by Amy Cross
“Sure,” Violet continued, “I guess you couldn't be pregnant. I mean, for that you'd need to have a boyfriend, or at least someone who actually wanted to hang out with you. It's a little tragic, still being a virgin at the age of sixteen.”
“Tragic,” Annabel said with a laugh. “I bet when she goes to the mall, she has to go alone!”
Looking at herself in the mirror, Izzy was shocked to see that all the blood seemed to have drained from her face. She felt as if she was about to collapse, but she was damn well not going to show weakness in front of the class bitches, so instead she turned and made her way to the door. There was another bathroom a couple of halls away, and she figured she might be able to hole up there for a while and recover in time for the next class. Provided her knees didn't buckle along the way.
“At least you're not the biggest freak at school,” Violet told her, “not anymore. Well, maybe not. That new girl probably has you beat.”
“Great,” Izzy muttered, bumping against the door-frame slightly as she headed out into the corridor. “Yay for -” She winced as she felt another grumble of pain, and she realized she'd counted her chickens too soon. The pain wasn't over yet. “Yay for me.”
Chapter Two
“Michael Richard Daniels. Twenty-four years old, of Crescent Row, Philadelphia. Oh, son of the Philip Daniels, huh? The boy was from money.”
Setting the report form down, John Farmer looked at the naked body on his slab. The corpse had been delivered to him an hour ago, straight from the hospital, and now his job was to get the embalming process started so that Michael could be shipped back to his family home several states away, where he could be buried in peace.
“Such a senseless waste,” John muttered, grabbing a trolley and hauling it over to the side of the slab. “You're a long way from home, Michael Richard Daniels. What were you doing in this neck of the woods, anyway? We don't often get visitors in town.”
Untangling the rubber tubes, he checked to make sure the embalming fluid was topped up, and then he took a scalpel and made a small incision on the side of Michael's neck before slipping one of the tubes directly into the jugular. It was the same routine he'd carried out thousands of times in the past, but it was somewhat soothing to being doing something he'd practiced so many times before. Feeling the tube not quite sitting right, he twisted it around and shoved it deeper into the dead man's neck.
“Sorry, Michael,” he said with a faint sigh, “but death isn't pretty. We've got to get you nicely drained for the journey. Can't have all those bodily fluids slurping about, can we? Not if Mom and Dad want an open casket. But don't worry, you're in safe hands.”
Making another cut in the boy's neck, he slipped the second tube inside and then turned to the trolley. After double-checking that everything was set up properly, he flicked a couple of switches and the pump juddered into action. The rubber tubes immediately tensed, accompanied by a faint slurping sound, and John wandered over to the bench at the far end of the room so he could prepare the powder he needed to apply to the corpse's flesh. Whistling to himself, he grabbed the powder box and opened the lid, before stopping suddenly as he realized that the pump was making the wrong noise.
Turning, he saw that the glass jar full of embalming fluid was slowly emptying into the corpse as usual, but that the second jar, reserved for drainage, was so far not filling with blood.
In the distance, in the main part of the house, the hallway phone was ringing.
“Huh,” he muttered, making his way over and checking that the tubes were properly inserted. Once he'd done that, he grabbed the report form again and took a look at the section covering cause of death, and then he felt a faint rustle of concern as he understood the problem.
He read the same line a couple of times, hoping for a mistake, before glancing over at the body.
“No blood,” he whispered, trying not to jump to conclusions. “None at all.”
Setting the form down, he made his way around the table and took hold of the corpse's head, twisting it to one side in order to get a better look at the neck. Sure enough, he immediately found two small puncture wounds just below the jaw-line. They were small enough that he'd missed them earlier, but large enough that they couldn't be an accident. Telling himself not to panic quite yet, he leaned down and took a closer look, running his fingertips against the neat little holes. He wanted to believe that they were just marks left after some kind of random attack, but the more he examined the holes, the more he realized that they seemed awfully familiar. It had been a long, long time since he'd seen something similar, but there were some things a man just couldn't forget. No matter how hard he might try.
Finally, he leaned closer and stuck his tongue out, gently licking one of the holes.
“Oh God,” he stammered, taking a step back as soon as he tasted the familiar sting. “No, it can't be, there can't...”
He paused, feeling his pulse already running at double-speed, before hurrying to the far side of the lab and opening his laptop. His fingers trembled slightly as he brought up a web-page and began searching for details of Michael Richard Daniels' death, and finally he clicked through to a news article that had been posted a couple of days earlier.
“Police are expected to shortly release the body of Michael 'Mick' Daniels,” he mumbled hurriedly as he read the report out loud, “nearly four weeks after the former Galliard student was found dead in the Sobolton forest. Despite increasing pressure from the victim's family, including industrial tycoon Montgomery Daniels, police are believed to have made little progress in the hunt for the twenty-four-year-old's killer, with the current theory being that he was murdered by a passing vagrant.”
Scrolling down the page, John saw a photo of Michael taken in happier times, at some kind of party.
