Double Take - A.J. Cole (classic fiction txt) 📗

asked, “What do you mean?”

“She says you bit her! On the neck, like a vampire!”

Arissa snorted. “A what?”

“A vampire. Says you went to visit her a few nights after her birthday, claiming you had a belated gift for her or something. She isn’t very clear about that part. Anyway, her mother doesn’t remember you being there at all, nor does my brother.”

“Wow. Does she have, like, holes in her neck?” Nope, Vlad had healed those immediately.

“No, of course she doesn’t. Although I’m beginning to think she may have a few in her head.”

“Mom!” Arissa giggled.

The woman grinned. “Well, I mean really! She’s being very insistent, too. In fact, she’s demanding a confrontation with you.”

Arissa’s eyebrows shot upward. “Is she!” She tapped her fingertips on the table for a moment. “Okay. Fine. Maybe it would be a good idea. I’m tired of her side of the family thinking they’re so awesome and perfect. Maybe it’ll do them good to see their darling Trina for the loon she is!”

“Oh, they’ve already seen it. She’s been calling everyone and carrying on about this for nearly a week now.”

Arissa stood and picked up her plate, reaching for her mother’s. “Wait – didn’t you say she’s claiming it happened right after her birthday?” She took the woman’s plate and went to the sink. “Why did she wait so long?”

“Good question. She says she was too terrified to speak up until now, but honestly, everyone thinks she’s suffering from post-birthday depression.”

Giving the plates a quick rinse before putting them into the dishwasher, Arissa kept her back to her mother to hide her grin. Rearranging her features once she was done, she returned to the table and sat. “Is that a real condition now?”

“No, dear. What I mean is that she’s spoiled rotten, and we all believe she’s desperate for more attention now that her birthday is over and no one is thinking about her any more.”

Arissa had to agree. Even if the brat hadn’t been chomped on, she probably would have found something about which to make a scene. The beauty of all this, of course, was that Trina was telling the truth for once, but was being ignored. How fitting! How perfect! How –

“Don’t be smug, dear. It’s unbecoming.” Mrs. Martin got up and went to the coffeemaker. “Would you like a cup?”

“Sure.” Some of her gleeful gratification over her cousin’s dilemma must have made an appearance on her face. Oh, well. Her only real regret about all this was that she couldn’t share it with anyone. Anyone human, at least. Her friends knew about Trina, but how could she possibly explain… no, only Vlad, possibly Leander, would get it, but no one was talking to her these days (Leander and Blaine being “no one”). She had a feeling Vlad wouldn’t have a problem with defying Kyria, and in fact, might even scare her a little. So his lack of contact probably had more to do with him having his own life, and now that he’d told Arissa what she needed to know about what she’d become, his relationship with her would more typically be confined to those lovely, once-a-month jaunts under a full moon. She hoped, though, that they wouldn’t always end with bowling.

Before Arissa left to go home to pursue her need for time-wasting Saturday non-activities, her mother called Lila and said she’d spoken with Arissa, who had agreed that a meeting with Trina would most certainly be in order. After some backing and forthing with Mrs. Martin acting a liaison between Lila and Arissa, it was agreed that they would all meet somewhere public. To that end, Lila said she’d reserve a meeting room at the local coffee shop and restaurant the following evening to try and get this nonsense resolved once and for all.

Because the full moon wouldn’t rise for three more nights, Arissa was fine with the arrangement. She kissed her mom on the cheek, thanking her for lunch, before taking off to pursue more pleasant things.

Lately, she had begun seeking diversion for different reasons than her usual, natural tendency toward laziness and procrastination. It had occurred to her that along with an unbelievably long lifespan came the undeniable difficulties of, well, an unbelievably long lifespan. Sure, she could waste time now to her heart’s content and not feel all that guilty about it, but she would also have to deal with everyone she knew growing old and dying while she was still wasting time and being young. That meant she’d probably have to move elsewhere every ten years or so. It also meant losing those she loved, not making any lasting friendships and changing the name on her online social pages every so often.

Then again, she’d outlive Trina, too. Heh-heh.

The next night, she chose her outfit with care for the meeting-slash-confrontation. On the one hand, she didn’t wish to appear frumpy by wearing torn jeans and a comfortable tee-shirt. She also didn’t want to overdo it by showing up in a formal gown and diamonds – er, cubic zirconium, really. Cocktail dress? Nope. She didn’t own one. Slut-wear? Tempting, but… no.

What finally appealed to her was a well-balanced combination of all those things: her black velvet slacks, black lacy V-neck top with fingerless lace gloves attached to the end of the long sleeves, her ruby pendant hanging on a sparkly dark gold chain, the stone itself large and tear-drop shaped (or blood-drop, as she suddenly saw it), dangly earrings of tiny rubies hanging from her earlobes in an uneven cascade on fine chains of progressive lengths, red and gold hair clips to hold her long hair back at the sides, black stiletto-heeled pumps with ankle straps, and a delicate gold ring, studded with different colored gems, on each finger. She finished her look with pink and dark grey eye shadow, blusher applied to make her cheekbones stand out more than usual, and deep red, wet-looking lip-stain. This ensemble would make most others her age look like hookers or clowns. On her tall, willowy form and with her pale, perfect complexion, it was flat-out sexy. Oh, yeah. She smiled at her reflection as she spritzed herself with a pheromone-enhanced fragrance.

