by Bones Monroe
Lamia studied Grace with furrowed brows. She put her hand on Grace’s chest. With an ever so slight nod of understanding, Lamia let Grace take a step back. She lifted the can and held it up to Grace’s face.
Grace’s nostrils flared at the scent right under her nose. She something strange was happening. Her mouth was moving, adjusting, re-positioning.
Her desire grew and swelled to a deep, ravenous craving. Her mouth opened involuntarily, and she only controlled herself for a few seconds. She grabbed the can with an inhuman quickness and bit into the rubber top with her freshly formed fangs.
The red liquid covered her tongue and slid down her throat. It was marvelous. She felt the bitter, iron-laden taste energize her, making her stronger and more alert. This was something she never knew she needed. She wanted more. She slurped greedily, with complete abandon. She was neither graceful nor elegant in her actions. She wanted that sweet nectar sliding down her throat as fast as possible.
Lamia let out a low chuckle while Grace was downing the last dregs. “The first time is always the best. You will always remember the first time you drank blood.”
“And that’s how it happened”, Grace said, finishing her story of how she became a vampire under Zach’s fangs.
“Turn ‘em and leave ‘em,” Lamia said. “That’s the way of life …and death.”
Grace dabbed the corner of her eye with a tissue. “I thought he was different. I thought we were special.”
“You had love unlike any others? One for the ages?” Lamia asked.
“Yes! That! Exactly that!” Grace agreed.
Lamia smacked the back of Grace’s hand gently in reproach. “You’re just a teenager with raging hormones. I think you were blowing things out of proportion. But you were right on one count, though. He’s different all right. He’s undead. Not much that can be done now, child.” Lamia slowly shook her head sorrowfully. “Welcome to the Afterlife.”
“But I wasn’t ready to be a vampire yet. I wanted to wait and live a little as a human, then I …” Grace trailed off.
“I could tell you wanted to be a vampire. I saw it in you when we met. Let me guess, you have always been unpopular or outcast in your previous school. Did they have any inhumans? Did you have them as your friends?”
Grace nodded.
“You got what you wanted, just not when you wanted it. Question is, had you really thought it through? Or was it a whim?” Lamia asked.
Grace’s eyes darted around the room, but she didn’t answer.
“Child, do you have any idea how much things are going to change now? Sunlight, blood, enhanced sensitivities. Have you even read anything about the Change?”
A fresh tear rolled down Grace’s cheek. “No. I’m scared. I don’t know what to do. My father will kill me!” she wailed.
“No, no he won’t. You’re already dead, and he loves you. He’ll just have to adjust.”
“You don’t understand. You don’t know him. I can’t tell him,” Grace said anxiously. “He’s very … set in his ways,” she said, searching for the right words.
“You must tell him. He’s your father.” Grace’s look of utter defeat and terror at the prospect of telling her father she was now a vampire would have melted Lamia’s heart, had she had one that was beating. Grace was so grateful to Lamia for understanding her dilemma; no doubt the old soul could remember her first days as an undead.
Lamia placed a hand on Grace’s shoulder. “I’ll help you learn the basics of your new undead condition if you promise me you’ll tell your father. We must get him ready for it. It’s quite a shock.”
“Ok, I promise, but not yet. Let me keep it a secret until I get a handle on it.”
Lamia nodded agreeably. “Ok first things first. Sunlight. Each one of us has different tolerances. I can’t stand it, but you might tolerate it better. We will need to test you.”
“What about blood?” Grace interrupted. “How much? How often? What type?” She wanted to ask everything at once and the questions ran into each other.
“Why don’t you grab two more cans and let’s tackle things one by one. You have a lot to learn.”
After a long talk with Lamia, Grace went home and told her father a decision she had made. He did not take it well.
“You WHAT?” Ben screamed. Then he remembered how the walls were paper-thin and continued his rant in a normal tone. “What has gotten into you all of the sudden? I thought you were making so much progress and now you pull this stunt? What are we going to do now?”
