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

by Cox, Matthew S.

  It shocks me initially when Sierra self-appoints to dish detail after dinner. She’s totally aware of the situation and probably attempting to show responsibility so I don’t insist she go on the girly spa trip with Sophia.

  Not much time left before I have to go out the door or decide to skip class. As in, I need to be on the road within the next three minutes. Grr. Stupid cars. So inefficient. The world would be a much better place if everyone could fly.

  “So…”

  Sierra, elbow deep in dishwater, glances at me through a curtain of light brown hair. If ‘whatever’ had a picture in the dictionary, she’d be it. “I’ll be okay while you’re at school. Keep the doors locked, don’t open them for anyone. I know the drill.”

  “I’m not worried about you doing something bad, more like something out of your control—especially if it’s weird.”

  “Little green men weird?” She raises an eyebrow.

  “More like angry Los Angeles vampire weird.” I sigh. “Maybe I should stay home.”

  “Sare.” She faces me, arms dripping suds and water. “It’s been months and nothing’s happened. Don’t be paranoid. The forces of evil aren’t going to magically sense the two or three hours you’re away and I’m here by myself.”

  I rub the bridge of my nose. “Nothing happening over a period of time is not proof it can’t ever happen.”

  She starts to roll her eyes into a heavy sigh, but stops. “Ask Dalton to come over.”

  “It’s not dark yet.”

  “So? It’ll be dark soon. You can leave me alone for twenty minutes or whatever.” She resumes washing dishes. “I’m basically twelve.”

  “Your birthday is in April.”

  “Right. Notice I said ‘basically’ twelve, not ‘I am twelve’?”

  “Argh. I don’t have time to argue.”

  “So don’t argue.” She smiles over her shoulder at me. “Talk to Dalton as soon as it’s dark. If he can’t stay with me until you get home, send me a text and I promise I’ll go to Ashley’s and ask Mrs. Carter if I can stay there. Besides, Blix is here. If anyone does try to mess with me, he’ll keep them tripping over themselves enough for me to get away.”

  I groan at the clock. Ugh. Am I being overprotective or reasonable? In the ten seconds I have left before I’m guaranteed to be late to school, I cave in. “Okay. Fine.”

  Sierra smiles to herself like she got away with something, but I don’t have time to grill her over it now. Odd she brought Dalton up out of the blue. Dammit. She better not be attempting to wheedle her way into getting him to turn her into a vampire. More so than me, I don’t think she wants to grow up. Being able to sit at home all the time playing video games without having to worry about school or a job is exactly her paradise. Also, staying eleven would mean she avoids any drama involved with boyfriends. She always made fun of me for ‘having drama’ and used to brag how she wouldn’t deal with it. Granted, this came out of her mouth when she was like nine, so we thought it funny. Probably harmless. She’s not really planning to beg my sire to turn her, too. This is purely my worst fear haunting me.

  Okay, maybe not worst fear. My worst fear is the Littles ending up dead. Their becoming vampires would be far better than gone. Still, though. Not copacetic. Sierra said she has no interest in being a vampire, and it didn’t come off sounding fake. I trust her.

  Right. School.

  Megan’s mother pulls up outside while I’m throwing on shoes. Sophia and I leave the house at the same time.

  “Whoa, you’re really letting Sierra stay home alone?” Sophia gawks at me.

  “Only for a few minutes. Dalton’s going to swing by and keep an eye on her.”

  Sophia grins. “Ahh. Yeah. She’s totally got a crush on him.”

  Oh, hell no. I didn’t even think of that. Still, nothing to worry about. Dalton would never take advantage of her, and it’s not unusual for tween girls to have crushes on roguishly handsome guys with British accents. Though, to be fair, Dalton is a little more Monty Python than Hugh Grant.

  Ack. I’m being an idiot. She’s not crushing on him. Sierra probably wants him to teach her how to fight with a sword. Makes sense now. And yeah, I’ll suggest the two of us break out the PVC ‘blades’ sometime. Wouldn’t hurt for me to stay in practice.

  “I think she’s more crushing on the idea of sword lessons.”

  “Oh. Yeah.” Sophia laughs. “Good point. See you later!”

