I read and go back over the calculus work, fixing a handful of problems where I catch slight errors. Guess I rushed a bit toward the end when the sun was coming up. Around five, I peek outside into the basement. It’s still bright but doesn’t feel like I’d turn into instant ash if I tried to go upstairs.
Time for some unusual measures.
Sunblock.
After smearing it all over my face and hands, I throw on the usual outfit plus a hoodie and sunglasses. I’d have worn gloves, but it’s not that cold out and I don’t need people staring at me like I’m crazy. Bad enough I’m a vampire. Well, no, that’s not a bad thing. Having to hide it is annoying.
I step tentatively outside with my hood up… and I feel like I’m stuck in the Sahara desert. Even with shades on, it hurts to look at anything. Instinctively, I keep squinting and flinching away, ducking my head. And the sunblock is doing precisely nothing.
Silly me, trying to fight magic with science.
Well, driving to school is not going to work. I’m going to wind up causing an accident because I can’t bear to keep my eyes open due to the painful brightness. I hop back inside and close the door a little hard, grateful to be in the much dimmer house.
“You okay?” asks Dad.
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s totes nuclear out there,” mutters Sierra from her position in front of the PlayStation.
“Yeah. I can’t drive right now. The light hurts my eyes too much to see.”
Dad glances at Sierra, then back to me. “I could drive you in if you think you’ll be okay once you’re there?”
“Should be. I can sit away from windows. It’s not exactly so bright I’m going to combust instantly.”
“Okay.” Dad leans into the stairwell. “Sophia, Sam?”
They scramble out into the hall.
“C’mon. We need to drive Sarah to school and I can’t leave you three alone.”
“Where’s Mom?” I ask.
“Late at work. Some new important project she’s in charge of.”
“Oh.” I put on a fake impressed face. “Fancy.”
Dad grabs his coat and shoes. “She shouldn’t be that much longer, but their set-up meeting took longer than expected.”
The littles scramble over and grab their sneakers and coats. Even Sierra’s not complaining about losing video game time. They’re all kind of excited to see where I’m going to school. After we pile into the Sentra, I pull the drawstrings on the hood as closed as possible and stuff my hands in the hoodie’s pockets.
Feels like I’m sitting in an oven.
Dad backs out of the driveway, turns around, and heads off.
“Shit,” I mutter.
“What?” asks Dad.
Sophia gasps at my language while Sam laughs.
“I forgot you’re driving. I should’ve allocated more than an hour to get there.”
“Ha. Ha.”
The ride into Seattle takes only a little longer than when I drive, which isn’t all that bad. It sucks, by the way. Not the traffic, or my Dad’s driving, or the Eighties music he has on the whole time. Actually, the music is okay. No, what sucks is feeling like a Barbie doll someone dropped in a deep fryer for thirty-two minutes.
“That’s it?” asks Sierra. “It’s just buildings. Aren’t colleges like big or something, with fields and grass and stuff?”
“This is in the middle of the city. And it’s more than just this building. A bunch of them around here belong to the school.” I lean over and hug Dad. “Thanks for the ride. See you guys later.”
“Need a ride back?” asks Dad. “Oh, sorry I didn’t pack you a lunch.”
“Duh…” Sierra rolls her eyes.
“Nah. I’ll grab someone to eat while I’m here. And I can fly home.” I grin. “Thanks, though.”
Dad chuckles.
“Can we get ice cream?” asks Sophia.
“You haven’t had dinner yet,” says Dad.
“Gotta run. See you guys.” I wave at the littles, hop out, slam the door, and run as fast as I can make myself move—about the stride of normal mortal me after falling asleep on the toilet for two hours—to the door.
Once I’m inside, the burn ratchets down from flame broiler to school cafeteria heat lamps. This really sucks… ugh. At least I only have an hour and a half to wait for darkness. I hurry to my comp sci class. It’s mercifully on the east-facing side of the building, so the sun’s not coming in directly. Walking into that room is like coming inside from a hot July day to air conditioning.
Okay, that wasn’t too bad. I can tolerate this. Not like it could be any worse. The sun doesn’t really become angrier than this in Washington, and if it did somehow get worse, my ass would stay home.
Good sign for the night: I feel like this computer science class is going to be too easy. Perhaps because I actually did the reading—twice—I spend the whole class mostly in a state of ‘yeah, I know, can we move on to new stuff?’ Professor Garcia keeps us a few minutes past seven to wrap up. It’s still light out, but the sun has lost most of its fury.
I head to the cafeteria area again like I did Wednesday. Oh, damn. I forgot to joke with Dad about the arcade machines. Darn. I can do that tomorrow. Still, I’m not planning to feed quarters into retro video games when I can play them at home for free on my computer. The urge to feed is strong enough to be distracting, but it’s still too light out for my fangs to work. I suppose I’d go online in the bathroom since they don’t have windows… but there’s that whole mental association thing. It’s awkward enough biting a total stranger on the neck, but attempting it while crammed with them in a bathroom stall is worse. And if someone’s recently demolished the atmosphere in there… gag.
