Christmas in Vampire Valley

Copyright 2012 by
Jodie B. Cooper

License Notes: See
last page

_____________

I Thank God

Without God’s grace,
this book would not be possible.

“I can do all things
through Christ which strengtheneth me.”

PHILIPPIANS 4:13
(KJV)

_____________

Christmas in Vampire
Valley: 13,000 word short story

Glossary: 1,250
words

Forbidden Temptation
of a Vampire: 656 word snippet

Table of Contents

Christmas in
Vampire Valley

Glossary of
Sídhí Terms

Books by
Jodie B. Cooper

Snippet:
Forbidden Temptation of a Vampire

Copyright
Notice

I leaned my head against the window, trying to rein in my
temper. The icy surface didn’t cool me down, not when I could still hear
George’s nasally voice drifting past the bathroom door.

“I swear Megan pulled her panties off. She couldn’t wait to
jump my bones,” George insisted to the crowd of teenage vampires. The handful
of boys had tripled since George started spouting lies about me. I knew the
crowd had grown, because I could hear them milling around, encouraging the rat
to embellish the totally not true story a little bit more.

Sometimes I hated vampires and their narrow-minded views.

I was a fairy in a vampire school. The vamps called me a
witch, which told me how much vampires knew about the other Sídhí races.

I started to Clan Valley High last year as a junior. By now,
you'd think the vampires would be accustomed to having several fairies around
campus. They weren't. Well, most of them weren't happy with fairies, but not
all.

I never considered changing schools; moving mid-year
wouldn’t help matters. Clan Valley was predominantly a vampire valley, a Valley
being one of the second dimensional pockets on Earth that all Sídhí lived in.

George's voice rose in volume, spewing nasty lies about me.

I wanted to barge into the hall and confront George, but I
knew better. My word against a vampire’s word would go over like a ton of
bricks, not only would the other teens believe I had sex with George, they’d
call me a liar.

Then Principal Tinklebunn would expel me for making everyone's
hair fall out.

“You’re lying,” a deep voice emphatically stated.

Hearing my unspoken words, spoken aloud, pulled me up
straight.

The group of teenagers grew still. I couldn’t hear a whisper
of sound.

The anger boiling in Brandon's voice was impossible to miss.

“No, I swear that…” George’s voice abruptly stopped.

Clothing rustled and the sour scent of fear drifted into the
bathroom. The teenage vampires began muttering uneasily.

I couldn’t help it. I knew it was Brandon taking up for me,
but I had to see what was going on. I would’ve known his sexy, deep voice
anywhere. I’d had enough dreams (day and night) about him that I could have
picked him out of a crowd of millions.

By the time I cracked the door open, his hand was wrapped
around George’s throat, shaking the rat faced twerp like a rag doll. Semi-white
claws gleamed in the florescent lights of the gym hallway.

“Megan has more honor than you have in your little
toe." Brandon growled, long and deep. The rumbling sound of his anger, of
a furious vampire, echoed. "She would never do what you accused her of
doing. Admit the truth or I’ll rip your worthless throat out for lying.”

George’s feet hung a foot off the ground. His eyes bulged in
true fear. The sour smell increased, along with a wet substance dripping from
the hem of his pants into a yellow puddle on the floor.

I grinned. George deserved to be scared witless.

I worked with him at the candy store, so I knew exactly how
nasty and cruel the little wretch could be. Brandon's threat served the little bully
right.

Brandon flexed his fingers and blood began streaming down
George's neck.

"I was just kidding! I swear I was just joking
around!"
George mentally squealed like the trapped rat he resembled
.
"Hellfire, Brandon, she's just a filthy witch, why take her side?"

Brandon snarled, baring elongated fangs. "She is not a
witch! She's a good person and doesn't deserve your pettiness. Stay away from
her." To emphasize his words, Brandon flung George head first, into the
cement block wall of the gym's large hallway.

My tormentor crumpled into a pile.

People scattered, leaving me peeking out the bathroom door
as Brandon looked up. He looked me straight in the eye.

My face flamed bright red.

"Hey, Megan," he greeted me with a slight smile on
his face, as if nothing had happened and he was actually glad to see me.

"Hi," I tightened my fist against my rolling
stomach, not sure how to thank him for taking up for me. "Thanks."

Ugh, that was so lame.

"Sure," he rubbed his hands down his pants in a
nervous gesture, "I wanted to ask you..."

Ryan, his identical twin brother, teleported next to him.
"Both of you scatter, Principal Tinklebunn is on the war path and heading
this way."

Dragging my feet, I slowly entered the auditorium. It was
the week before Christmas break and my two best friends were on a fieldtrip,
walking around the Museum of Science in Chesterfield. I didn’t begrudge them
the trip. I’d taken the same class the year before and the science teacher, Mr.
Binklestine expected a two-page essay on what they learned.

I had bigger problems; I needed to find a seat. Sounded easy
enough, but it wasn’t, not in a roomful of territorial vampires who didn’t want
a fairy anywhere near them.

I automatically searched for Brandon. A surge of longing
rippled down my back when I found him. To the right, and about four rows down,
he sat with several of his cousins and his twin brother. The group of related
vampires carried the nickname of The Andrews Gang; word had it, the family
stuck together no matter what.

