by K.N. Lee
A week or so before Halloween, the weather turned unseasonably warm. Angela was out with Greg, and Elora was in their dorm room watching a movie on her laptop. It was so warm in the room, she had the big window between the beds wide open. The evening breeze was great, smelling of dried leaves and lingering sunshine. She had the door open a crack, too, to pull the fresh air through the room.
A pizza – bacon and green peppers – was imminent. She had her phone nearby so she could go down and let the driver in. She probably wouldn’t need to, though. It was such a common occurrence, someone else would likely do it for her before he had a chance to call.
Sure enough, almost as soon as she had the thought, a knock came at the door. “Come in!” She hit pause on the movie and set the computer aside, reaching for the twenty she had ready on the desk.
The door slammed open. A foul stench of old blood and decay hit Elora like a slap in the face. A man, pale and gaunt, stood centered in the door. Long, greasy-looking blonde hair reached past his shoulders. A once-white dress shirt and threadbare brocade vest hung on his bony frame. He took a step into the small room, opened his mouth to show sharp, long fangs, and hissed at her.
Bloodshot brown eyes focused on the vicinity of her throat, and Elora took a step backward. Her knees hit the bed and she fell onto it, almost sitting on her laptop as he lunged.
A cold hand gripped Elora’s shoulder, ragged fingernails sinking in. She tried to scream but no sound could escape past the grip of terror around her throat. He pushed her back onto the bed, ignoring her wild bucking to get him off her. His mouth opened wide, giving her a good look at those fangs.
Holy fuck! I’m about to be sucked dry by a vampire!
She gagged at the stench. Throwing every bit of her strength into it, she tried to roll to dislodge him, but she had no leverage.
She heard a scream, wondered for a moment if it was her own, but then a snarling cheetah crashed through her window, riding the screen to the floor. Her desk lamp fell, and the light winked out as the cheetah tore the vampire off of Elora.
It sank its fangs into the stringy meat of the vampire’s right biceps. Elora scrambled back, eyes wide. The only light in the room came from the hallway through the open door. She fell off the bed, striking her elbow on the unforgiving edge of the bookcase; she barely felt it. The cat snarled again, and she heard fabric tear.
The vampire hissed. The cheetah screamed. There was a flurry of motion too fast for Elora to follow in the dim light. Another snarling howl and the cheetah flew through the air. It hit the wall beside Angela’s closet hard enough to crack the drywall, leaving Ripley stark naked on the floor and gasping for air. He looked from the vampire coming at him, gnashing its teeth, straight at Elora.
“Don’t stand there. DO something!”
“Me?” Her voice squeaked. “What am I supposed to do?” The vampire closed a claw-like hand around Ripley’s throat and shook him like a ragdoll. Elora took a deep breath and did the only thing she could think of to do. “Leave us alone!” The vampire stopped shaking Ripley, but he didn’t let him go. Instead, he looked over at Elora with those murderous brown eyes, and he laughed.
“Yeah, that Siren crap won’t work on vampires.” Ripley’s voice sounded strained as he fought for air. “Do something else.” He tried to pry the vampire’s hand from his throat but only succeeded in drawing its attention once more. Elora took a step toward them, not knowing what she could do, and stumbled on the brass lamp lying on the floor. She picked it up and ran toward Ripley and his attacker, bringing the base of the lamp down hard on the vampire’s head.
“Well, that’s different,” Ripley quipped.
The thing released Ripley and turned on Elora, not quite what she had in mind. “I’m open to suggestions here.” She took a hurried step backward, bumping her heel on the edge of the door. It swung shut, plunging the room into darkness. The vampire laughed again, the sound of nails scraping on a chalkboard. She heard Ripley moving. That cold hand closed around Elora’s wrist, pulled, and she resisted with all her might.
And then Ripley was beside her, fumbling for her other hand, warmth and life, not cold, dead flesh. She twined her fingers with Ripley’s, and something strange happened. A spark ran between them, a visible thread glowing blue flowed from Ripley into Elora. “What the hell?”
