Vampire Innocent_Book 3_The Artist of Ruin

by Matthew S. Cox

  “Are there vampire cops?” asks Sam.

  “Umm.” I shrug. “No idea. There’s probably at least one vampire out there who used to be a cop.”

  “They’re not still a cop?” asks Sophia.

  “Well, maybe if they stick to night shift,” says Dad, chuckling.

  “Oh, duh.” Sophia makes a silly face.

  I fill everyone in on my little mission to go pick up a doll.

  This, of course, gets Sophia squealing with delight. “I wanna see it!”

  “Well, I’ll be gone all day tomorrow and flying home at night. I might have to stop here before I can bring it to her.”

  “Yay!” cheers Sophia.

  Well, I suppose I should be thankful Mom doesn’t grill me any further. I don’t want to talk about Petra in front of the littles. She probably thinks my separation anxiety has gotten worse in death, and maybe it has. But what’s eating at me now isn’t the trip to Portland. I’m afraid to leave my family alone with Petra out there.

  I manage a brittle smile as my family eats, Sophia rambling about something that happened in dance class while Sierra and Sam eat fast so they can get back to their video games. Grr. If that bitch messes with them, I will find a way to deal with her. The next ass kicked won’t be mine.

  As soon as it’s dark, I barge into Sam’s bedroom and make Jordan and Daryl forget ‘the bathroom incident.’ Sam’s curt nod of acceptance tells me he didn’t find it as funny as his friends. I’m a tween boy’s worst nightmare. Don’t mess with Big Sis, especially when she has powers.

  That done, I hug the parents ‘goodbye for now,’ and head outside. Dark blue hoodie, black T-shirt and black jeans should keep me inconspicuous enough. Hopefully, this doll shop isn’t hoity-toity. I’m not flying in a nice dress. Though, I suppose I could pack something. Nah. It’s only a doll shop, not a super-fancy restaurant.

  Once I’m airborne, I call Aurélie.

  “Oh, chéri! How are you?”

  “Ugh,” I say. “I’m on my way to Portland now.”

  “I’m sorry, dear. I cannot understand you with that roaring.”

  I slow down a little and tug my hood up to keep air from blasting over the phone. “Sorry. I’m flying. On my way to get the doll now.”

  “Oh, merveilleux! I am beyond excited to meet the new addition.”

  “Umm. I ran into a little problem.”

  “Do tell, chéri.”

  Deep breath. I explain my run-in with Petra and her threat to ‘destroy’ me.

  “Hmm. I would not worry too much. Those artists are nothing if not lazy. It is most likely she wanted to intimidate you, and spouted off without any real interest to put in the effort necessary to do much. She will become taken with some other fancy.”

  “I dunno. She sounded really pissed, but at least she seemed afraid of you.”

  Aurélie giggles when I tell her how Petra flinched at the mention of her name after she threatened my family. “This Stanovaya woman is not part of our social circle, but she is known of. Sybarites are so often full of themselves.”

  “Yeah, she definitely believes she’s the world’s best ‘artist.’”

  “Hmph.”

  “Oh, she’s an actress, not a painter.” I rub my shoulder. “So you don’t think she’s going to come after me?”

  “Well, it’s possible… but unlikely. It’s far more difficult to undermine the willpower of a vampire than a simple mortal. If she does present a problem, you should ignore whatever situation she creates as much as you are able. When you become more work than she deems it worth, she will move on.”

  “Right. Here’s hoping.”

  “Let me know if you need anything, chéri. And thank you again for doing me this favor.”

  “You’re welcome. See you as soon as I can.”

  “Adieu.”

  I pull up a GPS app, set a course for Portland, and fly. My route is more or less a straight shot south, with a bit of west thrown in. According to my phone it’s, 192 miles, but it’s calculating for driving. Roads are for lesser mortals.

  This is the first time I’ve really gone for a long trip in the air, holding my top speed for more than a few minutes. The view would be breathtaking, but I can’t really use that phrase since I don’t actually need to breathe. Well, maybe I get an exception because my body continues doing it for sake of appearances.

