Bloodborne Awakened (Borne of Blood Book 1)

by Tracey Laviolette

  She frowned. “You know you need to wash it first.”

  “Okay, I guess,” I said, ignoring her scolding. “She tried to get me to talk about what happened.” I sat down on the bar stool and watched her set the preheat button on the wall oven.

  Grams froze for a long moment as if she had an idea of thought. “I’m not surprised,” she resumed, putting the groceries away. “I believe all things will be revealed in time.” She stopped suddenly, then whisked around to face me with a box of Cheerios in her hand. “Don’t forget to pack tonight. We’re leaving in the morning.”

  “A needed vacation, for real! I’m surprised that you, Myrtle, and Bernice don’t go camping.”

  “Did you bump your head? Every time we’ve gone camping together in the past, we get into trouble. Last year—why—” She paused, frowned, and then shook her head. “Myrtle got in trouble in the woods. She stole wildflowers for heaven’s sake! And Bernice,” Grams rolled her eyes, “Well, when we went fishing, we fell off the boat into the water, and I lost the biggest fish I’d ever caught!”

  I tried to cover my mouth as I burst into laughter, but I might have lost a few pieces of apple somewhere. “Well Grams, at least you have a true story of the big fish that got away.” It seemed we both had a good laugh at poor Myrtle’s expense.

  Myrtle Jenkins, she was the newcomer to their friend circle and had been their friend for five years or so. Both Myrtle and Grams shared a similar odd sense of humor that entertained anyone around them. Bernice had been Grams’ friend since forever. She was a little more reserved than Grams and Myrtle, kind of the quiet type, which brought a balance to the motley grandma crew. They all loved to cook, talk about their grandkids, and entertain. And each one of them came from Georgia, and only met one another when they moved to Weston. They never missed a chance to pray for people or even visit sick members of the church, and they went out of their way to visit people in nursing homes.

  The fresh baked pizza’s aroma hung in the air, and its lingering notes of pepperoni, garlic, and cheese made my mouth water. We ate a large salad and split the small pizza at the kitchen counter. Grams tried not to eat her second piece, but finally gave in after she’d finished her salad. I just shook my head, kissed her on the cheek, then thanked her for the food as I retreated to my room.

  It was around seven p.m. when the doorbell rang, and the sound of Gram’s feet pattering against the tiled floor made it to my room as she headed to the front door. From the sound of voices and feet shuffling in the other room, Bernice had arrived. Her higher-than-usual pitched voice indicated her excitement as she introduced her grandson Jacob to Grams. Of course, Grams was delighted to meet him, which piqued my curiosity, and I couldn’t help myself as I leaned forward from my bed to get a glimpse of this new guy.

  My efforts didn’t go unnoticed as I met eye to eye with Bernice. The pleasant woman, always soft-spoken, carried a smile that would warm the hearts of millions. Her light reddish-brown hair was cut short, and she always wore cute, comfortable Florida-style clothing, meaning cotton tops, and capris.

  “Oh—Jessie! So nice to see you again, dear. I want you to meet my grandson.” She stepped aside and forcefully pulled the tall young man into view. “This is Jacob.”

  I think everyone in the room noticed when my bottom jaw unhinged and dropped. Jacob was, as my Grams would say, “hotter than fresh cornbread”. He was tall, probably six foot two, and didn’t look the skinny type. At first glance, Jacob appeared to be one of those goth boys, with his coal black hair, short on the sides and kind of poufy on top. His eyelashes were also coal black, which made it appear that he wore eyeliner. Not to mention the black, smooth lycra shirt accentuated his muscular torso. On a scale from one to ten, he broke the hotness scale by a good twenty. Anyone who had muscles that defined had to work out daily. Which also told me that he dedicated time to a strict routine. To top off the outfit, he wore a pair of black jeans and black high-top leather sneakers. The only other thing I noticed was a necklace he wore. It wasn’t a chain, but like a thin black rope, and from it hung a symbol that looked much like a backward number four.

