Freaksville

by Ashley Brooke Robbins

  He continues to convulse.

  Shit, I don’t know how to stop it. Feeling myself start to panic, I glance over at Toby who’s just now getting to his feet. Confusion takes over his features for a few seconds, gaze going from me to Devin on the floor. Then his eyes light up. And he runs down the hall. “What the hell?” I snap and then focus back on Devin, trying to bring the energy back to me, like I did when I accidentally strapped them to their seats. But nothing happens.

  This hasn’t happened before…shit, shit, shit—

  Before I can fully panic too much, water’s thrown on me. Extremely cold water I might add. Glancing back over to Toby, who’s now holding an empty pitcher, I spit water out.

  “Sorry,” he grimaces.

  “No, don’t be.” I wave him off, getting to my feet to check on Devin. He isn’t moving anymore. That could be a good thing or it could be really bad. “It stopped it.”

  I confirm he’s back to himself. Especially when he groans, sits up, and rubs his head. “What’d I do to you?” he grumbles, clearly not remembering. But I remember. In the old books I’ve been reading, it says that the person who changes you is your ‘master’ or whatever. Can have complete control over you if you let him, that’s what had been happening with Toby. Maybe the secret everybody thinks he’s been hiding will come out….

  “Come on, you have some explaining to do at….” I look at the alarm clock on my bedside table. “Three in the morning.”

  Helping Toby to the soft cushioned couch, I carefully place the ice pack on his head. I know it’s not necessarily my job to take care of him. I still feel obligated, though. I’ve grown attached to the little squirt. “I’m fine,” he says, even though he graciously accepts the pack.

  “You did great,” I admit smiling at him.

  “Thanks.” His face turns pink.

  “No sleeping. You might have a concussion.” I wave my finger at him. “I don’t care if you’re a vamp and you’ll heal a lot faster. You’re still not sleeping for a while. Understand me?”

  “Yeah, Mom,” he grumbles.

  “Good. Now don’t forget to eat your vegetables with a side of yucky red stuff.” I ruffle his hair.

  He snorts.

  As soon as I walk into Devin’s room—where he told me to meet him—I sense something’s going to change. He’s standing at the window, watching the street. I know he knows that I came in but he doesn’t acknowledge my presence.

  So, I just take in his room. More paintings hang on the walls. Stupid, talented jack—shit. Staring back at me is the spitting image of Devin, the same icy blue eyes, dark hair, pale complexion. The same features and even the same devious expression. Is this his ancestor or something? Because, holy shit on a stick.

  “Sir, Jameson Gray.” I read the plaque underneath it. It’s like it’s from some museum or something. As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know it’s not someone down his bloodline. It’s him. Can we say cliché once again? Facing him, I snarl, “Start talking, Gray.”

  You’ve been lying to me.

  “What exactly would you like to know?” What the heck?

  “You’re British?” I squeak eyebrows up into my hairline. “What is it with the British take-over lately? I mean, I love the Brits and all, but seriously, all at once? Have y’all been planning this for a while?”

  “Should I continue on with my explanation, or would you like to ramble more?” He still doesn’t turn around. Who would’ve thought a British accent could make you sound even more snarky? “And, just so you know, I’m English.”

  I zip my lips and make a grand gesture for him to go on.

  “You might want to take a seat,” he mutters. Just so I won’t speak again by arguing with him, I take a seat in the chair by the windows closest to him. “In 1858, I was recently orphaned. Picture an eighteen-year-old on the streets of England, begging for change.” He laughs bitterly. “After a few years of living in the gutter, one morning I received an invitation to eat with one of the local celebrities, you would call them now. They were stage actors— that was as close to royalty as I would get. At that point, I was too hungry to question it. I went into the penny gaffs voluntarily, they even paid for it. It turned out that they liked to bring in orphans, people who wouldn’t be missed, and slaughter them, right in front of a crowd. This was, of course, underground, even so, they cast their compulsion on their poor minds, blinding them to the reality happening in front of them. I wasn’t aware of this at the time. I was just a starving, idiotic boy who was wishing for food to be there. Or sometimes—like they did with me—they have you fight to the death with another prisoner.

