The Phantom Oracle (Vampire Innocent Book 5)

by Matthew S. Cox

  The professor keeps talking with the women, not paying much attention to the flow of students making their way into the room. Seems he’s used to stragglers on the first day of a new semester as this room is a bit tricky to find.

  At a lull in the new arrivals around 9:08, he slides off the desk to his feet. The women he’d been talking to head off to desks as he ambles over to the door, leans out, and looks both ways. Seeing no one out there, he eases the door closed then turns with a smile.

  “Well, seems that’s about it then. Apologies for the inconvenient room, it’s all they had left. I hadn’t saved up enough box tops.”

  A few of the older students chuckle.

  What the heck do box tops have to do with anything?

  “I’m Professor Peter Heath, and welcome to Who wants to not be a Millionaire.”

  More people chuckle.

  He stops in front of his desk, hands clasped. “In all seriousness, welcome to my philosophy and sociology class. Now I’m sure you’re all bracing yourselves for long, rambling, confusing lectures that take up the entire night and leave you just as lost about the meaning of everything as you were before you arrived… plus a whole bunch of mind-numbingly tedious work.”

  Murmurs sweep over the room.

  Professor Heath holds his hands up, bowing his head slightly. “Well, I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you in at least one of those areas…”

  A few people make ‘aww’ noises.

  “I’m not a true believer in work, tedious or otherwise. And life is mind-numbing enough.”

  Most of the students cheer.

  “The point of my class, as I imagine could be said for any philosophy class, is to…” He raises both eyebrows as if some great profound knowledge is about to spill from his lips. “Sit around bullshitting for an hour.”

  Everyone laughs.

  “Ideas.” Professor Heath clasps his hands behind his back and proceeds to pace back and forth. “Since humans first realized they could think, we’ve been doing quite a bit of it. Though, perhaps not quite enough in these recent past few months.”

  More chuckling fills the room.

  “In this class, we will consider ideas. Debate their merits, think about their meaning… and try not to let the administration find the weed.” Before the laughter gets too loud, he raises a hand. “That, alas, was a joke. I’m not allowed to encourage such things, but who am I to tell you not to conduct any ‘research’ on your own time.” He grins. “Speaking of life… Does anyone have any thoughts as to its meaning?”

  Everyone’s quiet.

  He points at a guy in the front row, young twenties, short hair.

  “Uhh, love?” asks the student.

  “Love…” Professor Heath rubs his chin.

  “Yeah, you know… find love.”

  Heath tilts his head. “Why?”

  “I dunno. To get married, have kids. Procreate.”

  “Why?”

  The guy shrugs. “To keep humanity going.”

  “Ahh yes, the usual routine.” Professor Heath nods at him. “You’ve answered what people do with their lives. But what is the meaning of it?” He points at a girl a little older than me in a black leather jacket and blue wool cap. “What do you think?”

  “Forty two,” says the girl.

  I laugh, as do about a third of the students.

  “Fair enough.” He winks at her and points at me.

  Crap.

  I’m about to feel awkward until we make clean eye contact for the first time and an astounding realization hits me.

  The dude’s a vampire. A trace of recognition shows in his broadening smile.

  “What if there isn’t any?” I ask. “No one asks what the meaning of a giant rock sitting in a field is. It’s just there. What if life simply is? Not everything that happens or exists has to have meaning behind it.”

  “You know,” says Professor Heath, rocking heel to toe. “In all the years I’ve been teaching this class, I’ve never had anyone come up with that answer before. An interesting concept. Why do you think humanity has been obsessed with the question of why we exist?”

  I shrug. “Beats me. I’m only eighteen. I still think I’m immortal.”

  A few people laugh, mostly the older ones.

  He holds up a finger. “Ahh, wait one moment. Our quest for immortality isn’t scheduled until next month.” Professor Heath gives me a subtle nod indicating he caught my pun. “We’re not trying to be correct in this class, Miss…”

  “Wright.”

  His eyebrows go up.