  Soon after I zip over Tacoma, Olympia glides by on my right, the waters of the Puget Sound dotted here and there with the lights of boats. The mountains off to my left are as majestic in the dark as they would be to normal people in the daytime. Moonlight bathes the land below in that eerie ‘as bright as day’ way my vampire eyes register the world. The vastness of the sky above appears dark, but the land could be mid-afternoon on a pleasant, sunny day. Only, there aren’t any shadows. It’s almost like someone built an exact copy of the Earth indoors and made the ceiling lights invisible. Having dark sky overhead and well-lit ground below is totally freaky. I wonder if I’ll ever get used to it, or always feel an odd sense of wrongness about it.

  For no other reason than curiosity, I go higher and higher until I can perceive the shape of the US West Coast. Wow. This is kinda nerve-wracking. I’m at like 30,000 feet or so without an airplane around me, and as stupid as it is, I’m terrified of falling. Or maybe I’m afraid of slipping away from the Earth and drifting off into space. Hmm. I wonder. Can vampires go into space? I start thinking that maybe we can, but then I realize I wouldn’t have any of the Earth’s protection against the sun. A vampire in space would probably explode like a pile of old timey flash powder.

  Yeah. No. I’ll pass.

  I glide back down to a more reasonable altitude, maybe 2,000 feet. Hmm. I wonder if there’s an app for calculating altitude? Probably not. Of course, curiosity gets the better of me after a moment, and I pull the phone out.

  And… holy cow. There are altimeter apps. I can’t help myself and get one. Hey it’s ninety-nine cents. Curiosity alone is worth it. And look at that, I’m actually at 3,244 feet. For a while, I dive and climb while staring at the screen, completely amused with myself the way Dad gets with a new piece of electronics.

  According to this app, I can hit about 145 MPH on a dive. Neat.

  Roughly an hour and a half after I leave home, the lights of Portland come into view up ahead. I wish I could take a picture of how I see things. The city looks like someone spilled liquid energy in a big puddle, the glow of electric illumination vibrant to my night vision eyes. Since the surrounding terrain appears as lit as broad daylight, the actual light from the city is total nuclear radiation.

  The closer I get, the more it diffuses into the typical scattered glow of random streetlamps, stores, signs, and windows instead of a concentrated lake of painful brightness. I hover in place up in the dark sky, confident people down in the well-lit streets couldn’t possibly see me, and pull up a map on the phone. Plugging the address of the doll shop in leads me to the southwest portion of the city center. No sense trying to visit the store at the moment since it’s closed, but I may as well hunt for a place to shelter for the morning reasonably close to it. Once the sun’s up, I won’t be flying anywhere.

  After locating the shop, a little place in a strip mall—much more mundane than I’d been expecting—I take off in a spiral flight, looking for anywhere that might offer me protection from the worst of the dawn, or at least keep me hidden while I’m defenseless. I kind of overestimated travel time. Given the distance, I’d budgeted like four-ish hours for the trip, but that’s based on driving. Kinda like how the world no longer being dark to me still feels weird, thinking in terms of flying is going to take some getting used to.

  I don’t exactly know what I’m looking for either. Old church like something out of The Crow? Dalton would pick an office building or big apartment tower. No idea how he gets into the basement of those places. Maybe he influences a security guard to let him in or at least ignore his presence. I suppose I could barge into someone’s house
and make them tolerate my presence in their basement for a night. That does kinda feel rude though.

  Sightseeing distracts me for a while, especially where this river expands around a narrow island in a spot that sorta resembles like an Egyptian eye. It would be prettier without all the barges in the middle though.

  The doll store is across the street from a residential area that’s divided almost into neat grid squares packed with houses. There’s a Mexican restaurant at the northwest corner of the shopping center, which makes me think of Hunter. Looks like warehouses or big factory type buildings on the right near a massive parking lot full of semitrailers and big rigs. From the air, the way the trucks are parked looks like a zig-zag quilt pattern.

  I glide in to land on the roof of the restaurant, sit cross-legged, and call Hunter. He answers in a bleary half-awake voice.

  “Sorry. Were you asleep?”

  “Yeah, well not really. Just starting to pass out.”

