In the Dark

by Melody Taylor

  “Eighteen fifty-three,” he said. “He was about eighty or ninety then, I forget which.”

  The way he shrugged and turned away when he said that put me off. He knows exactly how old Kent was, I realized. He’s pretending they weren’t that close.

  Eighty or ninety. Kent was two hundred and twenty-five now, including his mortal years – well, would have been. What the hell had Kent been up to the last two centuries?

  “How many more of us are there?” I managed.

  “Oh, don’t get too distressed,” Alec said airily. “Just you and myself, little sister. Kent never really got into procreation.”

  I put my hand to the wall to help hold myself up. No others. Okay, good. But Alec was still one more than I’d expected.

  “Why didn’t he ever tell me about you?”

  The red seeped back into Alec’s eyes. He touched one, delicately, and dropped his hand. “We didn’t part on good terms.” Pretending it didn’t hurt. Now I really didn’t like him.

  “What does that mean?”

  He gave me a black look. I stood my ground, staring back. He sighed and dropped his eyes, though he made the gesture seem more annoyed than submissive.

  “It means just that. Do you need anything else from me?” His tone was concise. He meant, “I don’t want to talk any more, go away.” I didn’t either. I shook my head to myself and turned to leave the room.

  He made a small noise and went back to sorting through Kent’s things. I wanted to tell him to stop, but if he really was Kent’s other . . . child, I couldn’t. I didn’t like him, but I believed him.

  I wandered back out into the living room and bumped into Amanda’s curious face.

  “Who is he?” she asked, aiming a look at the studio doorway. “Kent’s brother, or something?”

  She glanced back at me. I had lifted a hand to wipe my eyes.

  “You’re bleeding,” she said, not quite concerned yet.

  I sighed, shooed her back onto the couch, and dropped into a chair. The clock on the kitchen wall said it was almost midnight. Sunrise wasn’t till seven this time of year. Few good hours left to the night. Amanda kicked her legs up over the arm of the couch.

  “We need to talk,” I said. “I just wanna wait until Mister Drop-in-out-of-nowhere takes off.”

  “It’s late. I had a long drive in. Can’t it wait till morning?”

  “No. It can’t.”

  She pushed hair out of her eyes with a ringed hand. “Is it that important?”

  “Yes, it really is.”

  With a sigh, she stretched, then stopped and looked at me. I must have been wearing some awful face. Her eyes widened.

  “You all right?” she asked. “You look like your face is bleeding.”

  Ah. That.

  “It is. But I’m fine.” I wanted to tell her it was just a couple tears, that I was stressed and she could expect me to cry a little. The words stopped somewhere in my throat. My stomach balled up at the same time. Where did that come from? Had Kent’s drilling taken that deep in me?

  “You sure?” Amanda asked. “You look kinda rough.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. I just need to talk to you, okay?”

  She shrugged. “Yeah, sure, that’s what I came for, right?” She stretched again, long, wiry arms over her head, back arched. Not a relaxed stretch, a nervous one. Something to do. I waited for her to finish. “So, what’s up?”

  I pointed over my shoulder, back towards where Alec DuMond poked through my best friend’s things. Amanda’s eyebrows raised. At first I thought she meant she got it, but she kept looking over my shoulder.

  “I take it you’re too busy to chat with me,” Alec said from the hall. He leaned in the doorway like he belonged there, the corners of his mouth twitched up in amusement. I frowned. I hadn’t noticed him there. He pushed himself away from the wall while we stared at him, real slow and graceful. Putting on a show. “I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving for now. I’ll be back later. Perhaps we can talk then?” He raised an eyebrow, and I knew he meant, “we will talk then.”

  “We’ll see,” I said.

  “You might like to know what I have to tell you.”

  I locked my eyes on his, going for a Sebastian expression. “We’ll see.”

  His lips turned up a little more. “Well. I suppose we will. Good night Ian. Amanda.” And he left.

  This was Kent’s other child? The one he’d chosen before me? I glared after Alec. Maybe he deserved a chance, maybe I should get to know him before judging him, but my first impression was “douche bag.”