“You can use it. You won’t hurt me, but hopefully, you’ll dust him.” Ripley squeezed Elora’s hand. The vampire squeezed her arm, pulling her in close.
“Mine,” it whispered.
“What do I do?” Time seemed to stand still. Icy lips brushed Elora’s throat, nuzzled at her neck like a lover. Her knees buckled, but Ripley was there to hold her steady.
“Blast the fucker.”
Without thinking about it, Elora willed that blue energy to stab the vampire through its miserable, stone-cold heart. There was a flare of light. The vampire opened its mouth in a silent scream a heartbeat before it dissolved in a shower of ash. Ripley flicked the switch by the door. Florescent light filled the room from the fixture overhead. He came to stand beside Elora.
“Not today, my pasty friend." They stood side by side for a moment, staring down at the pile of ash that sparkled in the harsh light. Ripley glanced at Elora. "Got a vacuum?"
She looked up at him. Ripley was still naked, and he wasn’t wearing glasses. His shoulders and chest, every part of him, was golden tan, the freckles she’d noticed before a little darker. She ignored the irritating smirk on his handsome face.
“There’s a vacuum in the common room.” It belonged to the entire third floor to use as needed, but she doubted it would be where it should be. She always had to track it down to whoever had forgotten to put it away that week.
Ripley crossed his arms over his chest. The breeze from the gaping window was a lot cooler than it had been during the past day or three. Goose bumps rose on his arms. She resisted looking down, but she couldn’t help but notice his nipples. His smirk grew as he noticed her noticing.
“Better question, Pretty Eyes. Got anything around her that might fit me?”
“It's Elora.” She walked over to Angela's closet. “Greg is shorter than you, but something of his might work.” She pulled out a black t-shirt with a Pink Floyd logo and tossed it to Ripley. He caught it with ease and pulled it over his head. A dark purple bruise covered the left side of his torso where he'd collided with the door frame. The skin wasn't broken, so no blood, but she bet at least a couple of ribs were.
He followed Elora’s gaze, contorting a bit to see how far the bruise spread, wincing with the twisting motion. “It’ll heal.” He grinned at her and yanked the shirt down to cover the damage. “Faster than you might think.”
The only other thing she found hanging in the closet was another of Greg’s shirts. Instead, she grabbed a pair of jeans draped over the shower curtain rod in the bathroom. Greg had taken them off to rinse after he’d spilled cider on them. He’d left them in the bathroom to air dry and changed into a pair of shorts.
Elora threw the stiff jeans at Ripley’s head as someone knocked on the door.
She froze. She stared at the door, shut during the fight. Somebody had to have noticed all that noise. She glanced at Ripley, who was pulling the too-loose jeans up over his hips. When he saw Elora’s questioning glance, he shrugged. No help there. Not this time, anyway. What if it was another vampire? The first visitor was, after all.
Whoever it was, they knocked again.
“Hey! Anybody in there order a pizza?”
Both of Ripley’s eyebrows shot up. He reached for the doorknob and jerked it open. “It’s about time. I’m starving!” Grabbing and opening the box, Ripley tucked into Elora’s pizza. His expression dared her to say something. She rolled her eyes and picked the twenty up from the floor, handing it to the pizza delivery guy. All she wanted was for him to leave.
“Keep the change.” Smiling, he saluted her with the bill and spun away. She shut the door and turned to find Ripley sitting cross-
legged in the middle of her bed, happily munching away.
“This is really good.” He offered her a slice.
“I’m so glad you like it.” Her sarcasm wasn’t wasted; his smirk remained as he slowly took another bite.
She took the slice of pizza he still offered, her fingers brushing his in passing. A little of that strange energy she’d used against the vampire lingered, and Elora shivered. At least she told herself it was that same energy. It couldn’t be Riley himself.
No way.
To cover her reaction, she leaned back against her desk and chewed, but she couldn’t shake the sensation of someone watching her. Someone other than Ripley. The pile of sparkling ash on her floor by the foot of the bed seemed to mock her. The sight of it seriously impeded her enjoyment of the pizza. Her appetite gone, Elora finished her slice and got some paper towels from the bathroom to wipe her hands. She gave one to Ripley.
