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

by Cox, Matthew S.

“Almost three hours.”

  Whew. More than I thought. Guess time flies when you’re getting your ass kicked by evil tree bitches.

  “I’ll be waitin’ roight ’ere,” says Mardle.

  “Yeah. Probably a good idea for a leprechaun not to walk into a human town.”

  He grips the lapels of his little suit jacket. “Aye.”

  Okay, I can do this. One more step in this insane series of diversions and I can get Sophia away from the brownies. Wonder if the people who came up with the pre-Girl Scouts knew how devious and powerful actual brownies are… and how they use their powers of cuteness as a defense.

  Maybe they did.

  I fly back to the flower circle and cross to the ‘outer world’ as Niatha called it. Guess the dryads mostly live in the ‘inner world.’ No point getting myself lost in the woods. I fly straight up for a look around and pull my phone out of my pocket. Since it’s rather difficult to navigate by the position of the sun at night, the compass app has been coming in really handy. Yeah, I know ancient sailors navigated by stars, but it’s quite a bit trickier and involves a bunch of weird tools like sextants or something.

  The only reason I even know the word sextant is movies.

  Another bizarre thing is how small the forest below me seems comparatively to the land around it full of open fields. I’m almost certain the time it took me to fly between the dark dryad portal and the light dryad portal would’ve covered the entire patch of woods down there three times over. Either some serious elder magic is at work, or reality is fake and I’m a character in a video game with glitchy zone boundaries.

  Whatever.

  It’s easy to spot the lights of a town not far to the east. Seeing traces of modernity—electric lights, cars, and so on—feels weird after dealing with brownies, leprechauns, and dryads. It’s like the time we went to watch Lord of the Rings in the actual theater. Got so into it, walking out of the theater back into the real world afterward seemed strange. I kept waiting to see people walking around carrying swords and riding horses.

  So, yeah. Easy job ahead of me. All I have to do is find a bunch of guys interested in random sex with impossibly beautiful—albeit green-skinned—women. Most people assume guys are all horny bastards who’d think nothing of hooking up with a woman they’ll see once and never again. And sure, while there are loads of men like that, there are some who aren’t. Like if I’d run into a pack of, umm, satyrs, and their price for helping me was to round up a bunch of women for sex, most people would find it evil.

  Yeah, it’s a double standard. Kinda like how if a high school teacher seduces a girl student, he’s—rightfully—demonized and the girl’s treated like a victim. But if it’s a boy student and a woman teacher, a scary number of people are like ‘way to go, kid.’

  Grr.

  I don’t like having to do this, but Sophia’s in trouble. And her being in trouble indirectly puts the Aurora Aurea mystics in mortal danger. Still, I can’t force guys to go have sex with dryads. Well, I literally can. My powers are capable of it, but it’s not something I’m totally okay with. Better get on with it before I think too much, chicken out, and cause another problem. Niath and her dryads seem nice, but they’d definitely keep Abby as their ‘guest’ until my part of this deal is fulfilled. If they don’t release her, the witches don’t stop attacking the brownies, and Sophia’s going to spend a long time stuck to a tree.

  Or, I’ll be in a continuous state of returning to Ireland from wherever the little goobers teleport me each time I kill one. My luck, I’ll end up stuck inside a pyramid in Egypt, up to my neck in beetles and snakes. By the time I dig out of there, Sophia would be grown up.

  I’m starting not to like brownies.

  Gonna eat a few when I get home—baked goods I mean—purely out of spite.

  I land in a dark patch of field beside a road not far from the edge of a small town. Honestly, bringing a couple guys to ‘feed’ dryads isn’t terribly different from me taking a blood meal forcibly. Supernatural creature doing what it needs to do to survive, and the normal person walks away largely unaffected, if a little tired.

  Still, to make myself feel better, I resolve to mentally probe prospective victims first to check their responsiveness to the idea of casual sex with random forest spirits. I’m not going to force any guy to do it against his will, even if they won’t remember it. Given only a few hours remain until sunrise, there aren’t too many people outside. Sounds of activity draw me to a tavern, surprisingly active given the time. I head in, overcome by more than a little awkwardness as I’ve never ‘gone to a bar’ before. Still feels like something I’m too young for.

