by Ian Hall
What subjects? What music? How old? What do I want to be? My majors? What college? Alan McCartney? Dorothy Squires? Guitar? My dad in Unicorps?
Boy, was I glad when we got to our destination in Flagstaff, and the SUV pulled up downtown at the old library.
I followed Mary-Christine inside and I quickly found myself at the microfiche section. She pulled a chair over so we could share a screen. It had been frustrating not being able to talk in the car, and I looked forward to some kind of explanation.
“Let me do it my way,” she said. I nodded, just happy with moving forward, no matter at what speed.
She selected our local paper, the Gregor Newsletter, and began to flash through the issues. Slowing down, she lingered on a headline.
Local Student Drowns in Fishing Hole
“March, 2010,” Mary commented. “Do you remember?”
“I remember it pretty well,” I said. “Quite sad really. Only child; Billy something. But he was two years above me, it didn’t mean much at the time.”
“William Reid,” she said. “The parents left Gregor just days after; seems they couldn’t take the media hype.”
The next headline.
Reid Family in Tatters, Head for New Life in Nebraska
“So what am I taking from this?” I asked.
“Just remember the basic facts right now; you’ll be taking a test later,” she grinned and spun the dial as the screen raced past my eyes again.
Drunk Teens in Highway Collision
I’d almost forgotten about that one. “Yeah, nasty business. Car went under a semi. If I remember correctly, they were in a bad way.”
“That’s one way to say it.” Mary-Christine spun the control.
Highway Crash; Parents Ban Press from Details
“The parents decided not to talk to the press in any way.” She put her hand on my knee. “The families both moved away immediately after the incident.”
“And what am I looking at here?” We were sitting very close, and her perfume had been blowing me away all morning. She had her hand on my knee. I looked down, her fingertips were literally twelve inches from my boner, and she wanted me to have cogent thought processes? “I’m finding it hard to concentrate.”
This would be a difficult morning.
At the time, it didn’t matter that they had been my parents. Just like Alan said about the amoeba thing…
I mean, if you’re rolling down the highway and see some dead deer off in the shoulder, you might think, “Aw, poor thing.” But, you’re not gonna pull over - shovel in one hand, rosary in the other - and give it a proper burial. If anything, you’d tie it to the roof of your car and cart it off to make venison. That’s how it is. Vampires see dead humans the way humans see road kill.
Except without the “poor thing.”
So we gorged ourselves on what had remained of Sybille and Harvey Cross. Alan even made it seem like a cool circle of life thing. Just like they’d brought me into my human life, their blood now transitioned me into my new form as a vampire. He’d gone so far as to call my mom’s blood “mother’s milk.”
We didn’t stop until we’d drained both corpses of every drop. You know how you get all tired and bloated after you’ve eaten way too much? It’s not like that for a vampire when we drink blood. I felt totally alive, more energetic, more fit than ever before.
And I was strong. Really strong. Alan and I got two big duffel bags that my family used when we went camping. We put Sybille’s parts in one bag and Harvey’s in the other. I could lift them both with no problem. I could’ve held them over my head and thrown them like a mile down the street. But, Alan was being all sweet so he carried one bag and gave me the other.
We took them down to the lake and weighted the bags with heavy stones. And with not a word spoken, we threw them into the water and watched them sink.
Afterwards, we climbed up the cement incline under the pier and just kind of watched the water rippling under the moon. Out of nowhere I got hit with this overwhelming remorse, thinking how I’d never see my mother again, never hear any more of her lame advice. I started to cry then - hysterically.
Alan just leaned in until I caught another whiff of his sweat. Yeah, I was a vampire too now; but that stuff still worked on me. I went calm again. Super calm, to the point where I couldn’t figure out why I’d gotten so upset. Then he walked me home.
“It’s a new life for you, Mandy Cross. Don’t waste your time mourning the old one.”
