The Fangs of Bloodhaven

by Cheree Alsop

  “So, Vanguard, what do you do here?” he asked, keeping his voice steady.

  “He’s a warlock,” Adrielle replied with pride in her voice; she leaned with her hands linked across Vanguard’s shoulder.

  Everett fought back the urge to hit something. “What does that mean?” he asked levelly.

  The teen flicked a strand of his long hair back behind a shoulder and held out his hand. “Let me see your book.”

  Everett was reluctant to turn it over.

  When he hesitated, Adrielle said, “Come on, Everett. Let him show you.” Her tone was one of exasperation as if she felt he was being silly.

  Everett gritted his teeth and held out the book.

  “Watch and learn, fang boy,” Vanguard said. He waved a hand over the book and it disappeared.

  Everett’s stomach tightened. “What did you do with the book?”

  “Nothing,” Vanguard replied, giving his perfect smile.

  Everett felt a hint of panic at the thought that the book he had been waiting to read practically his whole life had disappeared at the hands of the annoying warlock.

  “Where is it?” he asked, the panic tightening his voice despite his efforts to remain calm.

  “It’s right here,” Vanguard replied. “Dr. Transton would kill me if I destroyed one of his precious books even if I did have the power.” He waved his hand over the book again and it reappeared. “Geesh. Take some breathing lessons or something. You look like you’re about to pass out.” He looked down at Adrielle. “Your fangy friend should take some notes from Spira.”

  Adrielle laughed. “I don’t know if vampires and yoga instructors get along.”

  Vanguard chuckled. “You’re probably right. Anyway,” he looked back at Everett. “It wasn’t ever gone, it was just, as the humans call it, invisible. My magical abilities enable me to reflect the images behind an object in front of it so that it seems to disappear.”

  “So you’re a magician,” Everett said, thinking of the tricks Donavan did sometimes to make their younger siblings laugh. He used to dress in an old top hat their father had found at a salvage store. It looked a lot like the one Vanguard wore.

  “I’m a warlock,” Vanguard corrected. “Trust me. There’s a huge difference.”

  A thought occurred to Everett. “Do you have something to do with the reason only ten stories show outside of the Asylum?”

  Vanguard grinned. “I’m glad someone recognizes my genius for what it is. That took like a month of work. I had to focus on every single piece of building material that would be visible from outside while they were building it. It was exhausting.”

  “I remember,” Adrielle replied, rubbing his arm.

  The thought that they shared something from the past made Everett’s chest tighten. He told himself he was feeling foolish, but he couldn’t deny the way Adrielle had looked at him in the moments before Vanguard showed up. He had almost kissed her. Confusion made his thoughts whirl.

  “I, uh, I’d better go,” he said, passing them. “I’ll catch you later. Thanks for showing me the library, Elle.”

  He pushed the button on the elevator and it opened.

  “Elle?” he heard Vanguard repeat.

  He refused to turn around and watch them.

  “Yeah,” Adrielle replied. “It’s what he calls me sometime. I like it.”

  “Huh,” Vanguard said as the elevator door shut. “It sounds like a letter of the alphabet.”

  Everett wanted to go back and tell the warlock that all names were made from letters of the alphabet, but he let the door close completely. Everett leaned his forehead against the wall and sighed.

  “I’m so stupid,” he breathed. He shook his head, focusing on the cold brush of the metal. “Why would she want me when she has a magician who can make buildings disappear?”

  The door opened. The sterile scent of the medical floor stung his nose. Everett sighed and pushed away from the wall. He was grateful nobody was there he would have to explain his dark mood to.

  A steady beeping came from the bed. Everett approached it carefully. The teen he had rescued looked better than he had the day before. The boy’s dark skin appeared healthier and he breathed easier. Everett wondered if Jeraldine had been back to sing. He wished he could have been there if she was; the relaxation offered by the banshee’s song was like nothing he had ever experienced before.

