Reading for English Lit ate a few hours, but I waited until after the Littles went to sleep. Since Ash cooked, I cleaned up. She totally adores helping me out since it feels like a practice run for the day she has kids of her own. It’s not fully accurate though. My siblings are all well into the fun ages. Dealing with infants and toddlers is way more work. And considering how exhausting it is keeping up with three tweens, ugh. I can’t imagine having three toddlers in the house at the same time. Sure, I lived here when my siblings were all super little, but it wasn’t my job to take care of them. I was only eight when the ’rents summoned Sierra.
Anyway…
Tuesday is on me before I’m ready for it.
As soon as the Littles get home from school, I metaphorically abduct Sophia and whisk her off to the dentist’s office. Mom would’ve picked her straight up from school, but doing so requires being awake earlier than I can be.
Also, Tuesday sucks majorly.
Nothing against the second day of the week in general, merely this Tuesday. The sun’s being a bitch. It’s almost enough to make me reschedule the appointment as I’m not fond of driving while it feels like I’ve applied habanero eye drops. Jeans, a hoodie, and sunglasses mitigate the oven factor to a point. Still, it hurts only somewhat less than being microwaved but not quite as much as watching someone take Dr. Phil seriously.
“You want me to drive?” asks Sophia.
“I can’t tell if you’re serious or joking.” I shut the door and fumble the key into the ignition.
“I’d rather get in trouble for driving too young than have you crash us because you can barely see.”
“The cops pull me over for looking too young. We’d never make it with you behind the wheel. Besides, I’ve seen you play Mario Kart. You’ll drive straight through the front door of Starbucks.”
She sticks out her tongue.
“Are you honestly worried or making excuses to avoid the dentist.”
“Yes.”
I chuckle, then spend a moment evaluating my ability to see. It hurts, but if I drive like a little old lady we should be okay. The dentist’s office isn’t too far. No need for major highways. She whines as I back out of the driveway.
Sophia gasps. “Dude! You’re on fire.”
“Shit.” I slam on the brakes. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, there’s smoke. I don’t see actual flame though.”
“Damn.”
“I appreciate your willingness to put yourself at risk to take care of me, but my teeth can wait.”
“Nice try.”
She snaps her fingers.
Like a high school kid behind the wheel for the first time, I baby the Sentra through the streets of Cottage Lake on the way to the dentist’s office. It must absolutely suck to be a vampire in a place where the sun’s always strong, like Arizona or California. At least, suck to be an Innocent. Other bloodlines don’t really care since they can’t go outside until dark. Doesn’t matter how bright the daytime is when you’re invariably unconscious. Seattle has to be the best possible location for me, short of maybe London. It rains a lot there, too.
It takes longer than it should, but we make it on time without causing an accident—though some dude behind me about had an aneurysm because I wouldn’t do sixty in a forty zone. Sophia said the truck had New York plates. I couldn’t tell—the outside world’s a blurry haze to me at the moment.
At least the inside of the dentist’s office is dim enough to reduce the ouch factor. I no longer feel like I’m body surfing a hibachi grill. More like I’m standing by the pit of molten metal they used to melt down the terminator. Honestly, whatever aspect of the Universe designed Innocent vampires needs to go back to the drawing board. You’d think if tolerating sunlight was our major power, it wouldn’t be so damn painful. Like, hey, here’s this neat ability… but if you use it, we’re gonna punish you for it.
Hmm. Vampires tend to get more powerful with age. Wonder if it applies to my sun tolerance, too. Maybe in sixty years, I’ll be able to walk around on a bright day and have no problems. Fingers crossed.
We approach the receptionist.
“Hi. Sophia Wright here for a checkup.” I gesture at her.
The woman nods, gives me a weird look. “Do you smoke?”
Sophia stares up at me, making an ‘ack! She knows!’ face.
I shake my head. “Only when I go out in the sun.”
She laughs. “You don’t look like one of those goth kids.”
Heh. “Nah. Just joking.” I wince internally, forcing a smile.
