ReVamped

by Ada Adams

  A sudden wave of nausea rose from deep within the pit of my stomach. I desperately tried to avoid thinking about Aurora, but I couldn’t escape her. I couldn’t even close my eyes. The moment that I allowed myself to relax, she would invade my mind, haunting me with those piercing green eyes. She was not only connected to me through DNA, but more importantly, through my father. He was hers first. As was Sebastian. I couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang of jealousy as I wondered if they were disappointed that I was so different from her.

  I shut my eyes, desperately fighting against the dizziness. I tried to think more positive thoughts. Maybe Sebastian is right, I mused. Perhaps I need to hear my father out. Perhaps I need to give him an opportunity to explain his actions.

  I looked over at Sebastian and sighed. “Fine, I’ll talk to my father,” I resolved. “First thing tomorrow morning,” I added, groaning as a sharp, shooting pain engulfed my entire skull. “I’m in no shape to carry out any conversations tonight.”

  “I agree. Better save the talk for tomorrow.” Sebastian said, frowning at my blurry eyes. “This may be one of those rare times when a vampire really should sleep.”

  For the first time all week, the numbness in my body began to dissolve. I started to sense again. The fatigue. The hunger. Though they weren’t the most pleasant sensations, I welcomed them gladly, content to slowly feel human again. Well, as human as a vampire could feel.

  “Here,” Sebastian said, offering me one of his strong shoulders.

  I lay my head against his body, allowing my eyes to shut. The calm, quiet darkness was euphoric bliss.

  I came to just as the sun was breaking out over the horizon. Groggily opening my eyes, I was startled to see that my head was still resting against Sebastian’s shoulder.

  He looked down at me as I stirred. “Feel better?” he asked, smiling warmly.

  I nodded. My headache was gone and my vision had cleared. Aside from the slight hunger pangs in my stomach, physically, I was fully restored. Mentally, it was a whole other story. I felt a surge of embarrassment run through me as I recalled my actions from the previous night.

  “Ugh,” I groaned, shifting into an upright position. “Thanks for everything.”

  “No problem. Although, you do know what you promised me last night, right?”

  I nervously scanned my brain for any awkward pledges, then realized that Sebastian was referring to the vow I made to talk to my father.

  “Yes. I’ll speak with him today,” I promised. “In fact, I’m going to head over to the Scarlet House right away.”

  “Would you like me to come with you?” he offered.

  “No, that’s okay. I need to do this alone. I also have to stop by the cottage to pick up my car.” And change, I realized, looking down at the Brooke’s dress and heels, completely mortified as the memory of twirling around in front of Sebastian came flooding back. Brooke deserves a slaying for dressing me up and getting me drunk, I decided.

  Sebastian walked me back to the cottage, pausing briefly at the end of the driveway. “Good luck,” he said. He looked like he was about to say something else, but then changed his mind.

  “Thanks.” I said, heading up the wooden steps leading to the front entrance of the cottage. The door was slightly ajar. I hurried inside, breathing a sigh of relief upon realizing that everything inside was untouched. The dirty glasses, still half-full with leftover Blood Cola, were scattered around the living room table, Seth’s video games and Brooke’s make-up littered the floor—everything was in perfect, disorderly order. I must have forgotten to shut the door last night, I realized, chastising myself for my carelessness.

  I rushed up the stairs to take a quick shower and change out of the lavish dress. I desperately craved the simplicity of my familiar tank and jeans outfit. To my surprise, the drawers in my bedroom were completely empty. Brooke’s Angel Creek High gym bag lay on top of the large armoire, filled to the brim with bright, ostentatious outfits. I groaned. She had taken the whole makeover crusade to a completely new level by trading in my plain, practical wardrobe for her very vibrant and much too impractical one.

  I tore apart the bag, searching for something suitable to wear. It was overflowing with flowery dresses, short skirts and lacey see-through tops—much more fitting for a dark nightclub in a seedy part of town than the Vampire President’s Headquarters. I finally managed to pull together a somewhat appropriate outfit by combining a pair of light denim shorts and a loose, powder pink, off-shoulder sweater. I was relieved to find a light gray pair of comfortable, mid-calf boots, hidden underneath the countless glittery heels.

