No, the confusion in wondering how responsible I am is coming from me smashing Scott’s head open on a steering wheel then burning him to ashes inside a stolen Jeep.
Technically, he was already dead when I lit him on fire. Undead, rather. Dalton’s the one who killed Scott while I lay unconscious, stuck halfway between alive and dead. Unfortunately, my sire hadn’t been exactly thorough about finishing Scott off. He got back up as a Scrap, basically a half-vampire. I’d say they are base feral creatures driven by animal instinct and operating on a minimum of higher brain function, but the description would apply to Scott before he died, too.
It’s no mystery how he ended up being an entitled bastard who couldn’t handle me breaking up with him. His parents treated him like a prince who could do no wrong, spoiling him at every opportunity. Mrs. Deacon’s the kind of mother who’d go to the school and yell at the teacher whenever her boy got poor grades rather than blaming her son’s lack of effort. If Scott really had killed me permanently and been arrested for it, I can see her trying to tell a jury his ‘momentary lapse of judgement’ shouldn’t ruin his future. Like so what if some random girl is dead, her boy’s future is important.
And of course, to them, it’s my fault their boy cheated on me, then murdered me, then died.
Granted, they don’t know he actually did succeed in killing me. They also think he died in a car fire while attempting to elude police. The cops believe they chased him until he crashed—yes, Dalton and I played with a few brains. I’m not sure how the Deacons rationalize him stabbing me in the chest as ‘deserved’ beyond it being their son and anything he does, he must’ve had a good reason for no matter what. Maybe in their denial, they think I stabbed myself to make their son look bad.
Sierra returns the glare. Despite being a little scrap of a tween, she looks ready to spring straight into a fistfight with Mr. Deacon. Like Scott, he played football. College, too I think, but never pro. Don’t remember what he does for a living, but it’s got something to do with cars… half want to say he owns a dealership. I know they’re well off financially. I’d say the Deacons pitied me for being ‘poor’ (by comparison to them), but it wouldn’t be true. They never pitied me as much as regarded me with mild disdain. According to them, Scott should’ve aimed for a girl from a wealthier family than theirs. Princes marry princesses after all, not ordinary people. I hadn’t even been one of the popular girls at school.
Right, so… judgmental jackasses.
Vampirism has the unfortunate side effect of making me more nervous during the sunlight hours than I’d been before death. Like most teens, I never used to think about mortality or waste too much time on consequences. I’d been a little more cautious than some, but for the most part, I didn’t live in fear. It’s different when screwing up is going to cost me centuries of existence compared to maybe eight decades. Even Aurélie hasn’t been able to say for certain what would happen to me if something ‘killed’ me during the day when my powers are offline, but our assumption is permanent death.
So, yeah, being outside in the daytime as Grandma Sheridan always says, makes me feel like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Considering Scott had the capability to stab me to death, I have to assume it’s possible for his father to be every bit as potentially violent if pushed. Scott’s opinion of a woman’s place had to come from somewhere after all.
Maybe I should look down, break eye contact, and hope they go by without causing a scene. Might be the smart thing to do, but it irks me. I don’t want to back down in front of them since none of this is my fault. No way am I going to give them any sense of victory they could interpret as me ‘knowing I did wrong.’ Screw that.
They don’t appear to appreciate my ‘yeah, I’m here, deal with it’ stare. Sophia, Madison, and Ariana smile at them when they approach the table, though neither of Scott’s parents look at them or the cookies for more than a few seconds. Okay, now I’m sure Sophia did something magical to attract people to the sweets. Only paranormal energy could break Karen’s glower at me, even briefly.
“What are you doing here?” asks Mr. Deacon in a snide tone.
“Keeping an eye on my sister while she sells cookies.” I fold my arms. Not gonna take the bait and get into an argument out in public. No matter what I say, they’ll twist it around and play victim.
“How nice for you,” says Mrs. Deacon. “It’s ridiculous the police didn’t charge you with anything.”
Mr. Deacon sneers at me. “Shouldn’t you be off somewhere getting someone else killed?”