  Oddly, no one gives me weird looks for seeming underage.

  They’re giving me weird looks because I have blood smeared all over me. Oops. Forgot to ask Mardle to clean my top. Oh well, nothing a little light mental domination won’t fix. If I can walk across Woodinville stark naked and make people remember me dressed, I can hide a little blood. Wouldn’t be the first time this girl had to conceal an inopportune bloodstain. Though tying a sweatshirt around my waist as an extra skirt isn’t gonna work here.

  Fortunately, I’m a vampire.

  I’ll take ‘things I never imagined I’d say’ for $200, Alex.

  Okay, a bar at almost five in the morning. Good bet anyone here—other than me and the employees—has a fairly free schedule and probably a handful of personal problems. The clock nearly gives me an anxiety attack, but I’m still used to the schedule from back home. Sunrise has been happening around seven in the morning in Washington. It’s due at 8:40 a.m. here. So, I have more time than expected.

  Yay for obnoxious amounts of darkness in Europe.

  It’s strange more vampires don’t live in Ireland. Maybe they’re all in London. Or one of those Nordic countries where they get a couple months with no sun at all. Does staying awake for months at a time drive vampires insane? Meh. I don’t want to find out.

  Right, mission start.

  I walk around casually eavesdropping and probing into men’s thoughts by inserting the notion of a random supermodel walking up and offering to sleep with them to see how they’d react. I skip two guys who are married but would happily say yes. Skip another three who are married and would decline. The next two guys I check aren’t interested in women. Skip. Next guy’s reaction is to laugh and wonder who set him up for a joke. He wants to go with her but is afraid he’s being pranked. Aww. He’s not ugly; he’s average with a side order of nerdy chubbiness. One down. I give him a mental compulsion to get up and follow me when I go out the door.

  My next victim is a smooth talker trying to hook up with one of the few women here. He’s only looking for sex while lying to her about being open to a real relationship. Sigh. You’re coming with me.

  Eventually, out of everyone in here, only five men fit within my self-imposed parameters for not feeling like a creep. Since I’m at a bar, might as well grab a drink. Tangling with those dark dryads kinda wore me out. The least-inebriated person in here is the bartender. A mild mental prod gets him to ask the lone waitress to keep an eye on the bar while he goes into the back room to check something. I follow him, pouncing as soon as the door shuts behind us. Most likely due to me being in a place like this and thinking about alcohol, his blood tastes like the wine coolers I had at Tiffany’s house. Yes, I realize he’s a big, bearded bartender in a back country Irish tavern—and anyone here asking for a wine cooler would likely get their asses kicked. Don’t laugh. It’s the only alcohol I’ve had. Beer smelled like the end result of someone boiling sweaty socks. I attempted to be the good girl and not drink before twenty-one, but they got me to try wine coolers. Hey, if I’m going to break the rules, it might as well taste good.

  And this big bartender doesn’t need to know my brain turned him into a foo-foo drink.

  Feeding done, I make my way out into the barroom, then the front door. As soon as I go outside, my mental commands activate and the men I’ve selected for the dryads al
l get up at once and follow me. Hmm. It’s a mile or two to the woods. Walking there is going to take a while. Back into their brains I go. A guy who had a ‘yeah sure why not’ reaction to the imaginary supermodel owns a Jeep-like vehicle more like something one would see roaming around the African savannah. It’s on the older side and looks like it might’ve seen literal combat, but it’s big enough for all of us—and it can drive right up to the edge of the trees.

  I ‘encourage’ the guys to hop in, and cram myself into the space between the two front seats. Not comfortable, but I’m small enough to fit and this position lets me steer the driver. The other three guys fill the back seat. Squatting here beats a strange dude’s lap or clinging to the roof—which I don’t recommend. Did it once and the ride ended in flames.

  Before long, the driver, Niall, gets us as close to the forest as possible in a vehicle. I mentally prod the men to get out of the Jeep-thing and insert another command to follow me and discard all memories from this point forward. It takes us longer to walk from the forest edge to the dryad portal than it did to drive from town to the woods.

