Vampire High School (Book 1: Gregor Academy)

by Lachelle Miller

  I stood, breathing heavily, and looked round the room. Jackson and I were the only ones standing.

  “God damn it! He’s almost dead!” Jackson said, going over to the Helsing. “He’s on his last legs, Mandy. He’s about gone.”

  I finally caught a good look at Lyman, the red headed, vinegar-blooded Helsing. Just like that it came back to me. Sitting there, on the planter box at Gregor Academy, staring at my boobs like he’d never seen a pair before. That guy was the big hero?

  Jackson went to inspect him. I went to untie the girl. She was still acting nuts.

  “Take it out!” she hollered at me.

  I tried to be calm. But, she had the same foul-smelling blood as Lyman. Miss Cute-and-Hysterical was a Helsing too.

  “Wait!” Jackson held his hand up. “What was that noise? Has that thing got blades?”

  Cute Helsing swallowed big-time. Her eyes closed slowly. “Yes.”

  “Then we can’t do that. It’ll kill him.”

  “Then what’s left to do?” she wailed. “I love him!”

  “There’s only one way…” Jackson was saying; it wasn’t like he was talking to me, just stating a fact out loud.

  Once I saw his face, though, I knew exactly what he was thinking. Forgetting the girl, I went to stop Jackson before he got any dumber.

  “No!” I yelled.

  “Yes!”

  “NO! You said his blood is as good as poison to us!”

  “He’ll die if I don’t, Mandy.”

  “You’ll die if you do!”

  Jackson’s eyes were wild and bright. He was laughing as he spoke, “That doesn’t matter! He’s the one God sent to abolish those like me!”

  “No, Jackson, you’re wrong. God sent you to me… to be my family. You’re all I have left…”

  The Cutesy was looking from one of us to the other. Her boyfriend was dying, and she knew that we had a solution. “What are you doing?”

  “There’s only one way.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  Jackson kissed my forehead, smiling. “May this one final act save my already damned soul.”

  I let him go then, remembering my visions of being boiled for all eternity and knowing that Jackson- the one vampire who never hurt anybody- deserved so much better than that.

  He held Cutesy by the shoulders. Looked her in the eye.

  “Listen, I’ve got to suck his blood, then give it back to him.”

  She shook her head. She was now past the crying stage, and in complete denial. “He’ll be a vampire.”

  “Better than dead.”

  He turned to Lyman’s neck, bit deep, and drank, crying out as the poison blood rushed down his throat. I cried for two reasons: his pain and his soul’s release from suffering. After a moment, Jackson’s head surged back from Lyman. The pain written across his face was unbearable to watch.

  Then he drew his knife and slit his wrist. Not a small, let’s convert a vampire slit;, I’m talking halfway through his arm. Blood spurted from his artery, and he positioned it over Lyman’s open mouth.

  The ginger drank. He really didn’t have the strength to deny it, but he did drink.

  He drank until both he and Jackson dropped, dying, to the floor.

  I went to my friend and cradled his head in my lap, watching his eyes fade and the smile that stretched across his face.

  ~ ~ ~

  It was like watching television. A wonderful, beautiful television show.

  Starring Mandy the cheerleader, with the nice tits. She was quarrelling with Sharon. Then Sharon’s head flew off.

  It was a comedy show.

  Starring Mary-Christine, but in slow motion.

  Mandy’s friend was good at ripping heads off too. Billy’s was next.

  That was funny. I tried to laugh, but I was hurting. My laugh wouldn’t come.

  “Take it out!” Mary-Christine said, in slow motion, her voice deep and baritone.

  “It’ll kill him.” Mandy didn’t only have nice tits, she was pretty too. And intelligent. It would kill me. I knew that.

  “There’s only one way.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  Wishing someone would make up their minds, Mandy’s friend leant over and bit my neck. Neither of us liked it much. He roared in pain. My pain was somewhere else, but I don’t know where.

  Oh, my belly. The thousand razor blades.

  He continued drinking my blood, and there I was, walking along the tunnel, and the white light wasn’t far away.

  Then someone grabbed my head, pulling it back.

