Dhampir

by J. H. Hutchins

  But this didn’t stop him from trying to free the wand from its wooden cage. Jayce tried numerous methods to open the black box:

  1. Did the normal twist of the key work? Of course not.

  2. Would applying pressure to one end of the box while turning the key work? Nope.

  3. Would it work if Jayce left the box in the middle of the street to be run over? Nah. This method was quite dangerous too, I might add. Jayce nearly caused an accident — and he’s quite lucky the street wouldn’t be too crowded until rush hour set in at around five or six.

  4. And did throwing the box around and stomping on it like a madman in the rain work? Hah! You already know the answer to that, my friend.

  Unfortunate. Jayce was now soaked — not just in rain, but in defeat. On top of this failure, the black box laughed at him by refusing to show any scars, chips, or any other marks to identify that Jayce had treated it like an abuse victim.

  So when a police car pulled up to the bus stop Jayce was anything but happy. And when it was Officers Liu and Allen from yesterday, he tried to flee. Too bad he left his backpack under the shelter of the bus stop.

  “Forgetting something?” Officer Allen shouted out to the seventeen-year-old runaway.

  Shit . . .

  “What do you want?” Jayce asked when he returned.

  “Have a seat,” said Officer Allen. “We’re not here to mess you up like I said yesterday. We just want to talk.”

  “About what?”

  When Jayce sat, the officers made it a point to sit on opposite sides of him.

  “Respect,” Officer Allen continued. “Not just for people like me, but especially for people like your grandmother.”

  “Listen, I know what I did was wrong, but—”

  “Quit talking, Jayce. It’s our turn to talk, and your turn to listen.”

  Jayce shook his head.

  “Your grandmother stuck her neck out for you and refused to say what led to you running away. To be honest, I’m sure it’s something we could have fun looking into, but she asked us to avoid that and try to chat with you. Should I use my integrity and listen to Mrs. Fletcher, or should we beat you like any father figure I grew up with would’ve to those they cared about?”

  “You can’t beat me. That’s illegal.”

  Officer Liu reached for her baton. Jayce turned to Officer Allen. He shrugged.

  “Use your integrity,” Jayce complied.

  “Why don’t you respect your grandmother?” Officer Allen asked.

  “I do.”

  Officer Liu leaned closer to Jayce, still holding the baton. Jayce gritted his teeth and squeezed the wand.

  HELP!

  “Respect comes in many forms, young man. None of them lead to someone you love fearing that you may cause harm to yourself or somebody else.”

  “I get it. I told you already — I was wrong.”

  “But now you can make it right. I can see you take care of yourself physically, but you need to clean up your act mentally. Talk to some friends. Go back to school. Lose the racist haircut. Bask in the beauty of life, my man. It’s what Mrs. Fletcher and the rest of the community want — especially from youth like you.”

  “What? With respect to Abby, you should all mind your business. Mentally, I’m stronger than ever. I’ll go back to school when I want. And my ‘racist haircut’? Go to hell.”

  Officer Liu grabbed Jayce by the neck. Officer Allen had to wave for her to drop her hold.

  “And what do you mean ‘youth like you’? Oh, you’re going to throw the shooting in my face like everyone else, aren’t you?”

  “Look—”

  “No, you look. I listened to you, now it’s my turn. I just have a series of questions for the both of you that should prove my point that my problems are alive because of you:

  1. What happened with The Bull? I know you know about it, or at least heard rumors. Why are you pigs refusing to cover the story as it happened?

  2. Why won’t you take down The Enterprise? I’m sure you’ve heard about how they are an international cabal feeding upon the soul of America! I know this personally because I guess Victim Boy was there to see yet another tragedy happen in this shithole. One of their bosses turned into a fucking Werewolf!

  3. And I know you know what a Spern is. I didn’t a few days ago, but there’s no way you liars don’t hold every secret Gatsby has to the chest. I’m sure if Martin Luther King died here you’d know who did it. So, tell me why these supernatural freaks are allowed to run around freely? How’d they even get here!?

  It was terribly hard for the officers to sit through the disrespect, but Officer Allen did his best and succeeded. But Officer Allen wasn’t the only officer on duty in their presence . . .

  “Shut up, boy,” Officer Liu snarled in his ear. “You know nothing!”

  “And neither do we,” Officer Allen assured Jayce. “You’re right when you say that the entire department has heard these concerns before. You’re right when your observations lead you to see that people — including me — believe that something strange is going on in Gatsby. But the evidence of these claims is foggy, at best. There’s nothing to prove that a ten foot bull with blades on his wrists exists. There’s nothing to prove that The Enterprise is anything but a greedy entertainment company looking to stretch their power beyond Gatsby. And there’s certainly nothing to prove that we — the people who have sworn to protect Gatsby — are in on some conspiracy to harbor ‘supernatural beings’. It’s absurd, and I’m done.” The lanky officer stood up and straightened his belt. “Get out more and be respectful to Mrs. Fletcher. Otherwise, our next talk won’t be so chatty.”

  “Pussies,” Jayce said as they walked back to their car. “Pigs! Cowards! Both of you are traitors to the human race!”

