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

by Cox, Matthew S.

  “Duh. They’re vampires.” Ben flexes his arms. “They’re crazy strong.”

  Cody nods. “Yeah, and we never see them taking any corpses out of the house. Only in.”

  “Whoa. What are they doing, stacking them up?” I shift my jaw side to side. “Assuming they really are carrying bodies, or people.”

  “No idea. We haven’t gotten into the house.” Cody narrows his eyes. “Yet.”

  I raise my hands in a ‘wait up’ gesture and head over to the window. “Okay. Fine. I don’t want to spend all night here. My sibs need me. Be right back.”

  “What are you doing?” asks Ben, spinning in the chair to face me.

  “I’m going to go down the street, wait for those two to come back, and see what they’re thinking.” I open the window, letting in a nice breeze, then the screen. “If they aren’t vampires, I want you guys to ignore them… or send your video to the police.”

  “What if they are?” Cody folds his arms, chin held high in confidence. “What then?”

  I pause, one leg out the window. “Honestly? Same thing. You two stay away from them. If they hurt you, I’m going to feel responsible for it. Now, wait there. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Not waiting for any reply, I dive out the window and cruise into the air.

  Quick trip down to the end of the street—well a bit past—and I can go home.

  I’d say ‘there’s no way these people are vampires,’ but if I do, they’re definitely going to be.

  20

  Valid Creepy

  The street the boys live on curves gradually to the left.

  While they said the strange neighbors lived at the end, in truth, the big, white house isn’t at the end of their street as much as a short distance outside this suburban development on the other side of maybe sixty yards of open scrub desert. Yeah, the eerie white house definitely existed here long before this residential area popped up. I glide down to land among the houses where Sunflower Street curves away from the open dirt and walk the remaining distance. The residential area is pretty desert-like. All palm trees and weird bushes. Not many places to hide in the neighborhood. Even less cover out in the field surrounding the strange house.

  There are, however, giant bushes arranged as sort of a hedge-wall around the property. Ben’s camera appeared to be concealed inside one of them. The house is even more eerie in person, without the separation of electronic video. As soon as I look at the building, it’s beyond obvious something supernatural is going on here. The giant house gives off a dark presence strong enough to where I almost mutter ‘nope’ and walk away. But if this is a horror movie, I’m the dumb teenager, so I keep going.

  All the other homes in this area share a common aesthetic, seemingly built within the past twenty years. Nice little lawns, attached garage, some single-story, some two-story, a few with a partial second floor, but generally they’re all the same basic design.

  This place is completely different. Pretty sure it’s got wood siding even. It’s large, two stories and a full attic, so basically three stories tall. The attic level’s ringed with dormer windows, six on the front face. All dark, even to my eyes. Like straight out of The Amityville Horror, it feels as though the house itself is staring at me.

  Okay, what the hell? I am a creature of the night. I’m not supposed to get the willies from creepy houses. I may be a Starbucks-sipping plushie-hugging version of a creature of the night with an appreciation for cute, but I’m still a darn vampire.

  Grr.

  I step around the hedge and come face to face with a possible answer for the weird vibe in the air—an old wooden sign at the corner of the property. The words ‘Stillwell Mortuary’ stand out in faded gothic lettering above ‘est 1908.’

  Whoa. Old funeral home. Explains why there’s a small parking lot next to a house.

  The relatively deteriorated state of the sign suggests this funeral parlor is no longer operational as a business. Or is it? Could be a reason those men would be carrying bodies into the building. However, I don’t think it’s normal for bodies to be brought in slung over a guy’s shoulder, is it? Yeah, sure, if they’re coming right from the hospital where they died, the bodies wouldn’t be in caskets yet, but at least use a gurney. Some dignity? Don’t throw people around like a sack of dog food. The dark ‘blanket’ might’ve been a body bag. A mortuary is like any other business, right? Some can be shady, cut corners. If there’s a working undertaker here, I understand why bodies could be going into the place, but wouldn’t they have to come out eventually? I don’t see any sign of a hearse or limos or flower car. The boys would surely have noticed funerals taking place. Neither one of them said anything about it being a mortuary.