  I smiled, and then waggled my hand side to side like the dork I am. Well, the cat was out of the bag—my Grams was cool, and I was a dork. Jacob wasn’t what I had expected, at least from Bernice’s side of the family. Bernice stood barely over five foot five, and very petite. Jacob towered over his grandmother by at least a good nine inches. My attention traveled over his arms, shoulders, eyes, lips—taking in too much of his attractive features had seemed to make my face burn hot, and then I suddenly forgot the volume of my voice.

  “Hi!” Belted so loudly from me, it made Grams jumped and whip around only to glare at me from over her binocular-looking eyewear. For the first time in my life, I was irrevocably and utterly embarrassed beyond all means of comprehension. I sulked backward, out of sight, to hide my shame. So much for first impressions. I bit down on my bottom lip, secretly wishing I could slip through the floor and disappear.

  “Hello,” a soft yet deep voice replied. “Will you be joining us tonight?”

  I froze. No way. His voice didn’t sound like he had any country slang—for that matter, my accent was far worse than his. Jacob spoke in a proper way that was beyond his years, even out of sync with time. But—I liked it.

  “I—” I began after clearing my throat to control the unrestrained volume. “I need to get some rest. Not feeling well.” I nodded. It wasn’t a lie—I did have a stressful day at the doctor’s office.

  “Well, maybe next time. I hope you feel better,” he offered, then flashed me a wide, toothy smile that made me feel like those emojis with hearts in their eyes.

  Wow—Jacob was sweet and gorgeous at the same time. Without warning, a sheepish smile parted my lips as I tried to hide behind the door. Yes, I was shy and somewhat of a dork. Despite having a few friends in my previous school, I was more of a timid recluse. Most girls my age had more than one friend, a group to hang with. Not me, I had always felt like the oddball and more so an outcast, because of the rejection that came from the schoolgirl cliques. The teasing didn’t bother me as much as the name-calling. Things like a dork, nerd, teacher’s pet—those things labeled me. It was okay if I called myself a dork, but to hear it from other people just hurt. Perhaps fitting in with the rich kids meant owning expensive cars, wearing branded clothing, and playing sports. Even the less-than-fortunate kids didn’t want me because I wasn’t a part of their social group. Grams had once told me that I just hadn’t found my perfect fit in life. I hoped my never-ending seclusion would end sooner than later.

  “My heavens above—give me strength!” A familiar voice bellowed and drew my attention back toward the front door. “Evelyn! Fix this rug before someone kills themselves on it!”

  And—Myrtle had arrived. The brilliantly, wealthy, eccentric woman who was Grams partner in crime. She came into a room like a bolstering west wind and left the same way. One thing about Myrtle—she’d always tell it like it was. She was about the same age as Grams, and she kept her hair colored like natural blonde, with a hat on pretty much all the time. She and Grams had the same style in clothing, except for shoes. Myrtle always wore walking shoes, no matter what outfit she chose that day—that may have been the only thing sensible to her.

  “Hey, Myrtle!” I called out and waved to her.

  She stopped, looked up, and focused her attention on me. “Jessie! Darling, I haven’t seen you in years. Come here and give me a hug, with that ass-eating briar smile on your face, before I find another one of your grandmother’s traps to kill me.”

  “Oh, shut up Myrtle,” Grams charged back, moving to adjust the rug. “Like when you tried to kill me by changing out my salt for sugar. Do you know how long it took me to figure out something was wrong? Besides, you were the one who gave me that rug. And if you’d keep up with your Alzheimer’s medication, then you’d remember that it was you who told me I needed a rug in front of the door in the first place.”
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  “About that sugar incident—that was NOT, I repeat, NOT my fault! Both shakers looked the same, and the stuff was white crystals, how would I know? You never label anything, Evelyn—AN—NEY—THING! Besides, I have that phone thingy from the pharmacy—that gizmo-thingamajigger—oh, what’s it called?” She rebutted, turned, and opened her arms wide for me.

  “Phone app,” Jacob injected.

  “That’s the one!” Myrtle pointed toward Jacob.

  Grams chuckled. “I’m surprised you even know how to work that app. Technology these days has become our greatest arch-nemesis.”

  “Speak for yourself. I’m still getting the swipe right and left down.” Myrtle cawed back, and frantically waved her hand in the air, beckoning me to come to her.