  Once I heard his car start and pull away, I turned back to Amanda. She raised her eyebrows in a “well?” expression.

  My chest tightened. I choked on anything I’d been about to say.

  “You said you needed to talk to me?” she pressed when I didn’t speak up.

  “I . . . I need to tell you. About what’s been going on here.”

  Her face tensed, preparing for bad news. She couldn’t possibly prepare for what I had to say.

  “There’s a reason I moved in here with Kent, why I never come home to visit for more than a few hours,” I went on, backing myself into a corner so I’d have to tell her.

  Amanda nodded, slowly, waiting for me to say it. I wondered what she expected. Drugs? Violence?

  “Have you noticed that our bedrooms are downstairs? With no windows? Have you noticed that I always visit after dark?” I said it all carefully, hoping she’d read into it, figure something out so I wouldn’t have to say it.

  Yeah, sure. It’s the obvious answer, after all. Right Ian.

  She nodded, puzzled. “Yeah. I just figured you were a vampire.”

  It caught me off guard. I flinched before I realized – she didn’t mean it literally. She thought it was a metaphor that meant I loved the night.

  “All right,” I said, like she’d said something profound. “All right. What does that mean to you?”

  She frowned. “What’s it supposed to mean?”

  “Just tell me what it means to you.” My hands tightened over the arms of my chair. “Then I’ll keep talking, okay?”

  She shifted on the couch. “Look, Ian, I noticed the fangs, okay? I don’t wanna know how much you paid for ’em, but I think they look good. I always figured you and Kent were into the whole blood-night-vampire thing, so you aren’t going to shock me by telling me you drank Kent’s blood, or he drank yours or anything. Those teeth look sharp enough to do it. I’m not here to talk about your lifestyle. I came because your best friend just died, and I’m your sister and I care about you. Okay?” Her eyes avoided me. It had taken her some effort to accept the blood-night-vampire thing. But she was trying.

  I nodded, my fangs inching over my lower lip. It had been easier to tell her when I was dating Delana. Hell, it would be easier to tell her I lived like a vampire then to tell her I really was one. She reached out and wiped some half-dried blood from one of my cheeks.

  “Just – Christ, Jen, don’t tell me you’re one of those freaks who hunts down strangers to drink blood, huh? I’ve heard of people who are into that, and they scare the hell out of me.”

  I wiped my face off, hard.

  Oh, boy.

  “I need to talk to you about that,” I said. “I guess . . . I guess you should know.”

  “Oh, God, Jen, what did you do?” She sounded afraid and frustrated at the same time.

  At least I could reassure her that much. I was not some freaky mortal playing out some freaky fantasy. The words came out as if I’d spat them loose.

  “I died.”

  IAN

  Amanda’s eyebrows shot about two inches up. Then she laughed, the light, stilted laugh of someone who doesn’t think you’re very funny. I sat still, waiting for her to settle down and listen. It took her a second, shaking her head at me and letting that half-laugh die. And then we sat and stared at each other. I didn’t smile. Hers faded as she looked at me.

  “You aren’t kidding, are yo
u?” she said, her voice so tiny I almost didn’t hear.

  I shook my head, not really sure I could speak.

  “Jen –” she started.

  My voice came back suddenly. “Ian,” I said firmly. “Jen died almost four years ago.”

  Her face blanked. I’d shot over her head. I pressed my lips together a moment, gathering my thoughts. “I’m still your older sister,” I said. “I’m still the same person. I just died four years ago. That’s all.”

  That’s all.

  I remembered my own death, vivid in my mind like it had happened ten minutes ago. The intense pleasure giving way to suffocating pain. Gasping for air. My body on fire. It hurt. I tried to tell Kent I couldn’t do it, I changed my mind, stop. But I couldn’t speak, and the world had already started fading.

  “But you’re here,” Amanda said. “You’re right here. You didn’t . . . you didn’t die.” She laughed, that same, stilted laugh.

  “Kent killed me. He drank my blood, all of it, until I died. And then he gave me some of his. And then I woke up, like I’d been sleeping really hard, and I was a vampire.”

