The Phantom Oracle (Vampire Innocent Book 5)

by Matthew S. Cox

  With a clean set of sweat pants and a new T-shirt under my arm, I hurry upstairs and hop in the shower. I’d say I miss the normality of shaving my legs… but I don’t. Flight still ranks tops on my list of ‘why it’s cool to be a vampire,’ but the list of small minutiae I no longer have to deal with like shaving, tampons, having the slightest care about calories, are all strong marks in the ‘win’ column, too.

  Shower done, I wrap my hair in a towel, dress, and head downstairs.

  Dad intercepts me on my way from the bottom of the stairs to the kitchen. “Hey, Sarah?”

  “Hmm?” I stop and smile at him. “What’s up?”

  “Do you think you could take Sam and Sierra to karate?”

  I shrug. “What time? I have a class at six.”

  “It’s from four to five.”

  Sierra and Sam both walk up behind Dad.

  “Yeah I can do that. Be cutting things a bit close, but I don’t really need a whole hour for the drive to school. And whoa… Sierra wants to go? I thought you lost interest. Too much time away from video games.”

  Sierra glowers at nothing in particular. “I don’t want to be kidnapped again.”

  I almost make a joke about Bree Swanson kidnapping anyone is almost ‘cute,’ but don’t. Despite that girl being relatively harmless, anyone under the influence of mind control is a threat. That entire situation could have gone way wrong. Hmm.

  “Cool. I wonder if I should take karate lessons, too? Considering how things have been going for me lately, learning how to fight might not be a bad idea.”

  Sam shakes his head. “They’re not teaching us how to fight with claws.”

  “You could look around for a place that has tiger style kung fu?” Dad attempts a horrible martial arts stance.

  “Is that drunken monkey stance?” I ask.

  “Ha. Ha.” Dad relaxes and stops standing like a huge dork.

  A frog lands on my head with a slap.

  “Ow!” I cringe.

  Ribbit.

  It clings to my hair while I peer up at the stairway it leapt from.

  “Sam…”

  “Sorry!”

  I snag the frog from my head and hold it up to stare into its beady eyes. That weird feeling of them watching me with real sentience is gone, but something strange is still going on.

  “I can’t tell if this is the same one, but a frog got out last night, too.” I hand it to my brother. “Are you feeding them enough? Why do they keep escaping?”

  “Yeah, they’re eating enough.” Sam nods. “Found a guide online how to take care of frogs. I don’t know why they keep getting out.”

  “Oh, speaking of tiger style.” Dad wags his eyebrows. “Bloodsport.”

  “Not funny,” I mutter.

  “No… I mean next movie.” He grins.

  “That sounds gory.” Sierra peers up at him. “Sophia’s gonna scream the whole time.”

  Dad pats both her and Sam on the shoulder. “Nah. It’s not gory. It’s a martial arts movie. You guys will love it.”

  Translation: Sam will think it’s cool. Sierra will roll her eyes the whole time, and Sophia will be emotionally traumatized. Me? I’ll smile through it, grateful to still be able to spend time with my family. Had I not died, I’d probably be in the rolling-the-eyes camp with Sierra.

  Anyway…

  We each drift off to our own separate distractions for a little less than an hour. I randomly munch on some pretzels because, hey why not? Feels like I need to eat something right after waking up. Eventually, Sam comes thundering down the stairs in his karate uniform. Sierra, not having one, rocks a T-shirt, yoga pants, and ballet flats.

  “You have to get a uniform,” says Sam.

  “She has to decide if she wants to go more than once first,” calls Dad from his office.

  Sierra shrugs. “I’m curious. I might remember why I stopped going and hate it again.”

  I grin… and, after heading down to my room to grab my backpack and books, usher the littles through the rain to the Sentra.

  The karate place isn’t too far from home, in a modest strip mall barely half the size of the shopping center where Sophia’s dance class is. It’s full of shouting tweens, a handful of parents, and six employees all wearing karate uniforms. The smell of rubberized mats, old sweat, and that weird wet dog fragrance that always saturates locker rooms is everywhere.