  “Didn’t realize it was so late.”

  “It’s a few minutes after midnight. It’s not that late. Just had a rough day. I don’t mind.” He yawns. “Are you feeling any better?”

  I texted him during my ‘day of isolation’ that I’d gotten into a scrap with another vampire and wasn’t feeling up to showing my face. “Yeah. It’s just like I said. I’m fine, but it took a while to clear up.”

  “I don’t wanna keep you awake if you’re beat,” I say. “Though you sound sexy as hell when you’re exhausted.”

  He chuckles. “It’s cool. I don’t have to be back there until 11:00 a.m. tomorrow.”

  “Damn. You’re working an early shift tomorrow and I’m not gonna be around.” I sigh, and start rambling about the doll thing. Specifically, how I’ll be stuck here in Portland until the sun goes down.

  “It’s all right. From what you’ve told me of that woman, it’s a good idea to keep her happy.”

  I twirl a finger around my hair. “It’s more than ‘keeping her happy.’ She’s a friend, and I don’t mind doing this for her. She can’t cope with sunlight.”

  “Yeah. Surprised she doesn’t have people working for her.”

  “She does. But. I guess she wanted me to do it.”

  A series of soft crunches come from behind me, like multiple sets of shoes walking on the roof. I peer back over my shoulder at four people more or less all rocking the leather jacket and jeans thing, one girl who looks about my age with black hair, and three guys all in their twenties. The instant I look at them, I know they’re vamps. And… I’m sure they get the same read from me.

  “Gotta go. The welcoming committee just showed up,” I mutter.

  “Welcoming committee?” asks Hunter.

  “Yeah. I’m in Portland now.”

  “Oh, right.” He yawns again. “You going to be okay?”

  The people wandering closer give off more suspicious curiosity than hostility, which lets me relax a little bit. Then again, if I’m about to have a bad night, Hunter is four hours away by car. No sense making him worry. And it’s not like he could do much about four vampires beating the shit out of me.

  “Yeah. Fine. I’ll call you soon. Get some sleep.”

  “Love you, babe. Night.”

  “Night.” I hang up, and stand.

  Three guys, a blond white dude, a Chinese guy, and one who could either be Hispanic or Native American, approach. The girl isn’t putting much effort into natural skin tone, but super pale works for the Goth look.

  “You sure?” asks the Chinese guy, eyeing the blond man. “She don’t look right.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” Blondie takes another step closer. “You must be quite new.”

  I stuff my hands in the front pocket of my sweatshirt. “Couple months actually.”

  “Yay,” says the other girl in a deadpan. “I’m not the youngest anymore.”

  “Sixteen?” I ask.

  “I was seventeen.” She shrugs.

  “Sorry, kid. I’m eighteen.”

  “Horseshit,” says the possibly-Hispanic guy.

  I glance back and forth between the four of them. “What are you, like gonna check my ID before I bite someone?”

  They chuckle.

  “Girl, you look like a little kid,” says the Goth chick.

  I step up to her; she seems surprised that we’re about the same height. “I have a young face.”

  “Couple months, huh?” asks the blond guy. “You been in hiding? Haven’t seen you before.”

  “Nah. Just visiting. I’m from Seattle.”

  They chuckle. The Hispanic guy hands money to the girl.

  “Lose a bet?” I ask.

  He laughs. “Yeah. Kara called you a suburban rich girl.”

  “Half right. I live in the suburbs.”

  “I’m Mick.” He points at the Chinese guy. “That’s Andrew, and the other guy’s Emilio.”

  “Sarah,” I say.

  Kara throws an arm around my shoulders. “So, what’s with the lost waif thing? Still trying to deal with the Transference? Where’s your sire?”

  “Oh, he’s around. And no, I’m okay. I guess I just have ‘resting scared face’ or something.”

  “You don’t look scared,” says Mick. “More sad and lost.”

  I shrug. “I’m not feeling particularly sad or lost right now. Don’t s’pose you guys could point me somewhere I could crash for the morning?”

  “What chased you out of Seattle?” asks Kara.