“I’ll be back. I’m gonna go get that vacuum.”
He gave her a quizzical look.
How does he do that with his eyebrow?
“What about the rest of your dinner?”
“Enjoy it.” She glanced down at the vampiric remains on her floor. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
God, I hope the vac is where it’s supposed to be.
It was. While Ripley put the screen back into place, Elora swept up the undead glitter dust. She ran the vacuum over the spot for at least a minute to make sure she got it all. Sooner rather than later, she’d want to have the spot steam cleaned too.
Maybe replaced.
When she turned the vacuum off, Ripley was humming Taps. He didn’t stop when the motor stopped, and Elora couldn’t help but laugh. He winked at her when he finished the song.
“And now, milady Pretty Eyes, it's time for you to see something important." He closed the box on two slices of pizza and put it in the refrigerator, setting it on the shelf labeled with Elora's name. "And I'm not talking about my ass, although you can feel free to keep looking if you want." She quashed a reflexive eye-roll, and he snorted. "We're going for a walk."
Elora sat on the foot of her bed to tie her shoes. Ripley slid one of Angela’s belts through the loops on his borrowed jeans and pulled it tight. His bare feet stuck out below the hems a good six inches.
“I have no idea where to find you some shoes.”
He flexed his toes, the bones of his feet rippling in and out of sharp relief. “Don’t worry about it. I go barefoot all the time.” Returning his attention to Angela’s closet, Ripley pulled on the blue plaid flannel shirt Elora had rejected. It was Greg’s, of course; Angela didn’t do flannel. The sleeves were too short, like the jeans, and he rolled them to his elbows. He looked Elora up and down and up again. “You’ll want a jacket.”
Chapter 15
Ripley led Elora through the courtyard, past the Arts building, and into the woods bordering the north end of the campus. Trees surrounded most of the college. Only the western-most part connected to the town that had sprung up over the decades to serve it. The woods were a strong draw for Elora when she’d applied to Westerly. They exuded peace, something she badly needed. They only stronger draw was the need to feel closer to her parents by attending their Alma mater.
The night was still warmer than it should be for late-ish October, but that didn’t make it warm. It was chilly enough that Elora shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. Inside were a napkin and an old ticket stub to a movie she’d gone to the previous March. And there was Ripley a few steps ahead of her, trudging on cold concrete and then chill grass and dirt with bare feet.
“Aren’t your feet cold?”
His hands in his jeans pockets, Ripley shrugged. “A little. It’s not gonna kill me.”
A whiff of skunk drifted on the breeze, and Elora wrinkled her nose. She hoped the little guy had gotten away from whatever had scared him. Blood-shot eyes and sharp fangs flashed through her brain. She shuddered and gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to relive any part of that attack. The ceaseless susurrus of the drying, dying leaves as they danced in the light breeze helped dissipate the images.
Fallen leaves crunched underfoot. Each step released the scent of remembered sunshine as she followed Ripley. They went through a break in the trees she had never noticed before.
“I thought you needed glasses to see.” Something whizzed by Elora’s face, wings whirring. It was a bat. She hoped it was a bat. She’d had more than enough of things that go bump in the night that she’d never believed were real. She’d welcome a bat. She stepped up her pace, getting closer to Ripley.
She ignored his snicker.
“They're more to block some of the light spectra. Kinda like sunglasses, except they're not dark. My night vision is a hell of a lot better than my day.”
“Huh.” Elora made a mental note to Google cheetahs’ eyesight when she got home. “So you wear glasses during the day but not at night? And where do you put your clothes?” A mournful howl brought her right up beside Ripley. She was close enough to see his white teeth in the darkness when he grinned down at her.
“Don’t worry, Pretty Eyes, it’s just a coyote.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You turn into a freaking cheetah!” The breeze diminished as they walked farther down what seemed to be an actual path. It started out narrow and overgrown but was better maintained the farther they walked. She could walk next to Ripley without bumping into him, something she couldn’t do when they first started.
“My clothes are at home, along with my glasses.”
“And where’s home?”
