by Johi Jenkins
Lauren joins the group a few minutes later and her only comment to the change is a casual, “Hey, Tori,” like nothing’s different and I’m not sitting there when I never do this, ever. I think she likes me more than Megan does. But compared to Lynn they all love me, including Darcy and Kristen a little ways down the table. But we’ve all grabbed each other’s boobs, and that type of sharing apparently bonds girls. I ask Lauren about her new guy and she’s happy to gush, with the help of her friends. It really makes me feel like an insider.
“So Kerin’s out again today, huh?” Lauren asks after her story’s done. She knows about Kerin because she’s in a few of my classes with Kerin. And unlike Fiona, she actually pays attention to other people. “How come you’re not sitting with Lynn?”
“Oh yes, do tell,” Fiona says interested. She turns to Lauren and explains, “She said Lynn was acting weird.”
They all want me to dish, so I explain. “She just sounds like she’s angry with Kerin, like upset that Kerin isn’t best friends with her. Or she just wants to have Jake all to herself and I was in the way. But whatever the case, she was super bitchy yesterday.”
“Well, it’s probably both,” Fiona says. “She likes Jake, but did you know that Jake liked Kerin?”
“Ohh,” I laugh. “Does Lynn know?”
“Oh yeah,” Megan chimes in. “We were all in History together last year. And you know Tim? He’s friends with Jake. Tim and I went out for, like, a minute last semester, and he used to tell me how he thought it was obvious that Lynn liked Jake, but Jake only hung out with her because of Kerin. What Jake, or Tim for the matter, didn’t know is that Kerin doesn’t like boys that much to begin with.”
Fiona and Lauren laugh earnestly and even clap their hands. I’m not amused, and I don’t believe her. “What do you mean? Like, she’s gay? No; she was making out with a dude in Mardi Gras,” I remind them.
Megan cuts in. “No, she’s like bi or something. She likes girls. I think she liked Fiona last year.”
Fiona looks unabashed. “Nothing wrong with that,” she says matter-of-factly.
I cock my head to the side as if considering it. “Kerin, bisexual…. No. Not that it matters if she is; but she hasn’t said anything to me.”
“That’s prolly because she told Lynn last year, and Lynn didn’t take it so well. Lynn told a few people, but nobody believed her at first,” Lauren explains. “So I can see why she wouldn’t tell you. Then all this semester they’ve been fighting. And now this—she’s probably angry over Jake, because we all think he still likes Kerin. Lynn is such a bitch.”
“Damn right,” I say, annoyed. If this is all true—and I’m not assuming it is just because they told me, I’m going to investigate—then Lynn is a bitch, and I need to be extra nice to Kerin when she comes back.
17. These Violent Delights
“Are you kidding me? No…. That’s the worst.”
Thierry does not react well to my most recent request. Considering the request… I don’t blame him.
For the last half an hour he had been acting suspicious, which let me know there was something he wanted to do. I thought he might be meeting up with his maker again, and I wanted to confront the other vampire, so I decided to ask him what he was up to. He gave me some generic answer at first but I kept pressing the issue. Why do I feel like you’re kicking me out? Is there anything you want to tell me? Finally he gave in and told me that he just needed to feed.
Feed!
All this time going out with him, knowing what he is, I never saw him feed, or hear him say that he did. Not since that very first night when I caught him atop his roof—and I don’t recall the details perfectly because, oh, yeah, I had larger revelations to process. Ever since then, it’s never really occurred to me that Thierry goes out at night and actually chooses a victim, drinks their blood and sends them on their way after a little mind wipe. I guess I never asked. Hey, so who did you have for dinner tonight? No, it’s like I’ve been in denial about the whole thing.
We have talked about feeding, like how does he choose his victims and what does he do afterwards with them, but the concept is still just theory in my head. Today he finally said that he’s going to do it, and only because I kept asking about him going out. I did notice he was a little paler than usual, but I didn’t think he might be hungry; I thought he was just nervous about meeting his maker. When he finally fessed up, I asked if I could come with. The effect was that now before me stands a rather cross Thierry.
