Vampire Innocent | Book 11 | How To Stop A Vampire War In Six Easy Steps

by Cox, Matthew S.

  “You eating with us tonight, hon?” asks Dad.

  “Umm.” I glance at the clock. “It’s almost 5:30 and still light out. Gotta drive in, so… can’t. I’ve got about eight minutes to leave before I’ll be late.”

  “Come all ye minions,” bellows Dad. “Thine gruel has reached an acceptable level of warmness.”

  “Sec,” whispers Sierra. “Two minutes left in the match. Is it okay if I finish it?”

  “Yeah, sure. It’ll take your brother that long to get down here.” Dad chuckles, then yells, “Sam?”

  Mom closes her laptop and moves it to the counter, off the table.

  Sophia runs to take her place at the table. About a minute later, Dad walks to the base of the stairs and calls for Sam again. No response. I’m offline up here in the living room, so I can’t tell by listening. Damn windows letting in sunlight. The nerve.

  “Has anyone seen Sam?” asks Dad.

  “Did he go to Daryl’s or Ronan’s?” Mom scratches her head.

  “He’s in the closet,” chimes Sophia.

  Dad rubs his chin. “Hmm. He did seem rather comfortable wearing a princess gown.”

  Sierra snickers.

  Mom rolls her eyes.

  Heh. I hold up a finger. “I believe Soph is being literal. Sam’s closet has been giving off some weird energy.”

  The ‘match over’ music fills the living room. Sierra’s team won. Good, she’ll be in a pleasant mood for dinner.

  “There’s a portal in there.” Sophia huffs. “I tried to stop them, but I didn’t get there fast enough. They were already gone.”

  “They?” Dad raises both eyebrows. “Which they are we talking about.”

  “Sam, Ronan, and Blix.”

  Mom turns to face her. “Sophia! Did you summon another interdimensional gateway in your brother’s closet? We talked about this!”

  Sierra logs out of the PlayStation and jumps to her feet.

  “No!” wails Sophia. “I didn’t make this one. Promise!”

  “Mom. Mom. Mom.” I pull at her like I’m trying to hold an attack chihuahua away from a fight. “Chill. This isn’t Soph. Remember when we had Ronan stuck to the bathroom wall and he got poisoned by this demon stuff that would’ve paralyzed him for months? Blix asked something for help removing the poison from Ro. Whatever the ‘something’ is, it’s been hanging out in Sam’s closet ever since.”

  Dad blinks. “So, the boy’s got a literal monster in his closet?”

  I make a so-so hand tilt gesture. “More of a supernatural entity of undetermined origin than a monster.”

  Mom stares at me. “Are you making a political correctness joke?”

  “Erm…” I bite my lip. “Not intentionally.”

  “Ugh.” Mom rubs both hands down her face. “I really ought to start smoking weed again.”

  Say what? I raise both eyebrows. “Again?”

  “She hasn’t touched it since college.” Dad winks. “Your mother was wild.”

  Mom blushes. “You know I’m kidding. I’d lose my job if they tested me.”

  I grin. “No, you won’t.”

  “Good grief, Sarah. I shouldn’t be hearing you talk about this.” Mom flails. “It’s a conflict of ethics.”

  “Oh, and having an interdimensional portal in Sam’s room is fine?”

  Mom stares blankly at me.

  Dad’s face turns red as he tries not to burst out laughing.

  A purple flash on the sofa beside Mom precedes Klepto appearing out of thin air. “Mew.”

  My father gestures at her. “And we have a teleporting kitten. Don’t worry about the weed, hon. Lots of things seem normal compared to cute furry creatures who disregard the laws of reality at their whim.”

  “I used to work with a guy who could be described the same way,” deadpans Mom. “Except for the cute part.”

  Heh.

  Dad smiles. “And now we have dimensional gateways cropping up in closets.”

