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

her head to let her ash-blonde hair slide to her shoulders in shiny waves, which she shook back, taking a slow, deep breath.

“I see.” She looked around at them, shaking her head. “I see how it is. Once again, the beautiful Arissa Martin takes control and fools everyone into believing she’s such a great person, so innocent, so incapable of harming a fly. Well, I know better, and that’s all I’m going to say about it. Period. Not another word. Except this – Mother, Father, if you ever let this monster into our house again, I’ll run away from home, and you’ll never hear from me. Ever. I’ll disown you both.” She let her words sink in before adding, “And now, yes, I’d like to order. I, too, am starved.”

ELEVEN

 

 

The night after her meeting with Trina and the family, Arissa decided to go to bed early. She’d had to deal with several irritating customers at her job, and was already in no mood for the full moon festivities awaiting her the next day. At least she wouldn’t need to call off work, but missing class in the morning was a foregone conclusion.

She’d taken her shower and was lounging about in nothing but a towel when the doorbell rang. Exasperated, she didn’t bother to put anything else on before going to the door and yanking it open, ready to be rude as hell to whoever was on the other side.

Reg.

Crap.

She’d almost forgotten his existence – probably a defense mechanism – but his instant leer reminded her of their first encounter, brief as it had been. “Um, you need something?”

His eyes did the typical up-and-down thing, and he smiled. “Oh, I sure do.”

“No.” She shut the door in his face.

Knock-knock-knock-knock.

She opened the door, really mad now. “Look, I’m not – ”

“Yes you are.” He pulled her into an embrace while stepping forward, forcing her back into the apartment, his mouth firmly over hers as his hands undid the towel.

I’m going to kill him, she thought, struggling to pry herself out of his grasp.

He’d lowered her to the floor and was positioning himself between her legs, far too strong for her to fight off, giving her no opportunity to kick him. So she did the only thing she could think of – she relaxed.

“Changed your mind, gorgeous?” he whispered thickly, his hands caressing her as he lowered his mouth to her throat.

“Yes,” she answered. “Oh, yes.”

He uttered a low, mean kind of laugh, removing his hands long enough to start undoing his pants. And that was all she needed.

Raising her right leg, she hooked it over the back of his neck and shoved downward, simultaneously moving out of the way (Vlad had shown her this move, telling her that when she wasn’t a vampire, she might need to defend herself some day). Because he was taken by surprise, she was able to exert enough pressure to smash his nose against the floor, then climb quickly onto his back, grab his hair, and slam his already bloodied face into the wood seven or eight times until he was knocked out. So. Being a werepire had its advantages in many ways, it seemed, greater strength and speed being two of the really good ones.

“I changed my mind, all right,” she growled, getting to her feet. “I’m not going to kill you, Reg; I’m going to make you suffer. Bastard.” She went to the kitchen and grabbed the clothes line her mother had given her, telling her to please attach it somewhere in the bathroom so she could properly care for her underthings. Right. Like that was ever going to happen. There was nothing wrong with the washer and dryer…

Returning with the rope she hog-tied the over-sexed werepire, leaving him on the floor and not bothering to clean up his bloodied features. Then she got dressed and called Kyria. He regained consciousness a short time later, glared up at her through blackened eyes and called her a few choice names. She rolled her eyes and sat on the sofa, watching him without answering as he vainly fought the rope, moaning in pain with the occasional roar of frustration thrown in. How nice that whoever Kyria was sending along was taking a good, long time to get there.

From Arissa’s perspective, this was more entertaining than television.

In the end, Reg was hauled out by several very angry vampires, among them Vlad; as they were leaving, Maya and Leander (who must have gotten past whatever had kept him from talking to Arissa) entered, their eyes wide with shock. Their arrival had nothing to do with what had occurred, she soon learned, but rather had been part of a plan they’d devised for Arissa’s second full-moon event, the timing merely coincidental.

While she wiped Reg’s blood off her floor, they told her of their plan, that Vlad had informed the entire community about how awesome she’d been on her first night, her actions only a little impulsive compared to how they were expected to be, and how well she’d handled everything. True, she’d almost killed a couple of relatives, but Vlad had remedied that, and it all turned out fine in the end.

So now, they said, they wanted her to join them and find out what other werepires did on the nights of the full moon. Kyria having given them her blessing, they’d decided to start getting ready the night before, and hoped it wouldn’t interfere with any plans Arissa might have had.

“But then we get here and see Reg being dragged out – wow, Arissa! I take it he got, like, aggressive with you, right? Well, it’s about time someone gave that creep what he deserved!” Maya took the bloody paper towels from their new werepire friend and making a face, carried them to the garbage can in the kitchen.