Grace looked at the ceiling with a patronizing Fathers, what can I say shrug of her shoulders. “It’s not that big of a deal, Father. Why does everything have to go your way? It’s like nothing is ever good enough if it isn’t the way you think it should be.”
Ben hadn’t stopped pacing and throwing his hands up in frustration. “But—but night school? That’s for delinquents and people with no future. You’re different,” Ben complained. “You’re better than that.”
“Stop it with the stereotypes, Father,” she said, putting her hands over her ears. “I want to get more work experience with Oliver. I’ll still be able to get my diploma and go to college. This is better for me.”
“No,” Ben said, shaking his head. “This is not a good idea. Why do you want to do this? Can’t you stay in normal school? You’re a senior; you’re almost finished,” he pleaded.
Grace had prepared for this argument. She pulled out the big guns. “Daddy, the more hours I work, the more practical work experience I will get, and the more money I’ll have to help around the house.”
She knew what made Ben tick. That well-placed argument pierced all his defenses. He had always said he wanted Grace to have practical work experience, and they needed the money. They were living off savings. The interviews weren’t going well.
His shoulders sagged in defeat, “Ok, you can go to night school. But please promise me you will keep your grades up and take the hard classes. You can’t slack off.”
“I promise Daddy!” she said excitedly. Her plan was coming to fruition.
“That’s how I managed it”, Grace told Lamia in her kitchen the next day. Lamia was digging into a large bowl of ice cream that Grace had just brought her. “Oh, I love this new flavor,” she said, wiping drips of Hot Hangnail from her chin.
“Yeah,” Grace said. “That flavor boost of Vanilla Tartar is a crowd favorite.”
Lamia finished her dessert and slid the bowl onto the table, then gave Grace her full attention. “But you really didn’t need to switch to night school. You said you could tolerate sunlight,” Lamia reminded her.
“Sunlight doesn’t hurt that much, but it gets tiring. It’s like squinting all the time,” Grace explained.
“I have a little something for you,” Lamia told Grace. She got up from her chair and fumbled around in the utility drawer, coming up with a pair of eyeglasses and a small tube. She handed them to Grace. “Those are Ray’s Bane’s, only the coolest vampires have them. Made by Wolfie’s, the preeminent eyeglass designer.”
Grace slipped the glasses on, her eyes popping wide with delight. “Are you serious?” Grace cooed over the fashionable sunglasses. “These are way expensive!”
Grace pulled out her phone and took a selfie with her snazzy new shades on.
Lamia smiled, “Don’t worry about it. I called in a favor.”
Grace put the sunglasses on her head and read the label on the small tube:
BY PRESCRIPTION. FOR EXTERNAL USE. NOT FOR OPHTHALMIC USE. MAY CAUSE DEATH FOR HUMANS.
FANGTASTIC SUN PROTECTION CREAM WITH MOISTURIZER
MAXIMUM PROTECTION SUNBLOCK
SPF 7,000
‘Now you can go where the sun DOES shine!’
“That’s the secret. Some vampires have extreme light sensitivity and that’s how they blend into society. If they smear that cream all over their exposed skin, they can go outside during the day without an issue.”
“Do you use it?” Grace asked.
“Absolutely, but at my age, I find it easier just to stay home. I’m more comfortable here, but when I need to talk to the animates, that stuff there’s my savior. I have a large supply. Come get more when you need it.”
Grace beamed. “Ok, thank you so much for helping me,” she said excitedly.
Lamia turned serious. “We had a deal, didn’t we?” she asked. “Have you told your father?”
“No, not yet. I told him about night school. I’ll tell him the rest in a few days. I need to plan it out.”
“Will you be able to work during the day with Oliver?” Lamia asked.
Grace nodded. “Yes, luckily, the windows are treated and there’s enough shade that it’s much more bearable for me than being in direct sunlight. Oliver’s lucky, he’s not affected by light.”