Those were the words he left me with at my front door; I begged and pleaded but he refused to stay with me. He said it was important I learn to let go of my human “inclinations,” including the need for constant company. Whatever.
I spent the whole night all alone in the house my parents had been murdered in. Several nights, in fact, waiting for Alan to show up again. Without his sweat to calm me down, I was a wreck the whole time.
Alan did come back. But he wasn’t alone.
Hannah and Barton. I never knew their last name. According to Alan, all I had to know was that they were my new mommy and daddy.
The only thing they had in common with my parents was age. Both my parents had been blonde, tall, and thin. Hannah had stringy, icky-brown hair and was shaped like a muffin. Barton was thick, short, and bald. So much for the idea that all vampires all beautiful. These two were butt-ugly from top to bottom.
Alan moved them in like he owned the place. Oh - and of course he had an air-tight explanation for the whole thing.
“This is how vampire families are formed; you can ask Jackson if you don’t believe me, same thing happened to him some sixty years ago,” he said. “Hannah and Barton were both turned before they had any kids. Since vampires can’t procreate, when a young vampire ends up orphaned, couples like them just go in and take their parents’ place. Instant family!”
I didn’t like the idea at all. I didn’t like Hannah and Barton and I REALLY didn’t like Alan just assigning a family to me. It’s not like I was some lost puppy that you could just adopt out.
“I don’t want them here! This is MY house and I get to say who lives here.”
Alan treated it like it was totally no biggie. “Would you relax? It’s just for appearances! It’s not like these people give a shit what you do or where you go. You’re still a free agent, Mandy Cross; but you can’t be a seventeen-year-old, living alone, with no adult supervision, and not raise any eyebrows.”
“You’re worried about raising eyebrows?” I roared at him. “My mother has been in the PTA since I started Kindergarten! Everybody knows Sybille Cross. Everybody! I’m pretty sure when that little wart-looking woman shows up trying to impersonate her, someone will notice.”
He got all rude on me then. “Duh. Hannah’s not going to go around saying she’s your mom. You just need to invent a story that explains why your parents aren’t around. You can say they went to Africa to do missionary work for a year…and Hannah’s your aunt. People will believe it.”
“She doesn’t look anything like my mother, you ‘tard!”
Alan laughed, which made me feel totally stupid. “Every beautiful woman has an ugly sister. Trust me - it’s not that far-fetched.”
I could tell he’d already worked that whole lame story out in his head. That made me crazy irate, like Alan had planned this whole thing out the night he killed Mr. Stinky (remember - that’s my cat), and I was the pawn in his game.
Even though I was spitting-mad (like my mom used to say), I tried to be reasonable with him.
“Shouldn’t becoming a vampire come with some amount of independence? I mean, I can do anything I want now, go anywhere. To heck with sticking around this crappy town, going back to that crappy school. What does a vampire need with a high school diploma? Besides, I can’t be in this house anymore, Alan…it’s too…heavy…”
All that got me was another round of him laughing at me.
“C’mon, Mandy Cross,” he said, stepping up real close so I could smell him. “You do
n’t want to run off and be one of those weird nomad-vamps, no connections, no home base. That’s not a solid life; believe me - I know.”
“So, what? Those strangers you have squatting in my living room are suddenly my family now?” I pouted, big time.
“We all are. All the vampires in this community - we’re all family. I’m practically your brother now.”
I did not like the sound of that at all. I mean, I’d been waiting all this time just to get Alan’s tongue in my mouth. Even just standing near him made me crazy-hormonal. Forget Craig - Cami could totally have that loser. But Alan…he made my head swim.
Brother? I don’t think so…
Just to remind him that we were, in fact, not related, I stepped up a little closer to him. I hoped my vampire-sweat would affect him the same way his did me. I put my mouth right up to his and pressed our lips together. The second we had contact, I was desperate to get all of him.
He let me run my hand over his chest, then down to his pants. He let me undo the button and zipper and exhaled like he was excited when I dropped down to my knees. I didn’t even get to see it before he yanked my head back by my hair.