  Who in their right mind buys an old funeral home to live in?

  According to Ben and Cody, the people here are not in their right mind, after all. But vampires? I dunno. Seems too on the nose for vampires to live here. But, reality is often far stranger than people think. Windows too dark for me to see through, stark white walls, black roof… yeah, this place is totally un-creepy. Not. Tint is the most mundane explanation for the windows being impenetrable. Might be shadow people blowfishing the glass, but unlikely. Could be magic, too. Also, unlikely. Mystics are even rarer than vampires.

  Know what’s funny? Most vampires I’ve met don’t believe mystics are real. Talk about ironic.

  I’m annoyed at this place for having the gall to make me nervous, so I sneak onto the property for a closer look. It’s weird the boys didn’t say anything about the serious creep factor hanging over it. I’m guessing my supernatural senses are able to detect something ordinary people can’t read. Admittedly, becoming a vampire has made me somewhat of a spiritual medium. I can see ghosts, but it’s hardly unique among vampires. Almost all of us can with one surprising—and one not surprising—exception. Furies often can’t see them due to their diminished ability to concentrate on stuff. They don’t do well with tasks requiring quiet focus. Give a Fury a Rubik’s cube and something’s going to get smashed when they can’t solve it in two minutes. The surprising exception is Academics. According to Aurélie, their inability to see ghosts has to do with their near-complete lack of emotion. Ghosts are creatures of pure emotion—and a dash of electromagnetism.

  Anyway, if this place is teeming with spirits, it would definitely throw off gobs of creep.

  Something else is here, though. And I really don’t like the way it feels—mostly because it feels similar to Aurélie. Vampires of a certain age have so much power other vampires can sense it on them. Like how people can feel heat coming from an element on an electric stove, only one where it takes two centuries to heat up. Depending on the elder’s personality, the energy takes on different moods.

  Oddly enough, Arthur Wolent doesn’t have it yet. He’s relatively young, a decade or two away from being 200 I think. Paolo Cabrini does, unfortunately. And his radiance is definitely of the ‘do not F with me’ variety. Aurélie’s is of the ‘don’t you dare use the wrong fork with the salad’ variety. Kidding, she’s also a ‘cross me and die painfully’ type, though I don’t get the vibe from her. For me, her aura makes me feel simultaneously reassured and terrified of doing something stupid in front of her.

  Anyway, the vibe wafting from this house is ‘leave me the hell alone.’

  No. Can’t be. The freakin ‘Frog Brothers’ can’t be right about the people who live here. No way are they actually vampires. Something else is going on and my brain is misinterpreting. I haven’t been a vampire for a full year yet. Why am I trusting my senses and assuming because the mood in the air from a creepy former funeral home kinda feels like the mood hanging in the air around elders, it’s a vampire.

  I have to be wrong.

  Annoyed and curious, I sneak onto the property and head around the side toward the back of the house. An odd grilling smell in the air, initially appealing, rapidly turns disgusting once I recognize it. They’re not flame-broiling steaks… it’s the smell of a
burning human body. Thanks, Scott. He taught me what burning human smells like. Least he could do for me after I lit him on fire.

  Burning bodies here? Curiouser and curiouser, as they say.

  I spot multiple basement-level windows big enough for me to slip through, but going inside the place is a bad idea. No reason to, plus if there are vampires here, breaking into their home is definitely going to result in an ass kicking, and I’m the one who’s going to end up with shoe prints on her butt.

  Bizarre chimney work sticks out of the roof near the back-left corner, nothing I’ve ever seen before. A hunch tells me it’s the source of the charred human smell. I stand there for a minute staring at it, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing… until a flash of headlights washes over the side of the building. Tires squish on pavement, accompanied by the creaking of automotive springs.

