Destined For a Vampire

by M. Leighton

  I lay down in my bed, resisting the urge to soothe myself with the tricks I used to use, like turning on the television or opening the window. It was starting to feel like a way of hiding from reality, from my problems, and that wouldn’t do me any good. Maybe I needed to cowboy up and face them, think about them, figure out a way to solve them. I couldn’t very well do that if I completely avoided them.

  When I’d pulled the covers up to my chin and found myself staring blankly at the ceiling, I felt the draw of the familiar, of the one thing, the one person that consumed me.

  I turned my head on the pillow to look at the window. There was no one outside it, but I knew Bo was close. I could still feel him that certainly. I pushed the covers back and walked over to the window. With my hands resting lightly on the sill, I looked out into the dark night. And I waited.

  In less than a minute, I saw a figure emerge from the shadows beyond the driveway and make its way gracefully across the yard. If I hadn’t known, I could’ve guessed it was Bo by watching him move. He was like a light-footed predator, quick and sure.

  He stopped a few feet from the window. The dusk-to-dawn light backlit his head, giving him a halo, but I could still see his face well enough to know that he watched me. My heart fluttered and my stomach clenched, squeezing tightly around the dozens of butterfly wings that moved inside it.

  One slow step at a time, he made his way to the window. His nearly-black eyes never left mine until he was standing right in front of me, only a thin sheet of glass between our faces.

  He said nothing, made no other move, simply stood watching me, and I him.

  While I waited, I drank him in, and, as always, I was stirred.

  For the first time, I noticed that his glossy black hair had grown. It brushed the collar of his charcoal t-shirt. But other than that, he looked exactly the same as the first time I’d seen him: rock hard jaw cut from the palest of stone, straight nose, chiseled mouth, dark slashing brows. He was so handsome he took my breath away.

  And his eyes. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d gotten lost in their liquid depths, the number of times I’d wanted to. Over the last weeks, I could close my own eyes and picture his dark chocolate orbs with perfect clarity. They made me feel weak, just like they did now.

  I raised the window and stepped back. Bo was in front of me in an instant, staring down at me wordlessly.

  I shivered at his closeness, the embers of all that was between us leaping immediately to flame. But this time, the heat took a back seat to something troubling that I sensed in Bo, a sadness that seemed fresh and raw.

  My brow furrowed. “What is it?”

  Bo took the final step that would bring my body into contact with his and he drew me gently into his arms. Though I had no idea why, my heart felt like it was breaking.

  “What is it?” I repeated, my voice muffled against the side of his neck.

  Careful not to squeeze me too tightly, Bo held me as if he was a drowning man hanging on to dry land. It went a long way toward alarming me.

  Still he said nothing.

  And my concern mounted.

  “Bo, please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  I felt as much as heard him sigh.

  “I saw her.”

  My lungs seized inside my chest. Who? The girl that was bound to take my place at his side? The only girl in the world that I felt like I couldn’t compete with?

  “Who?” I asked, though I dreaded the answer.

  “My mother.”

  I gasped.

  “And?”

  “She didn’t even know me.”

  I closed my eyes against his pain. If a voice could bleed with a wound so deep, then Bo’s was like an arterial spray. My heart cried out for him.

  “Oh, Bo,” I whispered, wishing there was something I could do or say, anything to ease the hurt. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I doubted you.” It was a statement of fact. “I shouldn’t have.” And another. “I’m the one who should be sorry.”

  “I don’t blame you. If I didn’t think you needed to know, I wouldn’t have told you. I would never hurt you like that on purpose.”

  “I know. And I love you for that.”

  It was wrong of me to feel so much pleasure at his words when he was in such agony. But I did.

  Neither of us spoke for a long time. Bo simply held me, swaying gently back and forth. One of his hands stroked my hair, the other my back. And, while his touch sent chills racing down to my toes, the warmth of desire had succumb to a deep and abiding comfort born of love.