  I step through—and the guys vanish.

  Damn.

  I back up.

  They’re all standing there looking dumbfounded.

  Okay, guess I’ve got proof normal people can’t traverse the gateway between ‘outer world’ and inner. Hmm. Now what? Maybe it’s simple. I make them all hold hands, grab Niall by the hand, and pull them into the gateway.

  Success!

  Another short walk brings me to the grove where the dryads lounge around casually. They glance over at me and, damn. The way they’re looking at us, it’s like I just showed up at a prison cafeteria with filet mignon and lobster.

  “I’m back.” I grin. “Did someone order Five Guys?”

  The dryads rush over, ignoring my joke.

  As soon as the men see them, they stop moving and stare transfixed. Wow, my derp hammer has nothing on these dryads. Sure, a lot of men think with their groin when they see a beautiful woman, but these dudes look like they’d legit walk straight off the edge of a skyscraper. They’re not even thinking with the ‘small brain.’ No thought whatsoever is going on here at all.

  The crowd of dryads hurry over and escort the men hastily off, deeper into the woods out of sight. Niatha approaches me with a fidgety eagerness reminiscent of how Sierra gets on the ride home from buying a new video game. I get the distinct feeling she wants to settle affairs with me and go join them as fast as possible.

  So, yeah. There it is. I’ve forced guys to have sex with magical forest nymphs in exchange for a kid’s life and getting Sophia back. My life is going to be an endless series of morally grey choices from this point forward, isn’t it? Maybe I could rationalize it by saying I only forced them to follow me here. The dryads’ charm is doing everything else. But I’m well aware what the end result of leading them here would be.

  “You have my thanks, Sarah.” Niatha smiles at me, then looks back over her shoulder at the woods toward a different spot than where the men went.

  Two dryads emerge from the thick foliage, carrying Addy. She’s no longer deathly pale—well, any more so than natural for an Irish girl. Her long, thick hair is damp, but her clothes remain dry. Her winter coat’s been mended, the sleeves no longer ripped open to the elbows. Same for her leggings. There’s no sign she’d ever been attacked by gruesomely disturbing thorns. At least none visible to the eye.

  She says something in Irish to the dryads, making them smile sadly.

  They set her on her feet in front of me.

  “You are real,” whispers Addy, wide-eyed in awe.

  “So they say.” I crouch in front of her. “I’m going to take you home to your family.”

  “Please.”

  I brush a hand over her head, moving her hair off her face, and stare into her eyes. My mind floods with memories of being lost in the woods. She’d gotten a little adventurous, strayed off too far, and become separated from her grandmother, father, and brothers while out hunting for mushrooms. Her family had seemingly vanished in an instant. Weeds and vines sprang to life and grabbed her. This kid is not going to remember the sensation of sharp vines piercing her skin and burrowing into her body. Unfortunately, I can’t erase memories without seeing—and feeling—them. The pain of hanging on thorn vines is going to haunt me for a long damn time. Living wooden threads squirming around inside is such a disturbing sensation, I find myself trembling. She was in so much of a stupor she doesn’t remember me sprouting claws or even fighting the dark dryads. The past day is little more than a painful, foggy fever dream.

  By the time the last vestiges of such a horrible experience are eradicated from this eight-year-old’s head, I’m a complete emotional mess. I can’t believe anything in existence could be so evil as to subject an innocent child to such unearthly pain. What those dark dryads did to her is even worse than mandatory participation in grade school talent shows.

  But yeah, seeing and feeling what she went through is enough to get me to scoop her into a hug and squeeze her like a kitten I plucked unhurt off a busy highway.

  Mardle snaps his fingers and the blood vanishes out of my clothes.

  “Why are you crying?” asks Addy. “Are we lost? Is something bad gonna happen?”

  “No. Your parents are worried about you being lost and alone. I’m crying ’cause I’m happy you’re okay.” Behold the first time Sarah Wright tells a convincing lie. Okay, fooling a little girl isn’t exactly impressive—but I suck at lying.

  Addy smiles. “I didn’t get lost. Bad spirits took me.”

  “Umm…” Didn’t I erase that?