  She hops in the car with Megan, Nicole, and Megan’s mom.

  I get in the Sentra and end up sitting there staring at the house for a moment. A house containing only Sierra—plus Blix and Sam’s new closet voice. And oh, maybe a new sneaker-eating monster in the backyard. Ugh. This better not bite me in the ass.

  A few minutes after I take my seat in computer science, I go online.

  The instant it happens, the relative quiet of the classroom erupts in audible chaos. Fabric ‘scraping’ over itself, fingernails tapping, gut rumbles, and so on. Someone chewing gum sounds like ten sumo wrestlers stuck in a swimming pool full of Jell-O. Ugh.

  Unfortunately, Professor Garcia happened to be looking almost right at me when my eyes flared bright red. Easy enough to zap her brain and make her forget seeing the glow. Easier still to give her the notion she saw a retinal flash from my eyes catching the overhead lights at a momentary perfect angle.

  First things first.

  Dalton? Are you out there listening? I concentrate on trying to get his attention. As my sire, he’s permanently connected to me on a mental level.

  Aye, lass. Just waking up. Not as spry as you. Give me a tick, what?

  Any chance you’d be willing to stop by the house and keep an eye on Sierra until I’m back? I think about the situation of her being alone, a much faster way to convey information to him than words over a phone.

  Handsome, eh? He chuckles in the back of my mind. Pretty sure I’m closer to Hugh Grant than the Python crew.

  Grant? No. Hugh Laurie maybe. You’re like half him, half David Tenant, and a bit of the guy from Shaun of the Dead… with Pink Panther’s luck.

  Happy to see you’re in a good mood tonight. Reckon I can stop by and keep her company.

  Wow, really? Wasn’t expecting him to agree. It’s kinda funny to pester a vampire about babysitting, though he does have a soft spot for kids—it’s why I still exist. He couldn’t bear to watch a ‘kid’ die in front of him. Guess, to him, I looked younger than eighteen even before becoming an Innocent. Aurélie would definitely have watched Sierra, too, but we’d have had to go to her. Not a complaint, just saying.

  Aye, sure. Why not? You’ve gotten my arse out of a fix or two way worse than a stray sibling needin’ not to be alone for a few hours.

  Thanks.

  Whew. Minor crisis averted.

  Good heavens, there are entirely too many letters involved in that mess, says Dalton reacting to the math on the whiteboard behind the professor. Are they adding numbers to English or is it some banjaxed form of math?

  It’s calculus.

  Good on ya, luv. I’d rather take on another warehouse full of idiots. Right, I’ll leave ya ta concentrate on summoning Cthulhu. Let the little one know I’ll be there in a tick.

  Awesome. Thank you!

  All right, so Sierra will only be alone for about a half hour. Not too worrisome. I’m not overreacting at all considering Sophia ended up being kidnapped three times inside one week back in December. I haven’t made any new enemies, but don’t know how much of a grudge Petra might carry. Her fear of Glim (and the other Shadows) exacting revenge plus Aurélie’s protection of my family have so far stopped her from coming after me. It really is irrational on her part to be angry with me for saving some dude she had her sights set on. Mentally tormenting people into suicide is super wrong, even if she does consider it ‘art.’ The woman reacted like I walked up to a masterpiece painting she’d been working on for weeks and slashed it to pieces.

  Whatever. Fingers crossed she stays away.<
br />
  Dalton watching Sierra has to be better than leaving her by herself. Nothing’s going to go wrong having the two of them together, right?

  15

  Each Step Progressively Weirder

  Driving home from class Friday night should have felt like a victory.

  It didn’t for two reasons. One, the parents extended their vacation a few days so I still had Monday and Tuesday classes getting in my way of watching over my siblings. The second metaphorical thorn in my backside is Wolent’s request of me to serve as his messenger. I do not have the entire weekend free from obligation to spend watching the Littles.