  “Nothing chased me out. I’m doing an errand for a friend. Gotta pick something up tomorrow, then I’m going back.”

  “Oh, cool.” Andrew smiles. “Welcome to Portland.”

  “Did I blow through a toll booth or something on the way in?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “You guys kinda came out of nowhere pretty quick.”

  They laugh.

  Mick nods toward the sky. “We were cruising around and spotted you. Didn’t look like anyone we knew.”

  “C’mon,” says Emilio. “Hang with us while you’re here.”

  “Cool. I don’t have to like sign in or something, do I?”

  Kara rolls her eyes. “The Traditionalists would expect you to announce your presence, but if you’re only going to be here for a day, screw ’em. Oh, wait. Screw ’em anyway.”

  The guys laugh. Hmm. They must be a pack of Lost Ones. Dalton—who happens to be one of those himself—told me they hate politics and authority, but they make good allies and deadly enemies or some melodramatic thing like that. I’m sure he hammed it up more than a little, but I’m not getting any bad feelings from these guys. I’d be much more at ease with Ashley dating any of them over River, despite their being vampires.

  “Sure… got a couple hours ’til it’s time to sleep. Why not?”

  “Try not to fall behind.” Kara winks, and zips into the air.

  I have to work to keep up with them, though I mostly manage it. For a few minutes, I almost think they’re trying to ditch me, but then I get the hint they’re messing around and maybe testing me. Feeling a bit like Sam playing a flight sim game, I narrow my eyes and fly hard, weaving around and following them past buildings, under overpasses, through trees, and once or twice even skimming inches off the surface of roads in quiet suburbs. Only a handful of dogs seem to notice us, erupting in random barks as we cruise by.

  This is kinda fun. Sort of like the vampire version of playing tag in 3D, only without the tagging part.

  Eventually, we wind up landing on a big square building around Portland State University with a half-circle cut out of it to accommodate a big-ass tree. Mick heads over to the northeast corner, where we proceed to perch like gargoyles peering over the roof down at a wooded area crisscrossed by streets. Even at almost one in the morning, the occasional university student wanders around.

  “You hungry?” asks Kara.

  I shrug. “I could go for a bite.”

  They snicker.

  “This is our favorite hunting ground,” says Andrew. “Kara thinks if she feeds exclusi
vely on college students, she’ll get smarter.”

  She gives him the finger.

  “Nah. Our Kara’s nostalgic for it. Never got to go to university.” Mick pats her on the shoulder.

  He, too, gets the bird. “I wasn’t gonna go to college anyway, dork.” Kara peers at me. “What about you? You’ve got scholarship written all over your face.”

  “Yeah. I was going to go to USC, but I didn’t have a scholarship.”

  After a surprisingly somber moment of condolence from the four of them, Emilio points at a group of four female students walking together, clutching books. “That redhead looks like a vegan.”

  “Don’t,” says Andrew. “That shit ain’t cool.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  Mick laughs. “Emilio likes to compel them to go eat a cheeseburger.”

  “Wow. That’s awful!” I hate that I almost laugh at the idea.

  “Only the obnoxious ones,” says Emilio, dismissively.

  “As if there’s another kind?” asks Kara.

  “No,” I say. “I know quite a few vegans who aren’t like that. Besides, what if it’s a health thing?”

  Andrew elbows me in the ribs. “He checks.”

  “I do.” Emilio grins.

  “Emilio hooked up with this mortal vegan chick like twenty years ago,” says Mick. “She tried to convince him to drink from vegetables instead of people. Couldn’t accept that it just does not work.”

  The way they all laugh makes me think they’re kidding. At least I hope so. People aren’t that stupid, are they? Wait. I shouldn’t ask that.

  Emilio stands. “Come on. Dinner time.”

  The guys swoop down off the roof. I follow, hanging back a little as they land silently behind the four young women. In seconds, they dart around in front of them, and the girls cluster together like the prey animals they don’t realize they are. One sticks her hand in her pocket, no doubt clutching pepper spray.

  Ugh. I used to be them. Even in a group of four, walking around at night was terrifying.

  “Relax,” says Mick. “We only wanted to ask you for directions.”