  I can’t help but laugh nervously. All this crazy stuff going on and my father’s wisecracking. Hopefully, he hasn’t lost his grip. Gotta check. I step into the little toilet closet in the first-floor hallway so I’m out of direct sunlight enough to come online, then focus on him. He notices me look at him and tilts his head in question. Eye contact, and I’m inside. Wow. Okay. No. He’s not going insane. Well, not going more insane than he was before. Merely ordinary ‘my dad’ level nuts. To him, we’re somewhere between playing Jumanji and being in one of his D&D campaigns. He doesn’t believe any ‘zombies’ Sierra—a level one character to him—could kill are a serious threat to the family. The idea of a portal in Sam’s room strikes him as something straight out of a cool Eighties movie. He’s imagining my brother and Ronan having an awesome adventure in some alternate world and fully expecting them to arrive home safe—just like in the movies.

  Aww, Dad. I’m the young woman. I’m the one who’s supposed to be naïve.

  I can’t break his bubble. There’s nothing he can do about Sam other than worry himself to death until the boys return. If the boys return. And, whoa. Dad’s thinking it’s not a big deal because Coralie didn’t warn anyone about anything. Okay, a fair point. But… we shouldn’t place so much weight on her. Yeah, it’s not like she’s going to get old and die on us, but she’s also a ghost. There is no guarantee she’ll remain inclined to help us forever and we might never know the moment she decides to go elsewhere for good. Also, her abilities aren’t perfect. However, it’s only been months since I liberated her mortal remains from the mystics. She’s most likely still interested in keeping an eye on us.

  Besides, she likes popping in to talk to Sophia or me. Ghosting is lonely. Non-ghosts who can see and talk to her aren’t common.

  Crap. Sam. What did you do?

  I zoom upstairs and fling his closet door open, not sure what to expect.

  It’s normal. No gaping maw into another dimension… just the usual assortment of toys, games, clothes, and some laundry that really ought to be in the basket. The frogs stare eerily at me from their terrarium. Or maybe they’re staring at the closet and I happen to be in the way. Swear those things are intelligent beyond frog normal. Or a Beast is spying on us. Apparently, Beast vampires have the ability at some point to control animals, or talk to them, or see through their eyes. Yeah, one of those neato powers Innocents never get. I’m cool though. Not jealous. The cost of admission to Team Beast is way too expensive for me.

  Hmm, the boys left the PlayStation on, paused. Wolverine is frozen in mid jump. Looks like he’s having some serious issues with a bunch of bank-robbing robots. Something must have happened in the closet to distract them away from the game.

  At least Blix is with them, so the boys aren’t entirely defenseless. Not saying an imp is going to help them fight any monsters. They are, after all, pretty weak. Blix can guide them around and keep them from running into worse things.

  Dammit. Stomping on the rug inside the closet doesn’t open any doorways. If Sam and Ronan went somewhere, they’re on their own. This closet portal is totally unrelated to what’s going on, but it’s becoming increasingly obvious I am in over my head. My little brother vanishing—even if it’s a harmless sort of supernatural excursion—is one more thing I really don’t have the bandwidth to worry about at the moment.

  I’m going against my opinion of Dad’s flawed logic here, but Coralie didn’t warn me about Sam. He’s basically having an adventure like one of the boys from the old movies my father adores. Explorers or The Gate or some such thing. Well, hopefully not The Gate. That one ended with the entire house being destroyed. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for somewhat lower scale destruction. Maybe a single pair of sneakers on fire.

  Fingers crossed he’s going to be okay.

  16

  Nature Girl

  Traffic, for once, did not become another thing adding to my stress level.

  Yeah, despite my brother’s absence, I went to school for two reasons. One, Mom insisted. Two, I co
uldn’t think of anything within my power to make contact with, rescue, or retrieve Sam and Ronan. Standing around the house instead of going to class would’ve left me with idleness and a wandering mind going down every dark scenario imaginable.

  Sam is not an idiot. If he willingly entered the portal, he trusted it. I’m going to assume the gate is somehow related to the entity responsible for curing Ronan of the mirrorworld poison. It is probably about as benevolent as a demonic being can be, or it wouldn’t have cured him. My knowledge of occult subjects, specifically demons, is a bit weak. Various human religions have ideas about them, but who knows which ones are right, which ones are wild guesses, and which ones are straight up the result of eating too many of the wrong kinds of mushrooms.

