Twice Bitten

by Diana Greenbird

  For the first four years the young vampire learnt the life of a vampire from the Mors Exercitus and was forced to hunt those immune to the lamia power. If he did not do as his creators bid, they would bind him and refuse to let him feed, starving him to the point of exhaustion until he gave in. Whilst he dissociated from the torture and the murder he was forced to commit, the original sin of turning him and butchering his family did not fade from his mind. Those memories remained his own.

  The young vampire was told to change his name in every town he went, but he always kept his family name: Emerson. He would not forget the family his creators took from him.

  The year was 1906 when Peter Emerson broke free from the Mors Exercitus and attempted to strike a life out on his own. He was in New Orleans at the time and was drawn, as he always had been throughout his life, to the witches.

  The lamia had no segregation of the classes: witch or vampire, but they despised those who turned others against their will. Peter was a pitiful creature, a lamia who had been robbed of their greatest power: choice.

  The coven welcomed Peter into their home. A young girl at the age of fourteen offered to become his donor.

  She had the power of retrocognition: the ability to see the past through the eyes of another. The first time she had touched Peter’s hand she had seen the moment his choice had been taken from him: the moment he lost the connection to his supernatural gift.

  Peter had been part of a coven who had been attempting to remove the immunity from a mortal hunter – so that she might live her life as a vampire with her mate: a Mors Exercitus assassin. At the time, Peter had wanted no part in his coven’s spell. He couldn’t stand to be around vampires – even though when Gabriel was around Susanna, his emotions worked as any non-vampire’s would, free from the vacuum that usually plagued the monstrous Divine. He had told his family not to get involved, but they didn’t listen. So, he had left to stay with another coven until their work with the vampire and mortal hunter was done.

  When the other remaining Mors Exercitus returned for Gabriel, his coven had all been slaughtered. Peter had come home to find them butchered. The two vampires had already dissociated from the crime by the time they found him. They decided to turn Peter so that any witch in the future, who might think to aid the immune hunters, would have Peter’s first-hand account of what happened to lamia who betrayed their people.

  Peter Emerson had hated every moment of feeding – until he met Charlotte Bryson. With her power, when he fed from her, her gift magnified his memories so that he could experience them from within her un-dissociated mind. From the moment he took her blood, to the second he pulled away, he could feel his past.

  Years passed and Charlotte’s powers grew as she matured. Like all those who grew in friendship, they began to love one another, as much as a vampire could love with a dissociated mind. The coven had come to love Peter Emerson, too, even whilst knowing they would lose each other eventually to the painful fall of time.

  ‘What if we found a way to reverse what was done?’ Charlotte had asked one morning.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Technically you still have your choice. You will always remain two weeks away from making your decision. What if there is a way that we can create a spell to age you two weeks. You are lamia still, no? Perhaps the choice may supersede what has already been done.’

  ‘Charlotte, it has never been done before. If it was possible, surely someone would have tried and succeeded by now.’

  But even as he said it, Peter wasn’t sure. It was rare for a witch to be turned against their will, even rarer for them to be turned a few weeks before their choice.

  ‘No one believed it was possible to build an unsinkable ship the weight of fifty thousand tons, but it is being done right now,’ Charlotte said with an optimism that was almost infectious. ‘And that is simply what a human can accomplish with science. We have more. Do you not want to even try?’

  Of course, Peter wanted to try, but in the back of his mind was the family he had lost: the coven who had tried to be the first to perform another impossible spell. The very reason he had been turned was to warn against meddling with magics that would usurp the natural order.

  For a witch with the power of retrocognition, poor Charlotte Bryson did not heed the warning from the past.

  Since Emerson had told me about his past, the dreams from Gabriel and Susanna had changed. My dream journal showed the story of the star-crossed lovers. From the moment that Gabriel met Susanna, to their slaughter when the other Mors Exercitus returned, and found that Gabriel had fallen in love with a creature they had sworn to rid the world of.

