Ravens' Blood Academy 1: A Vampire Historia Paranormal Fantasy

by Scarlette D'Noire

  “I’m sorry.” I peeked into the room.

  “Again, Adora? In life we’re better off being peaceful than we are being sorry.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I hung my head, but lifted my gaze and watched her fumble with her large jewelry box, lifting out a secret compartment I never knew existed. My eyes grew wide as I rose higher on the balls of my feet, trying to see inside the wooden box.

  She sighed and frowned, shaking her head slightly at my nerve and curiosity. I lowered my chin to look away but raised my gaze upward once more, the lure of something else hidden too great to ignore as I peered at her trinkets in the mystery cubby hole.

  My aunt fiddled around with the charms in the box and tugged out a few that were tangled with the others. “I have a gift for you,” she stated flatly.

  A porous black stone dangled from silver wire. I frowned as the stone wasn’t very shiny and to be honest it appeared downright ugly. “What’s that?’” I twisted my lips in disapproval.

  My aunt ignored my discomfort and kept separating the trinkets. A silver Dragon with bronze wings caught her eye. The tail wrapped around the dragon’s neck, as if strangling the beast.

  Ugh, it’s not very feminine. The third charm she selected was a simple ankh cross made of silver. She threaded the three charms onto a strand of braided silver. I had a hard time hiding my disappointment at the crude bracelet. I’d hoped she would give me something sleek and eye catching that could impress my new friends. Nope.

  The last item she picked piqued my interest. A square, thin, bronze plate held an X in the center, as if four staves formed the letter. In each quadrant of the square, a quarter moon in silver lay nestled between the points of the letter X: one facing upward, one facing downward, and the other two facing outward on either side. She threaded the charm on the chain and clasped it around my wrist.

  I stifled a groan. “Thanks, Auntie,” I managed to say, trying my best to hide the disappointment I felt.

  “The black stone is Tektite,” she said. “All of them will protect you and give me some peace of mind.”

  “From what?” I probed, hoping to get some kind of answer to her cryptic statement.

  “From life, Adora.” She sighed and gave me a hug. “Promise me you won’t take it off. It’ll give me peace of mind.” She put some distance between us and placed her hands squarely on my shoulders. “Will you do that for me?” she asked, peering into my eyes, imploring me to agree.

  I had a million questions I knew she wouldn’t answer. The weariness in her eyes begged me not to challenge her, so I agreed in a small voice. “Yes, auntie.”

  I fingered the four charms on the bracelet. Ugggh, guess I’ll be tucking you under long sleeves as much as possible. I could tell by the seriousness in my aunt's voice she worried for me. I wanted to make her proud and ease her mind. I tried to let all the questions fall from my mind but couldn’t keep them from gnawing at the edges. What exactly is she trying to protect me from and what will happen if she can't?

  “Cheer up, girl,” my aunt ordered with a slight trace of encouragement in her voice.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I conceded then raked my teeth over my top lip and bit into the flesh nervously.

  We’d finished packing up the things for Ravens’ Blood and headed out. Since the summer semester wouldn’t start for almost a week, I hoped for a little impromptu side trip before we arrived. Even though I lived near enough to the Appalachian Mountains, I’d never taken a road trip there before. My aunt always preferred travelling east toward the ocean. Sometimes, we wandered down the coastline without a specific destination, passing a dozen nameless small towns dotting the highway, until Aunt Marea decided she liked the seascape. We’d stay for a few days, but never long enough to make friends. Most times, my aunt only ventured out at night and walked the shoreline, gazing at the moon and stars, deep in thought.

  This time though, we headed west through the eastern mountain range to Richwood, WV, a town represented by a tiny dot on the map. Nestled into the Monongahela forest, smack dab in the middle of the Appalachians, Richwood would be home for the next eight weeks. I pondered the desolate location as trees flew past my view and we wound through the peaks and valleys of US Route 19.