  “Sarah Wright… with a w.”

  He laughs. “Ahh, clever. Well, Miss Wright. The questions floating around this class are ones that do not have specific correct answers, or what one may consider to be correct varies based on person and circumstance. The truth of perspective. Take a guess. What do you think is the reason humans have been obsessed with answering the ‘why are we here’ question?”

  I make a series of faces while trying to come up with something. “Okay. I think it’s part ego part curiosity. Curiosity in that humans are obsessed with learning and figuring things out, and someone a long time ago asked a question that’s difficult to answer. Ego because I think we as a species feel so vastly superior to everything else—animals, possible aliens, the planet—that we can’t accept beings like us simply happened by chance. Our ego demands that our existence have a reason for being. Why have a key if there’s no door for it to unlock? They don’t stop to think maybe it isn’t a key at all.”

  Okay, now I know how Sophia felt at her dance recital. Everyone is looking at me.

  “That’s fairly deep for a woman your age,” says Professor Heath.

  “My mother’s a lawyer and my sister has a PhD in sarcasm. I’m a master of weapons-grade bullshit.”

  “Do you believe that, err, ‘weapons-grade BS’ you came up with, or did you say something you think I wanted to hear or the class would enjoy discussing?”

  “Well, you said take a guess. That’s the first thing that came to mind.”

  He nods. “Interesting. Does anyone else have any thoughts on Miss Wright’s theory that life has no meaning other than itself?”

  A fortyish woman leaps at the chance to start talking about how God made humans.

  “Why?” asks Heath.

  “What?” the woman blinks.

  “Why did god make humanity? Was he lonely? Did he need someone to give him a ride home from the bar if he had a little too much?”

  A few people chuckle.

  “It’s in the Bible,” says the woman.

  A handful nod, a few roll their eyes.

  “No one is disputing that. My question is still the same. Why did god make humanity? Or do you think Miss Wright has a point and he simply stubbed his toe on Jupiter and a bit of energy shot out when he said ‘ouch’ and created life?”

  “I don’t think any god made us at all,” says a fiftyish guy with white hair and a fluffy beard.

  Oh shit. Here we go.

  The guy speaks for a few minutes about a random lucky mixture of environmental conditions and chemicals coming together on Earth that caused life to occur. God Woman counters by saying she thinks that still could be God’s work, only over the course of millennia rather than an old man in a robe snapping his fingers. The next hour or so blurs by in a back-and-forth discussion about the meaning of life and possibly it not having any. I try to keep my head down, but Heath kinda threw me into the middle of the conversation, so I’m forced to chime in on occasion. True to his prediction, we engage in a roundabout discussion that meanders all over the place and never reaches any sort of consensus.

  With about ten minutes left in the class, Professor Heath brings the discussion to an end. “May as well call it here. I’m sure you all wouldn’t mind getting an extra couple minutes back in your day. Next week, we’ll take a look at some of that sociology stuff. Assuming a few of you actually bought the book in the syllabus, chapters two and three will be
relevant to what we’re talking about next week.”

  “Wait, does that mean we have to read them?” asks the twentysomething who thinks life equals procreation.

  Professor Heath smiles. “My boy, short of breathing and eating, no one has to do anything. Well, I suppose those two are optional as well in the grand scheme of things. However, sometimes, the choice is fairly easy to make.”

  People get up and file out toward the door. Heath catches my eye and beckons me with a wave.

  Sure he might want to talk about my thoughts on the meaning of life, but I think he’s more interested in my thoughts on the meaning of death.

  “Miss Wright.”

  “Yep. That’s me.” I smile.

  “Sorry to take up more of your time, though I have a feeling you like to stay up late.”

  “What can I say? I’m a night owl. Bet you are, too.”

  He smiles. “Something of that sort.”

  I glance over at the door waiting for the last traces of sneakers squeaking on stairs to fade out. “Didn’t expect to see another vampire in college.”

  “Nor I. You’d be the first. I imagine there’s an interesting story behind it.”