  Ignoring my hunger pangs, I resolved to skip breakfast. One of the biggest talks of my life loomed ahead, and I wanted to get out on the road as soon as possible. I spent a brief moment searching for my cell phone, but after rummaging through countless couch cushions and coming up empty handed, I decided to give up on the hunt. I had left the small device on the couch—I was sure of it—but it had mysteriously disappeared overnight. I pushed the unnerving thoughts of the missing phone and the open door out of my mind, too nervous about my meeting with my father to think of anything else.

  For the first half of the drive to the Command Center, I anxiously crushed down on the gas pedal. Realizing that I was doubling the speed limit, I slowed down in a last-minute effort to delay the impending talk with my father. Strangely, the night before, when my mind was clouded by Sebastian’s presence and the intoxicating Blood Vodka, things seemed far less complicated. Now, as the distance between my convertible and the Scarlet House decreased, I regretted allowing Sebastian to coax me into embarking on this inevitably doomed journey.

  An entire week had passed since I learned about Aurora and all the lies that bound my existence, but I still wasn’t ready to accept the reality of the situation. I needed more time. An entire lifetime worth of time, I thought dejectedly, trying to ignore the adrenaline-induced throbbing in my head. For a fleeting moment, I considered doing a sharp u-turn right over the median of the deserted country highway and rushing back to my asylum in Angel Creek. Somehow, I managed to keep my hands steady on the wheel and press on toward my destination.

  Countless trees, road signs and mile markers passed by me, completely unseen. I was too focused on cramming my brain full of positive thoughts.

  You need to do this, Dawn. That much was true. I was weary of all the melancholy, of not being myself, of not even knowing who that person was anymore.

  Your father loves you, Dawn. Despite everything that had happened between us, deep down in my heart, I knew that was also true. While he had always been physically and emotionally distant, there was no denying that he harbored a profound love for me. A love much different than I had seen him exhibit towards Aurora, but one no less powerful. Aurora was his beautiful, precious princess. I, on the other hand, was his strong, brave warrior. Perhaps, training me in such a rigid manner from the day I was born was his way of ensuring that I received a successful future, I thought. A future Aurora never had.

  My stomach clenched as vivid images of Aurora invaded my mind. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing my—what was she to me, anyway? Kinda twin? Sort of sister? A very unorthodox mother?—forcing her out of my head.

  Positive thoughts, positive thoughts, I chanted over and over again.

  Before long, I suddenly found myself in front of the large gateway of the Scarlet House. I pulled my car in front of the firmly shut gate, looking around in confusion. The security guards were nowhere to be seen. I exited the car, slowly walking up to the guard booth. It was empty.

  This is certainly a first, I though, wondering about what could possibly have lured the guards away from their posts. The Scarlet House was always tight on security, especially at the front gate. Glancing around to make sure that no one was looking, I quickly snuck into the bulletproof glass booth and pressed the electronic Unlock switch. Hearing the familiar metal clink, I moved my index finger to the Open button, immediately causing the massive gate to swing
open.

  “Here goes nothing,” I murmured.

  Something was wrong, I immediately realized as I neared the Scarlet House grounds. The parking lot was overflowing with cars, mostly expensive, luxury automobiles and dark limousines. They spilled out onto the curb outside the designated parking area, creating a long, shiny chain. I glanced at the clock on my dashboard. It was barely eight o’clock in the morning, much too early for important meetings or fun events. My father, trying to keep up with the myth that vampires were not morning creatures, had a rule against entertaining guests until at least the early afternoon.

  I pulled my car in behind a limo idling on the curb and rushed into the mansion. A congregation of men and women in dark suits gathered in the impeccably furnished sitting area. Much like the cars in the parking lot, they were also crammed in the small space, spilling out of the room and taking over the hallways. It was eerily quiet. No one spoke; they just stood around silently, their faces grave and unreadable.

  Yes, something was wrong.

