Vampire Innocent (Book 9): An Introduction To Paranormal Diplomacy

by Cox, Matthew S.

  Hunter’s attempt to kiss me again stumbles into chuckling. “Which one are we living in?”

  “Hmm…” I roll on top of him. “Let me think…”

  He runs his hands down my sides and cradles my butt. “You’re sexy when you think.”

  “We’re in a faerie tale crime scene.” I glance down at his chest, breaking eye contact. “One of those stories kids get nightmares from.”

  “Please tell me the look you’re giving me doesn’t mean you’re about to break my heart.” He slides his hands up off my ass, wrapping around my middle. “I’m way too happy with you. So, naturally, I worry it’s all going to fall apart at any minute.”

  “We’re not in a movie. And no, I’m not going to break your heart… even though I know you’re going to break mine someday.”

  He starts to open his mouth to protest how he’d never cheat or leave me, but realizes my meaning before any words jump off his tongue. Even without being able to read minds, his thoughts of ‘well, you have a way to keep me from growing old on you’ are obvious. Only, he knows I couldn’t do it to him unless something else happened. It would feel too much like murder otherwise. Doesn’t make sense, I know. My family has never been religious, but it bothers me to think about giving him the Transference, ending his mortal life without an extreme situation going on. Sorta like how it might feel for a person in a sci-fi story with a completely healthy leg to cut it off so they can get a cyborg replacement part.

  Yeah, I know. Too sensitive of me. But, it’s who I am. Nature exists for a reason, and she probably doesn’t like too many people messing with her too often. Aurélie’s a believer in reincarnation. She thinks our souls go on various journeys to grow over the course of multiple lifetimes. Each time, once they’ve learned or evolved as much as necessary for a given lifetime, they die and go back into the machinery to get spat out from some random uterus for another ride. When I asked her about vampires, she said ‘we’re slow learners.’ It’s kinda reassuring to think about going back around after this vampiric existence of mine ends, not being in a ‘dead end’ so to speak facing final, total destruction. Even if I’m not a hundred percent convinced of it, it’s a warm thought.

  “I don’t want to break your heart, Sarah.”

  I lay flat on top of him, cheek to his shoulder, adoring the sense of warmth in his skin. “Too late. All roads now lead to heartbreak. I’m in too deep. We break up, guilty ouch. You grow old, painful ouch. I turn you… it’ll eat me up inside for the rest of eternity. The best I can hope for is to have the broken heart without the guilt. So, let’s have as much fun as we can with the time we have.”

  “Okay. If you want to just lay here holding each other all night, we can.”

  “Oh, heck no. Been looking forward to this for days.” I push myself up and grin down at him. “Well, we can do the holding each other thing after.”

  “You still look guilty.”

  “Totally normal for me. I have resting guilt face. It’s the big eyes.”

  He chuckles. “Your eyes aren’t too big.”

  “Thanks, but I know I look like the sad little orphan girl from Les Mis, only with brown hair.”

  “You don’t look anywhere near as tragic. And you’re way prettier.” Hunter smiles.

  “I need to stop being an idiot. This guilt is all on me and it’s kinda stupid. I can feel how happy you are when we’re together. Where does this belief come from how everyone has to grow up, get married, have kids, a house, a career good enough where people neither laugh at you nor pity you?”

  “No idea.” He shrugs. “Guess it’s what society expects.”

  “No one expects the Spanish Inquisition,” I mutter.

  “Huh?” He blinks at me, then chuckles. “Where did that come from? One of your dad’s movies?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Society doesn’t expect vampires.”

  I shake my head. “Nope. I sure didn’t expect them either. Being anti-mainstream wasn’t my idea. Do you think I’m taking the goth thing too far? I mean, they only pretend to die.”

  “Sarah, being with you is all I’ve ever wanted. I couldn’t be happier.”

  Too choked up to speak, I bite my lip. In theory, setting aside the dread of his imminent old age and death, I really am happy with him. Sure, Michelle thinks he’s a little boring and the awkward shyness wore on her already… but considering how effing crazy the rest of my life is, I don’t need to date Buckaroo Banzai.

  He’s a much needed dose of the real world.

