Night School Book 1: Vampire Awakening

by Alex Dire

  Norman surveyed his class. They had surpassed his expectations. They’d brought that roof down and let in the light that took care of most of the Corps. V. Norman knew that wood would prove useless against some of them because of the mutant human hearts. That’s why he schemed to get them into the light. However, he hadn’t imagined that they’d applied the technology to give themselves a second skin. Immunity to wood and to sunlight. That was a recipe for global disaster.

  Juda’s elusive qualities had turned out to be his salvation. Norman felt glad that they’d destroyed them all…except Skeete. He wondered if Skeete would survive her wounds in the sunlight. They’d never heal as long as they remained exposed to the light and they’d keep burning deeper and deeper until her skin couldn’t regenerate. Skeete had probably found some abandoned cellar somewhere to cower and nurse her wounds. Neither Norman nor any of his friends could pursue her until after nightfall. And by that time, Skeete could be anywhere.

  Norman shook off his thoughts of Skeete and glanced around to take stock of survivors. All his students had regrouped around the door of the warehouse. His friends remained inside, hiding in the margins to avoid the light blasting through the roof. Chubs comforted his brother. Felicia and Declan inspected each other’s wounds. Rae and Hector did the same. Skip checked in with each vampire, politicking already. Saul was gone, staked through the heart and his corpse consumed by the sun’s rays.

  Then there was Richie. Richie had grown weaker and weaker since he’d come back to them, his body running out of nutrients for his human heart. He’d sacrificed himself to show them the way to fight the super-Corps. V vampires. Norman’s vampire heart sank at the thought of his pupil-turned-student teacher. He’d taught him so much over the last few months. They’d nurtured the special bond a vampire shares with his progeny.

  Ultimately, Norman had failed Richie. He slouched against the side of the warehouse and slid down onto the floor. How could he let this happen? He wondered anew how he could have let Richie go back to his classroom to check for students when Skeete had attacked in the principal’s office. They should have gone together.

  Norman determined that it was too hard to train a vampire in this new world. The old networks, supports, and communities had been destroyed by war. Norman would be content to resume his role as sole survivor. Only now, he knew he wasn’t. He knew Hector, Rae, and Skip had survived the war, too. Skeete might be out there, too. Norman resolved never to create another vampire again. Never.

  He looked up and saw Felicia and Declan holding each other. Things would have to be a little more complicated than that. He owed it to them. They looked up at him as he approached.

  “You’ll need to stay with me for a while. You can’t go back to your homes.”

  Felicia said she stayed with her grandmother, but was always in and out month-to-month. She wouldn’t be missed. Declan had a similar arrangement. He slept on his brother’s girlfriend’s couch. He’d never go to his real home anyway, unless he wanted a beating from his dad.

  “You too, Stanley,” said Norman.

  “No thanks, Mr. Bernard,” replied Chubs.

  “You’re different now. Things will be different for you. I can teach you,” explained Norman.

  “I think I’ll go underground with the councilor. He’s going to try to put the party back together. Wants me in it,” Chubs looked off into the distance. “Besides, all I’ve ever been up here is a monster.”

  “You’re not a monster. You saved my life,” responded Norman. “You’re a hero.”

  Chubs looked back at Norman. “Exactly. Things are different for me. Up here in the light of day, I’m a monster. Down there, I can…” Chubs looked down searching for the words to complete his sentence. He looked back up. “I can be a hero.”

  Norman knew he couldn’t change Chubs’ mind. He nodded in acceptance. Then he turned to the rest of his class. “Kids, it’s over. Go to your homes. You’re safe now.”

  None of them moved. They all looked at each other, then back at Norman. Cindy spoke up for the group. “If it’s all the same, Mr. Bernard, we’re staying here with you until the sun goes down.”

  Norman couldn’t force them to leave. He had to remain in the shadows for the next eleven hours or so. “All right, but a soon as the sun sets, we all go directly to the police together. I’ve got an idea of what to tell them about our whereabouts for the last couple of days.”

  They all made themselves as comfortable as they could in what shadows remained around the edges of the building. Norman lay back and closed his eyes, hoping to get some sleep. He could tell almost instantly that it would not come easily. It was going to be a long day.

  Epilogue

  5:22 pm. Apparently, the alarm had been ringing for twenty-two minutes and Norman had slept through it. He shot out of bed and whirred through an accelerated version of his morning routine. He sprinted out the door and slowed to a human pace as he walked down the street to avoid suspicion. Curbing your abilities was an essential skill when attempting to live inconspicuously among humans. He checked his watch and hustled his way to Fiore’s Bakery, late for his morning ritual.