  Amongst the group was my nanny Elisa. She immediately spotted me and, as if moving in slow motion, began to float towards me. Her eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with redness, her mouth tight. The strongest woman I knew had been crying.

  Something was definitely wrong.

  And, just by looking into her grief-stricken eyes, I could tell exactly what that something was. Time stood still as we exchanged a wordless conversation.

  My father. Something was wrong with my father. Very wrong.

  I fell to the ground just as Elisa reached me. She grabbed a hold of my arm before I could touch the floor. For a brief moment, I just hung there, swaying against her like one of those flimsy fabric dolls she used to make for me when I was little. After what seemed like a lifetime of dangling in limbo, she pulled me to my feet and into a tight embrace.

  I stood motionless, letting the dark, empty coldness settle over me. My fingers turned to ice. Numbness took over my entire body. I held my breath, gazing deep into Elisa’s eyes as we pulled apart. More than anything, I wanted her to speak. To say something. At the same time, I silently begged her not to.

  “I’m so sorry, Dawn,” she whispered, her words barely audible.

  “Is he…” I couldn’t bring myself to say the word gone. I could barely bring myself to speak. My throat was so dry.

  Elisa simply nodded, her eyes welling up with tears. I blinked, trying to bring the world back into focus. More coldness engulfed me, but I was already too deadened to notice or care.

  The rims around Elisa’s eyes are so red, it looks like she’s wearing crimson eyeliner, I thought over and over again, like some delirious, detail-oriented lunatic. Just so I wouldn’t have to focus on the reality unfolding in front of me.

  Who wears crimson eyeliner?

  “Dawn…”

  Crimson eyeliner.

  Elisa’s pale mouth was moving, but I couldn’t hear the words.

  Crimson eyeliner. Crimson eyeliner.

  She kept speaking.

  Why would anyone in their right mind wear crimson eyeliner?

  “Dawn!”

  I had once again fallen to the floor. Hot tears stained my cold cheeks, but I had no idea how they got there. I didn’t remember crying.

  “I need to talk to my father,” I murmured to Elisa as I struggled to stand up, my shaky legs buckling from under me. When my second and even third attempt at standing proved unsuccessful, I began to crawl in the direction of my father’s office.

  I moved along the corridor on my hands and knees. Elisa, in a desperate effort to get me out of the twisted state of infancy I was regressing into, discretely tried to pull me off the floor.

  “I need to talk to him!” I hissed, brushing off Elisa’s hand.

  The visitors from the living area were now in the hallway. They stared pitifully at me, but I didn’t care. Somehow, I made it all the way to my father’s office. Utilizing the large iron door handle as a crutch, I pulled myself up into a standing position.

  I turned to Elisa before opening the door. “I need to talk to my father. That’s why I came today,” I explained, resolved to carry out my mission to the very end. “Father!”

  The office was empty. I shut my eyes, then opened them again, hoping that would somehow magically make him appear. It didn’t work.

  “Close the curtains. It’s too bright in here,” I yelled, slumping down into one of the red velvet couches.

  Elisa rushed over to the windows and drew the curtains shut. “Would you like some blood-laced chamomile tea?” she asked in a forlorn voice; the same voice that she had used with me once before when I had contracted a bad case of food—or rather, blood—poisoning.

  I shook my head, pressing my hands into my forehead, desperately trying to squeeze the last minutes of my life out of my memory. Ignoring reality turned out to be impossible. It laughed in my face, challenging me with the empty office, the mourners outside—the fact that my father was not here.

  “What happened to him?” I whispered hoarsely, looking through my fingers at an arbitrary spot on my lap.

  “It was horrible—just horrible.” Elisa sighed, sinking down beside me. “Last night, your father was hosting a pre-election gathering on the presidential yacht. The boat—the whole thing…” she sobbed violently, taking out an old, lacey handkerchief. Its once-beautiful fabric was wrinkled and tearstained.

  Great, more crimson eyeliner, I stupidly thought.

  “There was an explosion,” Elisa said, dabbing at her eyes. “No one survived.”

  An explosion. On a boat. Why did that sound so familiar?