Maybe it’s dumb of me to crack jokes about being a vampire or allergic to sunlight. On the other hand, people who deny things too fervently are usually guilty. Might be better to make vampire jokes. Dalton floated the idea—his guess, not actual knowing—real vampires are responsible for the surge in Hollywood vampires. The more people think of us as fictional creatures, the less likely they are to take our existence seriously.
After checking her in, we move to the waiting area and sit. At least, I sit. Sophia keeps standing.
“Sit down. We’ll be a few minutes.”
She tugs on my arm. “Sare… make me not be scared.”
“There’s no reason to be afraid.”
“Duh. Irrational fear isn’t rational. You can’t talk me down. Please?” She bounces on her toes.
Sigh.
“Okay.” I go with her to a small bathroom adjacent to the waiting room. A sign on the door says ‘patient use only.’ Guess Sam couldn’t use this toilet. He always rush-poops.
We’re in luck. The tiny bathroom has no window. As soon as I close the door, I’m online. The abrupt shift to wonderful cool air is enough to paralyze me in relief. Oddly, as soon as my powers activate, I sense malevolence in the air. Though the sun is a hell of a distraction today, I didn’t pick up any such feeling while offline. The dentist’s office seemed pleasant and welcoming—as much as a dentist’s office can be. Now, though, all the little hairs stand up on the back of my neck.
Whoa. I gaze around at the walls. “You’ve always been scared in here, huh. This office in general, not the bathroom.”
“Yeah.” She nods, her whispery voice echoing. “Ever since I was little.”
I continue studying the walls—and mirror—but nothing stands out as unusual. “Something is definitely out of whack here.”
“Seriously.”
“Heh. No, I mean… I feel something here. Paranormal badness.”
Sophia hugs herself. “Really?”
“Yeah. I think maybe you’ve been sensitive to it for a long time. Do you see any ghosts?”
“No. C’mon, hurry up. People are going to think we’re doing something weird being in the bathroom together. Especially in the dark.”
“Are you sure you want me to poke you in the brain?”
Sophia nods. “Yeah. Don’t like mind-control me. Just help me not be afraid of the dentist. It takes longer when they have to hold me down.”
“Hold you down?” I blink. “Seriously?”
“Usually, it’s Mom or Dad, but yeah… as soon as they start scraping my teeth, I try to get away.”
“Umm. Wow. I didn’t know that.”
She blushes, looking down. “I hate being a scaredy cat.”
I stare into her eyes, opening a mental door to her thoughts. Wow, yeah, she’s inches from panic-running out the door. “You’re not. Something is here and it feels kinda pissed.”
“Did you do it yet? I still feel scared.”
“Not yet. You know I don’t like messing with you guys.”
“I’m asking you to.” Sophia tugs on my arm. “It’s like giving me a shot for pain, only in the head.”
Fine, whatever. I implant a mild compulsion not to be afraid of the dentist simply for being the dentist. Her posture relaxes. And yeah, while in there, I notice her subconscious sense of an otherworldly presence here. As far back as she can remember, the dentist’s office has scared her in the same way most people
are afraid to go into the boiler room of an abandoned mental hospital. Yes, she’s already on edge about the dental cleaning. The supernatural stuff makes it ten times worse. She’s come to associate the paranormal dread with the dentist—not fair to him at all. Crap. My sister’s been picking on paranormal stuff her whole life but never realized it.
“Cool. Thanks.”
“Keep your eyes open. There’s something here.”
We leave the bathroom, pretending we’d been dealing with a stray lash in her eye. As soon as the door opens, I once again feel like I’m standing in an oven and the weird creepiness disappears. Neither the receptionists or the two older women in the waiting area pay any attention to us. Sophia’s fidgety but more bored than nervous.
Maybe twelve minutes later, a hygienist calls Sophia in. She insists on me going with her. The office staff appears to expect this since Mom usually does so. The few times I remember coming with them when Sophia had an appointment, they let me stay in the waiting room.
I take a seat in the extra chair by the wall as Sophia hops in the main dentist chair. She and the hygienist make small talk as the exam-slash-cleaning starts.