  I padded across the smooth hardwood floors in my socks, attempting not to fall before I reached Myrtle. She wrapped me in a tight hug, and as always, her perfume smelled delightful. I inhaled a deep breath and returned the warm embrace.

  “Something new?” I pulled back and looked up into her sparkling steel blue eyes.

  She released me, then reached inside her large purse and pulled out a small bottle, then shoved it in my hand. “Yes, it’s a new fragrance from Victoria’s Secrets,” she whispered and gave me a sideways wink.

  I chuckled and mouthed a ‘thank you’ to her as I retreated to my room. Behind me, Myrtle and Grams were still going at it, while Bernice acted out the part of a referee. If a stranger met them, they would swear that Grams and Myrtle hated one another, but in truth—they were like sisters and the best of friends. Anyone who knew them, like me, understood that their southern banter was part of their personalities. I believed it was mostly for their personal humor. Those three were meant to be together—they just fit in perfect harmony.

  The thick and fluffy pillows felt terrific as I snuggled into them and pulled my feet up as far as possible. Yes, it was the act of making myself seem smaller—a futile attempt to disappear in some way from the others. After plugging in my headphones, I turned back to my phone and involved myself in a quest. A soft knock sounded on the door, and I looked up to see Grams leaning halfway in my room.

  “Don’t forget, we’re leaving in the morning for camping.” She gave me a wink, followed by a sly smile that only meant she was up to something.

  “Thanks, Grams. I’ll make sure I’m ready to go.” I gave her an awkward smile as I watched her close the door.

  Reluctantly, I climbed off the bed, and packed my suitcase for the next twenty or thirty minutes. What did one bring when they went camping? Shorts, tank tops, and jeans would probably work. Anything that looked cool and comfortable enough to fight the Florida heat went into the suitcase. At least this was the end of May, and not July or August.

  After I was done packing, I checked the time, and it was close to my bedtime. Usually, I went to bed around eleven to keep up a good routine for school hours. It may have been a bit on the early side, since I heard Grams and her group breaking up for the night.

  Quickly, I changed into the Hello-Kitty nightshirt that Mom bought me for my birthday, crawled into bed, and turned off the light on my nightstand. The noise in the other room had died down as the last of the guests had left when the door clicked shut, and the alarm beeped. Within a few moments, there was complete silence—which meant everyone had gone home, and Grams had retired to her bedroom. In her case, sometimes she stayed up really late to watch old reruns of Matlock and Star Trek.

  Tomorrow would be a new era in my life, and I welcomed it with open arms. I needed the change. I closed my eyes and allowed sleep to overtake me, drifting ever-so-quietly into the slumbery abyss of dreamland.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ∆

  Dear Diary,

  Today is Thursday, May

  My therapist told me to start a journal. This is stupid.

  Forget the diary—it wasn’t going to happen. The notebook ended up being tossed aside and replaced by the joy of phone app games, at least until Grams announced our fishing adventure had begun.

  The first day at the campground arrived, and we pulled in with a brand-new rented RV. Grams thought of everything that we could do—mostly fishing and spending time together. The vast campground had many activities available for campers. Boating, fishing, biking trails, and hiking were among the favorites for the regular campers that came here each year. Or that was what the brochure claimed.

  After we finished setting up camp, Grams cooked us the most amazing hamburgers I’d ever eaten, topped off with a Caesar salad as the side dish. She didn’t tell me they were bison burgers until I crammed the last savory bite into my mouth. I didn’t particularly like the idea of trying new food, but I had to admit the meat was better than beef. For dessert, we had frozen popsicles, and like two little children, we sat in our chairs and kicked our feet back and forth. It felt good. It felt right, and for once—I had the time of my life.

  After cleaning up, I had a chance to catch up with my friend on Facebook. Luckily, the campsite had Wi-Fi, although it was a weak signal, but I managed to make it work. Mitzi had sent me a message letting me know she missed me, and things were still up in the air about the girl. Even though the incident wasn’t my fault, it crushed my heart that the girl had to suffer that way. There had to be some answer to what happened.