  Like I hadn’t realised that Gabriel himself had been killed until the second to last dream I’d had (before the star-crossed story changed to Emerson’s past), it took a few days for me to realise that I had been dreaming about Emerson. Names and faces were something that faded the quickest when I awoke, but eventually I saw Emerson’s story in the hints of what he had said.

  As the nights progressed, I could see that my dreams were trying to piece together a narrative – a way to connect each dream to the other. Like the Mors Exercitus being the link between the plague dreams and Gabriel’s story, the coven who had tried to break Susanna’s immunity became the new link. I’d dreamt that Emerson belonged to the old coven that had been slaughtered along with Susanna and Gabriel. Instead of dying with them, Emerson had been turned.

  My dreams also created a history between Charlotte and Emerson – something I loathed to dream of since it burned me with a jealousy I hadn’t thought possible. Whilst I didn’t want Emerson for myself, like my body overcame my rational mind sometimes, equally I couldn’t control that jealousy.

  I hardly saw Charlotte around school, but I had seen her enough to know that she was the doe-eyed beauty in my dream that Emerson craved to feed from so that he could experience undissociated memories.

  I decided, since I was finally dreaming about people I knew in real life, to attempt to look into what these dreams might mean. I should have realised that it was a load of BS. I didn’t need the internet to tell me that I was projecting, using Charlotte as a manifestation of my self-worth.

  I’d been thinking about Emerson physically feeding off humans, ergo I dreamt of him feeding off a human. I’d been wondering what it meant that I was the only one who could stop him from dissociating and actually experience life, so I’d dreamt there had been another person like me he’d felt for, for no other reason than she helped him feel connected to his memories. And I’d imagined his past: where his family were taken from him by vampires and he was left alive, simply because that was what happened to me and I wanted to form another connection between us.

  It was strange: the intensity of the latest dreams. Only the first part was as bloody and gory as all those previous, the rest seemed fairly… normal. At least however normal a dream about witches and vampires could be.

  Friday night, the AA Team was all round at Gi’s house attempting to help her construct the Disney robot costumes for her little sisters. Emerson was surprisingly good at crafts. Me? Not so much.

  ‘Maybe lay off the glue…’ Jenny suggested.

  ‘Or don’t touch anything at all?’ Martha helpfully advised.

  Robbie looked over to what I’d accomplished. ‘Damn, girl. And I thought I was bad.’

  With Halloween a week away, the TV was chock full of scary flicks. We put one on and I sat on the couch waiting for Emerson and Gi to bring in the drinks and popcorn from the kitchen. Jenny and Robbie were snuggled up on the love seat, Martha sat on the floor by the coffee table.

  Surprisingly, after such a short amount of time, this sense of normality being around the AA Team didn’t shock me as much as I would have thought. I seemed to fit in with this group of misfits – and I liked it. It was nice to have friends for once and be a normal teenager.

  Mi Cha and Dae were already upstairs asleep, whilst Gi’s dad was simply up in his room, probably re
ading one of those classical architecture books I’d seen around the house. Gi and her sisters had put up the Halloween decorations at the start of the week, so there were flying bats hanging from the ceiling, cobwebs on all the sideboards and books on witches and wicca on the coffee table. A cauldron full of candy was by the door, though it was likely they were going to have to refill by the time that Halloween came around as Robbie had eaten over half of it during the course of the night. He said creativity required fuel – yet hadn’t lifted a finger to stick, sew, cut or craft anything all night.

  We’d chosen to watch some zombie movie (since vampires and witches were out of the question with Emerson and all) and I was attempting to find the remote to turn up the volume when I saw Emerson’s phone light was blinking to say that he’d got a message.

  I’d like to say that I’d stopped being so nosy and prying into his life since Nowak and Ali had given him the all clear, but I hadn’t. I looked to see if Jenny, Robbie or Martha were paying attention to what I was doing and when the coast was clear, I picked up his Blackberry and clicked the unlock button to see if I could read any of the message alerts displayed on the screen.