Madison hides behind her mother, who gasps. Ariana stands completely still, perhaps hoping no one notices her. Both girls kinda give me this ‘holy crap did you really kill someone’ look.
Grr. Dammit. So much for ignoring them. Having two little girls look fearfully at me is too much. I can’t resist the urge to clear the air. “Umm… last time I checked, being the victim of attempted murder isn’t illegal. Your son tried to kill me, then crashed running away from the cops. How is that my fault?”
“You broke his damn heart,” barks Mr. Deacon.
I point at him. “No. He broke mine. I didn’t make him cheat. A boy is not entitled to have a side girl because he’s a boy. Everything is not the girl’s fault no matter what happened.”
Madison and Ariana cover their mouths. Not sure if they’re concealing gasps or giggles.
“We shouldn’t have let him date a girl like you.” Mr. Deacon’s face reddens. “You killed our son.”
“Hey, asshole!” shouts Sierra. “Scott is the one who cheated. Everyone saw him making out with another girl. The only thing Sarah did was fail to die when your butthead son stabbed her for breaking up with him. Maybe if you taught him how to cope with the tragedy of being told ‘no’ once in his life, he’d still be alive.”
Sophia grimaces, looking around at everyone with her pleading face, trying to make the shouting stop.
Trish pulls out a cell phone, probably to call the police in case things escalate. Madison and Ariana scurry back to a safe distance, gawking at Sierra.
If the look on Mrs. Deacon’s face means anything, she’d have slapped Sierra if not for having a table of cookies in the way. Offline or not, if that woman touches her, I’m going to lose my shit and this is going to end with police plus vast amounts of memory adjusting later on tonight.
Mr. Deacon narrows his eyes at Sierra, lets go of the shopping cart, and walks around the table up to us. I tense up since it looks like he’s about to get physical. We don’t exactly have anywhere to go, as our backs are literally against the wall. The guy’s way taller than me and pretty muscular. Despite her whole body being only as wide as one of his legs, Sierra stares defiantly up at him.
Even though I feel vulnerable during the day, I don’t hesitate putting myself between him and my sister.
“Scott tried to kill me,” I say in my best attempt at a low, intimidating voice. “I’m alive only because he missed my heart by a quarter inch. The cops are going to think you’re trying to finish what he started.”
Mr. Deacon grabs me by the shirt—and starts reaching for Sierra. Swear, if I was online right now, I’d break his jaw. Not going to accomplish much as an ordinary mortal. Only thing I can do now is refuse to give him the satisfaction of letting him know I’m frightened. Doesn’t matter if he hits me. It’ll heal as soon as I’m online—as long as he doesn’t kill me.
I ignore the hand bunching up my shirt and grab the wrist of the arm going for my sister. In dire moments, I can ease off my sun resistance to let a little vamp out. Basically, I’m still a vampire even during the day but all my power goes to resisting sunlight, leaving me effectively normal. I focus on projecting fear at him. “Think really hard about what you do in the next few seconds. I didn’t kill Scott, but if you touch my sister, I’m going to arrange a reunion for you.”
For a brief moment, the temperature outside feels as though it spikes up to 150 degrees.
“Go ahead.” Sierra
fearlessly slides out from behind me. “Lay a hand on me and see what happens.”
The rage melts out of Mr. Deacon’s face. He ends up staring at me in bewildered silence as though he experienced a brief flicker of inexplicable dread his rational mind can’t process coming from a girl my size. He lets go of my shirt, his arm falling slack at his side, then shifts his gaze down to his right. The sight of a scrawny eleven-year-old not showing the slightest bit of fear at his looming over her snaps him back to being agitated. “Are you seriously threatening me?”
Sierra opens her mouth, but Sophia yells, “No, she’s talking about the cop right there watching you. I’m sure he’s gonna be mad if you try to hurt Sierra.”