  Amanda’s eyes widened slightly.

  “Not someone who lives like a vampire,” I tried to clarify. “Not someone who likes blood and the night, but someone who really needs blood and can’t go out during the day.”

  She licked her lips. Opened her mouth to speak and then didn’t. I waited calmly for her to ask something. It really seemed the most natural thing, now that I’d done the hard part, to tell her. I had always told her everything.

  “You really believe all that?” Like she hoped I didn’t.

  I stared back at her. Trying to think how to reply. It wasn’t a matter of belief – it was. “I didn’t at first,” I said. “I really didn’t. I thought maybe it was some weird mind game Kent was playing with me. But I . . . it’s been four years. I’ve been through some stuff. Seen some things. It’s all true. Kent was a vampire, and he turned me into one, too.”

  Amanda nodded, not blinking, staring at me. “So Kent was a vampire, too?” she asked, far too carefully. “And so was that guy that was just here?”

  Her tone stopped me cold.

  “Yes,” I said. “Yes, yes, yes. Is it that hard to believe?” Had I treated Kent like this when he first told me? I’d had questions, sure, and doubts, but the fact of vampirism had become so ordinary, I couldn’t remember if I’d reacted like this.

  Amanda bit her lip, like she wanted to say something she shouldn’t.

  I pounced on it. “What?”

  She shook her head. “I just . . . are you sure you’re not . . . over-reacting? To Kent’s death?”

  My mouth fell open.

  “No. No, absolutely not. I swear.”

  She reached for my hand. “I just want to be sure you’re okay, Jen – Ian. Sorry.” She took a breath. “I just want to be sure you’re okay. This worries me, all right? Especially right after Kent dies on you. I mean, he was your best friend. That kind of trauma can push people over the edge, you know?”

  I let her take my hand. If I’d been the least bit fuzzy on any details – if I hadn’t been able to press my tongue to my fangs and feel them, I might have nodded and started worrying about myself.

  “Thank you for worrying,” I said. “But I swear, I swear, I’m broken up and I’ve got a hundred things on my mind, but I’m not crazy.”

  She nodded carefully. Not committing to anything.

  “Tell me you understand.” I leaned forward, tried to meet her eyes. She looked away. My stomach dropped like I’d fallen off a cliff. “Amanda?”

  She stared at our hands.

  One, frightened, desperate tear managed to escape from one of my eyes.

  “Amanda, please,” I said. “Please believe me. This is just like when Delana broke up with me in high school, remember? You were the only one who understood. Please, I need you like that again. This is hard. This is really, really hard, and I need you.”

  She shook her head softly, not denial, just uncertain. The red tear on my face dripped off my cheek and landed plat! on her hand. She jumped and finally looked at my face.

  “You’re bleeding,” she said.

  “No, I’m not,” I said, with that false calm that comes right before you freak out entirely. “I am crying blood. I drink blood. I sleep all day and come out at night. I didn’t buy my fangs, I grew them. I’m a vampire.” My free hand clenched in and out of a fist.

  Silence.

  She finally cleared her throat. “Jen, this is all pretty weird –”

  I took my hand back and laughed. It felt ugly. “You think this is weird? How do you think I feel? How do you think it feels to tell you this? Shit, how do you think it felt for me the first time Kent showed me how to hunt for blood? Pretty weird?”

  She watched me, mouth shut, face blank.

  I looked back at my fidgety hands. “Look, I don’t need this right now. I know you need this explained better, I know you need time to adjust, but I can’t do it. I’ve had . . . more on my mind than I thought one person could have. And now you can’t believe I’m a vampire. I can’t do it. I can’t.” I was freaking out. It felt good.

  She stayed quiet. Purple hair fell into her eyes. She pushed it out of her way absently.

  Anything. Speak to me. Tell me I’m crazy, tell me you believe me, tell me to fuck off, just talk!

  Her hair fell back into her eyes. She shoved it out of the way. “So Alec believes all this stuff, too, huh?” she asked her hands.

  I nodded without speaking. I wanted to scream.

  “How do you know him?”

  “He says he’s my older brother.”