Lamia nodded. “Seems like you are making progress. I know that being turned is quite a shock, but you are taking to it like a werewolf to a bone.”
“All because of your help! I gotta go. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Lamia picked up her cell phone and called out, “Wait, you left this on the table …” but Grace was gone.
Grace got home, prepared to confront Ben. She felt sure he had something in store for her, because he was still upset about her decision to switch to night school.
She decided to take the bull by the horns. “Hey, Dad, are you still upset?” she asked as she plopped down on the couch next to him. That was a bad move. The tube of sunblock slipped out of her pocket and fell on the floor.
They reached for it at the same time.
“What is that?” Ben asked.
“Ohh, nothing.” It took her a beat to come up with an excuse. “Just some new makeup,” she said nonchalantly.
Ben raised an eyebrow. “Really? I thought you said that was too much of a hassle and you hated the concept. ‘Makeup is for the shallow.’ Wasn’t that what you always said?”
She shot him a look of wounded indignation. “I can change my mind, can’t I?” she said. “That was back then. I’m an adult now. Makeup has its uses.”
“And it’s my right to know what you bring into my home.” He reached down and snatched the tube from the floor and read the label.
“What. Is. This.” Ben asked, pausing ominously after each word.
“Sunblock?” Grace said in a tiny voice.
“Don’t get smart with me young lady. Don’t they teach you classes about illegal drugs in school?”
“Yes, Father but that’s okay. It says, ‘by prescription only’ right there.”
“This is highly, highly regulated. You certainly do not have a prescription for this. You don’t need this. Why do you even have this? Do you have an idea how much trouble you can get in for having this?”
“It’s not mine! I swear. I’m just holding it for a friend!”
“Who? Who gave you this?” Ben asked pointedly.
“A vampire at school,” she lied.
“Is this why you want to go to night school now? Is that the real reason? You’re dealing in these potent, undead drugs? Do you know what this can do to you? Look, it says right there. He stuck the tube in her face and read the label. “Can cause death in humans! And it’s all in CAPS! That means they are serious about it. You can read, can’t you? Do you want to die? Is that what you want?”
“No,” Grace squeaked out.
“I want to call your friend’s parents. I don’t care on which side of life he is on, his parents have to know about this.”
“It’s just sunblock, Father. All the vampires use it.”
“No, no, they do not. Just because they made it legal for recreational use, does not mean that juveniles can use it without parental consent. Get your phone. We are calling the parents. Right. This. Minute.”
Grace reached into her pockets searching for her phone. “I don’t have it.” She checked her pockets again, then ran her fingers around the seat cushions. “I lost my phone.” She panicked. “Where’s my phone?”
Ben wasn’t buying it. “Stop trying to stall. Get your phone and make the call.”
“I’m serious, Dad. I don’t have it,” she said.
“Ok, where did you see it last?” he asked.
Grace thought for a minute and remembered. “I went to visit Lamia. I took a photo, and I must have left it there. I'll run back and get it.”
“Ok. I’m going with you. I want to say hi.”
***
Ben and Grace knocked several times, but she didn’t reply. They tried the front door. It swung open silently.
Grace gasped when she looked inside.
“What? What do you see? It’s too dark. Did you hear something?” Ben asked.
Grace remembered that she had to tread carefully in front of her father and pretend that she was human, with normal senses. Until she told him the truth, that is.
Grace pushed open the door, letting in more light.
“I think she’s there. I see a shape,” she said. Grace turned on the small lamp in the corner, bathing the interior in weak light.
Ben scanned the room and when he saw the couch, it was his turn to gasp.
They heard another gasp behind them.
Ben yelped, Grace squeaked at the new sound. They whirled around to see Oliver standing behind them, a hand covering his mouth in surprise.
“What happened?” Oliver asked.
“I don’t know. We just got here,” Ben said.
All three turned to stare at the couch.