Yeah, no. I think I’m going to skip bathroom feeding from now on. So, I’ll wait for dark. Calculus starts at 8 p.m. That gives me a few minutes short of a half hour of break left after sunset. No point in rushing, so I’ll grab a bite on the way home.
I finish about a third of the reading for comp sci, then head to Dr. Mercer’s class. As soon as she starts her lecture, I remember her annoying habit of talking slow. Calculus is arduous enough without it taking super long while I’m hungry.
The class is supposed to be one hour long, so there’s only a short break in the middle. Not enough time to feed without involving bathrooms. I only leave the room so I don’t seem like a weirdo. During the break, I let people see me doing normal things like getting chips and a Gatorade from a vending machine after faking a bathroom visit.
Upon returning to my desk, I find Coralie sitting in the back row. She stands and walks over, taking the empty seat next to mine—not that anyone else can see her.
“Hey,” I whisper.
She smiles. “Hello.”
“Auditing calculus or looking for me?”
“I like to listen in on classes. It helps soothe the boredom.”
Dr. Mercer resumes lecturing.
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can help with?”
“Shh!” Coralie playfully swats at me. “Pay attention. You still have a future. I’ll talk later. Meet me outside after class.” Her expression shifts to pained hope.
Despite this woman being two years older than me—ghost age aside—I can’t help but think of her as this lonely, lost soul in need of help. Something about the way she’s staring at me feels too much like a battered wife trying to find the courage to ask someone to help them, and dreading she could be killed for opening her mouth.
I wait for Dr. Mercer to face the whiteboard and start writing before leaning close to Coralie. “If you need help, I’ll do whatever I can.”
“Shh,” whispers Coralie. “I’ve been dead almost two centuries. It can wait another hour.”
“The class is over at nine,” I mutter.
“This is Dr. Mercer.” Coralie gestures at her.
“Oh, right.”
Dr. Mercer turns and looks at me, evidently having
heard me talking.
Before she can make a quip about my not paying attention, I poke her in the brain with the urge to forget she caught me talking to an empty desk. Dr. Mercer steps away from the whiteboard, pointing, and begins explaining the equation she wrote.
I lean back, arms folded, and smile at myself.
Mind control would’ve come in damn handy a few years ago on this obnoxious teacher I had in eighth grade.
It makes sense now why the vampire community is hesitant to turn kids into vampires.
They would abuse the ever-loving heck out of it.
11
After School
Coralie didn’t specify where she wanted to meet beyond ‘outside.’
Of course, she decided to skip out on the last half of intro calculus and left while muttering something about how she can’t believe society accepted teaching this ‘crazy math’ to women.
Okay, I get that she’s like 200 years old, but still… grr.
That just makes me want to learn this shit even more. So, I focus as best I can given the plodding cadence of Dr. Mercer. It’s not that she’s monotone or boring, but listening to her makes me feel like reality is being played at seventy-five percent speed. It’s like sitting behind a slow driver on a one lane road. The temptation to shout ‘get on with it’ is pretty epic, but I behave myself.
As usual, she runs late and class finally wraps up at 9:18 p.m. Still, it’s an improvement from Wednesday even if only by a few minutes.
On the way out of the building, I take note of a clean cut guy in his early thirties wearing a business suit with the collar open and no tie. His day job might be sending him here to take a night class or two, or maybe he’s trying to get a promotion. Either way, he’s kinda isolated and I’m hungry.
Even though I didn’t drive myself today, I decide to follow him to the parking garage and into the stairwell. Luck is with me as there’s no one else around. I fake tripping, falling into him from behind. He spins, grabs me, and we make eye contact.
“Are you oka—?”
His expression goes blank as I basically hit the ‘pause’ button for his mind. Just in case someone else comes by, I pull the guy around into the space under the first set of stairs. If anyone does see us, they’ll probably assume we’re making out. And, of course, if anyone sees too much, I can always give them the Men in Black treatment. Maybe I’ll make them think they work for the Post Office.
Trying not to giggle at that mental image, I pull the man’s shirt out of the way and bite down.
I’m not sure what disturbs me more: that sinking my teeth into a person’s neck has become as casual as having a biscotti with my coffee, or that the guy’s blood tastes like chocolate cheesecake. Like seriously. Where in the hell did that come from? Nothing about this guy says chocolate or cheesecake… or even dessert.
Guess calculus derp-slapped my brain.
Oh well. Not what I was expecting to taste, but it’s still yummy.
And yeah. I just referred to a person as yummy. I need help. Or I really need some cheesecake. Maybe both.
Going out in the sun this afternoon took a bite out of my energy reserves. Speaking of bite, once I feel sated, I lick the blood off the man’s neck and think about wanting the puncture wounds to go away. And yeah, licking a strange dude’s neck is only a little sexual in nature, but I’m not doing it for that reason at all. One, my tongue is already ‘right there,’ and two, the guy’s shirt is too nice for bloodstains. And why waste blood.
Especially when it tastes like chocolate.
I drag the guy out from under the stairs, make eye contact with him long enough to erase myself from his memory, and leave him standing there staring into space. Hmm. I had been kinda hungry, so I took more blood than I usually do. We—vampires I mean—can sense the point where we approach taking ‘too much,’ and by that I mean a fatal amount. I didn’t even come close to that with this guy, but he’s still going to be a little woozy. On that note, I dive back into his head and implant a craving for orange juice and chocolate chip cookies.