As soon as Mr. Deacon takes his eyes off us, I sneak a glance to my left. About thirty feet away from the cookie table, the Arnold Schwarzenegger of police officers stands by the shopping cart return. Seriously, this guy looks like he bench-presses other weightlifters—while they’re lifting. He doesn’t seem at all pleased at Mr. Deacon.
“Wow, they got here fast,” whispers Madison.
Trish shakes her head. “I didn’t call them… yet.”
Scott’s parents hastily scurry off into the store, firing off one final nasty look before they disappear behind the wall out of sight.
“Whoa.” Sierra waves in greeting at the cop. “Totally didn’t even see him. I meant he should be worried about what Sare would do to him if he touched me.”
Trish gives her a ‘say what?’ glance while putting her phone away, then looks at me. “You’re not carrying a knife or something, are you?”
Technically, I’m carrying ten knives… small ones. But I can’t use them until the sun goes down. As far as ordinary weapons? None. “No weapons, but if he touched Sierra, I’d have like scratched out his eyes or something.”
Trish gives a nervous laugh.
When she, Madison, and Ariana aren’t looking, the cop vanishes into thin air.
Sophia appears overly pleased with herself.
Oh, son of a… I ruffle her hair. Just an illusion. No wonder the guy looked so ridiculously buff. Damn, she’s getting better at realism. Dude looked real—except for no cop around here being so jacked. Once we have some privacy, I should talk to her about believability. Anyone familiar with the local cops would know Johnny Bravo doesn’t work for the Woodinville PD.
“Nice,” whispers Sierra, grinning. “You should jinx them, too.”
“Nah.” Sophia looks down. “They already lost their son. That’s enough punishment. I bet they know it’s really their fault, which is why they’re so mad at Sare.”
“Umm, not to pry,” asks Trish in a low voice, “but what did the guy mean about you killing his son?”
Sigh.
I get she’s worried since she doesn’t want a killer anywhere near her daughter. Barring a sudden blast of bright sunlight when I’m trapped in a confined space, I’m no danger to anyone who isn’t deserving of it. Still, I should settle her fears even if it is a little invasive a question. “I dated their son for almost two years. We got pretty serious, but he cheated on me with another girl at our school. The night I broke up with him, he snapped. Went all psycho and tried to kill me. Stabbed me pretty bad then left me for dead. He ended up stealing some guy’s Jeep while running from the police. After a relatively short chase, he lost control, ran off the road, and died in the crash.”
“Oh, wow… I’m so sorry.” Trish cringes.
“Do you have a scar?” asks Ariana.
I nod. “Yeah, but it’s kinda small. I got lucky.”
“Yo,” whispers a man. “Hook me up with some Thin Mints?”
Everyone turns to look at a twentysomething guy—clearly a stoner—in a long coat and wool cap. The dude’s glancing around as if afraid someone will notice him trying to score cookies. He’s either high as hell or being a goofball.
Madison scrunches up her face at Trish, confused, like ‘why is he acting like we’re doing something bad?’
“I got you covered if you got the cash. Just picked up a drop from my supplier.” Sophia pats her stack of Thin Mints. “Can I put you down for five or ten boxes?”
6
The Sky is Full of Stars
February is as over as my childhood.
Hmm. I guess it’s kinda depressing to say. Been reading too much emo poetry for English lit. Hmm. What about: February is as over as my menstrual cycle. Okay, still unsure. Is that funny or gross? Whatever. It’s the second-best part of being a vampire after flying. Not every vampire gets to fly, so for some, freedom from the monthly friend is the best part of undeath. Pff. Immortality, being able to lift a car, or shapeshift into animals has nothing on no longer being a victim of my anatomy.
Soon after my Transference, I made a promise to myself not to mess with Scott’s parents. While the indulgent manner in which they raised their son ultimately led to my death, it’s not like they meant me deliberate harm. However, based on what they did a few weeks ago, the self-promise needed a little tweaking. It might have been cruel of me, but to prevent any future situations from arising—and hey, the man did grab me, which is technically assault—I broke into their house and played around in their heads.