  That got me more of the hairy eyeball, but like she saw a stranger that seemed familiar. Not looking at me.

  “Because you both knew Kent? Doesn’t that seem a little . . . desperate?” She sounded like an adult talking to a middle-schooler.

  “Fuck this,” I said. “Let me know when you’re done analyzing me, huh?”

  She hunkered down on herself.

  “I’ll be in my room.” I left.

  The tears started before I even made the stairs. I had already lost two people. Now it felt like I was losing another.

  At least Kent and Emily had no choice about abandoning me.

  I went to my room and shut the door.

  IAN

  A soft rap on my door woke me. I peeled my thick eyelids open and raised my head. Moving took too much effort. I flopped back down again. My skin prickled, somehow aware the sun was up. I ignored the tapping.

  Rapping again, louder this time. Not urgent, but not going away either. I rubbed my eyes.

  “What?” I croaked.

  “Ian?” Amanda’s voice. I frowned. She still didn’t buy the vampire thing. “Ian, the sun’s down.”

  Yeah, maybe it’s down, but it’s still light out.

  I didn’t answer.

  She knocked again. “Ian? Are you awake?”

  “No,” I said. My eyes were starting to ache.

  “Ian?”

  I snorted. “No, it’s Mother Theresa.”

  Silence.

  “Ian, can we talk?”

  A quick and bleary glance at my bedside clock made me groan. It was just after seven – I usually didn’t get up for another half hour.

  My door creaked open a bit, letting Amanda’s face poke in. It was a tense, thinking face. I could guess what about. She looked as worn out as I felt. I buried my face in my pillow.

  “You’re bleeding again,” she said softly.

  I wasn’t. Dried blood colored my pillow, but none of it was fresh.

  “Yeah, been doing that a lot lately,” I murmured. “You know, when someone murders your best friend, you tend to cry.”

  Silence. I didn’t look at her.

  “Murdered?”

  I hugged my pillow. It was too early for this.

  Amanda didn’t see it that way. “You told Mom –”

  “I tell Mom a lot of shit.�
� I managed to sit up, rubbing my eyes. “You think I told her I was a vampire?”

  Amanda paused uncomfortably. “How did he die?” she asked a little quieter.

  Why did she have to ask questions that would make me see, make me remember?

  “Someone ripped his heart out of his chest.” I tried not to attach meaning to the words. Just say them, not feel them. It didn’t work.

  Amanda gasped. “Who?”

  The tears started fresh, and I started breathing. I hated that. It was so obvious I was upset.

  “Sebastian killed him. The person who did it.”

  Drank him.

  Maybe Amanda said something, maybe my name, I wasn’t sure. I was trapped with my memories, shaking and breathing hard. I stayed that way for a while, several minutes, helpless to stop remembering. Then something inside me snapped. The shuddering stopped, but my abdomen clenched hard and a sour taste flooded the back of my throat. I bolted for my bathroom, dropping my face over the sink just as the blood came up. Amanda followed me. My stomach jerked again, trickling more blood into the sink.

  “I thought you liked it . . .”

  Someone’s spilled drink . . .

  More blood came up. Just a dribble. I gagged.

  Amanda touched the side of my face, pulled my hair back. My tears spilled right along with what I coughed up, until I was sobbing and gagging both.

  “Ian, is this normal?” Amanda asked softly. “I’m sorry, there’s just so much blood . . .”

  “I don’t know,” I gasped. My voice echoed at me from the sink. “I don’t know. Kent never told me. He never told me about any of this.” There wasn’t much blood. Enough to scare someone who wasn’t used to the sight. I spat out a big red blotch and sat down hard.

  “Do I need to take you to the ER?” she asked finally.

  I shook my head. “I’m clinically dead,” I told her, repeating Kent’s words. “No pulse. No body temperature. No bodily functions.”

  Amanda raised an eyebrow. I held out my wrist for her.

  “Find my pulse,” I said. “Go ahead. Touch me. I’m cold. I don’t have a pulse.”

  With a small frown, she leaned in and took hold of my wrist – dropped it fast. “You are cold.”