Finally, the most recently developed picture of Brandie’s beaten, tearstreaked face. The photo was still dripping with solution.
If I’d had a beating heart, it would have stopped right then and there. I started to panic. I was looking through the eyes of whoever had abducted Brandie Masterson. Although logically there was no way that he could know I was in there, I felt exposed.
What followed can only be described as the worst thing I had ever seen in my entire life.
The man walked from the darkroom into the adjoining room, which was equally dank and oppressive. The walls were wooden, aged, almost rotting. Everything about the place was nondescript. Nothing adorned the walls. I couldn’t see the door. Only a concrete floor and a tin roof. And in the middle of all this was Brandie Masterson.
I wanted to be relieved that she was still alive, but the overwhelming feeling of emptiness that I sensed inside this particular mind gave me the warning that there was no relief to come.
Brandie was tied to a chair, hands behind her back, mouth taped. She was crying. Begging. Pleading. Her eyes were brimming with desperation and despair. He had beaten her. I silently raged. Slim shafts of moonlight seeped through the holes between the tin roof and the decrepit wooden walls. A small lamp in the corner threw harsh shadows across the back wall.
It seemed as though the man was simply watching her squirm, deciding what to do next. Whenever Brandie tried to lean forward or struggled in her bonds, her dangling bronze earrings glinted in the lamplight. They looked homemade but decently crafted. They had an intricate swirling pattern carved into a dainty bronze disc hanging by a thin chain from a bronze stud in each lobe. The man also took notice. He gently reached behind her right ear and laid the earring against his palm for a better look. After a moment, he carefully retracted his hand. His view then swiveled to a bench. Upon the bench lay a series of tools. Sharp tools.
I tried to take over his body. I tried using my will to make him move ever so slightly, to make him stop. Failing that, I tried willing myself out of his body. I wanted to claw my way out of his twisted mind. Failing again, I simply tried willing my eyes shut.
Failure.
I was utterly helpless and so was she. I was forced to watch as he carried out his evil practice.
Cutting. Screaming. Terror. Slashing. Blood. So much blood. It was the first time since turning that the sight of blood did not entice.
Gurgling. Dying. Gone.
Cutting. Folding. Packing. His cold methodology was startling.
Hauling. Shutting a trunk. Driving. A long, dark road. In spite of my shock, I managed to pay attention to the road. It looked familiar. Then again so did most of the area surrounding Whitehaven.
Dirt road. Driving. Parking.
In the cold light of the moon, the man dragged Brandie’s remains through the woods. My brain hummed like a hornet’s nest, violent and monotonous. I felt more and more as though I were simply in a dream. In this dream, I meticulously mapped the steps taken, the shadows of the bark on the surrounding trees, the shape of the dark earth beneath the man’s feet. The gnarled nature of the tree roots and mounded hills created an almost fairytale landscape hidden beneath the evergreen canopy. I focused on everything but the act in which I was forced to participate.
Finally, he stopped. He dug. Dumped. Shoveled. Covered up.
When he turned to leave, I began to leave him. I didn’t even know who he was. Only that he was a monster.
Within seconds I was ripped from the vision and left crumpled on my bed, head between my hands, stomach churning.
I gasped for breath and rapidly looked around my room. I was back. I checked my hands. No gloves. Instinctively I grasped at my chest, but as always there was a deafening quiet. I didn’t even have time to reach the bathroom. I lurched over the edge of my bed and vomited until my core ached. When the heaving stopped, I opened my eyes and stared at the mess. It was black with small ribbons of red blood, like wisps of smoke through the darkness.
That night I was grateful for my inability to dream.
****
It wasn’t until I felt the light of day searing into the flesh on my shin that I stirred. I’d spent the night, the longest night ever, in willful forgetfulness. It was almost a meditation: a meditation on nothing. As my panic subsided, I slowly took that next breath. After I cleaned up the mess, I just sat and stared until night broke into dawn, and dawn gave way to day. I didn’t blink once. I was afraid that if I closed my eyes for just a second, I’d have to see it all over again. Finally, I felt a sharp tingling in my leg and looked over to see a ray of light streaking harshly across my skin.