  After resting for the night at a seedy motel we headed north again. Signs of the bustle of human life, albeit small signs, peppered the road and encouraged me that maybe I’d find a little culture and diversity in the approaching town of Summersville. But, as quick as the storefronts appeared, they were gone. We turned down WV Route 39, meandering past a postage stamp size college. For miles, only Rhododendrons and Azaleas filled the landscape, in hues of red, purple, and white. The sweet smell, mixed with honeysuckle, calmed the alarm bells chiming in my head that we were, in fact, ascending to the top of nowheresville. Thoughts of sneaking out and going shopping in Charleston, with my newfound glorious friends, flitted from my brain as I realized Richwood lay nestled about a hundred miles from just about anywhere.

  Waterfalls and the Cherry River snaked in and out of view as our jeep climbed up the mountain road.

  “Isn’t it beautiful here?” Aunt Marea squeezed my hand then fumbled for a cigarette in her purse.

  One thing I knew for sure, if my aunt smoked, her nerves had her in a tizzy about something. All her cryptic talk of getting me tucked safely away had crazy scenarios raging through my brain. Maybe, masked bandidos coming to whisk me away, demanding large sums of ransom money, before Marea saved the day. She was always my hero in these crazy fantasies and in real life, too.

  I twisted my earbuds firmly in place and settled back into the leather seat, as if drowning myself in music would alleviate the cigarette smoke wafting into my eyes. My go-to song rang loudly in my ears, and I belted out the lyrics to Aidan Martin’s Punchline. “All your mistakes I don’t want to ma- aaa-ake.”

  Aunt Marea glanced at me and grimaced. I ignored her discomfort at my thorough butchering of the song, leaving my earbuds in place as I continued to sing, extending the vowels where they weren’t supposed to lengthen and skirting either side of the tune. “Cause I’m a jo ooo oke waiting for the punchline…I hope that in the sadness you’re happy now.”

  She cringed and laughed.

  “What? It’s my dedication to the man who should have won that stupid singing show,” I protested to her unspoken, yet clearly visible, distaste of my questionable singing skills.

  “Maybe, a moment of silence would be more appropriate to honor him,” she suggested, patting my knee. A huge smile broke over her face, softening the lines of worry etched into her strong features ever since she found out I’d been accepted to RBA.

  “At least I made you smile,” I pointed out and smiled too, singing loudly, flailing my head from side to side with exaggerated movements of my mouth and thrusting my arms out in front of me when I hit the faux high note.

  “You always make me smile,” she admitted.

  I grasped her hand and the charms on the bracelet she gave me clinked together. My bottom lip jutted out as I frowned, I didn’t want to wear this clunky thing, but I’d promised to keep it firmly in place, dangling from my wrist like an anchor or huge magnet for the haters to make fun of me.

  My aunt squeezed my hand. “I know you’re not fond of it, honey.” Her gaze searched mine. “But you must wear it. Promise me you won’t ever take it off.”

  I exhaled sharply. “It would be easier to agree if you told me why.” I glanced out the window. I already knew no information would be forthcoming. It never was.

  Ramshackle houses dotted the treeline, and a weathered ‘Welcome to Richwood’ sign dangling unevenly from two bolts on a chain caught my attention. I sat up a little straighter. An ominous motel hung on the river's edge, and thoughts of horror movies raced through my brain.

  “I hope we’re not staying there,” I asserted, thrusting my index finger toward the abandoned-looking structure.

  My aunt shook her head and kept driving. A small diner popped into view, nestled
on the side of the road. “I’m hungry,” I fibbed. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead and ran down my cheek. I always heated up and fidgeted when anxious, as if the burning desire to get out and explore the area would consume me.

  “We’re stopping for gas up the road. There’s a little Chinese place with decent food. I’ll get us some takeout.” She paused and smiled at me. “And if you stop hounding me with questions, you can go across the street to the homemade pie place and get a slice for later.”

  My eyebrows shot up like rockets in flight. “You’ve been here before?”

  “That’s one strike against the pie.” She tilted her head and gave me a warning glance. “And they have your favorite kind—chocolate peanut butter,” she said, trying to manipulate my better judgment into silence.

  I slumped back in the seat. “Okay, okay. Don’t hold the pie hostage. I’ll shut up.”

