by Alex Dire
“He staked me from behind when we had our little tussle across the street.”
Norman's fists clenched.
Then Skeete looked up at Norman. One eye opened further than the other, betraying a hint of genuine surprise. “He was human. You’ve made more Nymphs! I really didn’t think you had it in you. You have such a poor history of keeping them alive.” She smirked. “Our friend, Richie, went out in such a blaze of glory. Don’t you think?”
Skeet picked at a wound that ran deep. Rage gripped Norman, tensing all his muscles. It was as if his whole body was a fist, tight and shuddering. All he wanted was to rip her head from her neck, make her pay for Richie. It was all Norman could do to stop his shaking and limit his response. “You’ll pay for that.”
“There it is!” replied Skeete. “Now you sound like a man. If only you could have been that man for poor Richie.”
Educating teens required a larger than normal portion of patience. He knew Skeete was trying to provoke him to an emotional reaction. He also knew his only chance in this situation was to keep his cool and his wits. However, every teacher has a limit.
Skeete then looked down at the unconscious Keon. “Speaking of payment. I still owe this one for that stake he put through my heart. It couldn’t kill me, of course, but, damn, it hurt.” She looked up at Norman and locked with his eyes. “Cornelius. Might I borrow your beautiful knife for a moment?”
Cornelius re-drew the knife and placed it blade first in Skeet’s hand. “I find killing the ones you love, Norman, profoundly satisfying. Doing it in front of your face is…sublime.” Her smile flattened on her face and her eyes narrowed to slits. She flicked her wrist and the knife flipped into the air with the handle side landing in her palm.
Norman’s restraint evaporated. He hurled his body at Skeete, becoming a missile fueled by pure malice, devoid of strategy. No vessel could contain his rage, not even his own body.
He exploded into Skeete, grabbing at her neck. Cornelius had attempted a blocking maneuver again, but apparently Norman’s speed had taken even him by surprise.
Skeete failed to react for a moment. Her shock allowed Norman time to clench his grip tighter, completely closing off her carotid arteries. A few moments of this, and she’d pass out just as Keon had.
These moments did not exist for Norman and his class. In a half second, Skeete’s surprise turned to anger. In another half second she thrust the wood knife into Norman's side. He screamed as he felt the fibers of wood tear though his skin, muscle, and small intestine. One more half second and Cornelius had torn him off Skeete.
Norman now dangled by one of Cornelius’s fists. He pulled at Cornelius’ hand, trying to pry the fingers loose. Blood rushed out the gash in his abdomen. He felt the flow of blood to his brain slow.
He sensed Felicia. His connection to her allowed that insight. He knew she’d launch at any moment. He had to stop this. How? He had options.
His thinking began to slow as his neurons became more deprived of oxygen. He still sensed his progeny, though. He always would. She was ready to burst. It was Declan, however, who snapped first.
Declan put as much speed behind his weight as possible, charging directly at Cornelius. The frontal assault seemed to be the only plan he ever had. Felicia leapt into a sprint a fraction of a second later.
Cornelius quickly adjusted so that Norman dangled between himself and the oncoming Declan. When Declan’s mass hit them, it squeezed Norman between the two larger vampires. They flew through the air together. Cornelius’s grip loosened enough to allow air into Norman’s lungs and blood into his brain.
Felicia careened into Skeete. She was faster than Declan so she hit Skeete at nearly the same instant Declan struck Norman and Cornelius. She would make a good fighter if she lived long enough. However, her anguished yell indicated that might never come to pass.
Skeete had flicked the knife’s point at Felicia before she could complete her charge. Her momentum threw her into it. The point emerged, bloody, through her back. She wouldn’t last long in this fight.
Norman saw her peril, but couldn’t extract himself from between Declan and Cornelius as the three of them crashed to the floor. His own situation kept him from helping Felicia.
However, as if from thin air, Tyreese and Darius landed on Skeete’s back as Cindy charger her legs. Skeete tumbled and lost her grip on the knife. Felicia fell back, gripping its hilt.