  Aside from my thoughts, I caught up on reading comments from posts other people made on Facebook. It started with Mitzi’s posts, then comments from her friend circle. Another message popped up, and I clicked on the little bell to see it. To my surprise, it was a friend request from Kyle. I paused for a moment and forgot I had told him my name. Strange. It couldn’t help to have another friend; well, he was cute. So I accepted the request.

  Within a minute or so, Kyle had video-called me through messenger. I accepted the call, more so out of curiosity.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Hey, pretty girl. I wasn’t sure if you’d accept my friend request or not.” Kyle shifted around and, unknowing to him, I pretty much figured with the view of the bed and desk that he was in his bedroom.

  “Yeah, I felt the stalking was—kinda weird, ya know?” I laughed.

  “Well, I wanted to talk to you. So what are you doing?”

  “Right now, I’m at a campground with my Grams. We’re going to be here for a few weeks.” I scanned the phone around so he could see the camper.

  “Cool. I think I recognize that campsite, it's like four hours from Weston, right? I’ve been there before with my dad. Fishing is great. Are you having fun?” Kyle’s voice sounded sweet and concerned at the same time.

  “Yes, you’re right about the location of the campsite. It’s huge. And yes, I’m having a good time. I like fishing.”

  “Sweet. Maybe when you get back home, I can take you fishing sometime.” A broad, hopeful smile spread across his lips.

  I chuckled. “Are you fishing for a date?”

  He laughed. “Yeah, you caught me there. You just seem like someone I really want to get to know better.”

  “Maybe.” My voice trailed off a bit, as I heard my grandmother banging around in the back of the RV. It sounded like something fell, and maybe her with it. “Uhm—I gotta go. I think my Grams has fallen or something bad happened. Talk to you later. Bye!” I clicked the phone off and ran inside the RV, and found Grams surrounded by a bunch of boxes.

  “Hells Bells!” Grams slapped at the last box as it fell from the top and hit her on the head.

  “What happened?” I exclaimed, rushing to her side.

  “Oh, I tried to pull out a box from the middle, and everything just—well, they fell.” The look on her face was that of a child who had gotten caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

  “What’s in these boxes?” I grabbed one and noticed they weren’t very heavy.

  “Just stuff.” She grabbed it from me and placed it back in the closet.

  I frowned for a moment and took into consideration that Grams might have been hiding something from
me. Quickly, I opened one of the boxes, the sound of her protests rising above the scuffling of her feet to reach me. There it was—she couldn’t hide it any longer.

  “Cookies, Grams? COOKIES?” I shook the box at her.

  She snatched the box from my hand. “I need my sweets! And don’t tempt me, it’s a long walk home, missy.”

  I shook my head, then laughed.

  Sleeping proved to be problematic that first night. Grams didn’t seem to have a problem—she snored loud enough to wake the undead. Still aside from that, the unbearable heat inside the camper, even with all the windows opened, made it difficult for me to sleep. Then a tenacious mosquito found its way inside the camper, and danced around my head with much diligence. Somehow, the tiniest vampire in the world made its way to my ear, where the onslaught of buzzing became more than overwhelming. With that said, I felt the need for fresh air. I climbed off the bed and rummaged around my tote bag for something to wear other than a nightshirt. The only light in the middle of the camper came from the moonlight that streamed through the screened door. The little light made it difficult to see, so I just grabbed the first pair of shorts and top I could find. After I slipped into my clothes, I tiptoed outside into the cooler air. The gentle breeze kissed my face with cold lips as I closed my eyes to embrace her. The air smelled sweet of ferns, pine trees, and a hint of musky wet leaves. The woodsy aroma felt pleasant, as though I belonged in the woods in the middle of nowhere. Maybe I did like the wooded area, but not the annoying little vampiric bugs.

  A soft lullaby of night sounds hung in the air, like the symphony of crickets and frogs. The frogs amazed me the most with their croaking, which somehow ended up in a beautiful melody as if professionally orchestrated. Some were high-pitched, others medium-toned, and then there were the ones who were heavier, longer groan-croaks. The time was a little after eleven when I decided to take a stroll toward the lake. Maybe the frog’s memorable musical melody was what drew me there.