  “Bit, yeah. I’m still kinda new. Happened this summer.” I give him the short version of how I wound up with fangs.

  Professor Heath shakes his head. “I’d comment about society, but man’s capacity for violence hasn’t changed… it’s merely on Facebook now.”

  “Heh. What about you? What made you decide to be a teacher?”

  He sits on the desk as he’d been when I first walked in. “I enjoy keeping the mind busy. As I’m sure you’ll eventually know, it becomes difficult to routinely interact with people and not arouse some suspicions. Every forty years or so, I reinvent myself, move to a new state, new school.”

  “Guess it’s working if you haven’t gotten bored yet.”

  “It’s my calling. Teaching truly sustains me.” He wags his eyebrows.

  I’m not sure whether to stare in horror or laugh. “You feed on your students?”

  “Doesn’t every teacher who loves what they do? Though, I dare say I’m somewhat more literal.”

  I chuckle.

  “Ahh, the gloriousness of an open door policy and a private office. Nothing untoward happens of course, merely sustenance.” He regards me with an almost sad smile. “I have shared my reasons for being here with you. Would you do me the honor of reciprocating?”

  “Not that big a mystery. I’m just outta high school. Parents wanted me to go to college. I got into USC but after… yeah. Got like super clingy with my family. I guess I’m really here to feel as normal as possible.”

  “Well that does explain why someone so young would be attending night school. Barring a difficult home situation, of course.”

  “Difficult life situation. Or sun situation. How do you deal with it?”

  “Notice my classroom has no windows? This basement area hadn’t been intended for classrooms, but I persuaded the dean.”

  I nod. “Must make for an easy commute.”

  He chuckles. “That it does.”

  “Why the sad look before?”

  “You’re so young. But, I suppose it is better than your being stuck as an eternal child. Although, you could pass for sixteen.”

  I sigh. “Yeah. I know. Was talking to a friend of mine about kid vampires.”

  “Happens, but quite rare. Though, given the number of forty-year-olds I encounter wishing they could be children again and have no responsibilities makes me question if such a fate is truly as cruel as people think.”

  “To never grow up? What if they wanted to have kids or have a career or something?”

  He regards me with a contemplative stare. “When you were small, how much thought did you spare to having children of your own, or a lucrative career?”

  I shrug. “None, but I also wasn’t stuck as a ten-year-old for eternity.”

  “And if your mind had thus frozen in the same thought patterns, wants, and desires as a ten-year-old? You would never consider anything else. They say ignorance is bliss. And a career isn’t necessarily something to look forward to. Some people find happiness in their work, but for most, it’s like looking forward to a prison sentence. Work is an artificial construct society has imposed upon the human condition.”

  “As opposed to meandering tribes?”

  “I guarantee those meandering tribespeople never got a case of the Mondays.”

  I laugh.

  “Child vampires. A rather somber subject. What’s brought that out of you?”

  “My sister…” I explain Sierra asking me to turn her if she ever got killed. “It’s hard for me to even think about. And I’d only do it if something happened to them like what happened to me. Dying with no chance of survival.”

  “You should be careful not to attempt it if they have been dead too long.”

  “Yeah… I already heard about the sefil. And I think I know how to pass on the gift, but I don’t think I’ll ever do it unless someone really begs me and they’re gonna die.”

  Professor Heath rubs his thumb and fingers together as if examining blood on his hand. “That is wise. Vampires made against their will often turn out a bit on the nutty side.”

  “A bit? Are you talking like hazelnut coffee ‘bit of nutty’ or Baby Ruth bar?”

  “Varies.”

  I bite my lip, thinking about Glim. He doesn’t seem crazy, but I get the feeling he’d come to terms with his death before it happened. If he’d survived that tour of duty, he would’ve been surprised. “Do you think I should do it if the situation ever occurs? Dalton didn’t give me any choice—not that I really could’ve answered him at that point. But, like, is it better to save someone by making them a vampire or let them die? Even if they’re too young?”