Norman felt her pain. His instincts pushed him to struggle to her aid. Cornelius had other plans for him, though. In a moment, Cornelius had flipped Norman and Declan onto their backs and pinned them to the ground by their necks. Norman struggled and writhed under the muscular hand. He had a lot more experience than Declan with vampire combat. However, Declan had a different kind of experience he’d learned defending himself and his little brothers from his father. Declan made a quick, but strong thrust with his knee up into Cornelius’s groin.
Cornelius growled with pain, spittle spraying through his teeth. Declan seized the moment of initiative and quickly moved his hands from Cornelius’s fingers to his head. He pulled Cornelius’ head down and simultaneously thrust his own up. Norman heard the cartilage in Cornelius’s nose tear as Declan’s forehead shoved it through his skull.
Cornelius released them and brought his hands up to his face. Blood spurted out his mouth and nose.
Declan then made a second kick to his groin. With more space to maneuver, this kick was much more precise and powerful. Blood and mucus exploded out of Cornelius’ face as a guttural noise erupted from his throat. He got to his feet and stumbled back into the shadows at the side of the building.
Norman immediately turned to Felicia. She was on the ground, motionless. Norman could feel her heartbeat within him. She still lived. Beside her was Tyreese and Cindy. Norman felt their hearts, as well, although much more faintly. His leg rested on Felicia’s neck. Darius still stood on his feet, back against Skeet. She squeezed his neck in the bend of her elbow. She saw Norman about to pounce. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Norman.” She held the point of Cornelius’s knife against Darius’s sternum.
“Let him go,” begged Norman. Norman's voice cracked with despair. His mind raced for a way out. His reason began to give way to desperation.
“I have no intention of letting him go,” replied Skeete. She breathed heavily from the exertion of the fight. “I’m not letting any of you go. We’re not here to negotiate, or demonstrate our strength. We’re here to clean up. We’re getting rid of all our opposition. Starting with you.”
As she spoke, Norman felt something twinge inside him. It was faint, not like what he felt with Felicia. She was direct blood. The others weren’t. He looked to the ground and saw Keon slowly rising from behind Skeete. Keon had proven himself somewhat of a prodigy. Norman marveled at his courage in this moment. He absorbed the training much quicker than the others. He was a natural, but overconfident.
Before Norman could intervene, Keon had silently risen to his feet. Skeet displayed a wicked, knowing smile. In an instant, without taking her eyes off Norman, Skeete slipped the point of the knife to her side and thrust it through the crook of her armpit directly into the center of Keon’s chest.
“NO!” screamed Norman. All reason drowned, flooded by rage. He leapt into the air and was on her before Keon could hit the ground. Norman tore at her throat as she tried to maneuver the point of the knife to Norman’s chest. Over his own uncontrollable yelling, Norman heard Keon. At first Keon’s scream was one of pain, but then, as his life left him, it transformed to the terrible shriek of the dead, dying. A final death.
The sound drove Norman to a berserk attack. He’d torn out a piece of flesh from Skeete’s throat and his fingers gripped onto muscle and tendons and ripped them away. Keon’s scream faded from the room but intensified and echoed in Norman’s head. Norman kept tearing at Skeete’s throat. He tore an artery and huge volumes of blood sprayed into Norman’s face. His vision clouded with the viscous liquid. He stoo
d up over Skeete’s damaged body and wiped his face.
Norman realized time had stopped. He looked around to see that Felicia and Tyreese no longer lay on the ground. Declan had moved off as well.
The sounds of Keon’s dying scream faded from his head. Fighting sounds replaced them. Norman looked to the shadowy part of the warehouse. Declan held Cornelius from behind around the chest. Felicia held the blood covered wooden knife in her hands. Her work was obvious. The crotch of Cornelius’ pants was torn open and bloody. Gristle dangled from the ripped cloth. At any other time, Norman would have shuddered at seeing such a wound.
Tyreese had wrapped his arms around one of Cornelius's legs and bit savagely into his calf. Tyreese , Declan and Cindy kept him somewhat immobilized as Felicia inflicted wound after wound with the wooden knife. The cuts healed, but not as quickly as Felicia made new ones.
