Vampire Innocent (Book 10): A Vampire’s Guide To Adulting

by Cox, Matthew S.

  A Vampire’s Guide to Adulting

  Vampire Innocent Book 10

  Matthew S. Cox

  A Vampire’s Guide to Adulting

  © 2020 Matthew S. Cox

  All Rights Reserved

  This novel is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual murderous vampires, people, or intradimensional entities is purely coincidental. No portion of this book may be reproduced without written permission from the author except for quotes posted in reviews or blogs.

  Cover art by:

  Interior art by:

  ISBN (ebook): 978-1-950738-26-7

  ISBN (paperback): 978-1-950738-27-4

  Contents

  1. The Last Monday of Eighteen

  2. Pact

  3. The Big Day

  4. Tiny Cake, Big Feels

  5. The Fine Art of the Ambush

  6. The Sky is Full of Stars

  7. A Much-Needed Vacation

  8. Vampire Mistress… of the Household

  9. Scrambling

  10. Fear Management

  11. The Perks of Undeath

  12. Becoming Official

  13. Up to No Good

  14. Soft Spot

  15. Each Step Progressively Weirder

  16. Last-Minute Rush

  17. Loosely Organized Chaos

  18. Speaking of Crazy

  19. Vampire Command Center

  20. Valid Creepy

  21. Campy Eighties Horror Movie

  22. A Perfect Scenario for an F-bomb

  23. The Wild West

  24. So Many Questions

  25. A Lady of Fine Social Standing

  26. Laying Low

  27. Nine Millimeter Migraine

  28. How to Get Kidnapped

  29. A Little Crazy

  30. When in Doubt, Go Big

  31. Bona Fide

  32. Tradition

  33. A Little More Than Slightly Charred

  34. Too Normal

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other books by Matthew S. Cox

  1

  The Last Monday of Eighteen

  Acceptance, as an emotional state, sometimes sits on top of a ledge way up a steep hill.

  Not many people can make the climb, but vampires have claws. I can fly, too, but it ruins the metaphor. Seriously, though, if it’s possible for the undead to find Zen, I’m there.

  Maybe I haven’t ‘reached enlightenment,’ but I definitely lack the motivation to be upset over where my life has gone. Technically speaking, my life has gone. I’m on phase two. As far as anyone looking at me goes, I seem perfectly alive—but it’s a lie. However, unlike photos of fast food, the lie goes in the other direction. My reality is not a sad disappointment compared to the image presented, more of an unexpected surprise. Lies come in varying degrees from ‘I didn’t eat the last cookie’ to ‘no I didn’t cheat on you with your best friend’ to ‘try peanut butter and pickle sandwiches, they’re awesome’ pranks. One can lead to tears, one fights, the other murder… results may vary with temperament.

  I guess politics, has to count, too. They say anything a person can be gifted at evolves into a profession, and in the case of born liars, their path invariably leads to politics—or trying to sell pillows on cable. Okay, it’s me. I’m the one who said it. Politicians lie more than used car salesman or kids when asked if they’ve finished their homework. Blame Professor Heath and going to philosophy class. He’s got me thinking of all sorts of random stuff lately.

  Back to the motivation thing. I’ve never been what anyone would call an overachiever. In fact, as far as school went, I ended up kind of lazy, doing only as much work as necessary to avoid getting in trouble. Considering my parents, it meant I scored mostly As and Bs but never did extra work or took AP classes or busted my butt on extracurricular things. Due to whatever fortunate circumstances surrounded my existence, school didn’t require too much effort on my part to do well. For example, I didn’t really need to take notes to remember enough to get decent grades on tests.

  Presently, I’m applying the same lack of drive to my existence as a vampire.

  Being upset over what happened takes effort and is pointless. Like if someone hit my car and damaged it, no amount of screaming at them would fix the dent. Nothing I could possibly do is going to give me back the future no longer ahead of me, so why bother letting it drive me nuts? Some vampires are caught up in politics—and not the governmental kind. I’m talking about society politics where people backstab each other to look cool for the ‘in crowd’. Honestly, the only difference between vampire politics and high school politics is the amount of money everyone has—and the lack of homework.

  We don’t have vampires running for ‘undead president’ or mayor or whatever. Even if we did have an official power structure, there are so many Lost Ones around here any vampire trying to declare themselves the ruler would command about as much respect as Ollie Ziegler, my school’s senior class president. Major nerd but not a bad guy. Problem was, he took things way too seriously. Walked around as if he had as much actual power as the principal. Everyone ignored him. If any vampire in Seattle declared themselves king or queen, they’d be laughed at exactly like Ollie.

  No, the political structure—such as it is—among the vampires here reminds me of those old movies about Al Capone my mother used to watch. Arthur Wolent, a Fury, is basically the boss. He’s not the oldest, not even 200 years a vampire yet, but Furies are weird. People are afraid of them and they seem far ahead of the power curve compared to others. He’s essentially the de-facto boss of Seattle, but from what I’ve seen so far, he doesn’t really feel as if he tries to tell everyone what to do. Vampires generally go along with him because he’s got good ideas.