“You’re doing well today. Braver than usual.” The hygienist, Carol, pats her on the hand before looking at me. “Usually, she needs to hold Mom’s hand the whole time.”
“Our mother’s in Iceland on vacation. I’m filling in.”
Carol nods. “That’s nice. I hear it’s quite beautiful there.”
“So they say.” I shrug. “The parents liked the idea.”
“Sarah is it?”
“Yep.”
Carol resumes working on Sophia’s teeth. “Been a while since we’ve seen you.”
Poor Sophia clutches the armrests of the chair, squirming. For once, I’m glad to be offline. The scratch of the metal pick on her teeth is a bad enough sound without vampire-boosted hearing. Practically feels like the woman is scraping it down my spine.
“Yeah, I’ve been super busy lately.”
Carol ‘pffs.’ “Aren’t we all? The whole world’s running on eleven. Well, if you can find the time, you really ought to make an appointment. Gotta keep your teeth healthy.”
Sophia balls her hands into fists for a second, then slaps the armrests back and forth. Ooh, she really wants the scraping to stop. Poor kid. Maybe I should’ve given her a prod to pass out in the chair. Nah, Carol would’ve freaked and called an ambulance.
Screw it. I move closer and take Sophia’s hand. She squeezes hard, giving me a ‘please help’ stare.
Carol keeps working. “Your teeth look nice and healthy, but I can tell you’re not flossing like you should. This scraping part you dislike so much wouldn’t take nearly as long if you flossed.”
The expression on Sophia’s face has a lot to say about Carol and the horse she rode in on.
I’m not sure it would be wise to come in for a dental exam, even if it keeps up the illusion of normality. What would an x-ray show? Normal people do not have retractable fangs. Yeah, bad idea going anywhere near diagnostic equipment. Vampires don’t get cavities. Even if we feed on pastry chefs.
Sophia gives up trying to talk while she’s got the vacuum hanging out of her mouth, but she seems much less squirmy for the polishing than the scraping. All of a sudden, her eyes go huge, focused on the corner of the room in front of her on the left. At first, I don’t notice anything, but a few seconds later, a transparent figure coalesces into being under the wall-mounted TV. His clothes look kinda old, but not ancient. If I had to guess, I’d say he died in the late Seventies. Sophia continues staring at him as Carol buzzes the electric tooth polisher around her mouth.
The ghost doesn’t say or do anything more than glare at us. He reminds me of a younger Mr. Niedermeyer. Not from looks, but his body language and attitude. Like he hates people and is only barely managing to hold himself back from physically throwing us out the window. Carol totally ignores him. I glare right back at him, not the least bit worried about what a ghost might do to me. He’s no scarier than a high school English teacher. Kinda looks like one, to be honest. Or maybe history.
Since I’m not intimidated and Carol ignores him—bet she’s used to the weird energy here or simply unaware of it—the ghost focuses primarily on Sophia. Japanese hibachi restaurants almost always have this fake soy sauce squeeze bottle loaded with black yarn. It’s meant to trick people into thinking the chef is squirting them with soy sauce. They’ll always go for the youngest child at the table who isn’t too small, or the youngest-looking woman. Chefs tend to single out the person they think has the highest chance of jumping. For example, they always target Sophia and ignore Sam even though he’s a year younger. They used to go after me until Sierra turned about six.
Point being, the ghost probably thinks Sophia is a prime target for scaring. Normally, he’d be totally right. The girl has screamed at a winter coat hanging out of her closet she forgot about. It does not take much to give Sophia nightmares. The Gate kept her up for two weeks, and most people think of it as super campy and not the least bit scary.
“Okay, go on and rinse,” says Carol. “I’ll go get the doctor to have a look at your teeth. You should be out of here pretty soon.” She pats my sister on the shoulder before leaving the room. “I’m really proud of you today, Sophia. You were incredibly brave.”
“Thanks.” Sophia glances at me. “Had some help.”