“Mr. Daniels' body was found by hikers near Abbot's Trail on March 5th. Police have refused to comment on speculation that the body had been drained of all its blood, but with the release of the body for burial, it would appear that there is now little hope of determining who or what killed the former college oratory champion. Local sources suggest...”
John's voice trailed off as he took a step back, and then slowly he turned and looked over at the corpse.
“Please no,” he whispered, his face white with shock. “Please, not here. I came to Sobolton to get away from all of this! Sobolton is not vampire country!”
In the distance, the phone was still ringing.
Chapter Three
“It was really only during his second term,” Mr. Marsh said as he made his way along the aisle, “that President Washington faced significant personal attacks from political opponents. In particular, Democrat-supporting newspapers really went for his throat. Given that Washington generally tried to rise above party political divisions, can anyone suggest why the Democrats of the period might have turned on him with such rancor?”
Barely paying attention at the back of the room, Izzy was far too busy poking a tooth that had suddenly started waggling near the front of her mouth. The more she prodded the tooth, the looser it felt, but she couldn't help herself, not even when she began to taste blood.
“Ms. Farmer?” Mr. Marsh said suddenly, stopping in front of her desk. “Do you have an answer?”
“What?” she stammered, looking up at him. As she did so, the tooth finally came loose, dropping from the gum and then slipping from her mouth, landing on her desk with a faint thud.
“Aren't you a little old,” her teacher asked with a frown, “to be losing your baby teeth?”
As several of her classmates giggled, Izzy grabbed the bloodied tooth and shoved it into her pocket. Glancing around, she saw that everyone was staring at her. Some people were laughing, while others simply seemed shocked. Most, she figured, were filing the incident away so they could throw it back at her later.
“Do you need to get a glass of water?” Mr. Marsh asked, clearly unimpressed.
“I'm fine,” she mumbled.
“Are you
sure about that?”
She nodded, just wanting him to leave her alone. She felt certain she had to be blushing by now, but she no longer dared to look around at the sea of mocking faces. After a moment, she heard Mr. Marsh sigh as he turned and made his way around the back of the classroom and picked on someone else for an answer. He could be strict and harsh, but he wasn't completely without pity and he'd evidently decided that Izzy was simply too weak to suffer his wrath today. That, she felt, was both a blessing and an insult.
Using her tongue, Izzy felt the gap where the tooth had dropped out. She could taste blood, but after a moment she realized she could feel the stub of something poking out through the gum. Confused by the fact that an adult tooth appeared to have been pushed out of the way by yet another tooth, she pressed her tongue more firmly, hoping to -
“Ow!” she hissed, feeling a sharp pain and pulling her tongue back.
Immediately she heard more giggles. Glancing around, she saw that once again everyone was looking at her.
“Trouble, Ms. Farmer?” Mr. Marsh asked. “You haven't lost another, have you? That would seem rather careless.”
“No, Sir,” she replied, quickly wiping her lip in case any blood had slipped out. She checked the back of her hand. Some had.
“Settle down everyone,” Mr. Marsh continued. “We're supposed to be learning about the history of our country here, not engaging in an impromptu spot of dentistry. If anyone is still interested in Ms. Farmer's mouth, they can ask her about it once my class is over.”
As he began asking more questions about eighteenth century politics, Izzy cautiously slipped her tongue back into the gap, although this time she was more careful as she felt the sharp piece of tooth that had poked out through her gum. At first she'd assumed that a normal tooth was somehow coming down, but now she worried that since the tooth seemed so sharp, it might actually be broken. The last thing she wanted was to see the dentist, but at least there was no pain and she figured she could just wait and let her teeth organize themselves. Most things, she'd learned even at the age of sixteen, tended to fix themselves, given time.
After a moment, feeling as if she was being watched, she looked around and saw that the new girl a few desks along was staring straight at her. They shared a brief glance, before Izzy looked back down at her book and tried to focus.
And then she frowned as she realized another tooth was loose, on the other side of her mouth.
Chapter Four
“This isn't vampire country. It just isn't. It never has been!”
Ignoring the still-ringing telephone in the hallway, John hurried to the front door and pulled the drapes aside so he could look out at the front yard.
Nothing.
No-one.
And yet...
He waited, convinced that something had to be very wrong. He watched as Mrs. Lincolnman from down the street made her way past, walking her little dog Tobias, but that was a fairly normal event. After a moment, the dog squatted down and left a little gift, which was also normal. Finally the old lady and her dog went on their way, leaving the gift behind, and this, unfortunately, was also very normal.
So he waited some more, long after the old lady and her dog were out of sight. In this pit of his belly, he could still feel a twist of urgency, as if some hidden instinct was trying to warn him of impending trouble.
“Please,” he whispered, trying to stay calm, “just let it be a one-off. Please, I can't deal with them. I came here to get us away from them.”
The phone stopped ringing, although it started against just a moment later.
“Shut up!” John hissed, hurrying over and picking up the receiver before quickly slamming it back down. Realizing he was in danger of losing his grip, he took a step back and tried to gather his thoughts, although in the back of his mind he could think of one thing and one thing only.