Nothing too complicated, merely a compulsion to stay away from me and my family. If they ever again see me out in the world, they’ll have an urge to avoid me so blindingly powerful they might run straight into traffic. Kinda like the way some people dodge vendor tables outside Safeway or flee Mormon missionaries and Jehovah’s Witnesses.
Sophia’s been playing around with illusions ever since, spending the last two weeks conjuring random decorations around the house, making false faeries, tricking Mom into thinking Dad let us get a golden retriever (she was not pleased) and changing her appearance into various cartoon characters.
Her first use of illusion magic last year had been powered by—for Sophia—extreme desperation. A branch of the Aurora Aurea, the same mystical order we encountered here, from London tried to ‘borrow’ her using an apportation spell. Basically, teleportation is when someone moves themselves. Apportation is like teleportation, only the mystic is doing it to someone or something other than themselves. Unfortunately, the London mystics’ attempt to grab Sophia using remote involuntary teleportation kinda missed and ended up yoinking her clothes right off her in the middle of a school day. Fortunately, she’d been in a bathroom stall at the time and no one saw her. Absolute embarrassment resulted in her creating a believable illusion of clothing so she could leave the bathroom stall without having to tell anyone she’d ended up stranded with no clothes. Unfortunately, she couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse to go home early, so she had to slog through the rest of the school day wearing only illusions, paranoid the other kids all knew she didn’t have anything on. No one realized. Teachers would’ve whisked her into a private room or given her something. Kids would’ve teased her mercilessly.
As traumatizing as it had been for her to be stranded naked at school, it’s way better than her first need to use magic originating as part of her ending up in a life-and-death situation. Though, to hear her tell it, she ‘almost died.’ It seems her magic responds to severe situations by spiking in power. Case in point: when those two other mystics from the Serene Lodge kidnapped her, she managed to briefly turn day to night (in a small area) so I could go online and not die. It might not be necessary for me to worry quite so much about protecting her, but I can’t help it. Sophia will always be my ‘brittle’ sister who I have to wrap in bubble packing.
Besides, as Sierra has pointed out more than once, mages start off weak. You know what’s really stupid? Dad told us about the original version of D&D he played as a kid. Some genius decided to add housecats to the monster list, and gave their claws an actual damage value. According to the old rule set, a housecat could kill a first-level wizard in one claw swipe on a good enough damage roll.
Yeah, some roleplaying games have silliness baked into the rules.
Anyway, I’
m once again in shock… and starting to become concerned.
It’s March second and our lives have remained free of unexpected paranormal interference since Sophia and I returned from London back in December. Mom thinks because the Universe went way off the deep end over there, we’re enjoying a lull. Once, not too long ago, I couldn’t process seeing a legit troll. Granted, we’d been in some sort of parallel dimension at the time, but still—it had been so weird and unreal, my mind wanted to reject it. After everything in London, trolls seem kinda ordinary.
Really, vampires are a creature supposedly of myth. How is it possible for them to seem ‘normal’ but other magical stuff like trolls, brownies, and leprechauns is ‘nah, those couldn’t possibly exist?’ Hmm. The only explanation coming to me is no one’s made movies or written books seriously about fey creatures the same way vampires have become part of pop culture. Can’t say I’ve ever seen a dryad in a movie at all. Leprechauns and brownies? If they’re in a film, it’s either a super cheesy horror movie or something made for kids.
Vampires are sexy, emo, trendy, hipster or whatever.
Great, we’re basically the avocado toast of supernatural monsters.
So, yeah… it’s past three in the morning. I lied before. It’s not really March second. Friday ended at midnight. It’s really March third now, to split a hair. As far as I’m concerned, it’s still the second until after I sleep and wake up.
Had a bad meal after school, and I’ve been kinda feeling odd ever since. Not in a physical way like someone I ate gave me indigestion. The guy I selected to feed from is stuck in a relationship he’s not into, but staying because he’s afraid his girlfriend would commit suicide if he broke up with her. Since I haven’t looked into the woman’s mind, it’s anyone’s guess if he’s right. Only saw his thoughts, which aren’t necessarily reality.
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