  “Grandma’s going to be mad, but not at me.” Addy takes my hand. “You kinda have bad spirit energy, but you’re not a bad spirit. What are you?”

  Sigh. “I’m just some random teenage girl in the wrong place when the flaming toilet seat fell out of the sky.”

  “What?” Addy tilts her head, then laughs, her dark brown eyes full of happiness. “Don’t be silly.”

  “Can you keep a secret?” I whisper.

  She nods.

  “I’m a vampire, but a nice vampire.”

  “Oh. Okay.” She taps the tip of her sneaker into the dirt. “Can you please take me home now?”

  Whoa. No reaction at all? “You’re not at all nervous being with me?”

  “No. Umm, something bad happened even if I can’t ’member it. I kinda ’member you carrying me and flying. And you were crying. You can’t be a mean vampire or you wouldn’t have helped me.” She scrunches up her nose. “Grandma said there aren’t s’posed ta be any vampires in Ireland. The barghests eat them.”

  “Let me guess… giant black dogs with glowing eyes?”

  Addy nods. “Yeah. It’s bad luck to see one. They warn of death an’ if they scratch, it never heals. Ever.”

  “Your grandmother is right. There aren’t any vampires in Ireland. I’m only visiting. C’mon.”

  36

  Witch Way to Go

  Returning to the leprechaun village isn’t too long a trip, so we walk.

  Addy’s kinda worn out from her ordeal even if she’s mostly forgotten the details. I carry her, Mardle walking alongside us. A short while later, the tiny town appears out of nowhere when we pass the enchantment protecting it. Multiple leprechauns come running, shillelaghs at the ready, until they recognize me.

  “Wow.” Addy looks up at me. “Leprechauns!”

  I set her on her feet beside me, but keep holding her hand. The little guys gather around us, greeting her as though she were some high court noble princess or some such thing. She adores it, playing right along. A smaller group, and Mardle, pull me off to the side.

  “So, you’ve managed to recover the human girl?” asks one, frowning.

  The other two grumble.

  They’re annoyed because they lost any leverage they had over me. All the leprechauns at once—at least according to Mardle—could have held the dark dryads at bay e
ffectively while I plucked Addy off the Dark Mother tree. Since they longer have a little girl’s life to dangle over my head in exchange for help destroying brownies, the little guys appear a bit miffed. Also, they’re making faces at Mardle the same way I imagine Amish people do right before banishing someone from the village for showing too much ankle in public or smuggling a cell phone into the community. Considering the leprechauns were willing to let her die if I didn’t wipe out the brownies, they’re being awfully polite and friendly to her.

  “Yes. Addy’s safe.” I fold my arms. “I’m also going to stop the brownies from attacking you.”

  “Why?” blurts one with a white beard, shocked.

  “Wait, you want the war to continue?” I tilt my head.

  “Na. Na. Na!” He flails his arms. “Why would you ’elp us when ya dahn’t get nothin’ out o’ et?”

  “Oh, I dunno. War is stupid. And this is a particularly stupid war.”

  They eye me suspiciously.

  “Because it’s the right thing to do?”

  Their suspicion deepens.

  I can’t exactly read their thoughts, but enough emotion comes through for me to figure out they suspect me of attempting to somehow trick them into owing me a big favor. These little dudes simply can’t comprehend the idea of doing something because it’s right or feels good. Everything has to have a transaction. Favor for favor.

  “I’m going to calm the brownies anyway. They have my sister, remember? If I stop the war, I get my sister back.” I let my arms fall at my sides. “And it’s the right thing to do.”

  “Ahh!” the trio chorus.

  The ‘transaction’ of Sophia being returned to me in exchange for stopping the war makes sense to them. No longer defensive about how I’m trying to get one over on them, they erupt in cheers about the soon-to-end brownie war. Most of them start dancing, arm-in-arm, spinning in circles. This gets Addy laughing, which makes me smile. She really needed a dose of joy.

  Mardle emits a squeal of delight, dances for a bit, then hurries back to me, tapping on my leg until I look down at him. He holds a green velvet pouch up. “’Ere ya go. Take ’et.”