Those puncture wounds.
The dead, drained body of Michael Richard Daniels, still resting downstairs on his slab.
The possibility, however remote, that somehow...
“No,” he said firmly, as the phone started ringing again. He quickly picked it up and then rammed the receiver back down. “I will not allow this! If they're here, they can just leave again! I refuse to let those... things back into my life! This...” He took a deep breath. “This is not now, never has been, and never will be vampire country!”
Chapter Five
Leaning over the sink, Izzy continued to poke the back of her throat with two fingers until, finally, she began to retch. She'd barely eaten anything all day, but the physical sensation at least provided some welcome relief from the pain in her gut, which had returned with a vengeance just after her class with Mr. Marsh had ended.
All things considered, this was the worst day since the pain had started a few weeks earlier.
Retching again, she felt something wet at the back of her throat, and when she spat into the sink she immediately saw a swirl of blood against the white porcelain.
“Nice,” a voice said suddenly.
Spinning around, Izzy saw that she had company. The new girl wandered over and glanced at the blood in the sink, before turning the faucet to wash it all away.
“You know,” the girl muttered, “if you really want to lose weight, there are better ways. Not that I'm saying you need to lose weight, 'cause you don't.” She looked her up and down for a moment, making no secret of the fact she was checking her body shape. “You're more than fine as you are,” she continued, with a faint smile, “and you don't strike me as the body dysmorphia type, but -”
“I don't have an eating disorder,” Izzy snapped, stepping around her and heading to the door, while wiping her lips. “I just wasn't feeling -”
Suddenly the pain struck her gut again. Gasping, she leaned forward and grabbed hold of the door-frame, holding her breath as the pain tightened harder than ever. After a moment, the tightening sensation began to fade, but she knew it'd be back soon enough, and she figured she needed to hide away somewhere. Sometimes she just wanted to crawl into a tight spot and wait for everything to be okay, although she knew she might have to wait a long time.
“So what is wrong with you?” the girl asked.
Izzy turned to her. “Nothing.”
“Liar. I knew you'd say that, but you're lying.”
“Nothing's wrong!” Izzy hissed. “I'm fine, I've just got some -” She gasped again as the pain rippled through her gut, threatening worse to come. “I've just got indigestion.”
“Liar.”
“It's none of your -”
“Had any more teeth fall out since class? Or is it just one a day?”
Izzy opened her mouth to reply, before realizing that this, at least, was something she couldn't possibly deny.
“Just the two,” she muttered.
“Can I see?”
“The teeth?”
“The gaps, dumb-ass.”
Izzy paused, before shaking her head. She'd examined her gums in the mirror and had found that in each of her two gaps, there was a sharp, white tooth slowly emerging. She didn't understand quite what was happening, but she sure didn't feel like sharing it with anyone.
“You're acting weird,” the girl said.
“Like you can talk,” Izzy snapped back at her defensively, although she immediately realized she was making herself sound exactly like the girls who'd taunted her in the past. “I'm fine,” she muttered, hurrying out of the bathroom. “I don't need anyone fussing over me.”
“Nice to meet you,” she heard the girl calling after her, as she headed along the corridor. “My name's Rita, by the way!”
“Great,” Izzy muttered, hoping to make it to another bathroom before she collapsed. “Like I need to know that.”
Chapter Six
In the hallway, the phone continued to ring and ring and ring. If anything, it seemed now to be ringing louder and harder and more persistently than ever, and the receiver was actually starting to shudder on the cradle.
Now the phone became even louder, and the receiver jumped slightly, almost falling out of place. The entire phone was starting to shake, as if the full fury of the caller on the other end of the line was threatening to come bursting through. The old-fashioned dial on the front of the phone was rattling, and a crack had formed on one of the edges.
And then, with no warning, the ringing stopped. And this time, the phone stayed silent. Previously, it had always started ringing again after just a few seconds, but now the caller – whoever and wherever they might be – seemed to have finally given up. Either that, or they'd decided to find some other way to get in touch.
Chapter Seven
“There she is! Izzy, wait up!”
As soon as she heard the excited, squawking gaggle of girls running along the sidewalk, Izzy flinched. She'd been hoping to avoid them for once, and the last thing she needed was to deal with their inane attempts to gain some entertainment from her awkwardness. The walk home was already hard enough, thanks to the continued gurgle in her belly that promised more pain to come.
“Watch out!”
Annabel slammed into her from behind, giggling and almost knocking her off her feet.
“Careful!” Izzy muttered.
“Heading back to the mausoleum, are you?” Violet asked, putting an arm around her shoulder.
Izzy ducked away. She didn't feel much like being touched.
“What's it like living in a house full of corpses, anyway?” Violet continued, nudging her arm as they made their way along the street. “I guess you get used to it after a while, but don't you sometimes get the shivers? What's the creepiest thing that's ever happened to you?”
“This,” Izzy said darkly.