“I’m a girl,” she assured him. Todd stepped away from her to get a better look.
“Nah,” he concluded. “You can fool me with the voice and the hips, but your hair . . . and that get-up . . . real women have class. And breasts.” Mallory gasped, covering her chest. “I mean, come on now,” Todd continued. “Ain’t no real lady wearin’ that hairstyle no more. This ain’t the ‘60s.”
“I can assure you, I have breasts.”
“Prove it.”
Mallory nearly pistol-whipped him.
“How rude. Fine. I’m a boy. I’d rather be that than yours.”
“Knew it,” he grinned. “Fell into that trap one too many times. Damn tricksters. You’ll never find me crushin’ on a boy.” Mallory rolled her eyes.
While showing his guest a picture of him and the President, a hard knock shook the room. Mallory scurried to hide a large dresser. Todd was tossing the weapons into three bags laid out on his bed. More heavy knocks didn’t help the situation.
Oh no. Oh no. Oh no!
“Boy, what in the hell are ya doin’?” Todd whispered angrily. “Get over here and help me, or else we’re both moose meat.”
“Open it.”
“Who are you tellin’—”
“Shhh!” Mallory said, putting a gloved finger to her lips. “Open the door.”
Todd hobbled over to the door, grumbling curses under his breath.
After swinging the door open, Todd waved off the culprit.
“Thought you were Abby, little shit,” Todd groaned.
“I need my knife,” said Jayce. He was dressed to leave, and in all black — a sweater, jeans, boots, gloves, and a scarf.
Todd fumbled through his belongings to toss Jayce a pocket knife. He barely caught it. He was too busy shaking his head at his grandfather’s arsenal.
“People like you are the reason why this country sucks,” Jayce blurted out. It was so sudden that both Mallory and Todd turned to each other, confused — at first — at who, when, or why one of them pissed him off enough to say something so harsh.
“Boy,” Todd blasted back, “if you weren’t my grandson I’d knock your head off! Ain’t nobody gonna complain about what I can or can’t do legally in my country. If you don’t like it, get the hell out!”
Jayce walked down the hallway without a care for what his grandfather had to say. Mallory hurried to chase him. He walked into a large bedroom close to the staircase. Mallory stood at the doorway — hoping she’d get an invitation if she asked the right way.
“Excuse me? May I join you?”
Jayce took one look at her before shaking his head in disgust. He disappeared into the bedroom closet.
A minute or so later, Jayce walked out the same way he walked in. Mallory perked up like a pet excited to see its owner.
“I want to be your friend,” she said as he brushed by her and began walking down the stairs. He had a swagger about him — trotting down the staircase like a smooth world leader.
“Why?” he asked.
“It’s fun, really,” said Mallory. “You can never have enough friends, right?”
“Is that the lie that helps you sleep at night?”
“I never lie,” Mallory lied. “Honest.”
“Have fun with that,” Jayce told her, opening the front door. For the first time, he looked her dead in her eyes. “And no, I don’t want, or need, any ‘friends’ — whatever that’s supposed to mean.”
Before Jayce could close the door, Mallory slipped outside. The darkness lent weight to the cold chill that engulfed the whole of Gatsby.
Jayce didn’t pay enough attention to care about Mallory’s stream of questions.
“What is your favorite food?”
“What is your favorite color?”
“Ok then, sugar or spice?”
“Chocolate or vanilla?”
“Summer or winter?”
“Butter or cream? Or both?”
Mallory blushed at the next one she thought up.
“When was your first kiss?”
“It was bad?”
“Good?”
No matter what she asked, Jayce ignored her. She took a moment to force a response. Then she found an opportunity.
“What is one thing you’d change about your world if you could?”
No response. Not until . . .
“I suppose you’d bring Lily back if you could. Terrible, really.”
Jayce finally spun around to face her.
“Fuck off.”
“Pardon me?”
Jayce gritted his teeth.