Carol wags her eyebrows at me. “You should come with her every time.”
“Not a bad idea.” I smile.
As soon as Carol leaves the room, Sophia sits up, glaring at the corner. “Why are you scaring people? Yes, I can see you.”
“He probably thinks you didn’t finish your homework,” I mutter.
The ghost gives me a dirty look.
“What?” Sophia glances sideways at me while sipping water.
“He looks like a teacher. Gotta be the sweater vest.”
She rinses her mouth out, spitting in the drain beside the chair. “A ghost… no wonder I’ve always been afraid in here. What’s wrong with you?”
“They tore down my house and put up this damn office.” The ghost glares.
Sophia shakes her head. “I’m sorry… but it’s not a good reason to mess with people. The dentist is scary enough already. Scaring people here isn’t going to make them put your house back up.”
“I know,” snaps the ghost. “I’m trying to shut this place down.”
“You’re haunting this office with mild anxiety, like looking at a Rubik’s cube where one square on each side is out of place.” I fold my arms. “Scaring Sophia and being pleased with yourself is like a grown man feeling accomplished for beating her at a weightlifting competition.”
“Hey!” Sophia glares at me, struggling not to smile.
“Go away and don’t come back.” The ghost leans at her.
“No.” She points at him. “You need to stop trying to scare people. Don’t make me cast a banishing spell and kick you out of the building. Be nice.”
Grumbling, the ghost walks into the wall.
“Oh, yay. That’s not gonna bite us in the ass.” I gaze at the ceiling.
“Relax.” Sophia leans back in the chair. “He’s not powerful at all… and he’s stuck here.”
The door swings open, admitting the dentist. I don’t recognize the guy, Dr. Ross according to his shirt. Must be new here. He looks at Sophia, then me, then Sophia.
“Older sister,” I say.
“Aha.” He offers a handshake. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same.”
He faces Sophia. “How are you feeling today, miss? Anything bothering you?”
“The scraping.”
Dr. Ross chuckles. “No one likes it. Okay, let’s have a look.”
Yeah, seriously. I think the average person would choose to be bitten by a vampire rather than go to the dentist.
Hey, works for me.
11
The Perks of Undeath
Had to
rush home from the dentist so I could drive Sierra into Seattle for her sword-fighting class.
It’s mostly similar to Sam’s taekwondo lessons other than there being only six students—all adults—two instructors, and about eighty percent sparring to twenty percent technique instruction. Sam’s class rarely spars each other. They tend to do forms or hit those reusable breakaway boards. Granted, these guys aren’t trying to knock each other’s heads off. They use rattan training swords and pads, attempting to make contact rather than ‘do damage.’ It’s basically the ‘touch football’ version of sword fighting.
Obviously, with Sierra being eleven, her sparring partner is going easier on her than they would against another adult. Considering she’s only been doing this for a few weeks now, it’s kinda surprising to see her keeping up with them. The rattan sword is a little big for her, so she’s using both hands on it.
Dalton shared some of his experience using blades over our mind link, giving me something of a basic competence. Well, basic according to Dalton who’s 162 years old. He’s been getting into knife or sword fights since age twelve. Not so much lately. The modern world doesn’t offer many opportunities to do so. Anyway, if he thinks I’m ‘decent’ at it, I must be.
However, he’s never fought with an enormous sword requiring the use of two hands. Watching Sierra swing her practice sword around makes me itch. I can see her trying to use techniques intended for fast one-handed weapons and they’re not quite working out as well. She is, however, scoring more points than the woman they paired her up with—the only other female student, a late-twenties dye-redhead. Or an alien. If her shade of magenta is natural color, I’m the reincarnation of Winston Churchill’s groundskeeper.
Both the woman—I think her name is Danae—and the head instructor, Gene, seem surprised at Sierra’s score. It’s kinda fun watching the woman shift from ‘going easy on the kid’ to really trying to beat her. I don’t mean ‘beat’ her as in physically wallop her, merely score more points.
Vampire Innocent (Book 10): A Vampire’s Guide To Adulting Page 11