“Please?” I appeal to his ingrained desire to please me. I want to go out with him to see him, to believe, even though of course I already believe. But there’s something about experiencing the supernatural—it whisks my insides like nothing else can. When Thierry moves faster than my eyes can follow; when he jumps to and from his balcony; when he holds me up like I weigh nothing, showing me but a tinge of his magical prowess; it mesmerizes me in ways I can’t begin to describe or even comprehend. Like something inside me is validated that I didn’t realize desperately needed validation.
So naturally, I jump at the chance to watch him tap someone’s vein and drink human blood.
“No, Tori, please,” he says, but his resolve falters a little after I ask please. “Why on earth would you ask me that? It’s dangerous.”
“I just want to see you in action. As a vampire.”
“First of all, you’ve seen me in action before. Still counts”—he lifts his hand to shush me as I open my mouth to protest—“and second, I don’t… want you to see me like that.”
“What? Why?”
We’re sitting on his couch, where we were watching TV. He turns into the couch and fully faces me. “Tori, if you needed to kiss people for a living—say, if you were an actress and had to film steamy scenes with your fellow actors… would you want me standing there, watching you, while you make out with someone else pretending you enjoy it?”
“Um… no,” I admit. That would be totally weird. I try to think about feeding from his perspective. He did say that feeding was a sensual experience. “Is it… the same if it’s a guy you’re feeding from?”
He surprises me by laughing. “It feels the same to me, boy or girl. It feels good, even when I’m as detached as I can be.”
“And him? He probably likes it,” I murmur. The straightest man would at least have to admit that Thierry is incredibly good-looking.
“Oh, he does,” he says, a little smug. “I read his thoughts. You can’t not like it. It’s….” He stops and looks away sharply. He’s probably thinking about the incident that we don’t talk about. How we discussed this very same topic, and how we kissed afterwards…. I look away, too.
“Sorry,” he says.
“No, don’t worry,” I say quickly, but can’t keep the hurt completely out of my voice. “But you know, even if you liked it, I wouldn’t judge you if I saw you. I’m just curious….”
I feel his cool fingers pressing gently on my face, turning me to him. His gray eyes are full of emotion as he looks into mine, then at my lips. He leans in slowly, and I hold my breath in suspense. “I’m afraid, Tori. When you first saw me that night on the roof… you looked… you looked like you didn’t like what you saw. I believe you when you say you’re okay with me being what I am, but you didn’t see your face that night. I did,” he whispers. He is so close to me. His eyes scan my face, as if remembering exactly how I looked. A pained expression mars his beautiful features.
“But Thierry,” I protest quietly, “That day—I was trying to come to terms with the fact that you were drinking a man’s blood because you’re a vampire. Changing my views of the world. I don’t know how I looked, but I can tell you how I felt—I was scared that my world was suddenly not at all what I thought it was. That you were a mythical creature, and that you would leave me because I found out your secret.” I reach up gently and touch his face. “The truth is, I was in awe. I still am.”
His expression softens and he closes his eyes. He kisses me briefly
on the lips. “Tori,” he says, and it’s all he says.
I’m not sure what’s going on in his head, but he sounds like he believes me. I take advantage of his openness. “You make my world special, Thierry. You remind me that there is still magic in the world that I don’t know. I’m not scared of watching you drink blood… I’m scared of one day waking up and finding out that it never happened.”
He opens his eyes and smiles, showing me his perfect teeth. “Okay, Tori. But you have to do exactly as I tell you to.”
***
I sit in the car under a broken street lamp, where Thierry has stashed me, presumably because no one will see me. My seat is slightly inclined so that the frame of my door hides me a little. Thierry is on the other side of the very empty, warehouse-lined street, walking on the pavement like he’s a lost drunken yuppie. He looks down at his phone like he’s searching for something, then he lifts his head and looks around, as if lost.
He is a crook thief’s fantasy.