Without a word, without a thought, I methodically began my day.
The ride to school was a blur. I didn’t particularly remember getting on the school bus, but I knew I had. I didn’t remember picking a seat in the very back, next to the rowdiest of the rowdy, but I did. I didn’t recall what kind of taunts they hurled my way. I just stared out the window and let the buzzing in my head drown out everything else.
When I got to school, it turned out I wasn’t the only one buzzing. The entire student body seemed charged with some unknown electricity. At first I figured it was something about prom, or perhaps one of our sports rivals had pulled a prank, like the fish in the heating duct incident. The halls reeked for weeks after that. Then I noticed the police car.
Still somewhat in a daze, I made a beeline for homeroom, hoping to run into Malcolm.
“Hey,” Malcolm greeted me casually.
“What’s going on?”
“Good morning to you, too.”
I rolled my eyes, clearly not in the mood. Malcolm picked up on this and leaned in confidentially.
“People are saying that the cops are here to question people about the missing Arborville girl.”
The mention of her nearly broke through my floodgates, but I couldn’t let that happen—not here, not now. I fought back the tears, the fury, the disgust. My stomach churned, and for a second I thought I was going to hurl again. I steadied myself on Malcolm’s shoulder.
“Hey, you okay?” Malcolm asked, suddenly concerned.
I managed to pull myself together. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”
“And I thought you couldn’t get any paler,” Malcolm joked.
This brought a thin smile to my lips, but not for long.
“So the cops are here to question people? Why? Do they think someone here knows something?”
Malcolm shrugged. “I really don’t know. They say the girl dropped out of school here some time ago, so I guess they’re just covering all their bases.”
“Do you know who they’re questioning?”
“No idea. I think they’re pulling people into the principal’s office throughout the day.”
“Huh.” That was all I could manage to say.
“Why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?” Malcolm pressed.
I shook my head and shrugged.
Homeroom passed without incident. Malcolm kept a wary eye on me. He knew something was up. He also knew that I wasn’t going to tell him anything, so there was no point in asking. Honestly, how could I explain something like that? How could I burden someone else with that knowledge, with those images? What I had seen was already going to torture me for eternity. I didn’t need to drag Malcolm down with me. Plus, what could he have done about it? What could I have done? I didn’t even have the energy to tell him about my encounter with Haley. I was helpless and what I knew was freaking me out.
Later, after narrowly escaping trouble in chemistry, I went to meet Paige at her locker before history. She was in a great mood as usual.
“Noah!” When she spotted me, she ran up and gave me a quick hug before launching into a funny story about a dog and a bird or something.
I could tell by the look on her face and the animated way in which she was regaling me with this tale that she found this endlessly amusing, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I was focused on the voice ov
er the loudspeaker, which was announcing three people who had to report to the principal’s office: Anna Cole, Ellen Carpenter, James Argyle.
I breathed a quick sigh of relief. Suddenly I saw a hand waving in front of my face.
“Hellooooo,” Paige said.
I snapped back to the here and now. I waved in her face, trying to play my inattention off as a joke.
“Hellooooo,” I mimicked.
She didn’t look amused. “Did you even hear anything I just said?”
“Yeah, there was this puppy and a bird and it was funny.”
“Never mind.” Paige turned to head to class, but I swiftly grabbed her by the shoulders.
“Hey, hey, hey, wait, I’m sorry. I’m just a little distracted with all this missing girl stuff.”
“I know. Isn’t it horrible?”
“Yeah, it kills me to think about.”
“I know, poor girl. I really hope they find her. I hope they find both of them.”
“Yeah…me too.”