“Go away. Find something better to do than annoying me.”
“No,” Mallory said courageously.
“What? Why!?”
“Because.”
“Because of what!?”
Mallory locked her fingers and waved her body back and forth.
“I like you.”
“No,” he swore. “No, you don’t! You don’t even know me!”
“Oh, right,” Mallory remembered. “I have a plan.”
The Gothic princess suddenly grabbed Jayce’s forearms. She thrust her face towards his, focusing intently to capture a stare with him. She needed eight seconds to read his mind. She barely got one.
“GET—” Jayce began, craning his neck back to avoid what he must have thought was a forced kiss, “OFF!” The rebel shoved the princess to the cold sidewalk. His natural reaction was to help her up, but he had a change of heart and backed away. She felt terrible looking up and into his eyes. They were filled with anger.
“Stay away,” he warned her. “Or else.”
The last time it was this hard to find a friend Mallory was nearly killed. But, then again, Jett was from another culture. The daughter of Natas was among the tastiest prey in their Realm. Endless fantasies swirled around what her final ‘yelp’ would sound like, how her pale flesh would peel beneath the claws of a true Wolf, and how many months — or possibly years(!) — one could live off the rejuvenating effects of her Angelic blood. Their shared effort to run away from the Realm saved her life. Stars forbid the day she meets Jett again without solving the Bean problem.
But now she struggled to gain the trust of a human. How? For her, it should’ve been a piece of cake. Her genetic makeup should’ve made it nearly impossible for any being to resist her advances — especially a human!
Jayce stopped when he sat on the end of a slide. The playground in which he sat was across from an abandoned school: East Gatsby Elementary. She found her chance to enter the jungle gym when Jayce got up and walked towards the school. He pulled the American flag up its pole. It flew at half-mast.
Strangely enough, a lone vulture was sitting atop the school — cleaning its feathers. Mallory hadn’t noticed it. She rolled over and played dead to avoid Jayce seeing her when he turned back.
“Why won’t you just leave me alone?” Mallory heard from below her. She pushed herself down the slide — head-first, and on her back.
“Do you like snow?” Mallory asked. No answer. However, she noticed something in his hand that looked familiar. She immediately got to her feet and snatched it from him.
“What the hell—”
“This is a cancer stick!” Mallory proclaimed. “You must not smoke this!”
“Fuck you, I can do what I want,” he responded. “Now give it back.” Mallory refused, sparking a chase around the playground that would’ve looked cute had Jayce not been so angry. All the tripping, bumping his knees and elbows, and slamming his head caused his rage to reach maximum impact. When Mallory got far enough for comfort, she threw the cigarette down and attacked it with her boot. Jayce saw red. He went for the most aggressive tackle he could muster — and he didn’t care whether or not the petite female could take it.
But the impact never settled. She dodged him easily, sending him flying into the large sea of grass surrounding them. He was so angry and embarrassed that he rolled over and laid on his back for the few minutes it took Mallory
to catch her breath. The whole ordeal was so intoxicating to her that it began to tire her out. Otherwise, this amount of running was nothing to her kind. When she approached him, she stood over his body.
“I’m helping you,” she panted. “We were warned to stay away from the cancer stick. It turns your throat to ashes.”
Jayce began laughing. It was a maniacal laugh — one that clearly exhibited that this girl had driven him to the edge. Mallory was too detached from reality to notice this, so she took the chance and sat beside him.
“See,” she smiled. “I knew I could break—”
As fast as he could, Jayce pushed himself up and grabbed Mallory by the neck. But when he tried to pin her down for choking, his gloves slipped off her neck. While sitting on her stomach, he studied his gloves. There was a black, glossy substance dripping from them. He looked at Mallory. Her nose had been bleeding so much her chin and neck were covered in black. She smiled at him, revealing her domino-colored teeth.
“What in the world . . .” was Jayce’s only response. Mallory couldn’t stop the sudden pulses she was having. She was so excited that the craziest thoughts began running through her mind. One of them was absolutely absurd.