  Young Fiore greeted him with a smile. “Norman, welcome. The usual?”

  “Yes,” replied Norman. “Actually, make it double.”

  “Double?” responded Fiore. “What’s the occasion?”

  He smelled the stenches coming from the alley down the street. No donuts for the homeless who slept there tonight. Norman had a debt to repay. He abandoned caution and blurred down the sidewalk. He wound his way through the city avenues. Time seemed to go slow when he moved this fast.

  Finally, he stopped. He stood on the sidewalk looking up at a mint green house. He could make out the dilapidated shed he’d once tried to use for cover with Skip.

  Norman listened intently. He didn’t want to alert the dweller within again. That had worked out badly for him last time. He perceived the sound of voices talking and then laughing. The glow of a TV emanated from the shaded window. He heard no other sounds from inside. Apparently, the old man within was not on high alert, yet. The sun had just set. It was early. Too soon for people to become afraid.

  Norman walked as silently as possible up the front steps of the old man’s house. Despite his efforts, the boards creaked and groaned with each step. Hopefully, the TV would cover the sounds of his mercy mission. Once at the front door, Norman left the two large bags of baked goods on the porch. He reached up and pushed the doorbell button. He heard the first ding, but then he was gone. It was a school night and he was about to be late.

  Arriving at the steps of MLK Night School, Norman stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. He thought of all the time he’d spent in a classroom over his considerable years and wondered if he’d made a big mistake coming back like this.

  Norman stood at the office door and looked over the front desk at the secretary. A young woman, maybe twenty-four with a blond nouveau-beehive, collated papers together and bound them with a paper clip. Norman thought of all the times he’d seen Gladyce Hornblend doing the exact same thing. Not seeing her anymore would be quite a change. However, everything had changed now.

  The secretary looked up from her work. Her hands kept collating as her blue eyes met his. “Can I help you?”

  Norman snapped out of his trance of memory. “Um, yes. I’m Norman Bernard.”

  “Yes, Mr. Bernard, what can I do for you?” Her hands continued to whir along with mechanical speed.

  Norman wondered what brought her to Night School.

  Then, halfway through her next ream, her hands stopped. Her eyes widened. “Oh. Mr. Bernard. Of course. Let me get you settled in.”

  She came out from behind the front desk and extended a hand. “I’m Elaine Sperry. I’ll be your secretary.”

  Norman shook her hand. Norman had no idea what to do with a secretary.

  “Let me take you to your office.” She swung the office door open, pausing to allow Norman in first.


  He stepped into the headmaster’s office and panned around the room to take it in. All the old furniture had been replaced. The carpet was lush and not yet drained of its original color. There was no hint of the macabre scene from Norman’s last visit.

  “They totally redid it when the school was shut down,” said Elaine, noticing Norman’s hesitation.

  “They certainly did.”

  Elaine stammered and bit her lip. “They said not to talk to you about it, but…” She hesitated.

  Norman smiled and nodded. “It’s OK.”

  “It’s great, what you did,” she said. “You saved those kids.” An earnest expression shined from her face. Then, her visage changed to worry. “Do you think they’ll be back?”

  Norman hoped the hell not. He could explain why he couldn’t be sure. He could explain that he didn’t know what became of Skeete, or if she’d try to make more vampires, to rebuild her clan. However, he’d planned for this. He knew what to say.

  “I think the cops got most of those guys and smashed up their drug lab. Let’s hope our students don’t get mixed up with any of that stuff again.”

  She sighed. “Thank God.”

  “Do you mind if I get settled myself?”

  “Oh, of course.” She left, closing the door behind her.

  Norman walked across the office and stood in front of the desk. He ran a finger along the edge as he walked around it. Finally, he fell down into the chair and took in the view of the room from behind the desk. He opened the top drawer. There was a pen and a stack of sticky-notes in it.

  He’d had the teaching thing pretty well figured out after all these years. Administration was a whole new challenge for him. He didn’t know the first thing about running the school. However, after his hero’s welcome, Superintendent Shawbrin practically insisted that he take the job. He’d told Norman that the community demanded it. Norman was certain, though, that Shawbrin just couldn’t find anyone else willing to take the helm of MLK Night School.

  A knock rang out. A fuzzy silhouette stood outside the frosted glass of the door.

  “Come in.”

  The door opened partly and Elaine Sperry poked her head through. “I’m sorry to interrupt you so soon. I know you wanted to get settled.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve got a new student. Could you meet with him briefly before we send him to class?”

  “Of course,” replied Norman, wondering if this was the standard way to incorporate a new student mid-year.