  He knew he should probably go home. There was nothing keeping him at the Asylum, but he felt reluctant to leave. There was so much more left to learn, but after his run-in with Vanguard, he didn’t want to talk to anyone else for a while. He glanced at the book in his hand. Maybe reading would calm the whirlwind in his mind.

  Everett walked past the chair by the bed and chose instead to sit below the window. He opened the book Adrielle had given him. Starlight washed across the pages, highlighting the first paragraph beneath the chapter heading ‘The Origin of Vampires’.

  ‘Legends of vampires have been around since the early ages of the earth. Myths contradict one another, giving the species a variety of appearances and abilities. When a subspecies with hollow fangs and the need for blood to survive surfaced after the Ending War, the name vampire was the obvious label; however, the title aroused the ancient fears of the past against creatures who preyed on the blood of humans and were immortal, something this subspecies is not. While vampires have the ability to live the normal lifetime of a human, factors like blood limitations, sunlight, and possible allergies to garlic and certain types of water prevail. Whether these allergies truly exist or are merely rumors is discussed in chapter seventeen...’

  “Hello?”

  Everett’s head jerked back. He realized he had fallen to sleep in the middle of reading. He quickly searched the room for who had spoken. His gaze fell on the boy in the bed.

  “What happened to me?” the teen asked.

  Everett crossed to the bed. He hesitated a few steps away, reminding himself that most humans were afraid of vampires.

  “You were attacked by something in the tunnels beneath Nectaris. I found you and brought you where you could get help,” Everett explained.

  The teenager nodded, his sharp gaze on Everett’s mouth. “I remember you. You’re a vampire, aren’t you?” Alarm pinched the boy’s face and he tried to sit up. “Are you going to drink my blood?”

  Everett took a step back. “No,” he answered. “I’m not. You can calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  The teen winced and gave up, lowering himself back down. “So you’re telling me I asked a vampire to save my life.”

  Everett gave him a steely look. “You didn’t exactly have a lot of options.”

  The boy watched him closely, his breathing shallow. “You could have drank my blood and left me there. Nobody would know.”

  “I would know,” Everett replied. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Maybe what you know about vampires is wrong.”

  “Maybe,” the boy conceded. A pained expression crossed his face and he lowered his head back to the pillow. He put a hand to his chest, pressing against the place where the creature had torn him open.

  Everett watched him quietly, unsure of what to do.

  After a few minutes of silence, the teenager said quietly, “I owe you my life.” He turned his head to look at Everett. “I’m sorry I overreacted. It’s not every day I wake up with in the same room as a vampire.” A smile pulled his lips up. “Thank you.” He held out his hand.

  Everett crossed to him and shook it. “Glad to help. My name’s Everett, by the way. You can call me Rett.”

  The boy’s expression was becoming strained. “My name’s Torrance,” he said, his voice tight. “My chest is killing me. It’s getting harder to breathe.”

  “I’ll call for Dr. Transton. Maybe he has some pain meds,” Everett told him, alarmed at how quickly the human seemed to get worse.

  Torrance shook his head. “No, thanks. I don’t touch the stuff.”

  “Pain meds?�
� Everett asked. “You’re in pain. It’s medication. You need it.”

  Torrance shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “I’ll be fine.” He put a hand to the bandages. As if the pain was becoming too great to bear, he started pulled at the strips of gauze.

  Everett grabbed his arm. “You can’t do that. You might start the bleeding again.” His jaw locked at the thought.

  “Let me go,” the human protested, but Everett was too strong.

  He had to keep Torrance from tearing off the bandages. If the wounds were exposed, they would most certainly bleed. He didn’t feel like testing his self-control again so soon.

  Torrance struggled. Everett’s hold on his arms tightened.

  “You’re hurting me,” the teenager protested.

  “You’re hurting yourself,” Everett replied through gritted teeth.

  “You’re awake,” a scratchy voice said.

  Both boys jumped. Everett stared at Jeraldine. She stood a few feet away with her tattooed arms crossed in front of her chest. Her bright red hair flowed messily down her shoulders and she looked as though someone had just awoken her.