  The police sped away just as the bus arrived. Jayce clenched the wand box so hard he could’ve broken it if it weren’t basically indestructible. Seeing that the bus was crowded as hell didn’t help either. Jayce stormed into the bus and paid his fare.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Jayce saw something speed by. It was a red pickup truck. He and some other curious passengers watched as three individuals — two men and one female — hopped out of the truck and opened the cargo area. There, they grabbed somebody by their ankles and pulled them to the street below. Gasps struck the bus.

  Honk!

  The bus driver pounded his steering wheel to stop the trio from kicking whomever it was on the ground. It was too dark to see due to the clouds above, but the victim was stumbling their way toward the bus. The female from the trio stuck her middle finger at the driver before hopping back in with her companions and speeding off.

  Jayce and a few passengers battled the rain to help the victim inside. The victim covered their face with a cloak, but soon enough, it became evident who it was.

  Mallory!?

  Mallory held on to his coat for stability. She began pointing in the direction of the red truck down the road. Jayce couldn’t believe it. He saw how scary she looked at the cornfield, so there’s no way they could’ve done this to her alone. This made them a bunch of “cowards!” Maybe shouting such a thing wasn’t a good idea.

  Suddenly, the red truck stopped. It was as if they heard Jayce from the impossible distance between them. The red truck turned around and began rushing down the street.

  Shit!

  Jayce and the passengers hurried to get Mallory inside.

  Skrrrt!

  Mallory and the passengers barely escaped being hit by the truck — who swerved away just in time to avoid an accident with the bus. Slurs of some kind were heard being thrown out the truck’s window before they left.

  Inside the bus, Jayce joined the others in helping the princess.

  “Mallory?” Jayce asked.

  The princess ignored him, black blood smeared across her face, as she sat in the seat just behind the driver. She refused to go to the hospital, to get extra help besides a few tissues, or to hear Jayce as he called
her name. She waved him off, sending him further back into the bus. She was shivering.

  What happened to her?

  “Don’t worry,” he said, “I just want to know — why’d you run? There’s a lot that’s been going on and I really needed you to—”

  “There’s — nothing to say,” Mallory blurted out. She grabbed his coat again to get her next words across clearly. “Leave me alone.”

  Jayce had a hard time handling these words. Everything going on was too much. He slapped her arms down, causing the crowd to gasp.

  “You deserved this!” he yelled. “You lied to me! You swore you weren’t one of them and you lied! You promised, Mallory! You promised!”

  “Leave me alone!”

  Jayce nearly got kicked off the bus for his outburst. Instead, he pushed past them and sat all the way in the back. The stares and glares the passengers gave him made him even more furious. The seventeen-year-old put his head down and cursed them all for being “sheep.”

  Jayce didn’t even care where he was heading. The entire bus ride was awkward, as it was completely crowded but nobody sat near Jayce. They’d rather stand the entire trip than risk that. They had just arrived on the border between East Gatsby and Midtown when he heard some commotion coming from the front of the bus. Mallory had stood up. Jayce’s thoughts made him feel weird. The princess looked strangely alluring to him despite the haggard look of a victim. She trekked her way to Jayce — stumbling past legs and holding anything possible to help her stay stable.

  “Scoot over.”

  Jayce sighed and moved. When she sat, Mallory stared into his eyes. A passenger had placed two cotton balls in her nose.

  “I’m sorry, dear,” she admitted. “I’ve been through a lot recently and you were acting a bit silly. I’m not used to you being so aggressive in helping me. As you can see, I don’t want to lose any more blood.” She pointed at the cotton in her nose, causing Jayce to remember her nosebleeds. He couldn’t help but flash a smile.

  “You’re a lunatic,” he noticed. Before he could get up to move, Mallory swung her legs across his lap and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

  “You’re cute when you lose your temper.”

  “What happened?” he ignored her to ask.

  “With?”

  “With those people in that truck. They almost murdered us.”

  “They’re just a bunch of pups acting like bullies,” she grinned. “Did you know that it’s easier for people like them to act out aggressively instead of confronting their true emotions?”

  “People like them?”

  “Bullies, silly. They hate confronting the fact that they’re hurt so they take it out on people like me. They know I won’t fight back until provoked severely.”

  Jayce didn’t know where to place his arms. With her legs on him, he was a bit nervous.

  “Why are you using me as a leg rest?” he asked the Gothic princess.

  “I’m a bit traumatized,” she admitted. “And frankly, I feel more comfortable this way. I like connecting with others.”

  “Wait,” Jayce remembered, “why were you in that truck again?”

  “I made a mistake trusting a group of savages. It’s okay though. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. I’d rather get beat up than experience nothing at all. I used to live alone — all by myself, stuck in a room where the only visitors were servants and Lincoln. Loneliness is the most terrible feeling in the world.”

  “Just tell me everything,” Jayce sighed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “How about we start with the fact that you’ve got fangs.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Mallory opened her mouth. 32 teeth — perfect besides the stained blood on a few of them she missed during her clean up.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I do, dear, but are you sure you want me to talk about such things around all these people?”