  A stoplight, the first in over a gazillion miles allowed me to take in the town. A few cute, little storefronts lined the four corners of Main Street: an ice cream shop, an antique store, and a flower shop, but Marea swung the jeep into the tiny parking lot for Mountain Mart, and we both got out to stretch our legs and fill the gas tank.

  My aunt pressed a twenty-dollar bill in my hand and pointed out the pie shop across the street. “Over there on Oakford Avenue.”

  With a vow to buy the pie and come straight back, I set off on my quest for a slice of chocolate peanut butter heaven as my aunt ducked into the restaurant next to the gas station so she could grab our dinner.

  A blonde woman with long dreadlocks called out to a little girl running down the street. The woman wore worn-out sandals, a fuchsia tie-dyed T-shirt, and a flowing dark purple skirt. At her voice, the child abruptly stopped, turned, and ran into the woman’s arms. The contrast of the girl’s deep skin tone made the hippie woman look like a ghost as she twirled the little one around and kissed the top of her head.

  She glanced over at me, and her crystal blue eyes bored through me, as if drilling into my soul and searching for my secrets. The child skipped off in the other direction, and the woman smiled at me before turning and heading up Main. The door to the pie shop stood an arm’s length away, yet I took a deep breath and shoved my promise to Aunt Marea from my mind. I was eighteen years old. I could be trusted in a town as tiny as this one, never mind vowing to go straight to somewhere and come right back. I hadn’t seen anyone with even a remote suntan, let alone any faces that resembled mine or my aunt’s for hours, so my curiosity got the best of me.

  I crept to the corner and peeked around it. My gaze darted around until it settled on the blue-eyed woman in the distance. I picked up my pace and followed her past the little shops. She turned into what appeared to be an art gallery of sorts or a junk shop. Portraits of all different sizes lined the bay windows but competed with the hordes of miscellaneous stuff haphazardly piled in the window boxes.

  The urge to go inside outweighed my fear of the wrath of my aunt, and I tugged the door open to peer inside. A small bell atop the doorframe rang out, startling me, and I jerked my hand away from the door and ran in the direction of the pie shop. I made it to the corner as my aunt came into view. Busted again. I waved to her and headed down Oakford Street, figuring her angry reaction to my curiosity could wait. Besides, once I had the pie in my hand, I had a decent shot of convincing her to let me eat it later, even though I’d disobeyed her instructions to stay close.

  Once back in the car, to my relief, she didn’t say anything about my wandering down Main Street. The enticing aroma of chicken fried rice teased my nose, and my stomach grumbled. I popped the brown bag free from the staples and dug inside for an egg roll or something to appease my hunger pains.

  “We’re almost at the motel honey, leave the food alone until we get there.” But she only had cast me a distracted glance before she returned her concentration to the road.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m starving. Can I at least have a fortune cookie?” I asked, digging in the bottom of the bag, not waiting for an answer.

  “Sure,” she acquiesced, nodding her head, but she still didn’t sound like I had her full attention.

  My aunt’s voice echoed worn and tired. It hadn’t occurred to me that she might have something else on her mind. She’d seemed okay until we reached this small town. Maybe she was actually going to miss me?

  My fingers fell lax as I allowed the cookie to drop back into the bag. “I’ll wait,” I whispered. “Auntie, I know I haven’t always, but I promise I’ll make you proud of me,” I vowed. “Sometimes, I think you’ve kept things from me…haven’t taught me about my family...because you’re scared, I won’t be able to make it in the world, but I will. I promise.”

  Tears glistened in her eyes but didn’t fall. “I’m always proud of you, honey. The world can be cruel and harsh, but I always have faith you’ll overcome anything that comes your way.” She reached across the seat and tugged me into a tight embrace. “Now give me a cookie too, and you better fish out a couple of vitamins because I’m starving.” Her face transformed into a wicked sneer. “There are too few local spots to get any real dinner. I don’t want to draw attention to us.” She smirked. “No one likes newcomers in a town like this.”

  I forced a faint smile to my face. The joys of small towns. It was why we kept ourselves to ourselves, even at home. We’d always be fresh blood, newcomers. First generation arrivals always were.

