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

a year for every seven or so, and eventually died at the age of one thousand fifty-six.”

Arissa felt light-headed all of a sudden, and the room began to rotate around her. “Excuse me,” she whispered, knowing what was going to happen next. “I’ll – um – I’ll be right back.” And she passed out.

FOUR

 

 

What a bizarre dream! thought Arissa, turning over and snuggling deeper into the soft mattress, her face buried in the pillow.

About that pillow, though – it smelled like church incense for some reason… she gave a violent sneeze and woke up.

“Hello there.”

She shrieked.

“Oh, please don’t pass out again, Arissa, dear!” exclaimed Vlad, getting up from an ornate wingback chair near the huge, cushy sofa where she lay quivering.

She pulled herself together, more disappointed that it hadn’t been a dream than distressed over finding Vlad sitting there watching her. “What’s goig od?” She needed a tissue.

“Not much, really. The children told you about your potential lifespan and you, er, passed out. Again. You seem to do that a lot. Are you not well?”

She glared.

“In any event, as you may have surmised, I’m your mentor.”

“Of course you are,” she grumbled. Kyria had said she’d already met this mentor they’d assigned, and since it wasn’t Leander, that left the mechanically-inclined biter of stranded motorists. “Perfect.”

“I’m sure we’ll get along fine, my, er, Arissa. We simply got off on the wrong foot, so to speak.”

“Yeah, or the wrog deck.”

“What?”

She rolled her eyes. “I have to blow by dose.” She got up and began pacing around the room in search of tissues. Or even one. One would have been good.

“Ah, yes, now I see. Here – please take this.” Vlad stopped in front of her before she could make another circuit and handed her his cotton handkerchief.

“Hey, thags.” She turned her back and blew her nose, surprised at how much one hanky could contain. Then she told herself that she was being gross, but that didn’t stop her from feeling tempted to return the used item.

Manners won out in the end, though, and she stuffed it into her pocket. She’d opted for a pair of dark blue velvet slacks, a white lacy top, and silver heels. Not too formal, not too casual. Her hair was another story. After trying without success to get it to stay put in a bun, she’d given up and simply swept back the sides with silver sparkly hairclips.

The point being that she had a pocket into which to put the handkerchief.

“Feeling better?” Vlad sat in the chair again, flicking something microscopic from one sleeve with a manicured hand.

Before answering, she returned to the sofa and curled up in the corner. “Yeah. I think I’m allergic to incense.” A second later she realized her nose was no longer stuffed up. Odd…

“It would so appear. What would you like me to tell you?”

“Is blood an acquired taste?”

“No, it’s a craving that has nothing to do with taste. Do you enjoy the taste of air?”

She remembered her new craving several nights earlier, how her mind had equated blood with breathing, and understood. “I get it. Huh. I suppose, though, that to keep yourself from being sickened by it, your brain convinces you that it’s delicious. Like a pregnant woman thinking pickles and ice cream taste good together.”

“Something like that. Although I rather like pickles and ice cream.”

“What? You’re really weird, Vlad. And that reminds me – what’s your real name?”

“Vlad Braşov. I am the illegitimate son of Vlad the Impaler’s half-brother, Vlad IV Călugărul, which in English means ‘Vlad the Monk.’ After ruling Wallachia near the end of Vlad Dracul’s life, he committed an, er, indiscretion with a lady of Braşov, and I was the result. In fact, he helped build the church to St. Nicholas there as a private penance two years later, but he died the same year. Pity. More of a pity was that his lady-love was a vampire, a rather ironic twist of fate, yes?” He chuckled. “My uncle Vlad was the one Bram Stoker wrongly used as the centerpiece for his book, while the whole time it was me, his half-brother’s bastard, who ended up as the true Transylvanian vampire. Nothing like being bitten by your own mother.”

She stared, astonished, but then something occurred to her. “I thought vampires can’t have kids.”

“They can’t. My mother wasn’t one when the Monk had his tryst with her; when she found out she was pregnant, she went to live with a cousin in the countryside, a woman who had been unable to conceive. The plan was to give birth, leave me there, and return to the city.”

“But your mom got turned before she could leave, right?”