  “I won.” The bitter cackle sounds again, and his sorrow pours through me, making me want to bawl. “Then I was welcomed with open arms. I became one of them, the wealthy, and the adored. I went to all of the parties, dressed in the best clothes money could buy….” He slips into his own little world as he rests his forehead on that mesmerizing window of his.

  “We took a trip to Paris. I’d never been out of the small village I grew up in, so that was astounding for me. I finally thought my parents would be proud of me, proud that I was letting our name stand for something. That night, we went to a local theater. I didn’t know it then, but they were hunting. I had started thinking of them as family, and when I witnessed what they were…all of the memories came back to me. I thought we were just a bunch of lads, only knowing of the good they did, nothing of the bad.

  “Apparently they wiped my memory before I could become one of them and put something in my mind to block all of the terrible things they did. I didn’t remember the fight. I didn’t remember seeing the other boy’s lifeless body lying there. I didn’t remember the monster I thought I was. Until I witnessed them in their true forms. I started to run, but they caught me and turned me.” By the time he finishes this, he’s whispering.

  “What happened?” I ask back just as softly.

  “This isn’t some bloody Twilight movie, Nessa.” His eyes flash at me. “I didn’t choose to become a good guy after seeing the monstrosity of my alleged family. I didn’t kill those who wished to harm another.”

  I wrap my arms around myself. “Then what did you do?”

  “When I woke, I was filled with so much hatred—once I realized what I had become, that is—hatred and hunger. I got my revenge, one by one, slowly and painfully. They were only wealthy because of their families. They were also shit actors.” He grips the windowsill tightly. “I killed my ‘family,’ and after that I went underground and did what I had to do to survive. Everybody was after me, they didn’t know me by name,” he glances over at me with a nasty smirk, “No witnesses. They were just after the one who slaughtered their proclaimed angels. I killed their hero’s after all and the rest doesn’t matter.”

  “Well, it sounds like they deserved it….”

  “I killed innocent people. They were born vampires; that’s how their fathers and mothers taught them to live. There is no justifying what I’ve done, Nessa.” He faces his window again.

  Sighing, I get to my feet. “Touché. You were a jackass. But you can’t let your past run your future. Sure what you did was more than a little rude and uncalled for, but right now is what matters,” I whisper, turning him to face me. “What I see in front of me right now is a handsome young lad who would give the shirt off of his back to a complete stranger.”

  “You don’t really know me.” He tries to yank his hands away, but I hang on.

  “Don’t do that shit where you make threats and try to scare people and end up pushing them away.” I jerk him a step closer. “Not with me, okay?”

  “Okay,” he murmurs quietly after a moment. I’m suddenly in his arms, being squished against his hard chest. I wrap my arms around him and rest my face against his stomach, damned tall bastard.

  “And maybe I want to get to know you more,” I mumble against him.

  “Okay.”

  “Why did you choose to go back to school anyway?” I lif
t my face to him. “If you say it’s because you wanted to get to know me better, I might have to cut you.”

  “No,” he laughs. “It’s been a long time since I’ve gone to a school. I didn’t think it would hurt any to catch up on some history.”

  “I guess I can understand that.”

  “But damn, I never expected the shit to be that hard. I’ve lived a long time, and I’ve never needed to know any of this newfound math, and don’t even get me started on the writing. Please do explain to me why I need to know the exact terminology for structuring a sentence. I’ve lived this long without needing to know how.” He groans, throwing his hands up in what I suspect is exaggerated exasperation.

  “Welcome to my world.” I hug him again.

  “I love you, Ness. I love you so much.” He runs his fingers through my tangled hair. I bite my lip and tighten my arms around him.

  “Oh and by the way? You suck at telling stories, old man.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ~ Can You Pass The Sarcasm? ~

  I smile at Devin to let him know I’m okay with him being…well, aged. It doesn’t bother me. It just means he should be more mature than the other guys around my age. I cannot stand an immature douche monkey. They irritate me so much.