  No!

  Man, the coffee they gave me was terrible.

  It must have been coffee, it was thick and warm.

  I drank it, but oh my, it was awful.

  It was the last thing I knew.

  ~ ~ ~

  I lifted Jackson’s head off my lap and placed it gently on the carpeted floor. Then I went to Lyman, still and not breathing, and yanked the spear out of his gut. I heard muscle tearing and felt the skin ripping open with my tug; but if he was going to live then his body would heal. If he died- then he died with a few extra injuries. I guess I really didn’t care.

  In any case, I couldn’t let him just sit there in the chair, spear sticking out.

  The girl had finally stopped screaming and now she was just kind of moaning with her head sunk down to her chest, hugging Lyman from behind. Then she finally shuffled round to the front. His belly was in a bad way. Then she leant down, pushed his head back and laid her lips to his. By the way she kissed his mouth I could tell they’d been in love. But, right then I just couldn’t feel sorry for her. Or him.

  She started to rock him back and forth. Lyman was a tangle of blood and legs below her.

  It was a bizarre scene.

  “He better be worth it,” I told her, “Jackson was my only family and he died for your boyfriend.”

  She didn’t answer me, just kept holding and rocking the lifeless Lyman. I sat back and watched.

  And waited for my time to leave.

  Thus ends Vampire High School Book 1. We hope you enjoyed it.

  Now, a bonus; a sneak preview of chapter one from;

  Vampire High School Book 2: The Helsing Diaries.

  By Ian Hall and Lachelle Miller

  This is what you get for trusting an effing Helsing. It was that Mary-Christine. OMFG how she stabbed me in the back; but, I guess I ought to be used to that from best friends. After everything we went through together- months of fighting side-by-side for (as far as I knew) our common goals.

  Then- just like that- she turns me in to her father. Of course I walked right into their trap. Why wouldn’t I have? I had every fricking reason to believe she was on the level. Sure as heck would’ve thought I’d proven myself to her.

  I mean- what more needed to happen in order to gain her trust? Jackson, my foster brother, sacrificed himself to save her fricking boyfriend. Jackson Cole was all I had left in this world and I had to watch him die. For their effing cause. Then… dummy I am… I stepped up to take over where Jackson left off. Just look where it got me.

  People give vampires a bad rap. Oh- we’re such evil killing machines. Soulless wretches out to destroy humanity. Blah, blah, blah.

  Really? So what’s a GD Helsing then?

  Jackson thought they were God’s antibiotic to some vampire plague that Satan had infected the world with. Seriously- my foster brother had some deep self-loathing issues. But, it was my trust in him that led me to trust in them.

  In her- Mary-Fricking-Christine Muscat.

  She was jealous of me. Sure- that sounds conceited but I have my reasons to go there. For all her “death to vampires” crap- she envied me. My immortality. My hold over men; the way I could get them to walk through fire for me. What can I say- it’s a vampire thing. I got it. She doesn’t. And there you go- the bitch was jealous.

  And no- this isn’t another
“best-friend-stole-the-boyfriend” scenario. Been there. Done that. Everybody died. Moving on.

  What Cami did with Craig was a total slap in the face. What Mary Christine is doing to me now- it’s a stake through the heart. Literally.

  Here I am- tortured and bleeding, lying in some freaking sterile-looking dungeon, strapped down seventeen different ways from Tuesday. The fucking lights are miserable, blinding and just shredding my brain. Helsings don’t just like to kill vampires; they like to torture us first.

  I can hear them talking outside the door. They’re going on about different kinds of wood. Like it freaking matters; that’s all us vampires care about, really- what kind of wood the stake they pounded through our hearts was made from. My head is so full of the Helsing drug crap that they fired into me, I can hardly think straight. And the lights. The mother fucking lights.

  Arrogant damn humans; they have no clue how vulnerable they are. Do you know what I’d do to them if I could get out of these restraints? All of them. And not one at a time. I’ve learned a few things about myself over the past few months.

  For one- decapitation is my preferred method of killing. It’s quick, it’s easy, no one suffers and it makes this cool little crunch-pop sound that reminds me of breakfast cereal. Also- I have mastered the art so thoroughly that I can actually do two heads at once.