“Shall we?” We walked together to history. Before class started I had to take a moment to push back the deluge of images frantically trying to flood my mind. Math was fine. We were taking a quiz on some sort of new theorem. I most likely failed because I wasn’t paying attention. Two more names were called over the loudspeaker: Theresa Ngo and Nathan Prince. So far, so good. The bell rang, as I was packing my bag to leave math class. Suddenly, the loudspeaker once again crackled to life, this time with just one name: “Noah Vance.”
If I had a beating heart, it would have been racing.
****
I passed Jimmy as I headed into the principal’s office. He looked freaked, understandably so. After all, he was the biggest troublemaker Whitehaven had to offer. You couldn’t say “police” to Jimmy without him getting paranoid. Yet I knew this hapless delinquent was incapable of anything violent. I’d once seen him save a wandering beetle from the stampede of the cafeteria and place it delicately in the courtyard, cheering it on as it scuttled away into the grass.
Even though I technically didn’t have anything to hide from the police regarding Brandie’s disappearance, I was so nervous my hands were shaking. Being a vampire, having my mother steal blood for me, and witnessing the most awful thing one can imagine might do that to a guy. Needless to say, the cops were the last people on earth I wanted to interact with. I had no idea what their methodology was in terms of whom they were talking to, and that made me even more anxious. I didn’t want to spill accidentally some crucial, damning piece of information, if all they wanted to ask about was Brandie’s favorite color or if she prefers kittens to ponies. Sorry, preferred.
It occurred to me that I was one of only two people who knew Brandie was dead.
The hornets in my head grew louder.
There were two middle-age police officers in the principal’s office, a man and a woman, unassuming yet quietly intimidating. I took my seat across from them, rested my shaking hands on my legs, and tried hard to look completely innocent.
“MR. VANCE,” the male cop started, “I’m Officer Carraway.”
“Hi, Officer Carraway. I’m Noah Vance.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Yeah…of course.”
“You know what else I know?”
“That there’s a girl missing?”
“That you are a murderous faction of the living damned and must be destroyed!!”
Okay, so that’s only how it went down in my head. In reality, it was much less painful than I’d expected. Turned out they had records indicating that I’d gone to school with Brandie in the third grade (there was only one elementary school in Whitehaven, so no big surprise there), and they wanted to see if we’d been friends (let’s see, it was third grade and there was a cootie epidemic, I’m thinking no) or had been in touch at all since (considering I didn’t even know who she was until she disappeared, that’s a big fat no). Man, if they were going back to third grade contacts, they must have really been hurting for leads.
I made it out of the interrogation unscathed. I should have been happy, but instead I was even more depressed than when I had gone in. I briefly flashed back to when I was a kid and was interviewed about Dad’s disappearance. If they were hurting for leads, it meant they were nowhere near finding out what happened to Brandie. She remained decimated, and her killer remained free. As long as her killer remained free, some untold future victim remained in harm’s way.
The cafeteria was jam-packed as usual, and there were only two topics on everyone’s lips: police and prom.
Our table happened to be talking about the latter. Clarification: Celia happened to be talking about the latter to the whole table. She’d managed to solicit an invite to prom from Aaron Stone, an all-around nice guy who was really into drama club. On paper they made a great couple; they matched each other in wit, energy, and theatrics.
Malcolm seemed relieved that she’d moved on. Everyone seemed happy, normal, oblivious. I was picking up enough of the conversation to follow it, but my attention was elsewhere. I’d spent the better part of ten minutes tracking a single fly as it zigzagged around the noisy room.
“What are you thinking about?” Paige’s voice broke through my trance, and it took a moment for my eyes to readjust to the world right before me.
“Nothing,” I said flatly.
Undiscouraged, Paige continued brightly. “I got some good news today. Are you ready?”
I didn’t even try to muster the energy to match hers. “Ready.”
She looked as though she could barely contain herself. “I got into U-Dub!”
Malcolm grinned.
Celia screamed.
Paige bounced with excitement.
I stared ahead expressionless.
“Oh my god, I’m so happy for you! That’s so awesome! Yay!” Celia squealed.
“Congrats! I had no doubt you would, of course, but that’s really great,” Malcolm said as he high-fived her.