He was breathing hard even though I hadn’t even started yet. “I think I hear your mother calling you.”
I looked over and Hannah stood in my doorway. Like any guy who’d just got caught about to get a BJ, Alan went for the window and was gone in a flash.
I was pissed.
“What do you want?” It sounded more like a cat’s hiss than my actual voice.
Hannah came at me like an attacking lion. She smacked me so hard I rolled onto my side. Her eyes were red and ferocious. I may have been a vampire too, but I knew she could tear me apart if she wanted to.
“You’ve got a lot to learn, little girl.” Then she smacked me again.
The Myth Takes Hold
After another three cases, I sat and looked at the screen. “So there’s a pattern.”
“Very much so,”
It felt difficult to concentrate with Mary-Christine so close, but I did my best. I put my analytical brain in gear, knowing that while Mary-Christine constructed a case around Gregor students, she was also talking about Alan; my friend.
I narrowed my eyes, and put the facts together. “Okay, this is how I see it; teens come here, attend Gregor Academy, then if they die - which it seems there is a huge pattern of - the families leave in a heartbeat.”
Mary-Christine’s face lit up like a beacon, and like every dog that’s done good, I would have accepted a treat from her fingers.
“That is lesson one,” she said. “Now I’ve got to take you to the next level.” Mary-Christine stood up and dragged me to the reference section. She sat me down at an empty desk, and returned moments later with a thick volume: Encyclopedia Britannica, V-W.
“Can’t we use a computer?”
“Not today.”
She snuggled beside me and flipped the pages.
Vampire, Vampirism.
I looked at the page in disbelief, then at the solemn face beside me. “You can’t be serious.”
“Deadly.”
“It’s a novel, for goodness sake; Mary Shelley.”
“Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein, Lyman,” she chided. “Bram Stoker wrote Dracula. But he didn’t write it just from his head. He took the idea from myths and legends, hundreds of years old. Read.”
I didn’t want to actually give the idea any credence, but Mary-Christine sat beside me, all cute, and her leg was touching mine. All the way along the thigh.
So I read some more.
About the myth, the legends, the immortality, the curse, and the cures and protections.
The article went into Slovak and Russian legends of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, then some cases, the eighteenth century.
I sat there, not knowing what to do. I couldn’t denounce Mary-Christine as a nutcase, she was far too important for that, but I couldn’t exactly believe her, either.
“Well?” she asked. Her wide-eyed expression looked full of hope, expectation, but she did frown when I didn’t immediately take up her gauntlet.
I tried hard to come up with an argument that wouldn’t send her running away from me. Then it came to me in a flash of pure genius. “I’m not convinced.”
I sat for a second, half expecting her to storm out. But she smiled. “Ok, mister hard-to-convince skeptic. Let’s ramp this up a notch.”
This time we did go to the computer section.
“Tell me the only way to kill a vampire,” she said. “Come on, tell me. Let’s see if you’re paying attention.”
I easily remembered the encyclopedia articles; I really am a good student. “Wooden stake through the heart, head chopped off and never returned to the body, or complete incineration.”
Mary-Christine nodded her head. “I’m impressed, Lyman Bracks. Impressed.” She leant over, looked from side to side, and then gave me a kiss. I’d never had a kiss in a library. It felt kinda secretive, almost forbidden. I decided right away that I liked it.
She started into the internet, looking at a copy of the Manchester Review.
March 16th, 1996. Manchester, New England. Michele Newman Killed in a Car Crash with Two Other Teens.
Michele looked a kind of mousey sixteen-year-old.
“Pay attention, Lyman. When vampire families lose a member of the family publically, they can’t just pop up the next day saying, ‘Sorry, we made a mistake, all the witnesses were wrong, our kid actually made it through those bone-breaking injuries, and here he is, fit for school on Monday.’”
The next newspaper dated from 2005, Washington state.