  After several minutes had passed, Bo reached down and scooped me up in his arms and carried me to the bed, where he gently laid me down and dragged the covers up over me. Without a word, he stretched out beside me and pulled me back into his arms. With my head on his chest, his invincible heart beating beneath my ear and his strong hands holding me tight, I knew I’d never be happier, more at peace. I knew I’d never be more whole.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  As far as Mondays go, it was probably one of the best I could remember. My day started with opening my eyes to see Bo standing over me. I must’ve heard him stir.

  It was still dark outside, but I could see in the moonlight pouring through the window that he was starting to fade. I didn’t know how long it had been since he fed.

  He smiled down at me, a smile that said he was feeling a little bit better, and then he leaned over and kissed me.

  “I’ll see you later.”

  “Do you have to go?”

  He nodded.

  “I won’t be far.”

  I blinked and he was gone. He’d already stolen out the window like a puff of cooling air.

  For the rest of the morning, I carried a glow with me. It burned inside my chest, making me feel warm and fuzzy all over. Each time an unwelcome, disturbing thought sneaked into my mind, I’d bury it ruthlessly. I refused to let worry and insecurity over the inevitable ruin one more day.

  By lunch, my glorious early hours had begun to lose some of their luster. It seemed that the high I got from being near Bo, the happiness and fulfillment that I felt in his presence, wasn’t lasting me as long as it once had. It was as if I required more and more as time went on, like my need was growing by the minute.

  People had been whispering all morning long, speculating about the fates of Summer, Aisha, Drew and Jason, the most recent disappearances. Most of the talk involved Jason and Summer since their altercation had not only been very violent, but witnessed as well.

  Bailey wasn’t at school to right the rumors, so people were making up all sorts of things to fill in the blanks. I’d even heard someone say that Summer had been winged. I nearly laughed out loud. Winged!

  I was carrying my tray to the lunch table, observing the easy conversation and relaxed atmosphere as I approached. I sat in Drew’s seat, not as a sign of disrespect, but because I didn’t want to give even the appearance of taking Summer or Trinity’s place as head nasty girl.

  As I squeezed dressing onto my salad, I listened to the various conversations taking place around me. When a hush fell across the table, I looked up to identify the cause. I stopped mid-squeeze as Aisha let the cafeteria door close gently behind her.

  Her normally-rich cocoa skin had an uncharacteristic pallor and her face was ashy in a way I hadn’t noticed before. Her sparkling brown eyes were dull and haunted. She looked terrible. Whatever had happened to her had obviously taken its toll.

  She made a bee line for me, giving all her well-wishers a nod of thanks and a small smile along the way. She sat down right next to me, just as she had sat next to Summer and Trinity before that.

  Once she was seated, everyone clamored for her attention, firing question after question at her. For a girl who truly loved the spotlight, Aisha looked incredibly uncomfortable. I couldn’t help the frown that pulled at my eyebrows.

  “Maybe we should give her a minute to breathe, guys,” I suggested, raising my voice just enough to be heard at our
table. “We’re all glad to have her back and I’m sure she’ll tell us what happened when she’s ready. Right, Aisha?” I said, looking at her meaningfully.

  I could see the gratitude light her troubled eyes. “Yeah, but there’s not much to tell. I can’t remember a lot of what happened, so…”

  She trailed off, effectively nipping any subsequent questions in the bud. If she had no memory, an interrogation was pointless.

  Disappointment was evident on many faces. They could see that they weren’t going to get a juicy story and they were deflated. It was ridiculous how much the people of my school lived, positively lived, for some good gossip. But, never fear. They’d have some spine-tingling, completely fictitious stories made up and ready to go by the end of the day. I felt sure at least a few of them would feature Aisha as some sort of caped super hero, too.

  When conversation finally started back up all around the table, Aisha turned to me and smiled.

  “Thanks, Ridley.”

  “No problem.”