Can I handle Binding two people? I want him. I NEED him — maybe even more than Brenden. A pure human. Passionate in his resistance, devoted to his word. We would make the perfect Dhampir.
Mallory opened her eyes to find Jayce doing the strangest thing. So strange, in fact, that she was forced to push him away.
“Wh—What are you doing?”
Jayce was licking his gloves intently.
“What is this?” he pondered. He couldn’t stop licking, as the taste was too alluring. “It tastes like chocolate — and then bacon — and now pepperoni.”
Oh no.
Mallory stood to her feet. She slowly backed away from Jayce. Nothing could turn a human from prey to a predator quite like Angelic blood. Only unicorn’s blood could match such a thrill ride.
Jayce felt stronger. Wiser. More confident. Whatever this substance was, it heightened his senses and cleared his mind of the bullshit. With more, he would become his best self.
“Wait here,” he told her. “Wait right here until I get back.”
Jayce moved backward, as he was afraid Mallory would disappear. Afraid that it was all a dream and this liquid was just a figment of his imagination intended to heal his pain. But Mallory began to back up. She knew what was coming.
“Hey!” he yelled out. “Just wait there. We can be friends or whatever you want. Just wait for me.”
When Jayce hurried off to pick up the pocket knife he left on the slide, Mallory made a run for it.
“Hey!” she could hear him yell at the top of his lungs. “Hey! Come here!”
Mallory took off her ankle boots and ran like a gazelle being chased by a starving cheetah. She wished she hadn’t forgotten to wear socks, as she hated revealing any skin below her neck. He wasn’t that fast though, as he had only tasted a pinch of what her blood could offer — but she wasn’t taking any chances. She banged on the front door, burst past Jim, Abby, and the basement door, and then locked herself in the basement’s side room. She put her boots back on, grabbed the bed’s covers, and threw them over her entire body as she sat in the corner of the room.
“Hey,” came the sound of Jayce panting. “Open it.” Mallory stayed silent, clutching her knees as she trembled. “Just — Just tell me what this stuff is.”
He was drunk. The rush of her blood running through human veins was enough to cause powerful outbursts. But his initial excitement had transformed into agitation. Stranger things were to come.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
“OPEN THIS DOOR NOW!” Jayce screamed at the top of his lungs. “You’re in my house! If you don’t open this door then get the hell out!”
Mallory ignored him. She learned from past experiences with Lincoln that if she could ride the storm out then everything would be fine. They could talk later.
“You’re one of them!” he began screaming. “They sent you, didn’t they!? You work for The Enterprise! Get out! Get out of my house! I’ll kill you if you don’t! I’ll kill you!”
Mallory could hear Abby and Jim behind the door, helping Jayce calm down. It took a bit, but Mallory survived the storm. She could’ve sworn Jayce and his tiny boost of strength would’ve broken down the door with his banging.
“Mallory?” Jim asked. “You want to come out and talk?”
“I’m fine,” Mallory lied. “Just tired.”
“Get some rest,” he advised. “We’ll talk about everything tomorrow. Okay?”
“Y-Yes.”
“It’s not your fault. He’s just not in the right state of mind these days.” Mallory could hear Jim choking up.
“Sweet dreams.”
“Thank you.”
Mallory waited nearly an hour before feeling safe enough to sit on the bed.
This loneliness is terrible. When will this end? Am I destined to be lonely? Everything I touch crumbles to dust.
It’s all my fault. Mother left because I was a burden. Father left because I was annoying. I am the reason Violet is mute. I am the reason Mary gave up on me. I am the reason Avalon hates me. I am the reason Lincoln exists. I am the reason my friends hate me. I am the reason Jayce hates me. I am the reason the universe hates me . . .
These thoughts didn’t end until she cried herself to sleep. Even as she began to cry, she remembered Avalon’s media showing no mercy. The critics mocked her. The artists mocked her. The commoners mocked her.