Arissa turned to Leander, one eyebrow raised. “Is he known for this sort of thing?”

“Yes and no.”

“What he means,” said Maya, returning from the kitchen, “is that he’s been accused of date rape and a few other obnoxious things, but until now, nobody has been willing or able to prove it.”

“Not sure I get that. Anyhow, yeah. He showed up right as I was getting out of the shower, and stupid me, I answered the door in a towel, never thinking it would be one of us.” She paused, recognizing her choice of pronouns; it seemed she’d fully accepted her new status. “Anyhow, I guess it was too much for his little brain to handle and he went after me. Thank goodness Vlad showed me a few self-defense moves or I’d be… I totally get it now, Leander.” She turned to him, apologetic in a more understanding way this time.

“It really is a problem. So. Let’s forget about Reg and get back to why we’re here. You’re okay, though, yes?” He smiled and went to the window, shoving his hands into his back pockets as he stared up at the sky.

“Yup. Looks like I’m gonna be just fine, too. Ha! Okay, guys, what did you have in mind?” She wanted to ask Leander why he’d been ignoring her and what had changed, but decided it didn’t matter.

“What we have in mind,” said Maya, “is crashing a local meet-up group of completely normal humans who get together once a month in a nearby park to play at being vampires. Their role-played characters participate in a predetermined story line.”

“How does that keep them in the ‘normal’ category?”

“They’re geeks or something. Who cares? The point is, they’re also fair game – no pun intended.”

“I don’t know. I think they’re cool.” Leander shrugged but didn’t turn around. “Of course, they have it mostly wrong about us. Their take on vampires is more Hollywood and literature, but at least none of them has freaked out.”

“Are you serious?” Maya patted the sofa cushion next to her, inviting Arissa to join her. “Far from freaking out, they seem to love it when we show up!”

As she sat, Arissa looked over her shoulder at Leander, who was still staring out at the night. “Wait – don’t you make them forget? I mean, I’m assuming you take sips from them.”

“They’re our personal snack bar, yes.” Leander left the window and took the chair across from the girls. “But instead of erasing their memories about what we did, we implant an image of fellow players from a different group, one that’s slightly renegade, and who have no problem carrying their role-playing into the physical realm. I’m beginning to think they look forward to us showing up.”

“Who is ‘us’? You and Maya?”

“Not all the time.” Maya put her head back, stifling a yawn. “Sometimes Vlad comes with us, but more to monitor what we’re doing. Kyria says it’s okay, but wants to make sure we do it right and never take things too far. Reg came with us once, but he got stupid about it, and Leander had to take him behind a building and sucker-punch him. When he came to, the game was over so we drove him home.” She got a sour look on her face and shook her head. “Can’t stand that guy… ”

“Freya even tried playing once, but she left early, saying she felt silly because she’s so much older than us in appearance as well as actual age.”

Arissa frowned, something occurring to her. “She said she was from Norway. How long ago?”

“She was a Viking.”

“Crap. Really?”

“Really. She was a toddler when she got turned, and is the oldest living werepire at the moment.” Maya giggled. “You should see her in full battle-cry! Lucky for Reg, she wasn’t here tonight, but I hate to think what she’ll do to him if she finds out what happened.”

“Wonder if she still has that axe-thing?” Leander sounded completely serious.

An “axe-thing,” eh? thought Arissa. Maybe she’ll let me borrow it… “Okay, next. Tell me more about this group we’re going to visit tomorrow night.”

So they did.

 

*****

 

Bartholomew Suggs was whining. Annoyed that his game was once again being usurped by interlopers, further annoyed that they didn’t play by the rules, and jealous of how real they managed to look, he stood with his arms crossed, his back against a lamp post. “Come on! Everyone knows vampires don’t bite each other! They bite humans! Why are we all okay with these guys sucking our blood?”

No one answered, because as usual, he told himself, no one was listening. Before the beautiful Leander and his friends had started showing up, the players had been attentive to Bart’s story-telling and instructions for the evening’s plot. Not any longer; and this time Leander had someone new with him who was a total knock-out. Tall, willowy yet curvy, with long auburn hair and incredible blue eyes, full, pouty lips and exquisite features… she was introduced as Riss. She looked the part even more than the two with her, and every member of the role-playing group – of both genders – wanted to get to know her better.

“Of course, it helps to be attractive,” the boy went on, his tone still juvenile despite the obvious fact that he was well into his twenties. “Ooh, look, it’s Leander! Aw, hell. Who cares?”

“Did you say something, Bart?” asked a girl who happened to walk past him at