  Like a cat being snuck up on by a cucumber, I spring into the air faster than the speed of conscious thought, taking cover on the roof. The strange chimney gives off a constant low roar. I’m guessing they don’t have a blast furnace in their basement, so… duh. It’s a crematorium oven—a functioning one.

  Okay, talk about scary. There aren’t too many guaranteed ways to permanently kill a vampire. The sun and fire are the two main ones. A few other bizarre options exist—like strong acid baths or throwing us into volcanos, but technically speaking, lava and fire are pretty much the same. Anyway, a crematory oven would certainly do the trick.

  I flatten myself out on the roof and crawl to the far edge so I can watch. By the time I get eyes on the parking area, the two men are both out of sight behind the van, unloading something. It doesn’t take the younger dude long to toss a squirming body bag over his shoulder and walk out into view.

  He’s in his early fifties by appearance, curly black hair, thick eyebrows, and has the physique of a guy used to manual labor. And… son of a bitch. He is a vampire. As soon as I look at him, even without eye contact, it’s obvious. Worse, he’s radiating power. So, he’s at least two centuries old. Dammit. Why was I right? My senses shouldn’t be so accurate. Stupid instincts.

  The second guy closes the van doors and follows. They could be brothers since they have a strong familial resemblance, though might be father and son. Weird things can happen with vampires, as in the younger-looking dude could be the dad. Though, something about them strikes me as brothers. If I had to guess, they experienced the Transference at the same time. There’s an inexplicable sense of connection between them. Not gonna question it.

  I’m also not going to question how neither one of them noticed me. Of course, who notices a one-battery flashlight during the day? I’m so weak compared to them, the ambient creepitude of this house is perfect camouflage for their senses. Assuming, of course, elders can feel other vampires around them. Not sure they can. Newbies don’t give off dread auras after all. It’s also something only vampires can pick up. Like, ordinary humans wouldn’t think twice about those two guys. They’d look like a couple of amicable dudes who probably work for a moving company.

  Crap. Elders.

  I have about as much chance of winning a fight against one of them as a two-year-old beating an MMA champion in a boxing match. Being an Innocent doesn’t matter too much at this age. A nine-month-old vampire of any bloodline would get their ass handed to them by an elder. If I were a Fury, it would still be like a two-year-old trying to fight an MMA champion, but someone gave her a knife. Doesn’t change the odds much.

  Yeah, there is no way I am messing with them directly. There’s even less of a way the Peters boys are going to destroy them.

  But, dammit.

  Normally, I don’t mind math. Sometimes, I really hate math. Like now. Vampires plus squirming body bag plus people going in but never out plus crematorium equals massive guilt trip. These vampires are addicts. Kill-feeders. There is no reason whatsoever for vampires to collect dead bodies. Every suspicious bundle the boys saw had to be a live person. Vampires have about five minutes after someone dies before the blood inside the corpse turns rancid. Don’t believe the folklore about tricking a vampire by feeding us dead blood. Once it goes, it goes. Smells horrible.

  The only reason vampires would have to bring body bags into their home is the people inside them aren’t dead yet. And the only reason they’d be firing up the crematorium is they’re murdering their meals. Holy shit, the boys are right. They mentioned a spike in missing persons cases around this area lately. Wow. These guys aren’t being at all subtle. Sooner or later, someone is going to notice what’s going on here. But… elders. I’m sure they expect it will happen and already planned their next home. Everyone within a quarter mile of this house will probably forget them ever being here, and the elders will move on to some other quiet town.

  I have a damn strong suspicion whoever is in the body bag is going to be dead soon. Yes, I realize this makes me the vampire version of a vegan, feeling so sad about our food being hurt, but I have to at least try to help.

  The thud of a door startles me. I freeze in place, trying not to make the slightest noise.

  “How many more do you think we need?” asks a relatively normal male voice. Not super deep. Not creepy. No weird accent.

  I lean up ever so slightly to peek at the two brothers walking back to the van.

  “Eh, at least one, preferably two. Always good to have a few snacks in the pantry.”