  The entire drive home, I argue with myself about asking him if he’d mind me waiting until my parents are back. I’d rather miss two days of classes than skip out on my oath to Mom and Dad to keep Sam, Sophia, and Sierra safe. Stefano is a large part of why I’m hesitant. Anyone with a functioning sense of humanity wouldn’t question family being more important than a routine ‘hi, how are you doing’ message being late. It’s not like a vampiric war is going to break out if the message isn’t rushed down there as soon as possible. However, Stefano lacks such a grasp of empathy. To him, I’d be putting ‘mortal concerns’ over vampire concerns. He’d find a way to flip it around and make me sound like a threat to all vampire kind, which in turn puts my family in danger.

  My internal argument screeches to a halt as soon as I turn left onto the cul-de-sac in front of our house. Mom’s Tahoe is gone. Dammit. I knew the instant my mother uttered the fatal words, ‘there’d better not be a scratch on it,’ the stupid truck would explode. Fate took it as a dare. Great. I really am in one of Dad’s movies. Parents go away, tell the kid ‘not even one blade of grass out of place’ before they leave… and come back to a giant smoking crater where a house should be.

  I pull into the driveway a bit fast, chirping the tires when I slam on the brakes. The absence of flaming wreckage is somewhat reassuring. Will Mom be upset with me for someone stealing the truck right out of our driveway? I hadn’t even been home at the time. Sierra and Sophia are yelling inside, lots of ‘I have no idea’ and worry coming from Sophia.

  Dalton sounds as though he’s trying not to die laughing.

  Calm, Sarah. Calm. Find Zen.

  I take a few breaths and go inside.

  The girls and Dalton stand by the dining room table. As soon as I walk in, Sophia bursts into tears. Sierra face-palms. Soph is guilty about something. I hurry over to them, the words forming in my brain evaporating at the sight of the Tahoe sitting on the table. It’s about the size of a guinea pig.

  There is only one thing I can possibly do—stare in bewilderment.

  “I didn’t mean to shrink it!” yells Sophia past tears.

  “I’ve been trying to tell her it’s an accident.” Sierra rubs Sophia’s back. “But she’s too upset to concentrate on undoing it.”

  “What the hell?” I grasp the truck like a toy, surprised to find it light enough to lift. It’s unusually heavy for its size—but then again, most toy trucks are made of plastic. This thing’s as heavy as an old-school iron. Clearly, the laws of physics have decided to take LSD, too. So much for constancy of density. “Dammit. Mom’s going to freak out. She told me not to put a single scratch on it.”

  Dalton grins. “Nothing to worry about then. It isn’t scratched.”

  I smirk at him. “She’s not going to appreciate the semantics. What happened?”

  “Cheap sword,” mutters Sierra.

  “Huh?” I set the Tahoe down on the table.

  Sophia clutches her hands at her chin, sniffling, giving me this ‘please don’t be mad at me’ face. I get the distinct impression she tried to help fix something and lost control.

  “Umm…” Sierra grimaces. “Dalton was showing me some sword stuff on the front lawn and my sword came apart. Blade flew right out of the handle. It kinda smashed the driver door window on the Tahoe. Total accident.”

  I examine the ‘toy’ truck again. All the windows seem fine.

  “Soph fixed the window.” Sierra laughs. “But the truck got small, too. She freaked out and can’t undo it. Like, her magic stops working if she’s too upset to concentrate.”

  “Aww, c’mere.” I hug her. “You’re not in trouble.”

  She mumbles into my chest.

  I let go.

  “It’s not you I’m scared of. Mom’s gonna ground me ’til I’m thirty. She’s like super sensitive about her truck.”

  “We still have four days to sort it out before they’re back. Calm down and think about how to undo the shrinking magic.” I squeeze her shoulders, then realize what Sierra said and gawk at her. “Umm. Did you say the sword blade broke, and it smashed the window? Were you two sparring with real weapons?”

  “Not completely real.” Dalton holds up a relatively short one-handed blade composed of a blunt-edged ingot generally fashioned in the shape of an arming sword. “Metal, yes, but slugs. Not sharp in the least. The place she’s been going to has her working with a rattan longsword, which is a two-handed weapon for her. Better she gets a feel for the proper weight and balance. Didn’t expect these to be quite so cheap. I should pilfer from more respectable suppliers next time.”

  Sierra chuckles.

  He really is like the wild uncle who shows up once a year at holidays, lets the kids try beer and does reckless things for amusement. Stealing practice swords… or props for a ren fest. Oy. “I hope you at least didn’t take her with you for the burglary part.”

