school building, our conversation now in full privacy.
I looked down at his extended hand. “I don’t know what—”
“I’m not in the mood, Jemma.” He cut in before I could finish my lie.
I opened my backpack and handed him the folder.
He put it on his lap and then held his hand out again. “The other one,” he said sternly.
It reminded me of my father’s scolding voice—a voice I rarely used to hear but when I did, could reduce me to tears with just the sound of it.
I pulled out my faux-gift-wrap shirt and plucked the book from the center, handing it over begrudgingly.
“How did you know I had it?” I had to ask.
“Never mind that.” He opened his briefcase and placed the book inside. “I think it’s time we had ourselves a talk.”
Perfect, just what I needed—a lecture from him on the finer points of why stealing is wrong. I should tell him to brush up on his lying speech as well because I’d been doing even more of that one lately.
“I’m sure by now you’ve already come to the realization that vampires aren’t exactly a thing of fiction.” He narrowed in his charcoal eyes for confirmation.
My mouth unhinged.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He briefly turned his attention outside the window. “And I’m sure you overheard my conversation the other morning where your name was concerned, presumably prompting your sudden thirst for knowledge?” He looked over at me again.
I managed to wrangle out a nod this time.
“How far did you get with the book?”
“I read the cover,” I said disappointedly—mostly in myself. If I had any real wherewithal, I would have read it during class.
“What’s going on, Uncle Karl? What exactly do you know about vampires? And where did you get all those books? Are you some kind of vampire historian? Like a vampologist or something?” My eyes flared at the idea.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said and sharpened his stare. “There’s a lot you don’t know about the world we live in, Jemma. Things you won’t ever read about in a textbook, or find in a library—not even in this one book,” he said signaling to the leather-bound book inside his briefcase. “Knowledge is power, but it’s also dangerous...in the wrong hands.”
I turned my body towards him, intrigued.
“There are things out there,” he said staring out the window as though said things were just outside the car, “that most people will never know about—can’t know about. They will go an entire lifetime reading a different kind of history book, never knowing the full truth, and for that, they are blessed with the kind of blissful ignorance only a false sense of security can provide. You, my dear Jemma, no longer have that luxury for it was never intended to be yours to begin with.”
“What are you talking about?” I recoiled. This conversation just took a strange, unexpected turn.
“I am talking about your truth, Jemma. About who you really are, and where you come from.”
“I know exactly who I am and where I came from,” I said, staving off the sudden trepidation that erupted inside. “This isn’t about me. This is about vampires. Vampires who don’t seem to be real to anyone but me and you and your creepy little books,” I said flicking my hand in his direction.
“Indeed, it is about vampires,” he conceded with a curt nod. “That is where it all began, so that is where I will start.”
A clap of thunder rumbled above us, pushing my erratic heartbeat further over the edge.
“Supernatural beings have existed since the dawn of time, Jemma. Angels, demons, the good and bad alike, all subsisting on the fringe of our reality. Every continent has its own version of the same tales and even though these written accounts can be found throughout the globe, it is important to understand that these beings are not of this world,” he said, punctuating it with a sweeping hand gesture. “They’re bleed-ins from other Realms that don’t belong here, and so
I looked down at his extended hand. “I don’t know what—”
“I’m not in the mood, Jemma.” He cut in before I could finish my lie.
I opened my backpack and handed him the folder.
He put it on his lap and then held his hand out again. “The other one,” he said sternly.
It reminded me of my father’s scolding voice—a voice I rarely used to hear but when I did, could reduce me to tears with just the sound of it.
I pulled out my faux-gift-wrap shirt and plucked the book from the center, handing it over begrudgingly.
“How did you know I had it?” I had to ask.
“Never mind that.” He opened his briefcase and placed the book inside. “I think it’s time we had ourselves a talk.”
Perfect, just what I needed—a lecture from him on the finer points of why stealing is wrong. I should tell him to brush up on his lying speech as well because I’d been doing even more of that one lately.
“I’m sure by now you’ve already come to the realization that vampires aren’t exactly a thing of fiction.” He narrowed in his charcoal eyes for confirmation.
My mouth unhinged.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He briefly turned his attention outside the window. “And I’m sure you overheard my conversation the other morning where your name was concerned, presumably prompting your sudden thirst for knowledge?” He looked over at me again.
I managed to wrangle out a nod this time.
“How far did you get with the book?”
“I read the cover,” I said disappointedly—mostly in myself. If I had any real wherewithal, I would have read it during class.
“What’s going on, Uncle Karl? What exactly do you know about vampires? And where did you get all those books? Are you some kind of vampire historian? Like a vampologist or something?” My eyes flared at the idea.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said and sharpened his stare. “There’s a lot you don’t know about the world we live in, Jemma. Things you won’t ever read about in a textbook, or find in a library—not even in this one book,” he said signaling to the leather-bound book inside his briefcase. “Knowledge is power, but it’s also dangerous...in the wrong hands.”
I turned my body towards him, intrigued.
“There are things out there,” he said staring out the window as though said things were just outside the car, “that most people will never know about—can’t know about. They will go an entire lifetime reading a different kind of history book, never knowing the full truth, and for that, they are blessed with the kind of blissful ignorance only a false sense of security can provide. You, my dear Jemma, no longer have that luxury for it was never intended to be yours to begin with.”
“What are you talking about?” I recoiled. This conversation just took a strange, unexpected turn.
“I am talking about your truth, Jemma. About who you really are, and where you come from.”
“I know exactly who I am and where I came from,” I said, staving off the sudden trepidation that erupted inside. “This isn’t about me. This is about vampires. Vampires who don’t seem to be real to anyone but me and you and your creepy little books,” I said flicking my hand in his direction.
“Indeed, it is about vampires,” he conceded with a curt nod. “That is where it all began, so that is where I will start.”
A clap of thunder rumbled above us, pushing my erratic heartbeat further over the edge.
“Supernatural beings have existed since the dawn of time, Jemma. Angels, demons, the good and bad alike, all subsisting on the fringe of our reality. Every continent has its own version of the same tales and even though these written accounts can be found throughout the globe, it is important to understand that these beings are not of this world,” he said, punctuating it with a sweeping hand gesture. “They’re bleed-ins from other Realms that don’t belong here, and so
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