“You are just full of questions tonight." The winking lights of fireflies appeared and disappeared all along the trail. There were more of them deeper in the woods all around. It was far too late in the season for what Elora's foster mother June had always called lightning bugs. Most of the lights were a pale yellow, but some winked blue or green or purple.
“They’re willowisps.” Ripley stopped and pointed toward a blue light coming straight for him. The glow landed on his fingertip. He brought it closer for Elora to see the tiny winged person on his finger, as naked as Ripley when he transformed from cheetah to human. “Do not ever follow one these little beauties into the woods.”
Another willowisp landed on Ripley’s hair and started to pick through the brown strands.
“They look harmless.” He reached out and tilted Elora’s head toward him, forcing her to look away from the mesmerizing creature and into his tawny eyes. “They’re not.” She had never heard him sound so serious.
“Anything else I should know about? Dragons? Unicorns? The Tooth Fairy?” A purple willowisp landed on the end of Elora’s nose; she went cross-eyed trying to focus on it. Ripley flicked it away just as it opened its tiny mouth filled with sharp, pointed teeth, ready to bite her.
“Dragons are real, but they don’t live around here. You find them in the higher mountain ranges.” He took her hand and they started walking again. The woodsy trail twinkled with brilliant pastel willowisps. “There are some out in the Rockies. The biggest colony is in the Himalayas.” Ripley’s long fingers meshed with hers, the motion as natural as breathing. “The jury’s out on whether unicorns still exist. No one has seen one in a hundred years.”
They walked in silence for a bit, their joined hands swinging between them. The woods were dark. Thanks to the willowisps, Elora could see the ground in front of her. They lit up the lines of Ripley’s face, too, when she looked up at him. When they first entered the woods, the air had smelled of fallen leaves and fading sunshine. Deeper in, it smelled sweet, like honeysuckle and primrose. The scent of skunk had long since dissipated.
Elora started to ask what it was she smelled. She stopped when Ripley said, “Vampires and ghouls you’ve already met.” He looked down at her and squeezed her hand. “And shapeshifters.”
“Do they all turn into cheetahs?” She squeezed his hand back.
“Not a one. Just me.” They walked toward a break in the trees up
ahead, a shaft of bright moonlight cutting through the canopy. “Wolves are the most common, but you’ll find bears, some of the big cats, birds of prey.”
“Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!”
“Exactly.” That lopsided grin was back; she decided she quite liked it. “The Fae are kind of a crap shoot, just like humans. Treat the ones like the ‘wisps here with extreme caution. Same with the Tooth Fairy and his buddies.”
Elora stopped, forcing Ripley to stop, too, since she didn’t let go of his hand. “You’re joking, right? The Tooth Fairy isn’t real.” Why she balked at that and not the rest of it, Elora didn’t know. She still half believed the whole evening was some kind of dream. Either that or the weirdest first date in the history of the world.
“Nasty piece of work. He isn’t anything like the stories you heard as a kid. He collects teeth, yes, but forcibly.”
He started walking again, pulling Elora along with him. They passed through the patch of moonlight. On the other side of it, the trail veered to the left, but Ripley went straight. It felt no different beneath her feet than it had before, but there was no visible path. Her eyes and brain at war with the rest of her senses, she felt a little dizzy.
“You know, Pretty Eyes, when I first saw you, I had no idea you were Mallory Caldwell’s daughter, but I knew you were one of us.”
Head still spinning, Elora frowned. “My mother’s name was Mallory Snow.”
“Sure it was.”
“And mine is Elora Snow.”
Grinning at her, he stopped in front of a tree that was at least six feet across. “Get ready for your life to change, Elora.” His gaze never left hers. “De réir an grásta na déithe, a dheonú dom mbealach isteach.”
The tree in front of them shimmered. Elora tore her gaze away from Ripley as the trees all shimmered and then disappeared. In their place stood a castle built of gray-green stone. A few willowisps had followed Elora and Ripley through the woods. Their winking lights glinted from flecks of mica embedded in the stone, making the castle sparkle. Either that or it sparkled because it was magic.