Norman looked back down at Keon’s body. A vision of a flaming Richie Taylor flying through the air flashed into his mind. The echoing death scream came back into his head. He looked over at Skeete. She’d lost most of her blood through her throat wounds. It flowed and puddled on the floor. Little volcano’s erupted when it ran over a fleck of sunlight.
Norman lifted his foot and smashed it down on her unconscious face. Her teeth cracked as his shoe shoved them into the back of her throat. He then bent and grasped her hand, dragging her across the floor into a swath of sunlight. Her whole upper body burst into flames from the portions where her mutant human skin had been torn away. Without hesitation, Norman marched toward Cornelius and his valiantly brawling students.
As he walked, he didn’t bother avoiding the beams and flecks of light that crossed his path. They seared char across his unflinching face. By the time he reached the fight, he was a flaming demon, fueled by rage and grief. He stopped next to Felicia and stretched his hand out toward the wooden knife in her hands. She looked up at him, and he saw fear in her eyes. She handed him the knife and backed away. He nodded at her.
Then, in one quick motion, he stepped to Cornelius and drove the knife into his eye, burying it’s point in his brain. Norman then let out a scream almost as terrible as that of a dying vampire. Cornelius crumbled to the ground.
Norman fell to his knees. He lifted his hands to cover his still smoldering face. Keon’s death scream faded to silence in Norman's head, as did the room. The only sound that remained was the crackle of fire.
Felicia approached and put a hand on Norman’s shoulder. He stood up and looked her in the eye. Unable to speak, he did his best to say, ‘thank you,’ with his eyes. He felt her pain almost as deeply as his own. Keon had been Norman's student, but he was Felicia's progeny. Her face seemed to crease with age before his eyes. She would never recover from this. Not fully. Neither would Norman.
At the center of the warehouse, flames still burned and poured a black smoke into the air obscuring Norman's vision.
He walked slowly toward the flames. His five remaining students followed behind him cautiously. Keon's body lay on the ground, his chest wound still leaking blood. Norman bent over and wretched. Vomit streamed from his mouth leaving lines of mucus trailing to the floor. Felicia ran to the body. She kneeled and stroked Keon's head, lips quivering.
Next to them was a large spot of ash where Skeete had lay a few seconds before. Norman scanned the room, looking for her. When he looked back to the warehouse’s single window, he saw Cornelius yank the knife out of his eye socket. He stood, placed it back in its sheath and pushed a near-limp Skeete out the window. Following quickly amidst the sounds of crackling fire and moans of pain. They were gone.
The six vampires formed a circle around Keon’s body. Norman closed his eyes tight, squeezing out tears. Keon was just a boy. He'd come to Norman to learn. Now he was dead. How could Norman let this happen? He opened his eyes. The Nymphs stared down. How could he let any of this happen? Five vampires. Children. He couldn't teach them. He could only get them killed.
As the sun moved higher, a beam of light fell on Norman's face. It evaporated his tears and burned a spot of his skin to black flakes. Norman never thought something could hurt more than the sun. Somehow, the searing heat was not enough to move him from his spot.
“Mr. Bernard.” Felicia rose from Keon's side. Norman remained stationary, half his face in flames. “Mr. Bernard!” Felicia gripped his shoulder and pulled him away.
The burning stopped, but the smell of charred flesh still filled Norman's nose. His own flesh. He looked into Felicia's eyes. He'd failed his own flesh.
“Mr. Bernard?” Her red eyes looked for answers. They all did. The students drew up around Norman. How could he let this happen? All he wanted was to keep the Nymphs out of this war which never seemed to end. Now, he’d lost one to it. One of his own. One of his kids. Avoidance had failed. He wouldn’t let this happen again. He was done hiding from Skeete Daniels. He was going to tear her skin off her body and let her fry in the sun even if it killed him in the process.
Flakes of char fell from Norman's face as the tissue beneath healed. “Um..” he tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry.
“What do we do?” said Felicia.
There was much to do. But first he had to keep his remaining students alive through this day. The sun was up and who knew when Skeete would heal and return. He pushed words out, over his parched tongue and through his flaked lips. “We’ll split up and keep watch at the window and door. We’ll feed as soon as the sun sets. It’s going to be a long day.”