  There were a couple messages from Charlotte and Grayson, the latest asking what time he thought he’d be coming home, but that’s not what kept my attention. His screen background was the image of me he’d taken the first time we’d hung out after school, shopping with the AA Team.

  I had on that ridiculously ugly shirt, cap and glasses and had a face of pure distain, one arm on my hip, the other one flipping him and Gi off.

  I hadn’t realised he’d kept the picture. I’d always assumed that whilst he’d joked about not deleting it when I asked, that he had deleted it. But it had been there all along, on his phone.

  Memories from years ago started to resurface. I could feel my heartrate spiking. The reason I didn’t allow myself to get close with anyone. To get comfortable. My palms were clammy, and the walls felt like they were closing in on me. It was getting harder to breathe. Was my chest tight? Was it getting hotter in here?

  This wasn’t a big deal, I told myself. This is nothing like before.

  I took some deep breaths, attempting to slow down my heartrate, but it felt as if there was a bear gripping me and holding me tight so I couldn’t expand my chest enough to get the air I wanted.

  Gi and Emerson came back into the room.

  ‘What’s up? Someone call me or something?’ Emerson asked, wondering why I was holding his phone. He obviously knew no one had called him, since he hadn’t heard his phone go off – though I suppose it could be set to silent.

  ‘Why’s your lock screen a picture of me?’

  Emerson’s brow furrowed for a moment, trying to gage the difference between my stone-cold tone and the thundering of my heartbeat he could no doubt hear.

  ‘Let’s not make a bigger deal than we need to about this, love.’

  ‘Emerson,’ I repeated. Instead of the cold fury I wanted to project, my voice broke a little.

  Gi looked between us. Emerson looked like he was about to try and corner a very dangerous and wild animal. Whatever weakness Gi heard in my voice or panic on my face made her stutter and pale. ‘I think I forgot – something – in the kitchen.’ She backed off, leaving the popcorn on the table.

  Jenny leapt up from Robbie’s lap. ‘We’ll, urgh, go help Gi with that.’ She grabbed Robbie’s hand, pulling him with her towards the kitchen. ‘Martha,’ she hissed as she passed by. Martha reluctantly got up off the floor and left.

  ‘Why?’ I asked again.

  ‘Why did you keep that picture of me?’ he asked.

  He was trying to keep his tone nonchalant, but I could see in his eyes that he was worried for me. Or about me. I wasn’t sure on the logistics. I imagined it might have something to do with all those years reading emotions as a witch. Still, just because you could sense emotions didn’t mean it gave you an insight as to why they were there in the first place.

  ‘It was funny,’ I said.

  I didn’t know how I managed to answer when I felt like I hardly had enough oxygen to breathe, let alone speak. My hand ached from clenching his phone so tight. I half thought that I felt a few of my rings bend under the pressure of the plastic and my grip.

  ‘I kept it for the same reason,’ he said.

  Logically, I knew that could be true. But I couldn’t think straight to admit that. I could just see Christian’s face as we scrolled through that laptop. The way his eyes had darkened as each file loaded and the deathly quiet that had followed when we’d gotten to the last image. And in that moment, for the first time in my life, I’d seen Death and knew I wasn’t going to do a single thing to stop him from coming. For the first time, I’d wanted to see him.

  That memory, that invitation for Death to come in my life willingly, brought back my voice. Brought back the mask of strength I put on every day to face the world after all the shit I’d been through.

  ‘No – not the same reason. Because you chose to put this on your lock screen. Like we’re dating or something.’

  It was easy to deflect my anger from what I was really feeling to some obnoxious “Liv’s only problem is crushing on Emerson” BS. Emerson didn’t need to know most of my thoughts were spiralling to things that had happened to me long before I’d met him. I could easily make this about us labelling something that we both knew was going nowhere despite our kiss and growing friendship.