  It’s tempting to tune out in computer science and charm my way to a passing grade since I’ve already decided to change my major, but I respect Professor Garcia too much. She’s pretty awesome. Doesn’t stop me from quietly texting Darren Anderson to ask his opinion on my brother disappearing into a possibly demonic portal created by an unknown entity previously responsible for assisting us.

  He says a whole bunch of stuff about bargains and terms, suggesting the boys may or may not have made a deal with something to cure Ronan earlier and he, she, or it now wants payment. I really do not like the phrase ‘wants payment’ as it applies to a demon and my nine-year-old little brother. Something tells me an infernal creature wouldn’t be looking to take a rare baseball card. Probably wants his firstborn, or his soul, or maybe some freaky Disney-level mermaid stuff like taking his voice. Sam’s not stupid. He won’t agree to any bad deals.

  Or maybe the entity does want a baseball card. Hell, Blix is cool and likes video games.

  There’s a weird thought. Did my brother ‘tame’ Blix? Could the imp have gone into his room to mess with him and… something else happened? Coralie mentioned a while ago my brother had a ‘strange relationship’ with demonic beings. We’ve also had a hellhound living in the backyard, and no one’s ended up dead or mildly incinerated. In fact, it protected Sierra.

  Usually, demons aren’t the ones doing the protecting when innocent children are involved… as much as Sierra counts as innocent. How many ‘innocent’ little girls scream ‘die you sons of bitches’ while machinegunning people, even if it is happening in a video game? Okay, I’m teasing. She’s got a good heart, so she counts. She didn’t want to stab any of the live humans who brought the zombies and she also charged headfirst into a crowd of like twenty imps to protect Sophia. I shouldn’t equate a lack of being ‘brittle and girly’ with not being innocent. It’s not true. A girl can appear ‘tough’ and still be innocent. Trust me, Sierra will argue for hours about her feelings on the patriarchy.

  A text from Darren suggests my brother (and Ronan) will most likely return unharmed, but may have a demonic attachment or be possessed. He suggests I ‘check their thoughts’ at the first opportunity. Can do. It’ll be my first time looking into the head of someone who’s possessed. Not sure how to tell, but I’m guessing anyone who is possessed would have multiple distinctly different voices talking in their head at once. If I hear a bunch of people talking, good chance he’s possessed—or maybe just an author.

  I send a text to the family group chat to let everyone know the mystics are mostly confident Sam will be okay, then proceed to pay attention for the remainder of my two classes tonight. My second class, philosophy, gives me a chance to talk to Professor Heath during each break. He’s a vampire, but largely isolated from the outside world. The man never leaves school grounds, or even this building really. He’s oblivious to who might want to be stirring up trouble around here.

  We get stuck debating if Stefano is really uninvolved or thinks he’s being clever by making it seem fake enough to sow the seeds of doubt… and we run out of break time. I’m in too much of a rush to get home to bother him after class, since he’s contributing only additional doubt to my already overburdened load of it.

  I’m out the door of the school at 9:52 p.m. Professor Heath is the exact opposite of Dr. Mercer. He usually ends class a few minutes early. In the interest of maximizing my Hunter time, I leave the Sentra in the parking garage and fly, making it to the Mi Tierra restaurant at three minutes to ten.

  Miraculously, they haven’t locked the doors. As soon as I walk in, the hostess—a new girl about my age—comes jogging over to me. We’re about the same height, though she’s a bit heavier. Meaning, she has a normal figure. Same shade of brown hair as me. Fuller cheeks, too, but she’s got way too much foundation on.

  “Sorry, hon. We’re closing up.”

  “I know. Not here for food. My boyfriend works here. Is it okay if I chill and wait for him?”

  “Oh. Umm.” She bites her lip.

  Cheating time. I dive into her head. She’s new, only been working here four days, and doesn’t know what to say. I prod her to think it’s not a big deal. Kim goes from confused to smiling, and waves me back with a ‘no problem.’

  Hunter comes out of the kitchen. He looks so dashing in a raspberry button-down shirt, black apron, and jeans. I get a ‘one sec’ smile as he hurries over to a table carrying a small piece of cake. Figures, the only two customers left in the place are his. At least the older middle-aged couple is on dessert already.