  “Oh, vampire all the way compared to death. This is far too much fun to give up for whatever’s on the other side.”

  “Other side?” I ask.

  “Wherever ghosts go when they get bored. Or people go who don’t become ghosts.”

  “What happens to vampires if we go foom?”

  “Foom?” asks Professor Heath.

  “Burst into flames? Die permanently.”

  “Oh. More than likely the same thing that would happen to anyone else.”

  “We’re not evil? Our souls aren’t destroyed by becoming vampires?”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. True there are some religious folk who would call us agents of the devil or some such thing like that. Have you ever felt any strange urges making you want to do bad things?”

  “Only when I get stuck in traffic behind some idiot doing ten under the speed limit.” I fold my arms. “But I know what you meant, and no.”

  “No voices in your head telling you to kill, rob, steal, burn churches?”

  “Nope.”

  “Light random priests on fire?”

  I laugh. “Certainly not… though I did light my ex on fire.”

  He stares at me.

  “Scrap.”

  “Oh…” He shudders. “Yes, that’s completely justifiable.”

  We spend a little while having a philosophical discussion about the ‘better to be a vampire or dead’ thing, even if the person in question is ‘too young.’ Heath’s all for doing it, especially since Sierra asked for it. It’s kind of a nice thought in a way… me and my siblings together forever, though I’d wind up basically turning into Mom unless I made the parents into vampires as well.

  Of course, it’s a nice daydream to think about having them forever, but it still feels wrong.

  My siblings need to grow up and be normal. Wanting to keep them around forever is totally selfish on my part. Or at least thinking about them as permanent children is. They have their own lives and destinies and desires waiting for them. Professor Heath says he thinks ‘The Universe’ will leave them alone, at least since it already let me have both barrels.

  Of course, I don’t really t
hink of it that way. Yeah, if Dalton hadn’t been there and Scott and simply murdered me and ‘game over, Sarah’ happened, that would’ve been both barrels. But I hacked the matrix. Or, I guess Dalton hacked the matrix for me.

  Whatever.

  I’m still here and… major upgrade.

  By the time our conversation ends, I’m in a great mood. Professor Heath is an awesome guy. Little eccentric, but he’s a philosophy professor… that kinda goes without saying. And wow. Seattle Central College not only has a resident ghost, there’s a vampire on the faculty.

  While walking down the dingy grey hall to the stairs, I can’t help but wonder… how much of the world is full of paranormal stuff like this? It’s been around forever and like hardly anyone believes in it.

  How many vampires could I have possibly run into before during my mortal life and never known? Wow, I could’ve even been fed on and not realized.

  And… my brain is going crazy asking questions that have no answer. Well, I did just leave philosophy class.

  Guess I learned something.

  10

  The Future's So Bright

  When I wake up Friday afternoon, I can tell from the leaden feeling in my arms and legs that it’s another bright day.

  That’s not good.

  Today’s one of my early classes, and based on my sluggishness, it might just be too bright out for me to go. Crap. Not good to miss class in the first week. Though I could make the teacher forget I wasn’t there. Still, I’m going to try my best to make it. Except for a really awful stomach virus when I was in sixth grade, I didn’t miss a day of school except for snow when they closed the whole place down. If I had the choice, I’d have preferred being healthy and in school. At least I was so damn sick I don’t remember much of it. Wednesday became Saturday afternoon in a blur.

  No point even bothering to check my door, so I surrender to another hour drifting in and out of sleep before dragging myself to the computer desk. With my brain finally awake, I go back over my comp sci and calculus from Wednesday. Since I’m trapped in my room (or at least the basement as Dad tinted the windows) I may as well refresh my memory on classwork. You know that kid who’s smart but lazy? Gets decent grades without even trying? Yeah, that’s me. Or at least was me in high school. I’d been happy enough to get good grades with as little effort as possible. Never felt the urge to overachieve or be the valedictorian, though I came in third. I suppose having the third best GPA in my graduating class while barely trying means something—and not necessarily that I’m smart.