  The road quickly curved, and the dots of stores and houses left the landscape, replaced by trees and milk thistle along the road. We made an abrupt right turn past a huge house, and a motel came into view at the end of the drive. A pretty creek rippled along over large stones to my right. I quickly exited the vehicle and walked to the water’s edge. A shallow waterfall cascaded over river rocks and flowed downstream. A sign stating a benevolent soul gifted Rudolph Falls to the children of Richwood, so they could always swim for free, proved to be a great place to hang my jacket and kick off my shoes.

  As I rolled the edges of my jeans up my legs, a bespectacled balding man, who appeared to be as round as he was tall, watched me from the porch of the motel before greeting my aunt as she popped the trunk and handed my bag to him.

  “Fritz.” She nodded a cursory greeting and smiled a thin flat line, barely curling the edges of her mouth upward.

  He patted my aunt’s shoulder as if comforting her.

  I decided to test the water and let them talk. Maybe my aunt could get a little relief if she expressed how she felt about this huge turn of events in our lives. A shiver raced up my spine as I dipped my toes in the frigid water, and I squealed, jumping back before I promptly fell on my butt on the uneven surface.

  Fritz let out a deep bellow of a laugh, his belly heaving up and down.

  “What! It’s cold,” I protested. “Some gift for the children!”

  Marea laughed too, and I couldn’t help but join in, even if the joke was on me.

  “Fritz Applegate, at your service.” The old man wrinkled his eyes and gave me a mischievous grin as he reached out his hand to help me off the ground. “I think we’ll get along just fine Ms. Adora,” he stated with a wide smile as he lifted me to my feet.

  We settled at a picnic table and dug into our dinner. The crisp mountain air filled my lungs, giving me a sense of peace, even though my life had turned into a big ball of uncertainty and my toes felt as if they’d fall off from the cold. Soon though, the sense of peace shifted to awkward silence.

  “Which room are we staying in?” I asked Fritz to break the lull in our conversation.

  He chuckled. “You’re not both staying here.”

  Before I could question him, my aunt stood and gave me a languid embrace. “You’ll do fine, Adora,” she asserted.

  Tightness stabbed my chest as her words sank in. “You’re leaving?” My mind raced, and a whooshing sensation filled my ears as my heart thumped wildly.

  I popped up from my chair, and my vision dimmed from the sudden movement, threatening
my equilibrium. I clawed for the edge of the table and gripped the corner for stability. The sound of water rushing over the rocks lulled my senses a little before I totally gave in to my panic.

  “Don’t leave me, Auntie,” I protested. My anger flared, causing heat to rush through my chest and down my arms at the fact she hadn’t prepared me for her sudden departure.

  “She’ll be fine,” Fritz reassured my aunt as if he could foretell the future.

  “Sure, listen to him! Like a guy running a motel knows I’ll be fine. Like he knows anything about you or about me.” I curled the edges of my mouth downward into a tight frown and hung my head at my own insolence. “I’m sorry, Mr. Applegate. I didn’t mean any disrespect to you or your profession,” I whispered.

  “I see you raised her right.” He squeezed my aunt’s shoulder and nodded his head toward me. “Say your goodbyes,” he instructed.

  I lowered my gaze, and my cheeks heated with embarrassment for degrading one of my elders. My aunt always imposed southern manners on my thinking. They were ingrained in me, as much as sweet tea and ‘yes ma’am’ as a way of life, and I knew better. Under any other circumstances, she would have punished me for such brash behavior, but now she spent our last few minutes together giving me words of encouragement and kisses on my forehead before loading herself back into the jeep and disappearing down the road.

  I stood awkwardly, shifting my weight on the balls of my feet. Mr. Applegate fetched my jacket and shoes, and another twinge of guilt rifled through me for my mean words to a kind old man.

  “I’m sorry for the things I said, Mr. Applegate.” The words came out in a rush as I wedged my feet in my Chucks and tugged my coat over my shoulders. “I’m sure you’re a successful innkeeper,” I asserted then, looking around, I realized although it was the height of the season, there weren’t any cars in the lot. “I mean…” I stammered, unsure what to say.