  “Why not? Nobody in Gatsby seems to care anyway.”

  “And if they do?”

  “They won’t believe it for a second. Just go.”

  Jayce adjusted his position to make Mallory more comfortable in his arms. He didn’t look half as happy as her, but he tried.

  “Where do we begin?” the princess grinned, laying her head on his chest.

  “Who are you? Like, where are you from and stuff?”

  “My name is Mallory Vice — Daughter of Natas, Princess of Avalon, Rightful Heir to the Gothic Realm.” The way Mallory paraded through her introduction made Jayce feel like she wasn’t taking this seriously.

  “I’m not kidding.”

  “Neither am I, dear. That’s my title.”

  “What? That’s stupid. And long.”

  “It’s actually shortened. The long one is even more ridiculous.”

  “And you’re an alien?”

  “My father’s an Angel and my mother’s a Vampire — Colonial.”

  “Colonial?”

  “Yes. There are two types of Vampires in the Gothic Realm — Victorian or Colonial. They split after The Final War began.”

  “There’s more of you?” Jayce sighed. Mallory burst out into laughter.

  “More!? There are billions upon billions of us!”

  Jayce scratched his head. He was more confused than when he began.

  “Let me guess: Your war was with Werewolves?”

  “Correct. But it wasn’t my war. I wasn’t born yet.”

  “Why does it even matter what type of Vampire you are? Do you have special abilities that don’t involve scaring the shit out of people?”

  “Not really, but yes. Victorians lived under the rule of Queen Victoria and Colonials lived under General Colleen. The Fairy Godmother came to them after being chased from the Royal Castle. She gave them two options: Fight the war and force the Werewolves into submission, or use the Godmother and her thirteen Fairy Spirits to create a Vampiric society under the Dome. This was a mistake on the Godmother’s part. She should’ve never given them a choice. Victoria chose the Dome and Colleen chose to fight. Then the Werewolves gathered the support of the Shifters and every other race of Sperns and Victoria forced the Dome to be built directly on top of the Blood Chamber. Colleen and her survivors were left out of Victoria’s plans.

  “So,” she continued, “we have a dilemma where Victorian Vampires live under the Dome and Colonial Vampires live outside. Colleen ordered the death of Victoria and anybody serving under her, and Victoria — well, she didn’t have to do anything besides build, build, and build. The Dome is indestructible. Nobody can enter it without the Godmother’s permission, so Victorians simply had nothing to fear anymore.”

  “Tell me about how this plays into Sperns coming to Earth.”

  “The Godmother gave us a passage. For everybody else, I have no clue.”

  “But I thought Colonials lived outside?”

  “They do, but my father found a way in when I was really little. He worked his way up the ladder, killed a few people, and a hundred years later he became the King of Avalon. I’m lucky to be his daughter, otherwise, I’d be Angel meat.”

  “A hundred years? How old are you people?”

  “I’m one-hundred and sixty-six in Vampiric years.”

  “What!?”

  “Kassandra says it’s equivalent to sixteen in human years. We age slow, I know.”

  “Whatever,” he said. “No more info dumps. Just tell me if you can help me with this.”

  Jayce set the wand box on Mallory’s lap. His firm hold indicated how much he cherished the item.

  “Aww, but I love telling stories. I just don’t like hearing them.”

  “Figures.”

  “Don’t you want to know about my loneliness? My lifelong struggle to be loved? My connection to Lincoln?”

  No.

  “Yeah,” Jayce lied. “Tell me about Lincoln and your friends.”

  “Maybe later. I want to cherish this moment. It’s the best one I’ve had in awhile.”

/>   Mallory hugged Jayce. It felt good getting thrown out of the doghouse and into his arms.

  “I have a secret.”

  “Not another history lesson, please. I’ve been through enough today.”

  Mallory placed her glove on top of Jayce’s.

  “I know how to open this.”

  Jayce shifted to attention.

  “You can open it?”

  “Do you have the key?”

  “Yeah,” he said. He nearly pushed her to the floor in his attempt to shuffle through his bag for the key. “Why didn’t you tell me you could do this before?”

  “I don’t want to mess up the world any more than I already have.”

  “How does opening the box mess up the world? It would save it.”

  “I don’t know much about wands, magic, or any of that stuff. That’s usually reserved for Gothic humans — not Sperns.”

  “There are humans in the Gothic Realm?”

  “Barely. Nobody knows how they got there, but there’s some still around. A few of them use magic. It’s their only true protection from the other Sperns.”

  Jayce found the key hiding within the rubber band around the wad of money he brought from home.

  “Here.”

  “Not so fast, silly pants.”

  “What? Just open it.”

  “This is The Death’s Dawn. It won’t be that easy.”

  “We won’t know until we try. Stick it in.”

  “This wand is legendary in the Gothic Realm, dear. You owe me.”

  “Yeah. Whatever. Open it and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

  “No. You do what I want first.”

  Jayce sighed. His impatience was killing him. Mallory could feel it but also guessed that he had no choice in the matter. Without her, he’d be shit out of luck.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I had a theory earlier today,” she began. “A theory that will solve my problems once and for all. I want to end my life.”