He chose this place because he already picked the guy—the victim—and the guy is coming here to steal a car. Thierry drove to this general area, a bad spot east of the city, then he pulled over and closed his eyes to hear, both with his ears and with his mind. He didn’t wait long until he found his victim, read his mind and found out where to wait him out. I’m allowed to watch, but not get out of the car or even cross to the driver’s seat next to me, no matter how badly I want to get closer to see better.
I see movement behind Thierry and my heart starts beating faster. I know that Thierry is safe but I can’t help but wonder what the guy wants to do to him. It’s not every day that I witness ruthless people in action. This guy here who thinks he’s sneaking up on Thierry has no morals—he would probably rob me without thinking twice about it. It makes me feel vulnerable, seeing this side of the world while sitting alone in the car, even though I know I’m perfectly safe.
The guy pulls out a gun and points at Thierry, while Thierry pretends he hasn’t noticed. I’m expecting the crook to yell out “Hands up!” or something, when without a warning he fires at Thierry’s head, the shot booming in the night like a cannon.
I jump back, inhaling sharply. Thierry! He disappears and I’m about to get out of the car to get him, when I see him sink his teeth from behind the guy. He moved too fast for my eyes, and for the eyes of the guy too, apparently. The guy jolts backwards into Thierry and drops the gun. Holy shit.
The guy appears to fall limp in Thierry’s embrace. He is facing me, and I see his face change from a look of surprised terror to sleepy contentment. Now I see that he’s trying to twist in his captivity, but it doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere; Thierry must have him in a strong grip. He struggles for another few seconds, and to my surprise, Thierry releases him.
But instead of trying to escape or attack Thierry like I assumed he would, the guy turns around and brings his arms around Thierry’s back. Thierry’s lips are creepily bloodstained, but he manages to look normal as he smiles. Then he readjusts and bends down once more on the guy’s neck. It’s morbid to watch.
After a few minutes, Thierry lifts his head a few inches and licks the guy’s neck, putting his tongue in the wound. I think about the times I’ve kissed Thierry, when his tongue has been in my mouth, and I’m a little disgusted. Gross. He brings his mouth over the guy’s wound again, and when he finally lifts his head the gash is just a red line I can barely make out, and Thierry’s lips are clean.
Thierry whips his face towards me. I can see his face is a mask of concern from where he stands about twenty feet away, and I only have that one-second warning when suddenly there’s a shrill sound of breaking glass to my right and I’m showered with small glass pieces from my window. I scream and see a steel bar, possibly a crowbar, just receding through the hole created in the tempered glass, and then a sleeved arm gropes inside looking for the door handle. I just sit there screaming, leaning as far back into my chair as I possibly can. A second goes by, and just as the intruder’s fingers find the handle, the hand retreats and he flies backwards. I hear the hollow clank of the metal crowbar hitting the concrete sidewalk.
I follow the sound with my eyes, but I can’t see much through the shattered remains of the window. I lean forward, breathing raggedly, and look through the hole in the glass. Thierry is a few feet away with his arms around a larger guy, presumably the guy that attacked my window. He rips apart the guy’s throat, not a bit gentle or humorous this time. I see the large figure thrash helplessly for a short moment before Thierry snaps his head quickly with a sickening thud that I hear where I sit ten feet away.
The man stops moving and falls limp, Thierry holding him up by the neck. Thierry’s mouth is latched on to the dead guy’s neck, and I can imagine from his eager movements that he’s sucking the guy’s blood hurriedly. He finally lets go and I see more flesh and sinew than I thought there would be, blood still pouring out of the wound and down the guy’s throat. Thierry drops the body carelessly on the ground, and I notice that one of the guy’s arms doesn’t quite line up with his shoulder, as though the arm is off its socket, somewhere inside his jacket. It’s revolting to watch, more so than seeing the open wounds and the blood, and I actually heave a little before I catch myself. Thierry is walking my way and I need to look cool.
He presses his lips together. As he advances towards me I see his lips look rosy, but I don’t see any blood on him.