  “Usually I like knowing when our patients are awake, but I don’t appreciate Horace calling me from bed to break up a fight,” she said.

  Both Everett and Torrance winced at her abrasive voice.

  “Sorry,” Everett apologized. He dropped his hands. Stark red marks showed on Torrance’s arms where he had held them too tight. Everett let out a breath. “He was tearing at his bandages. I was afraid he’d start bleeding again.”

  Jeraldine gave Torrance a straight look. “Don’t you know better than to bleed in front of a vampire?”

  Torrance’s eyes narrowed. “If you know he’s a vampire, why isn’t he being arrested?”

  Humor touched the banshee’s eyes. “Because he hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  “But he’s a vampire,” Torrance pointed out.

  Jeraldine looked from him to Everett. He lifted his shoulders in a small shrug.

  She shook her head and looked back at Torrance. “If you want revenge against the one who saved your life, as ridiculous as it sounds, that’s up to you. As for me, I’m here to assist with pain relief.”

  Torrance shook his head quickly. “I don’t want any pills. You can’t make me take them...”

  His voice died away when Jeraldine started to sing. Her scratchy voice vanished and the beautiful waves of sound Everett remembered from the day before surrounded them both. Torrance let out a sigh and settled his head back against the pillow. His hand slipped from his chest.

  Satisfied that the human wasn’t about to get himself killed, Everett leaned against the wall closest to the bed. Jeraldine’s wordless song swirled around Torrance. Tendrils reached out, wrapping Everett in the waves of relaxation he had missed. He slid to the floor and rested his head back against the wall.

  Everett barely noticed when Jeraldine’s song faded away.

  Her scratchy voice broke the silence. “I’ll leave you boys if you promise to be nice.”

  “I promise,” Everett said.

  “Promise,” Torrance mumbled.

  Jeraldine touched Everett’s knee. He had to force his eyes open.

  She looked down at him with a hint of concern. “Take care, Rett. A banshee’s voice is usually a death sentence.”

  “Not yours,” he replied, his words slurred.

  She gave him a fond look and patted his cheek. “Too much of a good thing can also be bad. I think Torrance learned that the hard way.”

  Her words lingered in the air when she stepped inside the elevators and the doors closed.

  Torrance eventually broke the silence. “She’s right.”

  Everett recalled through the fuzziness of his relaxed mind that Jeraldine’s singing lowered inhibitions as well as increased healing. Perhaps one’s guard had to be down to allow the songs to work.

  “You don’t have to tell me,” Everett said. His head lolled to one side and he glanced up at Torrance.

  The human was staring at the ceiling. Tear trails traced down each cheek. “My dad died a few months ago from Kovor. He got hooked on it when he hurt his back, and then they took it away and he was forced to find it on the streets.” His voice broke. “He just had too much.”

  Everett closed his eyes and squeezed them with one hand. “I’m sorry,” he said. He couldn’t imagine losing his father.

  “I have to get home,” Torrance said. “My mom will be so worried. I can’t leave her and Tricky by themselves.”

  Everett opened his eyes again, worried Torrance would try to get up, but the human looked too worn out and relaxed despite his concerns.

  “Who’s Tricky?” Everett asked.

  “Patricia,” Torrance replied. “She’s my little sister. She’s seven.”

  “So you take care of them?”

  Torrance nodded, then hesitated and shook his head. “I try, but Mom does. Even before Dad died, she carried us. But she’ll be worried.”

  At the concern in the human’s voice, Everett forced himself to rise. He could relate to a worrying mother. “What can I do to help?”

  “Can I call home?” Torrance asked.

  “I’ll make it happen,” Everett promised.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Everett left Dr. Transton and Torrance on the medical level. The human still had red marks on his arms where Everett had held him down to keep him from tearing open his bandages. Guilt filled Everett. He had been on the verge of losing control, again. Twice in the last two days was far too often. He had hurt Torrance, and knew that was the reason the human had been anxious to have him taken away for being a vampire.