Look out, Trina. Your big, bad werepire cousin is about to have a little chat with you.

When she entered the meeting room a short while later, she almost laughed aloud. Trina, true to drama-queen form, had managed to make herself look like the diametrical opposite of Arissa. She wore a little-girl white blouse with short, puffy sleeves under a pink corduroy jumper that ended just below her knees. Her ankle socks were the same pastel pink – who the heck over the age of three wears ankle socks!? – and she had black patent leather Mary Janes on her feet. Her hair was pulled up into pigtails on either side of her head, and with no makeup or jewelry except for a gaudy, oversized gold cross on a chain around her neck, she looked like a porn star in a pedophile’s dream flick.

Arissa decided to take control of the situation immediately; she was not going to allow this pipsqueak, high-maintenance, egocentric twerp of a cousin get away with playing the sympathy card. “Trina!” she said with a bright smile, shutting the door behind her. “What’s this crap I hear about me biting you? Are you out of your fuzzy little mind?” Which you are, of course.

Trina reaction to this frontal attack was a huge gasp, and she grabbed her mother’s arm.

“Ouch!” Lila hissed through clenched teeth, and tried to pry her daughter’s fingers off.

Both of Arissa’s parents were there, as was her uncle and a couple of other relatives from Lila’s side of the family. “Don’t get upset, Riss,” said Mr. Martin, his voice sounding bored, and Arissa realized he was enjoying this.

“Upset? No, Dad. Shocked is more like it. Where does she get off making up garbage like that? I mean, sure, I couldn’t make it to her birthday dinner, but while I’m sure it was the Event of the Century, it still wasn’t more important than me passing my course.”

Uttering a cry of genuine frustration, Trina pointed an accusing finger at her cousin. “You’re lying! You came to my house, my mother let you into my room, and when you pretended to give me a hug, you bit my neck!”

“I think we should all sit down and take it easy.” Her father gestured at the line of square tables that had been pushed together to accommodate the group.

Smirking as she sat, Arissa addressed her cousin’s back, Trina having headed for the other side of the table. “So I guess that means you’re going to turn into a vampire any minute now, right?”

Trina turned. “No, because you didn’t succeed in killing me! Well, how do you like this, Riss?”

Had she meant for that to rhyme? Whatever. What is she – “What are you doing, Trina? Why are you waving your cross-thingy at me like that?”

The other girl muttered something about not being close enough, rushed back to Arissa, and pressed her crucifix to onto her cousin’s neck.

“Okaaaay,” said Arissa, “and?”

“That must burn! It does burn. Doesn’t it burn your skin?”

For a moment, Arissa almost felt sorry for Trina. But only for a moment, and only almost. “No. It’s cold. Why are you doing that?”

Trina removed the cross and took a step back, a wheel or two apparently trying to turn in her mind.

“And why,” Arissa continued, crossing her arms, “is your hair in pigtails? And what, exactly, are you wearing? What did you do – go shopping in the toddler section of the Salvation Army store?”

“Holy water!”

“Holy shit!”

“Arissa!”

“Aunt Lila!”

“Are you ready to order?” The waitress who had entered unnoticed gave the occupants of the meeting room an expectant twitch of her eyebrows. Their responding glares answered that question in no uncertain terms; she cleared her throat, lowered her order pad, excused herself in a whisper, and left the room.

This little interlude had given Trina time to go back around the table, grab her purse, and take out a small bottle with a blue screw-on top. She twisted it off as she returned to the front of the table and approached Arissa, a smug grin on her face.

Arissa, no longer surprised by anything her cousin did, said, “What’s that? Your hamster’s ashes?”

“I don’t have a hamster.”

“Why? You mean they won’t talk to you either?”

“Bitch. This is holy water!” And with that, she tossed the contents of the open bottle onto Arissa’s front, where it immediately soaked into the lace and disappeared from view.

The ensuing silence was painful. Arissa looked down at her front, lips pursed, and nodded. “Does this mean I’m blessed or something?” she asked without looking up.

“It’s supposed to burn you.”

“Really. Like the crucifix. You know,” she continued, raising her eyes and riveting Trina’s with them, “if you’re trying to start a career as an arsonist, you’re going about it all wrong.”

“Sunlight, then!”

Arissa looked pointedly out the plate glass window that defined the entire wall to her left. “Kinda hard to come by at night. Would you like to meet in the park or something tomorrow? You could bring a magnifying glass, or no… Wait! I get it – maybe I could go with you guys to church or something. You could try smacking me with a Bible, or have the priest chant at me on the front pathway. I mean, you’re trying to prove I’m a vampire, yes?” She sighed and sat down. “I’m hungry. Anyone else want to order?”

“I hate you,” whispered Trina, returning to her chair.

“Why? What did I ever to do you? I mean, if you honestly believe I was at your house and bit you, I guess it’s understandable. Otherwise, no, and I would recommend that you get yourself a really good therapist.”

Everyone turned toward Trina, her mother visibly bracing herself.

No tantrums occurred, no throwing of tableware, no tears, hair tearing, foot stomping or shrieks. Instead, Trina removed the ribbons on the sides of