  “I was so worried, Dawn. I thought that you were on the yacht too!” Elisa said, clutching my hand. “Your father said that he would try to get you to join him on board. He had something special planned. He really wanted to work things out.”

  That’s why he kept calling last night, I thought, remembering that I had turned off my phone, realizing that I had succeeded in forever shutting him out of my life.

  “I kept calling you after what happened last night and couldn’t get a hold of you,” Elisa continued, unaware of just how hard she was squeezing my hand. “I was so worried I lost you too!”

  Maybe, just maybe if I had been there last night, none of this would have happened, I thought, fighting back tears. We would have had our talk and worked things out. Or at least I could have gone down with him.

  “Was it an accident?” I stammered.

  “That’s the worst part, Dawn. It was no accident. There will be a formal investigation into the explosion, but it looks like the boat was rigged with explosives. It caught on fire and burned down before anyone could escape.”

  Fire on a boat.

  Suddenly, I knew why it was all so familiar.

  Viktor.

  Elisa—even without the aid of any telepathic powers—had always been an expert at reading my mind. She looked at me wide-eyed, her eyes darker than I had ever seen them before.

  “No!” she cried out in terror as I stood up to leave. “No, Dawn,” she begged running after me. “Please, don’t! You don’t know who you’re dealing with!”

  But I wasn’t listening.

  I was already on my way to kill Viktor.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Blinding rage had engulfed me long before I set out toward the abandoned factory in Ashton. Deep down, I knew Viktor would be there, waiting for me. I swore to give him the fight of his life. I screeched my car to a halt right in front of the large, gray building. I didn’t bother being covert this time around; I was out for blood. I fished around the trunk for weapons, but the only thing I could find was an old, rusty sword.

  Even before I fully exited the car, an army of vampire guards charged at me. Armed with only fury and the simple sword, I tore through the group in seconds. My training had always taught me to leave my subjects alive—or undead as the case may be—but today, I didn’t care about formalities. All I knew was that they were an obstacle standing in my way to
Viktor. Getting though the first wave of the guards was easy, and the next two groups were even easier. The scenes around me played out in flashes. I was fully aware of all my actions, while at the same I felt like the hands wielding the sword belonged to someone else. I was stronger than I had ever been, fueled by the adrenaline from my intense anger. The more I hurt the evil vampire rogues, the less I had to focus on my own pain.

  Within minutes, I had taken down the entire horde of vamps and was ready to enter the building. Unlike my previous visit, when I had carefully picked the lock of the side door, this time around, I simply kicked down the front door, splitting it in half with my foot. I didn’t care about the noise. I wanted Viktor to know that I was coming for him. I made my way across the lower level of the factory, tearing apart every room in a desperate search for my uncle. He was nowhere in sight, but I was confronted by another small group of attackers. Escaping the fight with only a minor scrape to my arm, I moved to the top floor, screaming out Viktor’s name. The same scenario greeted me—no Viktor, just more rogues.

  The basement, I suddenly realized. I barged down the stairs into the dark underground, my mind filled with only one goal—find Viktor and take him down. I found the disfigured vampire in the same room where, just a week prior, he had attempted to kill me. In one hand, he held a long, sharp dagger; in the other was a large, silver revolver, undoubtedly full of vampire blood bullets. Next to him on the wall, bound in heavy chains, tears streaming down her face, was Ethan’s mother. She attempted to yell at me in warning, but the gag across her mouth prevented any sound from coming out. She hung her head helplessly, her face full of panic and regret.

  I turned back to Viktor, my eyes blazing.

  “Well, how nice of you to finally show up,” he spat in his cold, slimy voice. “Come to avenge your poor daddy?”

  I pointed my sword at him, charging in anger, ready to rip his heart out. He blocked my first slice, but the second caught him right across his only good cheek. He grunted in pain, swinging at me with the large knife. I swiftly dodged the blade, jabbing his chin with my elbow, and sending him stumbling to the floor. Just as he was about to hit the ground, he regained his balance, firing off two bullets at my head. They grazed by my temple as I continued swinging my sword. Drawing on my extensive training, I fought a good fight.