  Works for me. I’m happy to merely exist and be as normal as possible. Can’t say I’m trying to pretend the vampire thing never happened. It’s far too major a change to ignore. No matter how introverted a person is, they won’t spontaneously combust when exposed to sunlight. To be fair, I don’t spontaneously combust either… it’s more a slow burn like Black Swan. My bloodline is able to tolerate sun more than others at the expense of not having any really cool abilities. Like how Aurélie can charm an entire room at once or Furies can become so strong they’re able to throw cars. According to rumor, some Old Guard can legit shapeshift into bats or wolves. Dalton, my sire, even suggested a few Academics wielded mystical arts.

  No, it’s not like wizards in the fantasy games Sierra and Dad love so much… real magic is far more subtle and usually takes a long time to do. And yeah, even the two-minute rituals are a long time when someone’s trying to bash your face in. Sophia’s one of those unusual mystics who can make magic happen simply by wanting it to. None of us are sure how exactly it happened. Magical talent like hers doesn’t simply come out of the blue. It had to be in our family line, dormant for generations until a group of mystics stole her body to use as a spy. Oh, she got it back. They just punted her ghost out of her skin for a little while.

  I guess having one’s astral essence ripped apart from their flesh broke some stuff loose in her soul. If astral eavesdropping were a drug, the voiceover guy on the commercial would say something like: caution, use of this product may cause unexpected side effects such as temporal displacement, glowing kittens, and portal seepage. Use with caution.

  So, yeah. I’m a vampire. My one sister, Sierra, has become a sword-obsessed warrior queen wannabe, my other sister, Sophia, uses magic… and my little brother, Sam, has a little imp he enjoys playing with. No, get your mind out of the gutter. I don’t mean it
in the way all boys have a little imp. I’m talking a legit demon, even if it is a minor one. Blix is pretty cool though, as demons go. Mostly, he and Sam play video games. The little guy goes with my bro everywhere. Kinda like a Dora the Explorer situation, only less educational.

  I’d call my parents normal, but they’re parents. At least they’re not supernatural… as far as I know.

  Neither are my friends Ashley and Michelle—or my boyfriend Hunter.

  What is supernatural is the tangle of math in front of me. It’s never been my favorite subject, but I’m not one of those people who moaned about how much it sucked. Sophia loves it. But she’s basically a nerd disguised as Barbie. When she gets to high school, she’s totally going to confuse everyone. I’m ninety-five percent sure she’s going to be mistaken for an air-headed blonde cheerleader by looks, but she’s whip smart. Sierra’s more like me. Smart but unmotivated. Sam’s scary smart, too. The reason he always seems to be playing video games is he gets his homework done in less than an hour every day. Seriously, I think he’s almost one of those kids who could start college at fifteen. He’s bored with school, but, like me, not motivated enough to push himself. He’d rather enjoy life.

  Speaking of homework…

  Calculus is being a pain in my ass tonight.

  Normally, I’d complain about it being Monday because it’s the American thing to do on a Monday. Given my circumstances, my leeway to complain about the first day of the work week is pretty thin. I’ve never held a traditional nine-to-five job, nor will I ever. The only way for me to even be awake at nine in the morning would be to go somewhere so far north the sun stays down for months at a time. Even then, I’m not sure if it matters. Vampire sleep might have time requirements beyond merely the sun being up or not. Then again, I do tend to fall asleep at the instant of sunrise regardless of what’s on the clock at the time… so maybe going to bumfart Alaska would let me stay awake continuously for weeks.

  Gah. Talk about a great way to go psychotic. After three months without sleep, Jerry Springer Show guests would seem well adjusted by comparison to me.

  Tonight’s problem focusing on calculus has nothing to do with it being difficult math. It’s not truly feeling hard to me, more tedious. Every time I go over one of these problems, half the time goes toward questioning if choosing computer programming as my major was a mistake or if I’m merely allowing the whole vampire thing to distract me from school in general.

  It has to mean something when every other vampire either laughs or ‘awws’ at me when they find out I’m trying to continue on with my life, academically speaking. Maybe it’s my lazy side coming out. Undeath is a pretty strong excuse for not bothering to pursue a degree. What use could it possibly be beyond a hobby? There is literally zero chance of me ever having a traditional career. Computers and stuff are cool, but I’m not that kind of nerd. Programming came from me mentally throwing a dart at a list of ideas and thinking it’s a job anyone can do from home. No need to expose myself to daylight.

  But… I’ve been ignoring my complete lack of need to work, even before I chanced into a respectable amount of money in Ireland.

  If I told anyone where it came from, they’d consider me completely crazy. Even most vampires would call me insane. Shocked me to find out how much real money gold coins are worth. It’s hardly enough to live on for eternity, but if I stay modest—like in this house—I’m set for a good long while. Aurélie thinks she can set my money up to grow sufficiently to be self-sustaining. She’s doing some kind of corporate banking stuff way over my head. I’d probably have an easier time learning magic from Sophia. Anyway, according to her, I have plenty to ‘get started’ and snowball into a self-sustaining source of funds. It’ll be decades before ‘living big’ is even an option, but I don’t care. It means I can’t spend money on stuff like a fancy house or ridiculous cars or such. Luckily for me, I’m totally happy here.