“Are you okay, Tori?” The vampire asks me.
I nod, and look down at the sidewalk of this empty street where now lies a man dead. “I’m sorry about your car,” is all I can say at the moment.
“The car! Who cares about the car? Tori, I’m so sorry—I only saw him at the last second.”
“What was he going to do?”
“Steal it. He wasn’t even in league with the other one.” He looks up briefly towards where Victim One lies on the pavement, not moving. The plan was to not kill the guy, so he may be alive, but I can’t tell. “He saw you at the last minute, but figured he could just get rid of you easily. In his mind I saw him pull you out of the car and attack you with the crowbar; for a split second I thought he really did, and I went mad. Then I saw you were okay, but he’d already pissed me off, so I….” He shrugs unhappily. “I’m sorry I killed him. See, this happens every now and then. It’s hard to control my emotions when I’m feeding. I’m sorry if I scared you.”
“It’s okay,” I say, probably lying. I don’t really know how I feel right now.
“I hope you know that I’ll never bring you out to see me feed again. Ever.”
And I think I’m okay with that. “I know. I’m sorry I screwed things up.”
“No. What? You didn’t screw up anything. That guy just happened to pick the wrong car.”
“I shouldn’t have come…” I say, ignoring him. “I should’ve listened to you.”
He looks at me for a moment, seemingly at a loss for words, and then looks back at Victim Two. “Tori, listen. Everything’s okay. I need to take you home and take care of this guy. But first I’m going to have to put him in the trunk. Is that alright?”
“What about the other guy?” I look over at Victim One.
“Oh, he’s alive. He’ll wake up with a headache and without his gun.”
“Okay,” I say, because I have nothing else to say.
Thierry pops open the trunk and brings out a heavy blanket that he uses to cover the body. When I feel the car dip down slightly with the weight of the large guy, I feel a little sick. I contain it before Thierry comes around. He drives to my home talking about other things, carefully avoiding any subject vampire-related. When we get to my neighbor’s house, I smile and leave the car like there’s no dead body in the trunk of the car.
I don’t kiss him.
It’s only after I’m home and replaying the entire scene in my head that something stirs within me. The crowbar-wielding guy who only wanted to steal a car is dead. The gun-wielding guy who actually shot Thierry point bla
nk, surely aiming to kill, is alive.
But the dead guy had no trouble imagining how he’d take me out with the crowbar, according to Thierry, which is why he’s now dead. Oh God. Thierry killed a man in front of me, again, but this man wouldn’t have died had I not begged to tag along. I feel responsible for this death. An unwelcome sensation invades my chest—something like guilt, or the groundwork for guilt. I push it away.
What did I get myself into?
18. Somebody Save Me
March goes by surprisingly fast. Thierry and I both slowly return to our regular selves. I can’t forget the show-and-tell gone awry, but I’ve always been great at repressing things that bother me. I simply push it out of my mind. He doesn’t take me hunting again.
Thierry’s cheerful personality returns and sticks around when his maker is away. It reminds me of something Fiona says about her mother when she feels like dissing her family. When I met the Harrises, June used to go out twice a week to a gym. That lasted about a month. Fiona told me laughing that it’s always the same; June gets on a health kick and goes to the gym, then she’ll miss a day or so, and eventually stop going altogether. Thierry’s attitude towards me feels a little like that. Every time that the brother calls or comes by—without me ever seeing him—Thierry becomes more reserved with me, but after a few days everything reverts back to normal.
I know I should address the problems at hand, but it’s incredibly painful to think about their solution—letting Thierry go. Especially when everything’s fine and my relationship is bliss. I keep telling myself I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.
Spring Break is the first week of April in my high school. During the entire month of March I plan many dates with my vampire boyfriend for that glorious free week. Or rather, I’m daydreaming, and he’s in my daydreams. We’ve made no plans yet. I still don’t call Thierry my boyfriend to his face. I know that’s a sign of an unhealthy relationship, but I’ve seen him kill people, so it’s not like I’d know what’s healthy anyway.