  “C’mere.” I lean down and kiss him full on the lips.

  Yeah, I may not have the powers of an oracle, but my vision tells me he will be staying up past his bedtime.

  3

  Beyond Normal Pickpocketing

  I used to consider my first night as a vampire the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to me.

  Honestly, how many people end up stranded outside naked for twenty-four hours? Even if I did spend eight or nine of those hours hiding in a mausoleum unconscious, still. And I’m not talking about the people on Naked and Afraid. They knew what they signed up for. It’s not as mortifying when you’re taking your clothes off willingly. Come to think of it, somewhere out there is a medical technician, doctor, and maybe a cop or two who stood around looking at me on a slab for a while.

  Still don’t know if they did an autopsy on me or not. Something tells me it would have taken me longer than three days to wake up if major organs had been removed. For once, short staffing and bureaucratic delays ended up being a good thing.

  Anyway, the night I spent streaking Woodinville had been the formerly most embarrassing thing to happen to me. Tonight beat it. Apparently, Hunter and I got so into it, his little brother woke up and thought we were watching a horror movie about a team of carpenters fighting zombies—hammering and moaning. We didn’t notice him at first. The poor kid stood there stunned, watching us for a full minute before he whispered ‘whoa’ and I realized we had an audience.

  No, Ronan doesn’t remember a damn thing. The problem is, I can’t memory-wipe myself. His ‘what the heck are you guys doing’ stare is going to haunt me for years. Maybe it’ll become funny to me eventually. Hunter sure thought it hilarious—but only because Ronan doesn’t remember catching us, or even waking up thinking the roofers decided to come back in the middle of the night.

  With any luck, by the time I wake up tomorrow afternoon, my face will no longer be bright red.

  I let myself out and fly off toward Seattle in search of someone to eat. It takes me a few minutes to find a person who isn’t wasted drunk or high, and also isolated enough to be vulnerable to ambush feeding. It’s become my habit to avoid feeding from cops whenever possible. At this hour, there aren’t too many other people out and about, but leaving a police officer dazed from blood loss could get them killed.

  And yeah, after running into this one guy who abused his daughter, I cringe a little every time before going into a prospective meal’s head. People are freaking scary enough. Why did humanity have to invent monsters like vampires and trolls? Oh, wait… people didn’t make them up; they exist. Never mind.

  Being easily mistaken for anywhere from thirteen to sixteen depending on what I’m wearing and how I carry myself does open some opportunities for feeding. Almost no one, especially guys, is the least bit worried about little old me giving them a pathetic stare from a dark alley. I imagine a vampire version of Sophia would be ridiculous. She’d just sit out in public somewhere acting sad and she’d have food lining up.

  And I really, really need to stop thinking about my siblings as undead. In my former life, my biggest fear had been a toss-up between being in a car going off a bridge into water and having some creep grab me at night. Neither of those situations scare me at all now. My new biggest fear is something happening to my family. Yes, I would absolutely give the Transference to them if not to do so would mean they died. But it doesn’t mean I’d like it. Also, pretty sure vampire society as a whole sever
ely frowns on immortal kids.

  According to Aurélie, it’s physically possible, but results in an awkward, tragic situation. Brain development stalls, leaving them incapable of mentally progressing out of childhood, and no one in the vampire community wants more overly opinionated Star Wars fans around. But seriously, they’d remain mentally stuck at whatever age, probably incapable of looking after themselves, and having weak or no impulse control… a sure recipe for attracting too much attention.

  The ‘looking after themselves’ issue wouldn’t be a problem for any of my siblings. I’d happily play guardian for eternity. But my unlife is a special case. Few vampires want a dependent. I’m sure some day even Aurélie will think I’m ready to stretch my wings and stop basically coddling me so much. Guess I’m immature still since I don’t mind the coddling. I also won’t throw a fit when it stops either. Becoming a vampire was such a weird upheaval in my life, any help is appreciated.

  Anyway, I don’t need to play the innocent lost girl tonight. A transient rummaging trash cans in an alley all alone makes for a perfect—if aromatic—target. I need to shower anyway after making love with Hunter.