“Exactly. Her cousin escaped with me that night – a vampire had broken into the house, killed the woman’s husband, and was going after my mother when the cousin grabbed me from the cradle – my mother told me this part – and ran out into the night, losing us both in the forest. A woodsman found us the next morning and took us in. Years later, I was attending school in Braşov when an attractive older woman approached me on the street. She said I reminded her of a lost relative and invited me to tea. I was, well, the age you see me as now – twenty-two. We had a lovely time, but when I got ready to leave the tea house, she asked if I would walk her home as it had grown late, and she feared being alone on the streets. On the way, she revealed her true identity, and upon giving me a motherly hug, bit me, draining my blood until I was seconds from death. Then she turned me with her own.”

“And that was when?”

“I was turned in 1515.”

“Crap.”

“You like that word, don’t you.”

“I could use a nastier one.”

Vlad smiled, showing his fangs. “Yes, I suppose you could. So now, please allow me to talk to you about what will happen upon the rising of the full moon.”

“Right this moment?” She’d already had school earlier in the day, and between all this mind-bending information about vampires, werewolves, werepires, zombies, crazy long lives and passing out every fifteen minutes, she felt this topic could wait a day or so.

“There is time, and you do look worn out.” Vlad stood and put out a hand. “Come. We will return to the meeting so you may say good-night. All we’ll need from you right now is your e-mail address so we can stop contacting you via home-invasion.” He grinned.

This time, his expression made him look young, and for the first time since meeting him, Arissa felt she could tolerate his company. She took his hand, stood, and they went together back to the meeting room.

 

*****

 

“How come,” said Arissa as she unlocked her car, “I get a vampire mentor but not a werewolf one?”

Leander shrugged. “Probably because we haven’t figured out who bit you. See, the one who does it, if he or she doesn’t kill the prey, has to become the mentor – that’s why Vlad is the vampire who’s mentoring you.”

“So until you find out which werewolf… you know, I’m not sure I’d even want that guy or whatever anywhere near me again.” She opened the door, but instead of getting in, leaned her arms along the top of the window and stared past her fellow werepire.

After everyone agreed that Arissa had had enough for one night, Kyria had asked Arissa to give her email address and phone number to her, Leander, and Vlad, ended the meeting, and the odd group had begun to leave. Leander offered to walk Arissa to her car as they went out. The departing group of not-so-mythical beings now coming through the iron gates looked for all the world like a typical church group heading home after a potluck dinner. Giggling, Arissa observed them dispersing, calling pleasantries to each other as they went to their cars.

“I keep expecting to wake up,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

“It certainly does take some getting used to. What always got me was how wrong the rest of the world is about these guys. I mean, yeah, some of it’s accurate, but an awful lot of it is, well, nonsense.”

“Hey.” She looked at Leander, had a moment of intense lust for which she came this close to smacking herself in the face, and decided she had to throw herself into the situation whole-heartedly or she’d go nuts.

“Yeah?” He turned away from the departing group and returned her gaze.

“Until they find this fanged opportunist – ”

“The werewolf?”

“Right. Until they find this werewolf, would you consider filling me in on their history and all that? I mean, I’m sure you know way more than I do, since you probably had one as your own mentor, yes?”

He nodded. “Did you see the man standing next to me at the meeting? I think he said something to you about how special you are. Anyway, he’s the one who bit me. The werewolf, that is.”

“Ah. So how about it?”

“Sure. I’ll have to check with Kyria, but it should be all right.”

“Cool.” Kyria… who did she think she was – the queen or something? Oh, wait. She was the queen. Good grief. “Call me tomorrow if you have time.” Arissa gave a quick wave and got in the car. “See ya.” Amazed at how smooth the engine had been running since Vlad had messed with it, she drove off.

She got home at eleven-thirty according to the radio, and since she had an early class the next morning, she began a mental sweep of her closet to pick out her outfit. Her homework was done, so now all she needed to do was take a shower, watch a few minutes of the news, and go to bed. Her only concern was that with everything she’d been told, sleeping might prove difficult.

What she didn’t count on was what was waiting for her in the livingroom. Unsuspecting, unprepared for anything this horrifying, she blithely unlocked her door, walked in and switched on the light.

And froze. She stared at the wild, glaring eyes burning into her soul like laser beams from across the room. Death had to be the next logical step; only one creature on the planet could evoke this level of fear in the stricken girl.

Her mother.

FIVE

 

 

Seconds ticked by as Arissa fought to reclaim her wits. Her mother had a key – okay,