would like nothing better than to leave this cemetery, make sure you get home safely, and then curl up in my bed with a tall glass of diluted ginger ale.”
How sweet of him, to say something that didn’t make sense for a vampire to say. I casually thrust my neck towards him, bathing it in the moonlight.
“Is your neck OK?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Is it? What do you think, Edwart?” I massaged it suggestively, suggesting that I had slept on a pile of coals.
“Does it hurt?” he asked.
I had to think fast. Did he want for it to hurt? Was that some kind of weird vampire thing where they prefer to bite necks that hurt, the way my mother had always told me that the way you know a piece of fruit is ripe is that it looks like it hurts?
“Um, y-yes,” I stammered, silently thanking the forces that be for the improv class I took last summer. “It hurts. It hurts terribly.”
Then something magical happened. Edwart poked my neck. Fire rushed through my entire body. I grabbed his finger, intoxicated by its caress, and gasped for air like a fish out of water gasps for less air. He patted my neck a few times. I wondered if he was putting alcohol on it, the way doctors do before giving you shots.
“How does that feel?” he asked.
“Like, happy.” The truth was, it felt completely indescribable. A patch of blackberries—that’s how I would describe it.
“Okay, great!” he said, and stopped.” That was quick!”
“Oh, um, you know what?” I said, improvising again. “It hurts again. Worse. Much, much worse. Say! I have an idea! You could
bite me
, and then
I would never feel pain again.”
He gave me a look like I was crazy-crazy in love—just as the ground began to shake violently.
“What’s happening? Is this part of the transformation process?” I asked, a little unnerved.
“An earthquake?” Edwart suggested with the coldly calculating reasoning of a vampire.
Suddenly the ground split open beneath us, cracking the tombstone in half, and from the grave emerged a figure with bloodstained fangs and a black cape whose tall, curved collar was neatly pressed down in obvious defiance of the current trends.
“Are y-y-you … the Leather King?” I managed to ask.
“No,” said the figure. “You seriously don’t recognize me?”
I looked at him closely: the pale face, the cape, the red eyes, the ridiculously large fangs. I couldn’t place him.
“Um, do I know you from work?” I strained to remember if he was one of my co-workers. I strained to remember if I had a job.
“Goodness gravy, Belle—I sit next to you everyday in English!”
“I’m sorry—every face at school kind of blends into one conglomerate dull face except for the face of Edwart Mullen, the love of my life.”
He clapped his hands slowly, sinisterly. “Well congratulations to
you two,”
he said. “I hope you have a
really
happy life forever and ever in your sweet little house behind a neatly mowed lawn. What you two have is special—you know that?
Really
special. We’re all
very
jealous of your overwhelming love for one another.”
“Thank you.”
“To get on with my point, I’m Joshua. A Vampire. I don’t mean to be rude, but you two are trespassing on my grave property right now. I’m truly sorry about all this Belle—honestly I think you’re very attractive, even though you don’t wear makeup or pay attention to the fashions. To make a confession, I had every intention of asking you to prom the first week of school. But now I’m going to have to take your lives, unfortunately, to nourish myself.”
I balked. Another vampire? I guess it made sense; the states of the Pacific Northwest were known for their lenient monster laws.
Next to me, Edwart screamed and covered his eyes, likely visualizing his triumph over this flamboyantly costumed vampire. I relaxed, comfortably settling into the gravestone, ready to watch what every girl hopes to experience once: a real-life vampire fight.
“Not so fast,
How sweet of him, to say something that didn’t make sense for a vampire to say. I casually thrust my neck towards him, bathing it in the moonlight.
“Is your neck OK?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Is it? What do you think, Edwart?” I massaged it suggestively, suggesting that I had slept on a pile of coals.
“Does it hurt?” he asked.
I had to think fast. Did he want for it to hurt? Was that some kind of weird vampire thing where they prefer to bite necks that hurt, the way my mother had always told me that the way you know a piece of fruit is ripe is that it looks like it hurts?
“Um, y-yes,” I stammered, silently thanking the forces that be for the improv class I took last summer. “It hurts. It hurts terribly.”
Then something magical happened. Edwart poked my neck. Fire rushed through my entire body. I grabbed his finger, intoxicated by its caress, and gasped for air like a fish out of water gasps for less air. He patted my neck a few times. I wondered if he was putting alcohol on it, the way doctors do before giving you shots.
“How does that feel?” he asked.
“Like, happy.” The truth was, it felt completely indescribable. A patch of blackberries—that’s how I would describe it.
“Okay, great!” he said, and stopped.” That was quick!”
“Oh, um, you know what?” I said, improvising again. “It hurts again. Worse. Much, much worse. Say! I have an idea! You could
bite me
, and then
I would never feel pain again.”
He gave me a look like I was crazy-crazy in love—just as the ground began to shake violently.
“What’s happening? Is this part of the transformation process?” I asked, a little unnerved.
“An earthquake?” Edwart suggested with the coldly calculating reasoning of a vampire.
Suddenly the ground split open beneath us, cracking the tombstone in half, and from the grave emerged a figure with bloodstained fangs and a black cape whose tall, curved collar was neatly pressed down in obvious defiance of the current trends.
“Are y-y-you … the Leather King?” I managed to ask.
“No,” said the figure. “You seriously don’t recognize me?”
I looked at him closely: the pale face, the cape, the red eyes, the ridiculously large fangs. I couldn’t place him.
“Um, do I know you from work?” I strained to remember if he was one of my co-workers. I strained to remember if I had a job.
“Goodness gravy, Belle—I sit next to you everyday in English!”
“I’m sorry—every face at school kind of blends into one conglomerate dull face except for the face of Edwart Mullen, the love of my life.”
He clapped his hands slowly, sinisterly. “Well congratulations to
you two,”
he said. “I hope you have a
really
happy life forever and ever in your sweet little house behind a neatly mowed lawn. What you two have is special—you know that?
Really
special. We’re all
very
jealous of your overwhelming love for one another.”
“Thank you.”
“To get on with my point, I’m Joshua. A Vampire. I don’t mean to be rude, but you two are trespassing on my grave property right now. I’m truly sorry about all this Belle—honestly I think you’re very attractive, even though you don’t wear makeup or pay attention to the fashions. To make a confession, I had every intention of asking you to prom the first week of school. But now I’m going to have to take your lives, unfortunately, to nourish myself.”
I balked. Another vampire? I guess it made sense; the states of the Pacific Northwest were known for their lenient monster laws.
Next to me, Edwart screamed and covered his eyes, likely visualizing his triumph over this flamboyantly costumed vampire. I relaxed, comfortably settling into the gravestone, ready to watch what every girl hopes to experience once: a real-life vampire fight.
“Not so fast,
Similar Books