  These damn Helsings just look like living bobble heads to me. Begging to get their bobbles popped.

  But, not so much Mary-Christine. I saw her up there through the window a bit ago; she’s come to watch. Now- isn’t that fucking sweet.

  Beheading is too painless for that one. I’d make it last. Not that I can drink her blood. That stuff is poison to a vampire. Just ask Jackson. But there are plenty of ways to kill a killer. And I’m sure I could invent a new one if I could just get the eff out of these restraints.

  Then the door opened, and in came Mary-Christine. Not only is she here, she’s going to hammer the stake, that sadistic little bitch.

  “Amanda Elizabeth Cross,” the guy with the stake is announcing me now, “seventeen years old; turned just last year.”

  Oh- and now there’s this dude coming at me with some kind of hammer. Isn’t that a pretty picture?

  If I get out of this, that Mary-Christine is going down.

  ~ ~ ~

  I remember much pain.

  A deep hurt which did not recede quickly. It seemed that I was in a bath of some liquid. A large bath, in which I sometimes drifted close to the surface, almost breaking through, then sank slowly to the dark bottom again, lying in a black world.

  Then, one of the journeys to the top was stronger than the others. With a gasp, I tried to suck as much air as I could before submerging again.

  “Nurse!” I heard the words far away, but I knew the voice. Somehow it reminded me of strawberries. “Nurse, quickly, he’s waking up!”

  Whilst I appreciated the human contact, my first response was to drift back down to the comfort of the inky blackness, but it seemed that hands now were touching, re-arranging me.

  A tube was dragged from my mouth, hurting my throat as it passed. I had not noticed it before it was moved.

  Suddenly, the air was easier to breathe, and I gasped it in handfuls, pushing it into my weary, painful lungs.

  “Lyman! Can you hear me?” Strawberry voice.

  “Yes, I can hear you.” I said, but I could hear no sound.

  “His vocal chords were destroyed; he will not be able to answer you.” A man’s voice; authoritative.

  Me? Not be able to talk? That was absurd.

  “Help!” I cried, but all I heard was a croak. I mean, I knew how to talk, I just had to re-teach my body to follow me. I concentrated hard this time. “Help.” and to my astonishment, I heard the word.

  “Lyman! Lyman!” Strawberry said.

  “Spray some fluid down his throat, nurse. Cepacol; anything.”

  I felt my mouth opened, and a very cooling feeling, both on my throat, and farther down. It certainly took the pain away, but it also loosened whatever was stopping me.

  “Thank you.” I croaked.

  “Lyman! You can talk!”

  Strawberry kissed me, oh my God, those kisses were better than any medicine. Her tongue slipped inside my dry mouth. Strawberry.

  Mary-Christine. That’s her name.

  “Mary-Christine.” I panted.

  “I knew you’d make it. I knew you would. I love you Lyman Bracks.”

  “I love you too, baby.”

  Then firm fingers touched my face, opened one eye for me. Oh that hurt! It seemed like I lost half my eyelashes, they were so stuck together. Then the other. At least for that one I was prepared.

  Mary-Christine was there, and for an instant, I thought I was in heaven. She looked like an angel, and she was glowing. Her smile woke me up a bit, I can tell you.

  “What happened?” I asked. The smile left her face in an instant, and I knew it was bad news. My voice was still kind of croaky, but it was better than nothing. “How long have I been like this?”

  If there was any smile left on her face, it evaporated. “Three weeks.”

  Even I knew that’s a long time to be in bed.

  “Can you leave the room, Miss Muscat?” The doctor asked. It seemed we both shook our heads in unison. At least he smiled about it. “Very well.” He turned to me. “Pain? Where does it hurt?”

  “Stomach.” I began, though my voice was deeper, and very croaky. “Yeah, belly mostly. Like I’ve got a real bad cramp.”

  “But you’re now conscious, so it’s a vast improvement. Can you wiggle your toes?”

  I could see the white sheet move down there.

  “Lift your legs.”

  No problem there.