  She looked at me expectantly, but I had no idea what to say to her. Like everyone else, all sorts of crazy explanations were flitting through my head. Unlike everyone else, however, I knew the scary kinds of things that were out there going bump in the night, things that were likely responsible for Aisha’s woodland disappearance.

  “So no one has seen Summer?” Aisha asked quietly.

  I felt the frown again. It wasn’t so much the question itself; it was the way she asked it, as if she knew something that we didn’t.

  “Well, did you hear about what happened at the dance?”

  Aisha nodded.

  “Yeah, well, that’s the only time anyone’s seen her since the bonfire in the woods Friday night.”

  Aisha nodded, glancing suspiciously around the table, as if to make sure no one else was listening.

  “Since she left with you.”

  Aisha’s eyes darted back to me and she watched me.

  “You do remember,” I whispered, careful to keep my expression casual so as not to alert anyone else to the seriousness of our conversation.

  Again, Aisha looked surreptitiously around the neighboring faces. When she made her way back to me, she met my eyes and shrugged.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “There’s not much to tell really. I can’t even be sure that it’s real,” she said, her voice quivering.

  “What? What did you see?”

  “It all seems like some kind of a weird dream. All these images and feelings…”

  “Such as?” I prompted.

  Aisha chewed her lip nervously as she searched for the words.

  “Well, I remember going into the woods with Summer. She had to pee, but she didn’t want to go by herself. You scared her that day at lunch, talking about the Slayer and stuff.”

  “Obviously not enough to cancel the party.”

  Aisha nodded. “That’s the last thing that I remember clearly. Everything else just seems, I don’t know, sort of fuzzy. Like a dream.

  “For some reason, I thought I saw Trinity, but she didn’t look like herself anymore. There was a lot of blood and I remember hurting and tasting something kind of rusty.”

  “And then what?”

  “I remember looking up at the trees in the daylight. The sun was shining and it was so bright, but I could see the branches. I heard Summer crying and somebody whispering and then my legs started hurting.”

  Aisha paused, her haunted eyes scared and confused as she looked back over the last few days. I didn’t rush her. I simply listened—carefully, anxiously. Full of dread.

  “Then there were crickets and a really weird squealing sound. And laughter.

  But it was scary laughter. Crazy laughter. It sounded like Summer.”

  “Did you see her?”

  “Well,” Aisha paused again, uncertain. “I can’t say for sure. I think I was still dreaming, because she was eating a- a—”

  Aisha’s chin started to tremble and her eyes filled with tears.

  “What?”

  “A pig, Ridley,” she cried quietly. “She was on her knees in the leaves eating a pig raw. Like, she was taking big bites of it. There was blood everywhere and pieces of meat stuck to her face and—”

  Aisha stopped, a gurgling sound bubbling in the back of her throat as bile crept up rebelliously. At her description, I could picture it as plainly as if I’d seen it myself. Saliva poured into my mouth.

  “I know they were dreams, Ridley, but they felt so real. I can’t get them out of my head.” Tears left wet tracks down Aisha’s ashen cheeks then dripped silently from her chin.

  “How did you get home?”

  “I don’t know. My mom woke me up crying this morning. She was in the kitchen. I guess she’d been up all night. She was bawling about me drinking and staying over at a boy’s house all weekend, but I had no idea what she was talking about. I told her I couldn’t remember what had happened and she told me not to lie to her. She said I’d admitted it when I came home last night.”

  Aisha sniffled pitifully.

  “But you don’t remember talking to her?”

  “No,” she said emphatically. “I don’t even remember coming home last night. She said it was, like, 2:00 in the morning. All I remember is the party on Friday, those weird dreams and waking up in my bed this morning. And I’m just so tired. There’s no way I could’ve slept somewhere all weekend,” she sobbed.

  When she glanced around the table and saw that several pairs of eyes had turned toward her suspiciously, she wiped at her cheeks and pulled herself together somewhat.