Dunno if that actually helps, but they always give that stuff out at like blood donation places.
With my nutritional needs met, I head out of the garage and down the street, hoping I might find Coralie by that same church-shaped building. I’m not calling it a church because I still don’t know if it’s… oh, wait they have this sign out in the sidewalk. Looks like some kind of music/singing school. Cool. Guess I won’t catch fire if I go inside.
Just kidding. At least, I’m assuming the holy ground thing doesn’t work. When I asked Dalton about it, he just laughed. Right, so that’s probably up there with crosses, garlic, running water, and all that other useless folklore stuff. Oh, stakes, too. They don’t do anything beyond hurt—and ruin T-shirts that your kid sister gave you for Christmas.
Coralie stands up from where she’d been sitting on the steps of the former church and walks over to me. I stop, waiting for her, then turn and follow as she keeps going. She crosses Harvard Ave and heads right at the corner into the courtyard between the main building and the Science & Math building, the same spot we hung out at the other day… only this time, she goes past the corner and about halfway to the next street. I almost get the feeling she’s hiding from something.
When she finally stops, she spins to face me with a nervous, fidgety demeanor that makes her look more like Sophia after she smashed one of Mom’s glass figurines than a twenty-year-old woman with a serious problem.
“I’m guessing I don’t know that much about spirits if there’s something that can make you look that frightened,” I say.
“Oh… well…” She sighs. “Yes, death is scary to the living. But there are worse things.”
I raise both eyebrows.
Coralie shakes her head. “Not yet. I’m merely concerned they might happen. I’m still not sure if there is anything you can do.”
“Won’t know that until you give me a little more information.”
“Yes, yes. I know.” She emits a nervous chuckle. “My remains are being kept by a group of occultists connected to the school. I’m not sure if you would even have any way to help me escape from them, but… if you could, I would be forever in your debt.”
“Heh. You realize ‘forever’ means something a little different to me?”
She laughs. Good. I was trying to make a joke there.
“Okay. I’ll help if I can. So wow, you’ve been stuck in school for…”
“Over a century.”
“Wow, that’s… sorry.” I cringe.
“It’s not all bad. It’s usually interesting here except during summer. Even then, there are a few classes going on and people around. Sometimes, I find someone who is sensitive enough to pick up on my presence, but you’re the first person to ever really see me or that I could talk to. Except, of course, for the people keeping me. I’ve come to accept what I am, but I am tired of being imprisoned here.”
I fold my arms, thinking. “So these, umm, occultists, can see and talk to you?”
“Not like you do. Only in a specific room that acts as a conduit between realms. Think of it as a window on the side of an aquarium tank.”
“Have you spoken to Professor Heath? He’s, umm… like me.”
Coralie nods. “I know. He does not see me for what I am like you do. To him, I’m a shadowy apparition that frightens him. I do not think he will help me, so I have not bothered to speak with him.”
“You’re really what I see, right? No head games or stuff?”
“Since you didn’t realize I was a ghost, I can only assume you see me as I appeared in life. I’m not trying to trick you, Sarah. Demons who play those sorts of games mimic smaller children.”
“Wait… there’s demons?” I blink. “Seriously?”
She nods. “That is the most apt name for them, though I cannot say with any certainty that any human belief system truly encompasses what they are.”
“So, what about like God and stuff?�
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Coralie shrugs. “If such a being exists, I have yet to see it. It is possible some manner of higher power is real. However, it either chooses not to show itself or doesn’t exist as we would like to think of it.”
“Huh?”
“A human-like figure. We could be like microorganisms coursing through the body of some vast, incomprehensible force.”
“Right, okay. We’re going off on a tangent now.” I grin. “So, if I understand you correctly, some ‘occultists’ are holding you prisoner?”
She nods.
“What do you need me to do?”
Coralie edges closer, lowering her voice as if someone other than me might be able to hear her. “They are keeping my remains in a vault that is sealed both with physical locks as well as spiritual ones. If you could remove my remains from that place, I would be free.”
“Ooh…” I grimace. “The last time someone asked me to steal something from somewhere, things went way wrong. I’m not a great thief.”
“You’re not stealing something.” Coralie smiles. “You’re rescuing someone.”
“Fair point.” Doesn’t make me feel that much better about my odds of success, but it’s a lot more ‘noble’ than pinching a spyglass Dalton tried to steal. “Okay. Where are you and how do I get in?”
She points back at the corner. “The old church. It’s become a music school, but the lodge is underground, hidden behind a trick door in a storage room. Unfortunately, there are wards all over the place. Since you’re supernatural, you can’t go in the front door. There is another access in the school’s main library, but it’s probably warded, too.”
It takes me a moment to process that. I set my hands on my hips and lean toward her, eyebrows scrunching. “Wait, so you’re telling me that magic is real, these people have it, and because I’m a ‘supernatural being’ I can’t even go in the building?”
The Phantom Oracle (Vampire Innocent Book 5) Page 11