“Then what do we do, Mr. Bernard?” said Felicia.
Norman wished he knew.
6
Observers
Norman looked into his own eyes in the mirror, barely glancing down at the sink as he scrubbed the dirt from his hands. Keon’s life had been too short, his vampire life even shorter. Felicia had special responsibilities in the burial ritual, but Norman had taken on much of the burden himself. She and the others had a long way to go to understand the changes they’d undergone and the new life they embarked on...if they ever got the chance.
He brought his hands up to his eyes. Dirt still remained under his fingernails.
Felicia was a complete mess. She was in Norman’s room toweling off. She would feel the dirt for a long time after it had completely washed away.
Keon’s body had been returned to the Earth. Norman thought of the phrase “ashes to ashes.” Few humans knew that this saying originated from vampire culture. It referred to the unfortunate vampire who found himself outside during the day. “Dust to dust” referred to humans of course. However, the religions and tales of humans failed to capture the truth in this motto. Humans were tied to the Earth. The very stuff of the ground gave them up for a short time, reclaiming them when that time was done. Norman thought it fascinating that literal pieces of the Earth could sprout from the ground and walk separate from it.
Norman was old enough to see just how short that separation was for mankind. Then they all became dirt again. The connection to the Earth was made strong by their inevitable and quick return to it.
Some vampire evangelists pointed to that, insisting that was why humans were divine. Vampire’s eternal nature required them to maintain the connection intentionally. These days, however, few did. Vampires seldom slept in the ground any more. The one’s who still did almost never left it.
Keon had returned to the Earth now, his brush with immortality far too short to test his connection to the dirt he was made of. In the distance, Norman could feel his forever dormant bones. However, his connection with Keon was weaker, once removed. Felicia would feel it more intensely. She would never rid herself of the feeling entirely. Norman knew that it was one of the many prices of immortality. She was not yet equipped to deal with her own remorse. Norman would need to guide her through.
Felicia. His own blood. Would he lead her to her death, like he had Keon? Norman couldn't bear that. Skeete would come for him again. Who would he lose this time? Perhaps he should resume his old ways. Moving from sch
ool to school when the time was right, never forming attachments. Of course it was too late for that now. His attachment to Felicia was forever. Could he leave her? Could he leave the rest of them? Maybe it would be better for them all if he did.
Norman spent most of that night at school in his office. He held a pen in his hand as if he intended to write with it. However, two hours into the school night and he hadn’t written a single word. His thoughts whirled in circles around his head. He questioned his plan to leave the city, to start over with the Nymphs somewhere new. He’d done it many times in the past. However, that had been to flee discovery or to put distance between himself and his own demons. It had proven easier to elude discovery than his problems. Wherever you go…
Flight seemed like a temporary solution. Hiding for any length of time seemed impossible when a battalion of invincible undead wished nothing less than your complete eradication.
Staying in the city, at Night School, seemed even more implausible. He might as well wait outside that self-storage building’s door for the army of invincibles to wake up. At least he’d spare the school and outsiders from becoming collateral damage. But his Nymphs…
Tired of rehashing the same arguments, Norman finally stood up and opened his office door. Elaine typed away at a computer behind the front desk. “Ms. Sperry.” He waited for her to look up from her monitor. “I’m going to do a hallway sweep. Buzz me on the intercom if you need me.”
When the main office door closed behind him, Norman heard the chatter of teachers speaking to their classes echoing through the halls. The words from the individuals blended together into senseless undifferentiated babble. Norman closed his eyes and listened. His precise hearing picked out Chris Huggins comparing an equation to a balanced see-saw. He heard Darren Wells singing student responses back to them. His techniques were unusual, but he derived a surprising amount of student loyalty from them. He picked out the mousy voice of a student reading Ophelia’s lines “He is dead and gone, my lady. He is dead and gone; At his head a grass green turf, at his heals a stone.” The lines made him miss his old class. Another voice, Kelly Houser, asked her class to list as many organisms as they could that reproduced asexually. Norman almost chuckled wondering if anyone would come up with “vampire.”