They mocked her as her new name. The name crafted from the stories Natas used to tell about how she cried — day in, and day out — from the time she left her mother. Ever since he left, she made it a point to never cry in public. But every night, under the dome of Avalon — and now under Earth’s moonlit skies — she cried herself to sleep.
The Sobbing Sovereign was sick of being lonely.
6
The Death’s Dawn
Gatsby, Pennsylvania (East) — February 11th, 2018
Mallory woke up to the smell of fresh roses. It never dawned on her how this was possible, but then again sleep shouldn’t have been that easy without her coffin.
The princess opened her eyes and saw the roses. Her face was just above them. It was as if they were being held beneath her nose. Something within Mallory told her that someone else, maybe even a party of people, had joined her in the room. Her safe space felt stiff with Prana.
When Mallory opened her eyes fully, she jumped out of bed. A man with dark bangs who wore eyeliner and a gothic black tuxedo smirked through the black lipstick covering his lips. A caramel-skinned woman with a ponytail who wore a leather vest, leather jeans, and high-heeled leather boots was sitting at the end of her bed. Both visitors stood to attention.
“Princess,” they bowed.
Fang. Acorn. That meant . . .
While trying to get as far away from them as possible, Mallory backed into another visitor.
“Hello, love,” said the new challenger.
Mallory turned around. A tall, handsome man with blue eyes and a mane of silver hair that fell below his shoulders pulled her to his chest. The creepy man holding the roses behind them snickered.
“L-Lincoln?”
“Yes, dear,” the silver-haired man said. “We are together at last.”
Mallory shoved herself away from him and backed up to her bed. She sat down and let it all soak in.
“How could you let me suffer in such despair?” he continued. “You never warned me of your departure. You never sent a single letter. You never even wished me farewell.”
“How did you find me . . . ?” was the only thing Mallory could think to say. Lincoln placed his hand on her thigh.
“How I’ve longed to see what lies beneath all these garments,” he said, licking his lips. Lincoln began stroking her thigh, ever so slowly, causing her to hold his wrist.
“How did you find me? Why
didn’t you wait for my return? How long have you been here?”
Only the man behind her answered her questions. His voice wasn’t deep and masculine like Lincoln’s, but rather creepy and ghoulish. Lincoln was too busy gently stroking Mallory’s curves, curls, and cheeks to care about her inquiry.
“We’ve been watching you for hours,” Fang bragged. “You sleep well, my princess.”
“You do,” Lincoln admitted. “She sleeps better with me though, isn’t that right, Fang?”
“Yes, lord.
“Lincoln,” Mallory insisted, “how did you get here?”
“Acorn,” Lincoln smiled.
“Yes, my lord?” the only other woman in the room bowed.
“Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“Sorry, my lord,” she gulped. “Dear Princess, our lord’s travels began with a long meeting involving both Governor Geovanni and Godmother Kassandra. The Spirit Toll had sent the Governor information about your landing in Gatsby, and so he forced Kassandra to create a portal for three — unless she wanted to risk losing her influence under the Dome.”
“As soon as we arrived, we came across a bunch of prey playing gangster,” Lincoln smirked. “I showed them the instincts of a true predator.”
“The Enterprise?” Mallory wondered.
“Precisely,” said Lincoln. “They gave you up rather quickly.”
“How?” Mallory tried to push Lincoln’s arm away. This only made his white glove cover more territory — this time he massaged her neck. “It can’t be. I’m ages away from the last place they saw me.”
“Or so you thought,” Lincoln smirked again. “They saw you enter a van at some dump where homeless bums live under tents.”
Then it clicked. After everything Jim did to avoid being followed, Mallory and her friends blew their cover with their confrontation.
Why do I always mess everything up? If only I weren’t so needy, Jim would’ve left earlier — free from my problems and The Enterprise. And to make matters worse, it wasn’t even his home — it was his dear mother’s.
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