  Holding the door to the small, comfy pizza place open for me, he smiles back. The worry is still obvious in his eyes. I don’t know what I can do to get it to go away. He lets me pick out the spot where we sit. He pretty much insisted on taking me out to eat, so I suggested this place. It’s the only pizza place that I know of that’ll still be open at the crack of dawn.

  After the waitress takes our order, I return my attention to Devin. Eventually I give up on waiting for him to lift his gaze from the table. So I just watch the room, the few people, and our waitress.

  Inside looks like a log cabin, and there’s an old jukebox near the bathrooms. A singing fish on the other side of the wall, something my mom always joked about getting. And they’re always friendly here, no matter what time it is.

  I love it.

  My face heats when I catch him looking at me. He just grins. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” His true accent rings out.

  “No.” My face gets hotter. “Shut up, man.”

  “It truly is an adorable thing when a woman doesn’t realize the affect she has on the room.” His eyes twinkle.

  “If you don’t stop, I’m going to start talking about sex.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I swear, when you talk in your English accent, it’s so charming I want to vomit.”

  “I would love to talk about sex with you.” My mouth dries.

  “Really?” I challenge, leaning over the table.

  He leans closer, too. “There is nothing I’d rather do.” He flings out a challenge. “Ladies first.”

  “How sweet.” I smirk. I was not expecting this…but I do love a challenge. “Would you mind if I jumped you right here?”

  “I’d welcome it,” he whispers.

  “Bathroom’s that way.” I jerk my head in that direction. “Do you have any protection?”

  He pats at his pockets, “We could get some.”

  “What would you do to me first?” My heart races.

  This started just so I could mess with him, but something more is starting to happen. And I don’t exactly want to stop it.

  Have his lips always been so full? Damn, boy.

  A woman nearby clears her throat, reminding me that we’re in public. I have to clear my throat myself before sitting back down. “Here are your drinks,” our waitress says, setting them in front of us. “I’ll be back with your food in a jiffy.”

  He sips on his Coke, and I chug my water, our gazes still locked. That pesky myth about vamps not eating and drinking normal food is exactly that, a myth. Hell, I’ve watched Nicks down five hot dogs at a cookout before…he was six. They can eat, but to keep a healthy mindset they need to feed at least once a week or their animalistic instinct will take over.

  A moment of silence stretches out. “So.” I sip on my drink, finally regaining control over my racing heart. “Are you a virgin, Devin?”

  He chokes. Shouldn’t y’all be used to my lack of filter by now?

  “Breathe, man.” The guy at the next table slaps him on the back a few times. When Devin’s okay he turns to me. “Hi, my name’s Teddy.” He offers a hand to shake.

  “Hi, I’m Nessa.” I try for a smile. “His name’s Devin. Thanks for helping.”

  “It’s not a problem. Nessa, is that short for anything?”

  “Nope, just Nessa.” I glance at Devin, who’s glaring down at the table again.

  “That’s what I figured, I like it. Really like it….” He gives me a not-so-subtle once-over. “Are you new here? I haven’t seen you before?”

  “No, I was born here.” Medium height, pretty buff, with light-brown eyes and ash-blond hair…. Not bad. But I’m not interested.

  “That’s cool.” He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his slightly sagging jeans. “You’ve got a little something….” He picks something out of my hair, a piece of cotton, wow.

  My attention returns to Devin when a low growl sounds. A warning. Then Teddy’s sucking in his breath and jumping away from us. Before I can ask him what’s wrong he’s already backing out of the restaurant and I see him race off through the window. “Devin, what did you do?”

  He shakes his head, staring over my shoulder. “Nothing.”

  How come I don’t believe you? I remember Jake freaking out about a spider of a variety that isn’t even common around here being on his hand and now this…. “Are you jealous when other guys touch me, Devin?”

  “No,” he grunts.