  Emerson, somehow, read the situation. He knew what role he needed to play to match the mask I had just donned. As much as I needed to hate him in that moment, part of me had to love him for knowing what I needed to get me out of my past memoires the image on his phone had triggered.

  Emerson collapsed onto the couch and kicked up his feet, putting them on the coffee table. He had on an air of total disregard. A cocky attitude that I’d seen him feign a thousand times at school. It made me realise how easy it was for Emerson to project this version of himself.

  ‘I’ve already told you I like you, Liv. And you know I’m not forcing you to do anything you don’t want to. This is just a photo. It doesn’t mean anything other than I wanted to remember that moment,’ Emerson said.

  His words were more than reasonable. They were facts he was putting back in my hands, telling me where the power was. I was in control. He wasn’t trying to take anything from me. Though he were stronger than the strongest human on the planet, I knew he’d never force himself on me. Emerson was a good person. I wasn’t in danger with him. I reminded myself of these things.

  Plus, we were friends. Somewhere along with us getting Gi into the school play, calling a truce on our “war” and opening up to each other about our history with the Blood World, we’d become actual friends. Not BFFs by any means, but someone I knew I could count on. And I felt like I owed him the truth – as much as I was willing to give it. He’d shared his own horrible past with me – being forced to turn into a vampire, the struggles he went through having a dissociated mind and how that changed around me. If he could share those details with me, I could share a part of my past with him, too.

  ‘I don’t…’ I started and tried again, my throat was getting a little thick and it was difficult to speak. ‘I don’t like photos of me. Emerson, really. Like the drawing you did of me… anything like that.’

  Emerson took his feet down from the coffee table. His eyes questioned me, but he didn’t ask anything aloud. I’d never explained why I’d stolen his sketch. Just like I wasn’t going to fully explain why this picture was eliciting such a response from me.

  ‘Can you just trust that this isn’t me just being a bitch for no reason? I’m not comfortable with people having photos of me. Even if it’s just a stupid one where I look like white trash.’

  ‘Okay,’ Emerson said, holding out his hand.

  I passed him his phone. He deleted it in front of me. I could see that he didn’t want to – that like the sketch I’d stole from him, it meant something to him – but he did it
anyway. Was it because, like he could feel connected to his memories around me, those images helped him reminisce? If it was, I felt guilt gnaw at the edge of my panic. Emerson didn’t have a lot of history he was undissociated from – and I had taken away two pieces that would help him feel connected to his life.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, the only consolation I could offer him.

  Emerson broke from the cocky façade for a moment, like my thanks and admission had shattered his resolve to play the character I needed from him as I got over my panic.

  ‘You know I never want to make you uncomfortable, don’t you?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Whatever it is, you can talk to me about it. You’re full of surprises, Liv, but there’s nothing you can say to me that I can’t handle.’

  I just nodded again.

  He leant over the couch and squeezed my hand. Only for a moment, since my rings would burn him if he touched me any longer than that.

  When the others came back in, Emerson and I were sat on the couch together. We didn’t say anything to each other for the rest of the night, but we didn’t move away, either. His thigh pressed up against mine, his hand an inch away – as if it was only the silver rings that stopped him from being close, and not the gaping hole of my history with vampires and friendship with Death.

  Monday after school, we had our first all cast read through. From running lines with Gi and Emerson, I already knew most of the play by heart, not just my own role, so it didn’t require much brain power for me to sit through rehearsal.

  The AA Team were still wondering what the hell had been wrong with me on Friday, but Emerson seemed to distract them enough. I hated to be in his debt, but his constant chatter worked. Even if it was about the baseball team and how their practice and games were going.

  Personally, I’d completely forgotten that the Sons were a big deal in the general high school populace. I knew Emerson was always followed by the giggles and swooning of teenage girls and that most guys knew who he was, but I forgot that outside of the classes he shared with me and lunch, he wasn’t really just an AA Team member. He was one of the It crowd. A popular kid. Neither “anti-social” or “agnostic”, Emerson didn’t really seem part of our group even in name.