  A small desk sits off to the left of the entrance with a middle-aged guy in a karate uniform standing behind it. Most of the place is wide open except for a few columns holding up the ceiling, all thoroughly wrapped in padding. Some parents sit on the radiator by the front window, which is pretty much opaque with fog.

  Dad already made the arrangements for Sierra to take the ‘free first class,’ so I just need to sign her in at the front desk. She and Sam head out to the main floor with the other kids while I take a seat among the parents. It’s similar to Sophia’s dance class, but quite a bit louder.

  I sit there listening to kids shouting as they perform a series of rehearsed punches and kicks at midair. This one chubby boy about Sam’s age occasionally loses his karate pants whenever he tries to do a side kick, giving everyone a view of his briefs. Naturally, everyone laughs. He blushes a little but doesn’t give up. One of the instructors checks the drawstrings, but the poor kid’s unusual shape doesn’t help. It’s like trying to put pants on an egg. Still, he refuses to give up.

  Half an hour or so into the class, the kids pair off, one holding a padded target while the other tries to punch or kick it. I’m so glad I’m dead. All these kids and teens shouting would give any mortal being a severe headache. I don’t know how the heck the people who work here tolerate it.

  Mostly, I focus on Sam and Sierra. He’s totally into it, though he does ham it up a bit much… like he’s the hero of a lame kung fu movie. Sierra spends the entirety of the fifty-minute class period with the same expression she had on when she first tried a Thai iced tea: part confusion, part disgust, part smile. She had to drink three of them before she decided she liked them. I guess that means she’s going to want to come back at least a few times.

  At the end of the class, the primary instructor, Dave something, has all the kids line up, bow, and give off a battle shout at the same time. Most of the parents around me are expecting it and plug their ears. Sam zooms over as the class breaks up, Sierra trudging along behind him.

  From what I saw, I don’t think this class is going to do me much good… unless I get attacked by a guy standing as rigid as a video game character and trying to kill me with a foam target.

  The head instructor walks over and introduces himself as Dan—not Dave—Black. Since I’m not the parent, I don’t get the full brunt of the sales pitch, but he does tell me how good he thought Sierra did for a first timer, and compliments her on picking things up fast. Surprisingly, he doesn’t press us to sign anything tonight and leaves us with a, “Well, hope you had fun tonight and maybe learned something.”

  The kids grab their coats and we head outside across a downpour-saturated parking lot to the Sentra. Sierra runs faster and makes it to the front seat. Sam doesn’t bother complaining, which probably annoys her on some small level, and slides into back. Both of them breathe heavily from the class and the dash to the car.

  “So, what did you think?” I ask, starting the engine.

  Sierra groans. “Ugh. That was a lot more work than I thought it would be.”

  I chuckle. “Wow. That didn’t take long.”

  “No, I’m not giving up yet… just thought it would be more ‘how to kick someone’s ass’ and less workout.”

  Sam shrugs. “This is basically yoga with more screaming.”

  Okay, so much for driving right away… I’m laughing too hard.

  Sierra fans herself. “More screaming? There isn’t usually any screaming in yoga.”

  “I went with Mom once, and this lady there screamed a lot. Sometimes bad words, too. She fell over a couple times.”

&
nbsp; Once I stop giggling to myself, I glance at Sierra. “So, you going to come back?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Well, think about it. Mom and Dad will need to pay for… what is it three months or six?”

  “Three,” says Sam. “Or six. Or a year. It’s cheaper the more you get at once.”

  Sierra’s quiet the rest of the way home, lost in thought.

  I pull into the driveway and stop, intending to let them out and go straight to class. Sam bolts for the door, but Sierra lingers. When she looks over at me, her eyes are a little red. Uh oh.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “If you knew karate, would Scott still have killed you?”

  And just like that, I’m stabbed in the heart for the second time of my life. “Uhh… Well, it happened kinda fast. Umm.”

  “Think it’s a waste of time? I mean, we’re all pretty skinny and weak.”

  I grin, ruffling her hair. “You’re not overly weak. Just not strong.”

  She sticks out her tongue.