Lamia was there, or more precisely, most of her was there. She was leaning over the couch’s armrest. She was decomposing. Everything below her lower abdomen was quickly disintegrating into a fine gray ash.
They watched as her body disappeared until there was nothing left. She was gone.
“Another one,” Oliver said, hanging his head.
“What do you mean by that?” Ben asked.
“I came to tell her the news that three other inhumans were reported deceased. She’s the fourth.”
“What? There are more?” Grace asked in a panic. “What do you think is going on?”
“I really don’t know. I was hoping she would know more. She always rejects my offers for ice cream, but I would offer her today’s flavor to see if I could sway her,” Oliver showed two containers in a bag he was carrying. “And talk about it.”
Grace sat on the floor and looked up at them in despair. “But what am I going to do now? She was teach—” Grace coughed, realizing at the last moment she almost gave away her secret, “such a nice lady, telling us all about this neighborhood. Teaching us about it.”
Ben knelt beside her, taking her hand. “I know darling, I know. But she had a long, fulfilling life and an even longer afterlife. That’s the best we can ask for,” Ben said in his most consoling voice. “She got a second chance and, as you know, there are no third chances. The road ends at two.”
“She’s gone, just like that? Why?” Grace looked at Ben helplessly and burst into tears.
Ben hugged her, stroking her dark hair.
Oliver turned away from the decomposing remains on the couch. “Things have been strange here lately. I’m sure you’ve heard that many people have been getting sick. The other three I came to tell her about, were all sick. I think it’s getting worse.”
“But she wasn’t sick!” Grace countered.
“She must have been. Maybe she wanted to,” Oliver threw up air quotes, “Keep up appearances”, he said
“This is terrible! The humans will try to drive us out of here. CURE will be here causing all kinds of trouble,” Grace said.
Ben gave her a puzzled look. “Since when are you so passionate about inhumans and CURE?”
“It’s just the general chatter around here and the kids at school. I mean, we live here now so I don’t want trouble.”
He nodded pensively, not sounding convinced. “I see.”
Grace groaned internally. She knew that tone meant, ‘we’ll talk about it at home’.
“I will let the authorities know about this. They need to know,” Oliver said.
“Authorities like CURE?” Grace said aghast. “You aren’t serious, are you?”
“Serious as cancer. There have been several deaths. This could be the start of an outbreak. They must know. They can hopefully contain it.”
“He’s right, Grace,” Ben agreed.
“Here, take the ice cream. No sense in having it go to waste,” Oliver said handing over the bag before he said goodbye.
Ben watched Oliver leave. As he and Grace walked home, he fell a few steps behind her. Looking up at the sky in anger, he shook his fist at the heavens. “I know you were behind all this, Author,” he muttered. “Killing the few good undead among us.”
At home, Ben said, “I need a minute.” He went into the bathroom, the only place he could get some privacy in the tiny apartment.
The tension hung in the air around North Wellon was like a years-long accumulation of plaque on half-rotten incisors, nasty and gummy with hints of the last meal. Saying it was an uncomfortable situation would be the understatement of the century.
The neighborhood had hastily convened a meeting to discuss Lamia’s death. An audience of mostly undead, except for Ben and Grace, met in a cul-de-sac several blocks away from her home. They arranged the cheap plastic chairs in a semi-circle. Everyone who wanted to speak had three minutes to make their point, air their grievances, or make a tribute to Lamia before the next person’s turn.
They were angry. Incensed. Lamia was one of them but there was the understanding that she was pivotal to North Wellon. She was the peacekeeper, their buffer, their only negotiator with the humans. The humans who wanted to keep the inhumans away, out of sight until they needed them. Who better than a zombie to clean up a radioactive waste site? Stupid humans went hiking in the wilderness unprepared and without an emergency locator? Call in the shifters. They would sniff the ground and scour the skies until someone found them. Sometimes the humans thanked them, most of the time they didn’t.