Eugene Herald, July 23rd, 2005. Eugene, Washington. School Camp Tragedy: Six Killed in Cable Car Collapse.
To my shock, there was Michele Newman. Same girl, slightly different hairdo, but it was definitely the same girl. The caption under her picture read Corrine Phillips, same age.
Mary-Christine watched my reaction closely. “It’s very rare for a vampire to have two public deaths, and have the pictorial details recorded. What you’re looking at now, is just the very tip of the iceberg.”
I sat in silence for a moment. “So the kids from Gregor Academy. They’re all alive somewhere else? Different names?”
“Mostly. The ones in the car that went under the truck are toast. No heads.”
She pulled me close. Her breath always enticed me. Strawberries. She looked at me with so much affection, it felt difficult to look away.
Man, she was cute.
“There are three kinds of people in this world, Lyman. There’s the general population - 99.999%, there’s vampires, and there’s us - the hunters.” I sat open-mouthed. “Just like there’s vampires, there’s also the alter-vampires. We call ourselves ‘Helsings’ just out of deference to old Irishman Bram Stoker. You have been tasted by a vampire, Lyman Bracks. She tasted your blood and said it burned. That, my dear Lyman, is undeniable fact. You, Lyman Bracks, whether you like it or not, are a Helsing.”
I hadn’t seen Alan in a few weeks after he moved his watchdogs into my house. Never saw much of Barton, either; that would’ve been fine ‘cept he spent most of his time in my dad’s study, smoking his cigars and drinking his scotch.
Freaking Hannah dominated my whole life. She seemed hell-bent on making me a “suitable” vampire girl. I’m not even sure what that meant. Basically I was expected to wait on her and that useless-pig-of-a-husband of hers; a Cinderella with fangs.
And of course, the longer Alan stayed away, the less of a vampire I felt. Looking at pictures of Sybille and Harvey…mom and dad…would make me cry. I couldn’t believe the things that I had been able to do to them; it was crazy, but I wished Alan would come back, let me sniff him to chase all those old human feelings away.
He didn’t, though. Not for a long time.
One night - it was nearly August and school beckoned - Hannah dragged me out of my bedroom and into the downstairs study. Barton lounged out on my dad
’s leather recliner. He looked kinda pale and a compress lay over his forehead. I was so stoked at the thought he might be dying of some vampire cancer or something. Turned out he was just super hungry and being all emo about it.
“You’ve done your father a disservice,” Hannah said to me in that ultra-proper, bitchy tone of hers. “True vampires cannot thrive on the blood of beasts and fowl for prolonged periods of time.”
First of all, Barton wasn’t my “father” and I would never, ever call him that. Secondly, so the freak what? Like I cared if he didn’t like the food I brought him. Mom had once told me, “Don’t blame the delivery guy if you’re still hungry after you’ve eaten the pizza; if you want something satisfying, you gotta get off your rump and cook it yourself.”
Of course, I was scared to death of Hannah, so I didn’t say any of that.
“Alan lives on cats and he does just fine,” I said simply.
But even that got me a backhand across the face. “Never contradict your betters, girl. Bring us a worthy meal tonight or suffer the consequences.”
I’d never killed a person. Alan had been the one to slaughter my parents; all I’d done is drink their blood and sink their bodies into the lake.
Even though I wasn’t supposed to care about humans, and they were little more than livestock with iPhones, when I went out that night to finally catch one, I felt totally sick to my stomach. But, I knew if I didn’t do it, Hannah would beat the living crap out of me. I wasn’t about to give her reason to do that again.
The street was dark under the overhanging tree branches, but, my vampire eyes cut right through the night. And my hearing - it was like freaking sonar! This beetle landed on a leaf and I totally heard it loud as a firecracker.
Scents were coming at me from all directions; I isolated one: blood. Human blood. Of course there were lots of humans around, but this one stood out in the open - less than a mile away. So, I sprang toward that smell, moving so fast the world looked like smudged chalk as I ran.