  Dalton tugs at his lapels. “Of course. The entire point of me being here was not to leave her alone.”

  The only reason I don’t freak out is Dalton’s supernaturally sneaky. Cameras don’t record him, motion sensors don’t pick him up, and so on. Perks of his Lost One bloodline. It’s kinda like how Glim conceals himself from people by forcing their brains not to see him. If he brought Sierra on a B&E, he’d have asked her to stay close enough to hide her, too.

  “Help me calm down?” asks Sophia.

  “I can’t use mental prodding for everything. Your brains are going to make less sense than a David Lynch screenplay if I keep doing it.”

  Dalton cracks up. The girls stare blankly at me.

  “Just you being here is enough.” Sophia exhales. “I feel safer.”

  “Are you almost eleven or almost five?” asks Sierra.

  “Yes,” whispers Sierra in a fake-scared voice before giggling.

  Everyone stands around making ‘okay, now what’ faces at each other for a few minutes.

  Finally, Sophia puts a hand on the mini-Tahoe. “Umm. I think it’s unstable. It’s probably going to wear off on its own.”

  “Great idea putting it on the dining room table then.” Sierra wags her eyebrows. “What happens if it wears off right now?”

  “You’ll need a new table.” Dalton glances at the front door. “And likely have to cut a hole in the wall to get it out of here.” He winces. “Good chance it’ll end up scratched.”

  “I didn’t want to leave it outside. What if someone steals it?” asks Sophia.

  Dalton cackles. “Then they’re in for an extremely rude surprise whenever it goes back to normal.”

  “Wait…” Sophia picks the ‘toy’ truck up and clutches it to her chest. “Blix!? Bliiiix? Are you here?”

  The imp glides down the stairs, swoops into the dining room, and lands clinging to my back. His needle-like claws poke me in the shoulder—it’s enough to make me clench my jaw tight, but not so painful I reflexively swat him off.

  Sophia smiles at him. “Can you do something to the Tahoe so no one notices it and takes it?”

  The imp nods, making his ears flop around.

  “Cool!” Sophia runs outside carrying the truck.

  Blix leaps off me and follows.

  It’s a really damn good thing I have no choice but to fall asleep when the sun comes up. Until Mom’s truck is back to normal, my nerves will be on fire. It’s bedtime for the Littles already, but Sam’s sle
eping over his friend’s house tonight. The girls head upstairs. Dalton and I hang out for a while, talking. He finds the whole messenger thing hilarious, and he’s also sure Wolent doesn’t care so much about the message itself but intends the task as a statement.

  “So that’s it then, you’ve thrown your lot in with them?”

  “As opposed to?” I raise an eyebrow.

  “Being a free spirit like me.” He flashes a used golf cart salesman smile.

  “Hah.” I snicker. “Knowing my luck, better to have as many allies as possible. You know I don’t care about their politics. And it doesn’t matter if I put down roots here. I’m in no hurry to go anywhere.”

  He fusses at the broken dummy sword, repetitively sliding the blade into the handle and pulling it out. “It’s never so simple. Do it for him now. Next time, he’s going to ask you to spy on some other vampire, maybe kill someone.”

  “Says the guy who took a contract to firebomb a whole lair.” I raise an eyebrow at him. “Wolent’s not an idiot. He knows what kind of person I am. Really don’t think he’s going to ask me to do wet work.”

  Dalton coughs. “Since when do you know the term wet work?”

  “You truly underestimate the scope and breadth of Dad’s movie fixation.”

  “I could say the same regarding your trust of Arthur Wolent. Men like him seem nice on the surface, but they’re capable of doing anything to get what they want.”

  “Yeah. I know.” I twirl my hair around one finger, let go, then do it again. “Already assumed as much about him. Luckily for me, I don’t have any political goals. Besides, they all think of me as some harmless kid.”

  “Exactly why he’s interested.” Dalton points the dull sword at me. “He knows you’ll be underestimated. The day will come he wants you to do something when your seeming harmlessness works to his advantage. Though, in all probability, he’s mostly interested in your ability to be up during the day.”