  As usual for feeding, I dive into the man’s thoughts to administer the ‘derp slap’ as Sierra calls it. My brief invasion of his mind reveals no horrifying secrets, merely a guy suffering from a more-than-moderate case of paranoia preventing him from keeping a job. He always ends up thinking his co-workers or boss are part of a conspiracy of trans-dimensional beings trying to invade Earth.

  After the stuff I’ve seen, who knows. Maybe the guy’s not crazy as much as aware. My kid brother’s known for collecting offbeat pets like frogs. Now he’s got an imp. Though, to be fair, Blix is more of a friend than a pet. So, yeah. Alternate dimensions aren’t entirely ludicrous to me.

  His blood tastes like the unidentifiable ‘casserole’ my high school cafeteria used to serve on Friday sometimes. All the students thought they made it from the leftovers of everything else thrown together into a bizarre goulash since the contents varied. It couldn’t possibly be random leftovers or it would’ve been horrible. Probably a ‘screw it, it’s Friday’ throw-together of whatever pasta, tomato sauce, and meat-like substance they had on hand.

  Nature is full of symbiotes. Vampirism makes me basically a parasite, even more so than my simply being a live-at-home teenager, but not the kind of one that burrows inside its host. Ick. Then we’d be talking some way creepy Clive Barker situation and I’m totally not going there. Some parasites, like tarantula hawk wasps, have no regard for their hosts and kill them. Others try a little harder not to harm the host out of a need for mutual preservation. Finally, there are some parasitic organisms (symbiotes) capable of providing benefits to the host.

  Tonight, I’m going to try being one of those.

  After feeding, it’s back into this guy’s brain. Since I’m not a medical doctor or a psychologist, it’s beyond me to understand if the man’s mental illness is a product of physical brain damage, chemical imbalance, or a result of trauma. Like, it might be in his DNA to be nuts. Or, maybe something happened to him. Whatever the cause, no point spending an hour digging proverbial tunnels into his memories.

  Something tells me trying to ‘cure’ his paranoia won’t work. It might hide it for a while, but eventually, the mental implant will erode. Not wanting to set the guy up for a huge crash later, I play to his paranoia by making him think he saw a story on the news announcing the Lamphyls—don’t ask me, it’s his word for them—ended up being exposed and defeated, so they’ve all gone back to their home dimension, never to return.

  Hopefully, implanting the belief he has nothing to fear might help him get his life back in order. Though, if his brain is wired to be paranoid, he’s probably going to come up with some other thing to freak out over. Best I can do for now though. Almost. While he’s still caught in my mental fog, I tuck all the cash I have on me at the moment into his pocket—not a fortune, only $52—and follow up by implanting a quick memory of some random, nondescript young woman giving it to him so he can eat.

  My symbiote duties fulfilled, I leap back into the air.

  “Okay, listen up, Universe. If I run into an actual Lamphyl, I’m gonna kick something’s ass.”

  No dimension hopping aliens attack me on my way home.

  It’s maybe forty minutes before sunrise when I land in the cul-de-sac by my house. Neighbors are quiet. Things with the curmudgeonly Mr. Neidermayer have mostly settled down for now. Demonic pranks aren’t keeping him up at night, and he’s been leaving us alone. Maybe Sophia’s offer of Thanksgiving pie did help. Swear, my kid sister thinks life is a Disney cartoon. I guess sometimes it has moments like that, but there’s nowhere near as much singing in real life. People who burst into random musical numbers about cleaning their house tend to get a visit from men in white coats.

  I head inside and make my way toward the kitchen, and the basement stairs. Teeny snores draw my attention to the sofa as I go by. Blix and Klepto are curled up with each other in the corner by the armrest. Aww. If not for the little imp’s somewhat demonic appearance, it would be an adorable sight. Oh, hell. It’s adorable anyway.

  Not wanting to disturb them, I lift off and hover to the stairs, then down to my room, After peeling off my clothes, I grab a clean towel and scurry to the downstairs bathroom. Sunrise is coming up, but there’s plenty of time for a shower first.

  Thursday afternoon, I wake from one of the most bizarre dreams ever.