  For some reason, it doesn’t bother me. Normally it would but I guess I really do like him. “You’d better be glad you’re cute.”

  <<<->>>

  Oct. 21st

  It’s my birthday, yay. Party, ha. I wish. Not. The guys have been weirdly quiet, and, when they get quiet, they’re most definitely up to something. I think they’re planning a surprise party. Oh, and add in the fact that they’ve been avoiding me, maybe because I’d be able to pick up on it.

  So, yeah.

  I found out Devin likes reading. That douche hole is freakin’ talented. He’s a writer, photographer—after I showed him how to use the fancy camera—he captured a picture of me where I don’t look completely horrible and, apparently, he plays the guitar. I hate him but kinda love him like him. He’s my best buddy.

  Screw it. This is me we’re talking about here. I love that bastard. But it’s not the right time to say something. With everything going on, blah, it wouldn’t have been appropriate if I jumped him when we were sitting in the living room with the guys, trying to find out who’s behind the murders.

  And it also turns out that he is NOT a virgin. He fell in love with a girl once. Apparently it was sweet and all romantic. Boo-boo was all in love and then, wham! Turned out that bitch was married and just playing him, wish I was kidding then again. No I don’t. Because, now, he’s single, yeah, hopefully he never reads this.

  It just wouldn’t be good.

  And I miss my mom I miss her a lot.

  Be back to ramble later,

  Ness.

  Eating an orange in Devin’s empty apartment couldn’t be weirder. I’m used to noise, constant noise. Apparently the guys took Devin out to a strip club. Or, at least that’s what they said. I didn’t question the fact that they’re not old enough. Unless they have fake IDs or they know the owner, they aren’t getting in. Devin could if he had a license with his real age. Who the hell knows what they’re actually doing. Because I get the feeling he wouldn’t be too comfortable there.

  Throwing the orange peels away, I make my way into the living room from where I was seated at the bar that separates the kitchen from the living room to watch some TV. With nothing on besides movies I’ve seen multiply times, I start to get sleepy, so, instead of letting myself go to sleep, I get to my fe
et and get ready.

  I don’t know where I’m going as I walk down the road until I get there. Antonio’s old house, Mia was serious about me tending her garden while she’s gone. She walked me through how to take care of it and told me her secrets in an email a few days after they left. Which was really just to keep them alive. I didn’t make any promises.

  But standing in the middle of all of these beautiful flowers makes me feel better. Not knowing what else to do, I get the thing to water them. It probably has some fancy name but I don’t know what it is. Devin was right about one thing, I’ve been stressing out too much, trying to find the murderer.

  We’ve narrowed it down to someone I’m close to, someone close enough to snip my hair in my sleep. But that could be anybody. My mom’s coven, at least twenty suspects there. Anyone we’ve ever had over for dinner would know their way around the house. My mom’s a very social person. She’ll talk to anybody.

  So, in other words, we didn’t really narrow it down much.

  Before I can even curse, a puff of weird-smelling smoke blows in my face and the water thing falls from my hands. Trying to wave the cloud away doesn’t help. I can’t see anything, like the way out of there. What the hell? Then, before I know it, I’m getting really sleepy. I fall, crashing through the flowers into the open air, slamming into the cold, hard ground. Shit gets blurry, and I can barely keep my eyes open.

  All I can make out is men’s sandaled feet, the kind of sandals that strap across.

  Ugly shoes bro….

  <<<->>>

  A loud metallic bang jerks me awake to find an unfamiliar ceiling over my head. I’ve gotten used to Devin’s spare bedroom. But this? I’ve landed in some kind of basement, cold, damp, and stinky. Gooseflesh spreads across my skin, and I try to sit up, only to find I’m strapped to a table.

  What the—

  “Good, good. Nice to see you’re finally awake,” a voice chirps from an intercom thing from some room beside me. “I was starting to wonder if I added too much.” Too much? “You’re probably confused right now, you poor, naïve thing. I drugged you. Remember feeling sleepy? Yeah, that was me.”