it,
Zee. I felt selfish for trying to use him
to alleviate my guilt. I searched for something else to say, but
all of a sudden I felt drained. I leaned my elbows on my knees. My
body felt weak, deboned. Does this mean I
have to feed again?
“Do vampires drink vampire blood?” I
asked.
“No,” he said, as if I had asked a
stupid question.
“Oh, okay. I thought it might be like
wine. You know, the older the better. Or like cheese,” I
said.
He didn’t respond so I started to
mutter to myself. “I’m going to miss cheese. Except blue cheese.
That tastes like feet.”
“You’re a vampire now,” he said. “All
human food is going to taste like feet.”
“Everything?”
“Hey, schoolgirl.”
“Yes?”
“Stop talking.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I talk when I’m
nervous or upset. My sister has diabetes so I used to tell her
jokes to distract her from needles when we were kids. But even she
thinks it’s annoying now.”
He snapped his fingers toward the
door, which I took to mean that he wanted me to put on my shoes. I
unlaced Jerome’s runners and wiggled my feet inside. As I was tying
the bows, I heard the man downstairs greet someone. There was a
pause. Then a crack. A rolling chair skidded across the
floor.
“Lucas,” I whispered.
“I know,” he said.
He took my elbow and pulled
me away from the door. I concentrated on the patter of feet, too
light and too quick to be human, ascending the stairs in
bounds. Two. There are two of them. Lucas handed me the backpack, which I slung both
of my arms through. Affixing his swords to his body, he moved in
front of me.
We should run.
The door suddenly burst in, splinters
from the doorframe sailing onto the bed. Two statuesque figures
stepped inside. One appeared as if he was on vacation, dressed in
an orange Hawaiian-print shirt and khaki pants. The other vampire
was wearing a black T-shirt over dark jeans and his brown hair was
tied in a ponytail. In the dim room their eyes glowed.
The tourist began talking in Italian.
Lucas answered in a monotone.
“What did he say?” I asked.
“He says the Monarchy has put a reward
on our heads. Me dead. You alive. He wants us to go with
them.”
“What did you say?”
“Things that should not be repeated to
a lady.”
“Let’s not cause a scene, huh?” said
the vampire with the ponytail. He had an American accent. “There
are humans everywhere. Just come with us. Nice and
easy.”
Lucas reached over his head and
removed his blades.
“All right. You want to make this
difficult,” the American said. He lifted up the back of his T-shirt
and pulled out a short, curved sword. With a flick his weapon
opened into four blades. The tourist wielded a weapon in each hand.
They resembled handsaws, but each had two blades attached to the
handle so it looked like he had forks on the ends of his
fists.
“Please,” I blurted.
The vampires charged at a blinding
speed, fangs bared, weapons raised. The American with the
four-bladed weapon reached Lucas first, raking the air where
Lucas’s head was a fraction of a second ago. Lucas ducked and
kicked him across the room. The American slammed into the wall,
plaster crumbling around him.
Lucas warded off several blows from
the tourist. As the tourist tried to stab his head, Lucas took a
few steps back, cornering me against the wall. The blades flew over
Lucas’s shoulder and sliced off a lock of my hair. I whirled away
and jumped onto the bed, the springs squealing. The tourist tried
to get Lucas with an uppercut, but when Lucas brought a sword down
to stop the blow, his blade got caught between the tourist’s
prongs. With a twist of his wrist, the tourist sent Lucas’s sword
flying. It stuck, quivering, in the balcony door.
The American scrambled to his feet. I
snatched a lamp from the nightstand and hurled it at the American’s
head. He shielded his face, the porcelain exploding on the back of
his fist. I threw the other lamp at him. He caught it and
Zee. I felt selfish for trying to use him
to alleviate my guilt. I searched for something else to say, but
all of a sudden I felt drained. I leaned my elbows on my knees. My
body felt weak, deboned. Does this mean I
have to feed again?
“Do vampires drink vampire blood?” I
asked.
“No,” he said, as if I had asked a
stupid question.
“Oh, okay. I thought it might be like
wine. You know, the older the better. Or like cheese,” I
said.
He didn’t respond so I started to
mutter to myself. “I’m going to miss cheese. Except blue cheese.
That tastes like feet.”
“You’re a vampire now,” he said. “All
human food is going to taste like feet.”
“Everything?”
“Hey, schoolgirl.”
“Yes?”
“Stop talking.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I talk when I’m
nervous or upset. My sister has diabetes so I used to tell her
jokes to distract her from needles when we were kids. But even she
thinks it’s annoying now.”
He snapped his fingers toward the
door, which I took to mean that he wanted me to put on my shoes. I
unlaced Jerome’s runners and wiggled my feet inside. As I was tying
the bows, I heard the man downstairs greet someone. There was a
pause. Then a crack. A rolling chair skidded across the
floor.
“Lucas,” I whispered.
“I know,” he said.
He took my elbow and pulled
me away from the door. I concentrated on the patter of feet, too
light and too quick to be human, ascending the stairs in
bounds. Two. There are two of them. Lucas handed me the backpack, which I slung both
of my arms through. Affixing his swords to his body, he moved in
front of me.
We should run.
The door suddenly burst in, splinters
from the doorframe sailing onto the bed. Two statuesque figures
stepped inside. One appeared as if he was on vacation, dressed in
an orange Hawaiian-print shirt and khaki pants. The other vampire
was wearing a black T-shirt over dark jeans and his brown hair was
tied in a ponytail. In the dim room their eyes glowed.
The tourist began talking in Italian.
Lucas answered in a monotone.
“What did he say?” I asked.
“He says the Monarchy has put a reward
on our heads. Me dead. You alive. He wants us to go with
them.”
“What did you say?”
“Things that should not be repeated to
a lady.”
“Let’s not cause a scene, huh?” said
the vampire with the ponytail. He had an American accent. “There
are humans everywhere. Just come with us. Nice and
easy.”
Lucas reached over his head and
removed his blades.
“All right. You want to make this
difficult,” the American said. He lifted up the back of his T-shirt
and pulled out a short, curved sword. With a flick his weapon
opened into four blades. The tourist wielded a weapon in each hand.
They resembled handsaws, but each had two blades attached to the
handle so it looked like he had forks on the ends of his
fists.
“Please,” I blurted.
The vampires charged at a blinding
speed, fangs bared, weapons raised. The American with the
four-bladed weapon reached Lucas first, raking the air where
Lucas’s head was a fraction of a second ago. Lucas ducked and
kicked him across the room. The American slammed into the wall,
plaster crumbling around him.
Lucas warded off several blows from
the tourist. As the tourist tried to stab his head, Lucas took a
few steps back, cornering me against the wall. The blades flew over
Lucas’s shoulder and sliced off a lock of my hair. I whirled away
and jumped onto the bed, the springs squealing. The tourist tried
to get Lucas with an uppercut, but when Lucas brought a sword down
to stop the blow, his blade got caught between the tourist’s
prongs. With a twist of his wrist, the tourist sent Lucas’s sword
flying. It stuck, quivering, in the balcony door.
The American scrambled to his feet. I
snatched a lamp from the nightstand and hurled it at the American’s
head. He shielded his face, the porcelain exploding on the back of
his fist. I threw the other lamp at him. He caught it and
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