  “Actually, it might have helped… but not so much because I would’ve been able to stop him from stabbing me. We were close together, I wasn’t expecting him to get violent, and he moved so damn fast.”

  “What the heck else would karate do if it wouldn’t have helped you stop the knife?”

  I do my best impression of Dad’s cheesy voice. “If I’d been studying karate—or anything really—for a couple years, I’d probably have had the self-confidence to dump him way before I did. And out in the open, not off in the woods alone with him.”

  “Okay, Dad. Thanks for the PSA.” She rolls her eyes. “And knowing is half the battle, right?”

  “Something like that.” I laugh.

  She grabs my hand. “Hey. Don’t die again.”

  “It’s only school.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about.” She swallows hard. “If someone goes crazy with a gun, I hope they wait ’til it’s dark.”

  Aww, shit. How the hell am I supposed to discuss spree shooters with an eleven-year-old? I’m ready to cry as much as I’m furious with the world that a kid her age is even thinking such things can happen. I don’t want to say ‘that stuff doesn’t happen here’ because guess what’ll happen if I say that? “Yeah. I do, too.”

  “If I die at school, please bring me back. I’d rather be a vampire than gone. You guys would be too sad.”

  And… I’m gonna be late for class. I grab her and burst into tears. Sierra sobbing as well makes it worse. This girl never cries. We sit there together in the running car, rain swirling in the headlight beams from the world weeping along with us.

  7

  Eye Contact

  It’s dark enough that I consider taking the ‘flying in a bikini’ thing seriously.

  However, with my luck, I’ll pull a full-on Icarus. The rain will stop, clouds will part, and the sun will pluck my wings when I’m at a thousand feet doing 140 miles an hour. Aurélie warned me that if something ‘killed’ me while I’m exposed to sunlight, I’d die for real. Even if it’s something—like a bullet to the heart—that wouldn’t normally bother a vampire.

  By extension, I’m going to go out on a limb and assume my body turning into a quarter-mile-long squish mark on the road would count as a fatal injury.

  So… I drive.

  It is dark enough that I’m online. Between superhuman reflexes, actual immortality, and the full intent to mentally command any cop who gets in my way to forget having seen me, I manage to arrive at school with three minutes to spare.

  I didn’t tell Sierra that I don’t actually know how to make someone else a vampire. Nor did I mention that the idea of doing it to any of my siblings is heartbreaking… but if something else killed them already, I would absolutely do that. But yeah, I’m gonna just stop thinking about that scenario or I’m going to spend the whole rest of the night crying to myself.

  Both of tonight’s classes are in a different place, the “Science and Math Building,” which is on the next block north, across the street from the main building. A quick flight from the parking garage allows me to reach the classroom on the second floor only a few seconds behind the instructor—a late-twentysomething Hispanic woman in a sharp navy pantsuit. The room’s pretty much full, and of course the only seats left open are in the front row. Whatever. I’m dead. I shouldn’t be intimidated by a teacher.

  I take a seat and listen to the professor introduce herself as Olive Garcia, and go over the basics of what we’ll be covering in Comp Sci 101. Since I’m—at least on paper—a programming major, this is a bread and butter course, so time to pay attention.

  The class is only an hour, from six to seven, and feels like it went by in a blur. I like the teacher a lot. Friendly, professional, definitely knows her shit, and she has an easy mannerism about her that makes me think she fits into that small group of perfect teachers… the ones who are both experts in their field and also have a knack for communicating it.

  Today’s my first multiple class day. It’s annoying for two reasons: first, the early start time at six. Second, I have a one-hour gap before my next class, Intro to Calculus, which runs from eight to nine. And the best part is… I get to do this again on Friday. Ugh. Anyway, I’ve got an hour to kill.

  Might as well go grab a snack.

  Seattle Central College doesn’t exactly have a sprawling campus like what I’d always imagined I’d be running around in after high school. It’s pretty much a couple of big ass buildings and a few not so big ass buildings in the heart of Seattle. While it’s good for minimizing dealing with bad weather, it makes it a little annoying for me in terms of finding food. Like, whoever designed this place really didn’t take the needs of vampire students seriously.