Paige looked over to me for any sort of acknowledgment.
I forced a weak smile. “Congrats.”
The excitement faded from her face.
Malcolm and Celia exchanged a confused glance.
Instead of shoving my dark, traumatic feelings as far down as I could, like I should have, I got defensive. “What?” I asked. Even though I could see the hurt dimming Paige’s happiness, I stood my ground.
“Just ‘congrats’? That’s all you have to say? I was just accepted into the college I’ve wanted to go to since I was twelve.”
“What else do you want me to say?” That I didn’t care right now? That it all was so unfair? That it seemed pointless? That I could never be normal again? That I couldn’t get Brandie’s agony out of my head? That everyone was going to move on and be happy, and I was going to be stuck for all eternity with these horrific images in my head?
Everyone was taken aback. I’d never been known for a surly demeanor, much less a mean one. Moody? Sometimes. Secretive? Lately. Cold? Never.
But that was it. That was exactly how I felt: cold.
“I don’t know. I thought you’d be happy for me,” Paige said, struggling to understand.
I shrugged, eager to get off the subject. “I am. I said ‘congrats’.”
“You sure don’t seem happy.”
“Does it matter?”
“What is with you today?” Malcolm interjected.
The blush of fury rose to Paige’s cheeks. “Does it matter?” she repeated.
Malcolm gave me a WTF look, but it didn’t make a difference. I kept digging my own grave.
“Yeah, what does it matter? You’re happy, so good for you. What does it matter if I’m happy?” I really should have quit while I was only kind of behind, but the darkness inside me was raging. At what exactly, I wasn’t sure. I just felt rage bubbling over and didn’t try to stop it. I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair, unflappable. Paige was baffled. I could see her struggling for words.
“Don’t be mean,
Noah,” Celia said. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she eyed me for a reaction, as if she expected me to leap across the table and tear out her throat.
I ignored her.
Paige tried another tactic. She fought back the rising hurt and briefly softened. “Why aren’t you happy for me?”
For some reason, that just made me angrier. I shook my head. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”
Malcolm kicked me under the table, trying to shut me up for my own sake. I ignored him.
Paige’s soft exterior broke down, and now she was angry. “Yeah, I guess you do. Spell it out for me.” She leaned forward on the cafeteria table and stared me down, waiting expectantly for an answer that she was sure she wouldn’t like. There was fire in her eyes.
I didn’t have an answer, at least not one that would make any sense. Not even Malcolm knew about Brandie. No one should. I wished I didn’t. All of a sudden, a rush of thoughts flew to my head. What in the world was I doing? Had what I’d seen ruined me somehow? I hadn’t been a monster before, but was I turning into one now? Why did I want to hurt Paige’s feelings? Was I self-sabotaging because I knew I’d lose her eventually? How could I snap out of this?
“Never mind,” I replied quietly, regret seeping in. It was all I had.
Paige just nodded calmly. She grabbed her backpack, slung it over her shoulder, and stood up to leave. “Right.” That’s all she said. Then, without a fight from Malcolm or Celia, she stormed out of the cafeteria.
I took a deep breath and sighed, as both Malcolm and Celia silently grabbed their bags and left as well. Only Malcolm glanced back over his shoulder, as though he barely recognized me.
I deserved that.
****
It wasn’t ten minutes later when I was gathering my books out of my locker that I noticed a folded piece of paper fluttering to the ground. I picked it up and hastily unfolded it, hoping against hope that Paige wasn’t breaking up with me. Once I got it open, my heart sank into my stomach. I read the elegant, unfamiliar handwriting three times before it sank in: DEAR, SWEET NOAH, HAVING A LITTLE TROUBLE ARE WE?
The warning bell pulled me back to reality. I was alone in the halls, accompanied only by the sharp sound of lockers slamming shut in the distance. I shoved the note in my pocket. It wasn’t enough to turn me into a vampire? Now she was taunting me? Unbelievable.
I Heart Vampires Page 20