck, she pushes back hard, struggling to look at me. “Quentin? Is everything alllll—mighty God! What’s wrong with your mouth?!”

  Her hysteric shriek sends a jolt of shudders through me that unlocks my hold. She escapes. Stumbling backward, she falls over her discarded torch and topples to her butt. Like a spider, she crawls farther away from me, but then she grabs the still-burning torch and scrambles to her feet, holding it like a baseball bat for protection. “Why are your canines so long?”

  I guess it’s too late to convince her that the teeth are film equipment, too. “I really don’t want to bite you,” I growl and try to sound friendly as I follow her. “But I have to…well…nibble on you. Just a little.”

  “Nibble? Bite?” Her eyes glaze over with tears. I hate scaring her so much, but I have no control over myself right now. I’m really, really hungry.

  “Sorry, Abby. You just came to the wrong castle at the wrong—”

  WHAM!

  The seeming force of a nuclear bomb explodes in my face. My head jerks to the side, eyes wide open, and I spit a little nugget that’s suddenly inside my mouth to the floor.

  With my free hand, I rub my jaw. Ow!

  When I look at Abby, her torch has gone out, though she’s still gripping the bottom hard. She couldn’t have— My brows narrow with an incredulous frown. “Did you just hit me? With that?”

  Like a terrified little bunny in front of a wolf, she fixes me with a stare, her entire body shaking. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! You—you’re…”