  I really don’t want to constantly ambush people in the bathroom. For one thing, that limits me to other women. For another, I don’t want to develop an association between feeding and being in a public restroom. My life is screwy enough already without the sight of toilets making me hungry. That’s a level of messed up I’m not prepared to tolerate. So… I head outside—or start to. Damn. It’s still pouring. Heck with it. I can eat later.

  The school has a little lounge-slash-arcade near the cafeteria. Of course, at this hour, it’s mostly staffed by vending machines. Not that I’m upset at the lack of fresh, hot food. I could do the responsible student thing and get started right away on some reading I have to do for my Comp Sci class, since I need to have it done by Friday. However, the old arcade games are more appealing.

  It takes me an embarrassingly long time to realize why the start button isn’t working: this thing wants quarters. Like seriously? A video game that only lets you play if you put money into it? Wow. Dad talked about ‘arcades’ like they were the most awesome thing ever. He never said anything about money.

  Blah.

  Schoolwork it is.

  Fortunately, the ‘work’ for that class is only reading. Fifty pages in two days is kinda annoying but whatever. I flop at a corner seat on the far end of the cafeteria and open the textbook… and find myself staring at meaningless marks on the page. It’s in English, but I haven’t found the energy to engage my brain yet. I am an immortal vampire. Any hope of a normal life for me is long gone. Why am I doing this again? Oh, right. To feel normal. To make my parents happy, which in turn makes me happy. Nothing to see here. I’m just an ordinary kid in an ordinary cafeteria reading an ordinary book.

  Nothing weird about me at all.

  The constant sound effects from the arcade games demo-playing themselves and a low murmur of conversation isn’t too distracting. Not like when I stare right at someone and can perceive their muscles creaking. I tune out the world and focus on the book in front of me. A while later, the feeling like I’m a deer standing in a hunter’s rifle scope comes back.

  I look up from the book and cast a glance around, which is pretty easy considering I’m in the corner. That woman in the super frilly black dress catches my eye from the arcade area. She
’s wandering among the people in there—three of whom are playing the weird coin-eating games—and watching the screens like the same twenty-second loops are entertaining. No one in the area even bats an eye at her. Okay, that’s weird. This girl looks like she should be on her way to a movie set or a theater.

  Goth stuff is cool and all, but this girl’s taking it to the level of mission statement. I’m surprised she didn’t go all the way and dye her hair black.

  She grows bored with a Dig Dug machine, pulls her gaze off the screen, and looks straight at me. We hold eye contact for about five seconds before she resumes drifting around the arcade. Something about her feels not quite right, so I keep on watching her. She doesn’t seem to mind me staring at her, in fact, she smiles—and keeps smiling at me while walking out of the cafeteria.

  Okay, that’s a ‘hey come up to my room’ glance if I’ve ever seen one.

  Not that I’ve ever seen one.

  I mean, usually it’s the girl giving that look to a guy, and I’m neither that girl nor likely to be on the receiving end of such a smile.

  Except for right now.

  Only… it doesn’t give me the idea she wants to hook up. No, something weird is definitely going on here. Could she be another vampire and she’s seen through my disguise? I try to think about my landing in the parking deck and if she would’ve seen me or not, but I’m certain she didn’t walk out from behind the column until after I’d been walking for a few seconds.

  But, she might’ve been peeking around the side.

  Grr.

  Curiosity wins. I get up and trot after her, but stop in the hall when I don’t see her anywhere. Damn. I look back and forth twice more without finding her. Not wanting to leave my stuff unattended, I hurry back to my table, annoyed and confused. My irritation is mostly coming from unanswered questions. But, really, if that girl wanted me to follow her, she’ll come back when she realizes I’m not there.

  I read for another ten minutes, then pack up and proceed to the room for my calculus class.

  Admittedly, there’s more than a little dread involved here. Calc is like the scapegoat subject for math being horrible, one of those super hard, super abstract classes that everyone has to take but only like five percent of people will ever use again once they’re done with it in school. I’m not seeing much of a future at NASA for me, so I’m going to take a wild guess and say I’ll be in the ninety-five percent who’ll never see it again.