  “Aisha, have you noticed any marks on you? Bruises or scratches, cuts?

  Bites?” I added the last as nonchalantly as I could. She’d likely think I was talking about insect bites or animal bites rather than the type to which I was actually referring.

  Aisha nodded. “I’ve got all sorts of places on me. It’s like I rolled around in the woods or in a briar patch or something. There are marks everywhere.”

  “Nothing that particularly stands out, though?”

  For the first time, Aisha eyed me suspiciously.

  “What do you mean, Ridley?”

  “I just thought maybe you got a tick or something. You know they say lyme disease is dangerous. Makes you really sick.”

  Aisha’s eyes rounded in surprise. “You know, I didn’t even think of that.”

  I gave myself an imaginary pat on the back, congratulating myself for my quick thinking.

  “I know, right?”

  I felt satisfied when I saw the relief flood Aisha’s eyes. I’d given her a plausible excuse for what she’d experienced, for the strange things she’d seen, as well as the time she’d missed. Until she found out definitively otherwise, she’d think she had a case of lyme disease. But at least she wouldn’t think she was crazy.

  A healthy dose of guilt was lurking behind that fleeting sense of satisfaction, however, marring the momentary pleasure of it. I felt bad for lying to her. She’d likely been bitten by a vampire and then made to forget the whole experience. The holes in her memory were probably due to the vampire blood not being very mature, very potent. According to Bo and Lucius, there’s much to be said for the power of the blood. That made an even stronger argument for the case that the offending vampire might be Trinity.

  Trinity! How could I have forgotten her so easily? It was becoming painfully clear that she hadn’t forgotten any of us. I wondered if that’s what had happened to Summer. Had Trinity fed from her and made Summer lose her mind?

  Was Summer so weak that she’d fall apart after only one bite? Or even two? Lucius said it was possible.

  When I started to really think about it, Summer seemed exactly that weak.

  Personality-wise anyway. I had no idea what her actual constitution was like.

  Maybe Trinity had been feeding on her all this time. We’d probably never know.

  And the worst part was that, if Trinity decided to attack any of th
e rest of us, there was nothing we could do about it. Other than destroying her heart, there was no defense against her, against vampires.

  Except for Bo. He was our only weapon.

  Bo could take care of Trinity. He was her equal. Not even that. He was her superior. Whatever was really going on with Bo, whoever he really was, he was strong. And special. There was no doubt about that.

  Aisha and I sort of let the subject drop after that. I bent my head and plowed through my salad as she began engaging the people around her, evidently feeling much more secure in her sanity.

  I could see life seeping back into her eyes a little at a time, though she still wasn’t 100%. Something had happened to her—physically at the very least. Of that, I was sure. I could only hope that Bo would be able to do something to ensure that this kind of thing didn’t happen to anyone else, and certainly not to Aisha again. I doubted she’d be able to withstand another attack and remain the Aisha that we all knew.

  That afternoon, Aisha skipped practice, which didn’t surprise me one bit.

  Even though there was the hint of a spark back in her eyes, she still didn’t look like she could make it all the way through a single cheer.

  After practice, I carried my duffel to my car. I found that I was dreading going home, but at the same time, I was also strangely anxious. I knew that it wasn’t very likely that Bo would appear until after dark, especially if he had fed, which I could only assume that he had, considering his increasingly translucent state when he left my house. That’s why, rather than sitting around and watching the minutes tick by at home, I decided to visit Savannah.

  The one good thing about her being blind, the condition I thought just might save her life, was that she was rarely, if ever, alone. During the day, she was with her tutor. Nights and evenings, she was with her dad. I doubted that anyone would be stupid enough to attack her when she wasn’t alone. At least, I hoped that was the case. Of course, if this was Trinity we were talking about…

  When I rang the bell, Mr. Grant came to the door. He was wiping his hands, which made me want to kick myself for my second blatant show of inconsideration.