  I meander down the hall to the kitchen area and do my best to stay out of everyone’s way. Anyone who gives me too much of a challenging look receives a mental prod to accept my presence as normal. Some may consider the use of mind control in this manner to be a bit cavalier, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m not here to do anything wrong… though, this one guy—chef’s assistant maybe—smells too good to resist.

  Thank you, storage closet.

  He’s a little heavy, shorter than me, and doesn’t know much English. High school Spanish is enough for me to coerce him into a secluded place and feed. Imagine that. Simple phrases being good for something. No, I did not ask him where the library was. After erasing our momentary aside from his memory, I leave him with the thought he stepped into the closet to inspect it, then resume waiting for Hunter.

  I’m not so impatient the last two customers need to be mentally prodded out the door. Hunter clocks out at 10:12 p.m. and promptly sweeps me into an embrace. I’m momentarily self-conscious about him smelling the assistant cook on my breath, but he doesn’t. Or he doesn’t react to it, knowing the only reason I’d be near another man is food.

  “You okay?” asks Hunter. “Seem tense.”

  “Just a bit. Lot going on.” I exhale hard. “I really need to have a peaceful night. You’re not swamped with school stuff, are you?”

  He shakes his head. “Not swamped. Got some stuff to finish, but I can do it tomorrow morning.”

  A giggle of glee almost comes out of me—until I remember I’m no longer twelve. Sweet! A whole night with him. Even if it is basically only two hours. Can’t keep him awake past midnight or the guilt will bother me too much. Don’t care if we reinvent the Kama Sutra, simply cuddle while fully dressed, watch a movie, or throw tiny pickles at each other all night. I just need to be with him and think about nothing for a while.

  We head out via the back door to the parking lot.

  “So, what’s bothering you?”

  “Umm, stuff. Some people are creating trouble for some other people I associate with and a giant poop storm is brewing over Seattle.” I grimace-smile, hoping my exceptional vagueness gets the message across to him while keeping any potential eavesdroppers in the dark.

  “Sounds… complicated.”

  “It—” A scuff from above and behind sounds like an aggressive vampire jumping off the roof to ambush me. I whirl into a defensive stance.

  Nope, I’m wrong.

  It’s two aggressive vampires jumping off the roof to ambush me.

  The one on the right crashes into me before I have time to do more than process the sight of them jumping off the roof at us. He tackles me over backward, grabbing me by the shoulders and trying
to pin me under his body. The other dude is a traditional thug, having a full head of black hair instead of an apocalyptic wasteland blue mohawk. He lands on his feet and throws Hunter aside like a child, bouncing him off the wall of Mi Tierra.

  No! Not now. No vampire bullshit tonight. This is Hunter time!

  I sprout claws and thrust my fingers into the sides of the dude on top of me, curling them around his ribs like I’m grabbing the handlebars of a bike. We lock stares. He looks freakin’ ridiculous, shaved bald with a neon blue mohawk. Vampire claws might be small, but they’re impossibly sharp and supernaturally painful. While he’s stunned in pain, gawping for air he doesn’t need, I snarl and shove, flinging him up and away with enough force to toss him almost standing. He teeters on tiptoe while staggering backward, flailing his arms for balance. Doesn’t matter how strong he is, dude only weighs as much as a normal person. Intending to rip his face off, I fly to my feet and start to lunge at him, but a silver flash redirects my attention to the other guy pointing a small handgun at Hunter, who lay in the bushes beside the door, dazed as if he’d been hit by a car.

  Shit!

  As fast as I can move, I lunge into a snap kick, knocking the second guy’s arm upward. The gun goes off with more of a crack than a bang, blasting wood chips and dirt a few feet away from Hunter’s head. Mohawk rushes at me, but I can’t let his buddy shoot Hunter. I manage to score a couple shallow claw slices down the dude’s back before Mohawk body-blocks me like a hockey player. I catch myself by flying before eating parking lot.

  Mohawk tries to grab me; since I’m already hovering, I zip straight up over him and land by Mr. Pistol—who’s still standing up on his toes in an ice bucket challenge pose from the pain of me ripping down his back—and shred him a little more. He goes to pistol whip me across the face. I duck—straight into Mohawk’s arms from behind.