  It’s pathological, really. What eighteen-year-old clings to their childhood home with literal claws?

  Sometimes, homesickness hits me as bad as it gets Sophia on every family road trip, despite me still being here. Maybe ‘homesickness’ isn’t the right word for it, but I’ll be sitting here in my room and get hit with this sudden, intense fear like I really don’t wanna lose my home. It doesn’t last long, though. Honestly, it’s most likely my brain processing my close call and the impermanence of everything. I’m basically a small dog who randomly gets super possessive of their toy and growls for no reason at everything. Only, no actual growling is involved and instead of a toy, it’s my house and family.

  I sorta have an excuse—almost died. Well, not so ‘almost.’ Maybe the same cosmic effect wherein ghosts can’t help but haunt the place they died is making me abnormally attached to my house. Could be I’m not as adjusted to what happened as I’ve told myself. Then again, death is a big mental scar. It’s a little beyond most traumas. Generally, people don’t have to cope with the shock of their own demise. There’s no support group for it. Not even self-help books.

  Couldn’t even find a Pinterest board dedicated to coping with involuntary resurrection.

  After fifteen minutes vanish to me idly wondering if I technically died and came back or didn’t completely die, it’s pretty damn obvious there’s too much on my mind at the moment for me to make room for calculus. Suppose I could try to focus. This calc isn’t an immediate worry. It’s not due until Wednesday. Still, oughta do it now when nothing else is in the way. Tomorrow could bring more work, and putting off a task only makes it suck more when I finally force myself to do it.

  Ugh. I have English lit later tonight, just what a Monday needs—three hours of discussing the meaning of poetry written two centuries ago by someone mostly likely drunk or high as hell on laudanum. I bet the people who wrote this stuff couldn’t even tell anyone what it means. Another nice thing about being a vampire… no matter how boring a class gets, it can’t knock me unconscious. Wait, no. That’s not a nice thing. Sleep would be a merciful escape.

  Why is the idea of going to school bothering me so much now? Am I doing it for the education, because I want to feel normal like none of this supernatural stuff happened, or is it me wanting to make my parents happy? Doing it for them isn’t the best motivation, but it makes more sense than wanting a degree for myself. It’s not as if I’d ever use one to get a real job. Even if I did, how long would it be before time made me move? Professor Heath changes schools every thirty years or so. Office jobs seldom last anywhere near as long. Maybe it wouldn’t be an issue. Office workers lasting six years in the same place are kinda rare.

  Maybe, when my family’s gone, I’ll need something to do in order to beat boredom, but for now, a job is the last thing I want eating up time. Figure I’ve got maybe seven or eight years left before the Littles grow up and go off on their own. Need to enjoy having a family while we’re still together as one.

  Another thing killing my focus is what day it is.

  Yeah, it’s probably the date more than anything else.

  Today is Monday. New Year’s Day Eve or whatever they call the night of January first. Oh, duh. No class tonight, national holiday and all. Cool. No, I’m not wound up over it being New Year’s. Tomorrow’s my nineteenth birthday. You know what really sucked? My parents dressing me up as ‘Baby New Year’ for the first five years of my life. They still have the photos. Even one of me in the hospital hours after birth wearing a diaper marked 1999.

  Embarrassing as hell. Dorky, too.

  Those two words exactly encompass the enigma of my parents.

  Maybe I should mess with them and dress up as Baby 2018 tomorrow.

  Nah. Camera phones exist.

  Grr. Now I know what’s bugging me, why focusing on calculus is proving impossible. Should I still even have birthdays or would it be more accurate to consider my eighteenth year infinite? Assuming nothing destroys me along the way, Sophia doesn’t do anything magically weird to me, and the toaster behaves itself, 200 years from
now, my body is going to appear exactly the same as it does right now.

  What do I mean by the toaster? It’s developed a bit of an attitude. I suspect it has something to do with there being an imp living in the house. Dad called the toaster stupid for not turning on when he hit the button last week and it launched a flaming toast-jectile at his head. Hmm. Toast-jectile is a clumsy word. Toast missile? Incendiary bread bomb? Whatever.

  Mom couldn’t decide if she should put a nineteen on the cake or an eighteen with a little two next to it, as in second eighteenth. Sam rambled about it being eighteen to the power of two so she should technically put eighteen times two, but it would require hunting down an x-shaped candle, which none of us believed would be worth the effort.

  Talk about feeling old before my time. Bad enough having nostalgia fits already, but women aren’t supposed to start celebrating the ‘anniversary of past birthdays’ until they get super old, like thirty.

  Argh! Getting emo over my birthday tomorrow is the exact opposite of trying to be normal.

  I should be happy. If things hadn’t gone crazy with Scott, I’d be living in a dorm in California now, majoring in who-knows-what and totally looking forward to a future without wasting any time whatsoever feeling maudlin about the end of my childhood. Hell, I’d have been revved up and eager to join the adult world.

  People don’t realize what a mistake it is until they’re in their forties—according to Dad.