  It started off with Hunter and I chasing each other naked through the woods like faeries or elves. We had a moment at a beautiful waterfall with singing blue jays and woodland creatures—think Disney doing an R-rated romance. Pretty cool… right up until Hunter’s you-know-what started singing like the candlestick from Beauty and the Beast.

  There’s a mental image I never wanted.

  And it got weirder from there. Dimensional beings invaded the woods. Hunter and I ran, hooked up with a resistance led by a guy I can only describe as a metrosexual Johnny Depp playing an Alice-in-Wonderland version of Dalton, and ended up in an Ewok village. Only, it hadn’t been full of Ewoks, but imps like Blix… and they worshiped a god-kitten bearing a surprisingly strong resemblance to Klepto. Finally, the imp army got into a war with giant robots spilling in from an interdimensional portal, trying to kill them by throwing millions of itty bitty rocks. Yeah, it worked about as well as one would expect throwing small rocks at high tech killing machines would work.

  “What the hell did I just dream?” I whisper at my ceiling, still hearing the continuous pelting of tiny stones for some reason. “Is this what I get for drinking the blood of a crazy homeless guy? Or is this weirdness all me?”

  To no one’s surprise, the ceiling doesn’t respond.

  I’m grateful.

  Consciousness comes with a bizarre craving for cereal. Talk about not making sense. But, whatever. Eating won’t make me fat. I get up, pull on some sweat pants and a T-shirt, then check my phone for the weather. It’s only 2:33 p.m., so sun angriness must be determined before this door opens.

  Usually, girls my age who adore rainy days are considered emo. I have a good damn reason to prefer gloom, and it’s unrelated to an unhealthy obsession with Peter Murphy or black lipstick. Goths are a lifestyle choice. The sun can legit kill me. Hey, just because I’ve come to prefer dark, gloomy days doesn’t mean I’m not still sunny on the inside.

  I’ve got one of those snarky weather apps on my phone. Today’s caption is ‘bring a boat.’

  Sounds like we’re getting a wee bit of rain. Unusual for December, but we’ve had a couple of unseasonably warm days. And I mean literally, sounds like. The noise in my dream hadn’t been thousands of small rocks bouncing off battle mecha. The rainstorm hitting the roof invaded my dream. Hooray for vampire ears. I head out into the basement to find a bunch of laundry baskets standing in formation by the machines. The one closest to my door has a ‘please’ card on it.

  Sure, Mom. No problem.
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  Cereal can wait a minute.

  Down in the basement behind heavily tinted windows on a gloomy day, I’m online. It doesn’t take me long to sort the clothes with my accelerated reflexes. Once I’ve got the first load in the machine, it’s time for some… whatever cereal we have upstairs. I head up to the kitchen and stop short, gawking at the sliding glass doors.

  Wow, it’s freakin’ monsooning out there. Our back deck is awash from a pelting of rain so heavy people could legit shower in it, except for the water being like thirty-eight degrees. The cabinet contains a few boxes of cereal: Corn Pops, Captain Crunch, Cheerios, and some kind of muesli. I might be a vampire with superhuman strength, but I still don’t have the jaw power for muesli… so I grab the Captain Crunch.

  The roof of my mouth will heal rapidly thanks to undeath.

  I plop on the living room sofa with my cereal and start flipping channels, hunting for something to watch. Alas, late afternoon television sucks. I settle on some old Seventies-looking western. No idea who any of the actors are or what the movie is, but it’s the first thing to come up and not cause an immediate ‘nah.’

  Before too long, the rapid clomping of small shoes rushes up to the door. Sam and Sierra barge in and do the child version of dogs shimmying off all the water. Shoes and umbrellas go in their respective storage bins, and the kids run upstairs to change out of their wet clothes.

  I’m about to ask ‘where’s Sophia’ when she creeps inside. She’s shivering and her face is the color of a fire extinguisher, but no source of embarrassment is obvious from looking at her. Soph collapses her frilly pink umbrella, tosses it in the bucket, and goes upstairs without taking her shoes off. Ballet flats or not, Mom would throw a fit.

  Something is definitely wrong with youngest sis.

  “Soph? What’s wrong?”

  “Not now,” replies my kid sister without slowing down.