  “Arms?”

  Again lifted, and with all the tubes into my hands, wiggled my fingers as best as I could.

  “Now, if you were to get a very small portion of food, what would it be?”

  I lay back against the pillow, tired after my exertions. “Vanilla ice cream”

  He left the room with a grin.

  I turned back to Mary-Christine. “I have dreams. But I also have memories; some of them pretty bad. Tell me all that bad stuff isn’t true.”

  She tried her best, but tears began to flow. “I’m sorry.”

  We held hands in silence for a long time.

  So Mom and Dad died three weeks ago, along with five vampires. I tried to cry, but found nothing there.

  I looked at Mary-Christine, the only survivor from our side that night. I had taken that huge spear in the belly; yeah- thanks Billy.

  “How did I make it?” I asked, and by the heavens above, she got worse, tears tumbling down her cheeks like a thousand raindrops. The she forced her hand from mine, and ran out of the room.

  She didn’t come back.

  A nurse eventually brought some ice cream, which she fed me with a small red plastic spoon. Despite Mary-Christine’s outburst, it did taste good.

  Then the doctor returned. I determined to get the information from somewhere. “How did I make it through, Doctor?”

  “Ah, Lyman, you’re one of my best so far.” A smug smile effused his face. “The spear-knife combination made a bit of a mess of your insides, but you are one tough kid. I said a prayer when they brought you in. Promised myself that I’d keep stitching your innards together as long as you kept breathing- and that wasn’t easy for you on one lung.” He lifted my gown, showing a very snow-flake kind of scar; six beautiful cuts, emanating from a central red blotch.

  “You kept breathing, I kept stitching. And you made it. That’s really all I can say. You obviously had the constitution of a horse.”

  There was a light knock at the door and a smiling Dave Muscat popped his head round the doorway. “Mary-Christine tells me you’re awake.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The doctor’s face clouded for a second. “I’ll leave you two alone.” Dave sat at my side and his smile soon evaporated. I knew
there was going to be no touchy-feely stuff here, and that was good. I was in the mood for answers.

  “I don’t suppose there a point in asking about mom and dad?”

  “Buried, Lyman. Sorry but your grandparents had to press on. We didn’t know if you would make it.”

  “My grandparents. Are they here?”

  “They were for a bit, they sat with you a lot, then had to go back home to recover.”

  I held my hand up with more spirit than I felt. “That’s ok. What did you tell the police?”

  “Ok, seems you’re in the mood for it.”

  “I’d like to get it all at once, and from the hip, not through some kind of filter.”

  “Okay. The official line is a house invasion; a gang reprisal thing. Turns out three of the vampires were very new, so we just left the police to find their bodies. Blamed it all on them. We tidied up the other two. No point in confusing the police.”

  I lay silent for a second, processing the information, gathering the strength for the next question; the big one. “Now tell me the truth, how did I survive the Jasperine spear? That thing must have shredded my insides. I might be a fighter, but I’m not stupid.”

  “There’s no easy way to say this, son. Seems that they all knew you were dying, there was no doubt. So, Mandy’s friend, Jackson, he took some of your blood, then he forced you to drink his.”

  Now that was a surprise. Oh boy, did I not expect that one.

  Then I remembered, the bite in the neck, the pulling back of my head, the warm, stinging fluid.

  “He turned me.” I said after a few moments. I felt a shaking come from the back of my mind, and I pushed it away.

  “Seems like it. Doctors say you made huge leaps and bounds getting well. Unexplainable. We obviously don’t know the whole picture, but we can only credit most of your remarkable recovery to the vampire blood.”

  “So, I’m…” I couldn’t bring myself to say the word.

  I’d just been dropped the bombshell. Dave had three weeks to come to terms with it. “Lyman, I’m sorry, kiddo, but you’re a vampire.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Jackson Cole was dead, poisoned by the Helsing’s blood, and the bawling girl didn’t seem to notice. Guess he was just another dead vampire among the pile. All her attention was focused on that red haired, boob obsessed guy with the chair tied to his back: Lyman Bracks- the Helsing that even Alan McCartney seemed to have feared.