  The door opened the rest of the way to reveal a young African American man. Norman had him pegged at seventeen years old. He wore faded, torn dungarees and an old army surplus jacket, but something threw off his ensemble. He wore glasses. Many Night School students needed glasses, but few ever wore them.

  “Thank you,” said Elaine closing the door and retreating back to the front desk.

  “Have a seat,” said Norman, eyeing the student as he moved across the office and sat in front of him. “What’s your na—”

  Norman couldn’t complete the last word. He noticed something about the youth that seemed far more abnormal than a pair of glasses. He noticed a piece of jewelry that the boy wore around his neck. It was a simple chain of interlocking gold links. Dangling from the chain was a symbol—a golden eye surrounded by a five pointed star.

  “My name’s Elijah. I believe you knew my associate, Naseem.”

  Get Night School 2

  Pre-order Night School Book 2: Vampire Legion

  (Releasing In November.)

  Night School Book 3: Vampire Ascendance

  (Coming in December)

  www.alexdire.com

  alex@alexdire.com

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  Also by Alex Dire

  NIGHT SCHOOL SERIES

  Book 1: Vampire Awakening

  Book 2: Vampire Legion (Pre-oder Now)

  Book 3: Vampire Ascendance (Coming in December)

  HUNTED BY MAGIC SERIES

  Demon Marked (Coming Soon)

  Demon Blood (Coming Soon)

  Back of Book Stuff

  As I write this I am starting my sixteenth year as a school teacher. However, the idea for the book came about during the first month of my first year teaching. As seems to be the case with all new teachers, I struggled mightily with classroom management. Keeping twenty-eight adolescents focused on work when they wished to be focusing on anything else was a daunting task. That year I remember thinking that teaching was sort of like piloting a plane for a landing. As the saying goes, “Any landing you can walk away from is a good one.”

  That’s how I came to thinking of my first days in that little urban k-8 school in Boston. If my students and I finished class and everyone was okay, that was a win. And it was not always the case. One lovely autumn morning, I decided to take the students to a small patch of green behind the school to do a habitat study. The previous day I’d spent the afternoon creating search areas with stakes and string, so each group of kids had their own habitat to explore. To my surprise, under the larger rocks, I discovered salamanders. How did such delicate creatures thrive in a space wedged between a brick building and an expressway?

  I tried hard to anticipate the flow of the class and the ways the day could go wrong. Having roped off the habitats, prepared field guides and record sheets, and mounted everything on clipboards complete with a pencil dangling from a string, I endeavored to take the fifth graders on their first habitat study. It did not go as anticipated.

  The lesson began well enough. I enjoyed watching the students discover the salamanders under the rocks. They squealed with delight. Many jumped back, never having seen such a creature before. I rushed in to make sure they treated the animals with care. This is when the problems started. Questions and requests for assistance came in fast and furious. I found myself bounding between habitats, helping students ID bugs and plants, settling disputes, and getting groups back on track. I never sweat during a lesson so much.

  Finally at one point, when everyone needed me at once, I turned from one team to help another and saw a student swinging a classmate around by the arms. It was play, but completely off task and not exactly safe. The student slipped out of the others hands and skidded across the pavement. Ouch.

  Feeling absolutely terrible, I quickly lined the students up to go back inside. Not only had this not been the learning experience I’d intended, but a student got hurt. Not exactly a landing everyone could walk away from.

  I resolved to do better with my classroom management and control. I began using my off period to observe veteran teachers in their classrooms. From the very first observation, the difference was stark and amazing. Students moved about the room quickly and quietly working through the day’s lesson. No arguing. No barrage of questions for the teacher. No goofing off.

  The amazing part was, I didn’t see the teacher doing anything. The kids just did what they were supposed to and the teacher cruised the room asking probing questions and pointing out portions of their work that might need more thought.

  It was as if he was working magic. It was like the students were glamoured. That’s when I thought the perfect teacher would be a vampire. He could just glamor the students into doing what he wanted.

  Thus, Norman Bernard was born: a teacher with a secret weapon. He was a vampire. This was an asset that every urban school could use.

  I put a lot of my own experiences into Norman's classroom. Many of the personalities came directly from my time in Boston Public Schools. If any former students read this book, perhaps you’ll recognize yourselves in here.

  Sixteen years later, I’m still teaching. Now my principal sends new teachers to observe my room to watch me work my magic. I wince a little when they ask how I do it, and I think back to that day in the patch of green behind my old school. Ultimately, it didn’t take a bite from a vampire to
master my classroom. It came with time, experience, and a whole lot of love for my students, my kids.

  I hope I’ve been able to put a least a fraction of that love into Norman Bernard. Thanks for reading. See you in book 2.

  www.alexdire.com

  alex@alexdire.com