  Whether or not Torrance knew what happened to vampires when they were taken was a moot point; Everett had channeled his strength to hold the boy down, and in turn had hurt him. He didn’t know how to come to terms with that.

  The elevator doors closed and Everett stared at the rows of numbers. He could head home, but the thought of returning to his bedroom to lie there in confusion wasn’t appealing. He could find Adrielle, but seeing her with Vanguard had left a bad taste in Everett’s mouth. He had almost kissed the girl, the werewolf. She had seemed just as willing before the warlock appeared. Everett didn’t hate anyone, but he felt a very strong dislike for Vanguard that didn’t have everything to do with the warlock’s condescending tones.

  On impulse, Everett pressed his finger to the small panel. The rest of the numbers above floor ten lit up. Keeping Dr. Transton’s words of caution in the back of his mind, Everett pressed the button for number twenty-two. The elevator rose.

  The set of doors behind him slid open and Everett stumbled back. Space spread out with such an expanse it was unfathomable that he could still be in the Asylum. He felt as if he stood at the window to the stars, staring out at the vast darkness lit by bright dots of starlight almost too brilliant to look at.

  A form appeared in the darkness, blocking out the stars. A strange, low, bugling sound emanated. Everett felt the call reverberate in his chest. Another creature answered. They drew closer. He rubbed his eyes and stared again.

  What looked like two elephants floated through the endless reaches of darkness. One stretched out its trunk and plucked a star like an apple from the velvety sky. It swung its trunk and the star flew across the horizon, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The other elephant bugled and grabbed a different star. It flung its trunk in the opposite direction and released its hold.

  The star sailed straight at Everett. He pushed the door close button on the elevator, but nothing happened. The star flew closer, growing into a giant, flaming ball. Everett hit the button again and again, but the doors refused to close. At the last second, Everett slammed his palm against the rows of numbers. A number lit up and the doors closed the moment before the star made it inside.

  Everett let out a sigh of relief and leaned against the wall. A glance at the numbers showed floor thirty-one had been selected. He waited with a touch of trepida
tion at what would be revealed.

  The elevator beeped and the doors slid open. At first, Everett saw only darkness. He thought for a moment that he was in another space room, but as his eyes adjusted to the faint light from the elevator, he saw plain walls and a normal ceiling.

  “It’s just an empty room,” he said aloud to himself.

  “Go away,” a voice replied.

  The hair on Everett’s arms lifted. He searched the corners for whoever was hiding.

  “I said, go away,” the unmistakably feminine voice repeated.

  “I-I’m sorry,” Everett replied. He hit the button for the doors to close. Yet again, the button failed him. “Uh, I’m trying to close the—”

  “Go away!” the voice shouted. “Get out of here and leave me alone!”

  Everett’s heart pounded at the hostility in her voice. After everything else he had seen at the Asylum, he had no idea what the girl was capable of.

  “Leave me alone!” she screamed.

  He slammed the button with his fist. The doors finally slid shut.

  “I’m sorry!” he called before it closed completely.

  Everett leaned his forehead against the cool metal of the doors and breathed a sigh of relief.

  A sound came from the other side of the elevator. He willed his pounding heart to slow and listened. He realized he was hearing the sound of sobs, the heart-wrenching, scratchy throat, bone-aching kind that left a person exhausted and unable to sleep.

  Everett was tempted to push the open button again. The thought of someone in that kind of emotional pain made his heart ache. But the thought of her rage kept his hand from opening the doors. Instead, with a heavy heart, he pushed the button for the first floor.

  Everett walked home with a hurricane of thoughts that wouldn’t leave him in peace. The things he had seen at the Asylum opened his mind to possibilities he had never imagined. He doubted his decision to visit the floors above the tenth had been wise, and he wasn’t sure he would do so again, but the fact that creatures like those he had seen existed threatened to alter everything he knew about the world.