  “I agree.” The older one hops in the driver’s seat.

  Okay, stopping these elders from running around on murder sprees is not happening by any stretch of my imagination. Bad things I don’t see happening in front of me won’t cause insurmountable guilt, merely guilt. However, I watched them carry a victim into the house. Damn my oversensitive conscience, but if I don’t at least make an effort to get the person out, I won’t be able to live with myself.

  Or un-live with myself.

  Whatever.

  21

  Campy Eighties Horror Movie

  The Brothers Grim drive away.

  Now’s my chance, such as it is, to be a reckless bleeding-heart dumbass as my Uncle Hank would say. I’m going to assume other vampires are inside the house, possibly at least one elder as the place still feels like one is here. All the blackout film on the windows makes sense now. I can’t imagine the basement of a former funeral home built in the early 1900s is luxurious. Good chance they spend the night hours upstairs in the house proper. Fingers crossed.

  If I get caught, things will become interesting and terrifying fast.

  Since I’m so damn young, elders can force their way into my mind. Heck, Wolent can read my mind and he’s only like 175 or so. Pff. Only. Right? Point being, if I get caught, they’re going to know exactly why I snuck into their house—to free their prospective meal. Hopefully, they will think of me like some idiot kid trying to steal a loaf of bread from them. Or maybe find me adorable like some little girl trying to talk her parents into going vegetarian ‘for the animals.’ Of course, I might also end up locked in a cell or—worst case—thrown into the crematorium oven. This is, after all, a lawless area for vampires quite far away from Seattle where Aurélie has zero political influence.

  Someone really ought to stop them entirely before they attract an army of hunters, but I’m not tall enough to ride this ride. I am, however, short enough to sneak in and out. Once the noise from the van’s engine is completely out of my awareness, I slide from the roof and float to the ground on my feet.

  Predictably, the side door they went in is locked. While I might be able to break it open, doing so would not be quiet. Any hope I have in avoiding the notice of any vampires in the building depends on me being silent—and them not being in the basement. My plan kinda also hinges on the body bag occupant being in the basement. Hey, searching around, finding nothing, and running away is still ‘doing something.’ It’ll still make me feel bad, but nowhere near as bad as not even trying to help.

  I make my way from the side of the house to the back, heading for an
other door. I’m so convinced it’s going to be locked a gasp almost flies out of my mouth when the knob turns. I ease the door open, peering in at a kitchen covered in dust. The fridge, one small area of counter, and a space at the table are clean, suggesting one person—probably the elderly man the boys saw on camera—is not a vampire.

  Doubt any of the people they carry in here are given food, at least nothing requiring cooking.

  Faint feminine grunting and a chain-on-metal clatter comes from behind a small door at the opposite side of the kitchen beside a series of tall, narrow cabinets. Yeah, sounds like they put their victim in the basement and she’s struggling to escape whatever they tied her with. I make it two steps across the kitchen before a creak comes from the hall beyond an arch about ten feet to the left of the door I need.

  Crap!

  Someone’s coming.

  I leap into the air, flying across the kitchen as fast as I can go in the limited space—and press myself against the ceiling at the top of the arch. My hair drapes down for a second, but I grab it and hold it to my chest.

  A moment later, the old man walks in, passing obliviously below me on his way to the counter near the fridge. Eep! If he turns, he’s going to see me. Like some weird human Ouija board planchette, I slide across the ceiling, zipping back and forth to stay behind him out of his field of view as he makes himself a cheese sandwich. After several tedious, nerve-wracking minutes, he carries his sad dinner out of the kitchen on a plate.

  Whew.

  I sink down to my feet, fighting the urge to exhale in relief—too loud—and pull open the door to reveal rickety wooden stairs down to the basement. Another creak comes from the corridor. Grr! Damn old man! Screw it. I duck into the stairwell and pull the door shut before fly-gliding down to stay silent.

  Hah! Take that, conveniently placed creaky stair I know is here but aren’t sure which one you are. You won’t get me caught!