For just a moment, I could've sword I heard Brandon say my
name. I strained my ears, but I couldn’t catch what he and Ryan were talking
about, not over the rumble of several hundred voices.

I glanced around the room. It was filling up fast. If I
didn’t hurry, I’d be stuck standing at the back wall. No matter how uncomfortable
I felt among so many vamps, I really wanted to see the show.

High Councilman Warren Andrews, one of the oldest and
richest vampires in Clan Valley, had a huge collection of priceless artifacts.
Every year his staff brought a few token pieces and gave an ‘educational’
lecture about their history. This year the theme was Sídhí Gems.

“Megan, I saved you a seat.” George grinned at me, flashing partially
lengthened fangs in his narrow face.

I visibly shuddered, and snorted my refusal. I swear his
pointy chin and beady eyes reminded me of a scavenging rat. A mental image of
him flickered through my mind, sporting a fat rump and a long tail as he rummaged
through a trashcan. The silly thought lifted my spirits considerably.

Without a backward glance, I hurried toward three empty
chairs. Luck was on my side; the empty spot was only a couple of rows in front
of Brandon.

“That chair is taken,” Narlene MuskLeke, George’s younger
sister, snapped at me. She sat in the fourth chair over, looking more like a six
and a half foot amazon than a vampire. “I won’t have a filthy witch polluting
the air anywhere near me.”

It took every ounce of restraint I had not to scream at her.
I was so sick of people calling me a witch. I wasn’t a witch. It made my blood
boil every time someone called me one; witches were warped creatures.

Everyone knew there were five caste of fairy: Royal,
Warrior, Merchant, Artist, and Common. The fairy race had hundreds of sub-races
such as brownies, nymphs, dwarves, amazons, and pixies. I was an enchanter, one
that could manipulate growing things.

I wondered if the sheltered vampires in Clan Valley
understood what a witch really was. Witches started out their life as a druid,
a normal race of Sídhí like any other race. A druid’s abilities were tied to
the synth crystal in their blood, same as a vampire, dragon, or any other Sídhí
race of people.

When a druid went bad they turned into a witch, and witches
were evil. Once a druid turned to the dark arts, they sucked a person’s essence
out of their victims. The ill-gotten power flowed into their body, turning
their skin a putrid green.

I wanted to scream at her that I was not a witch. My ability
to manipulate things came from the natural synth crystal flowing through my
blood.

Any sane fairy of Atlantis Valley knew better than to call
an enchanter a witch. Enchanters were one of the few sub-races that balanced
between two caste, warrior and merchant.

For the most part, merchant class enchanters enhanced things
like plants, animals or inanimate objects, never growing stronger than a level
three in power.

My family line was famous for becoming warrior class
enchanters. My mom was a level seven, which was scary powerful. There hadn’t
been a level eight or higher since Elder Scrimpshine lost his head fighting a
hydra in the Gulf of Mexico.

I ignored Narlene's hiss of anger and sat down.

Behind me, I heard Brandon growl. "She is not a
witch!"

BOOM!

An explosion shook the walls of the auditorium, an area
filled to the brim with vampires. Squares of foam and glass rained down on the
teens.

Terrified screams erupted around me, creating mass
confusion. The smell of blood perfumed the air. With the smell of blood, growls
of hunger emerged, intensifying the chaos.

Black smoke billowed across the stage area.

I scrambled onto the back of my chair as a stampede of
terrified vampires rushed toward the exit. Sitting between fang-faced teens and
the large back door was not a very good place for a delicately built girl to
be.

There was no way I could go head-to-head with a bunch of
out-of-control vampires.

Narlene intentionally slammed into me, shoving me off my
precarious perch. Falling backward, I cried out. My heart constricted; fear
splintered through me like a piece of shattered china. I knew if I hit the
floor, I might never get up, not with the number of teens running past me.

I flung my arms outward, bracing for a fall.

I never hit the floor.

Strong arms caught me, pulling me into a tight embrace. From
the muscled chest, and strong arms wrapped around me, I knew it had to be a
guy. I inhaled a warm spicy scent that sent a deep yearning through my chest. I
looked up and froze.

Brandon towered over me. Top of his class academically and
star quarterback for the football team, he was the most popular vamp in school.
His midnight hair and emerald eyes topped the cake with lots of icing, a very
yummy looking cake.

He leaned down several inches. His breath tickled my ear as
he chuckled, and asked, “Going somewhere?”

He ported us out of the auditorium, appearing under a tall
oak tree on the edge of the school campus. It had to be my imagination, but he
seemed to lean closer to me, inhaling my scent. He briefly tightened his hold
on me. Before I could react, he let me go and stepped away from me.

I swear I must’ve been in shock.

I had a tight grip on his school jacket. When he stepped
back, I stumbled forward.

Groaning, I jerked my hands away. My face flamed deeper,
going scarlet in embarrassment. Humiliating myself seemed like a constant
affliction I had around him.

He reached-up and stroked his fingers across my hot cheek,
before gently tipping my face up to meet his eyes.

I stifled a sigh. I had only dreamed of ever being this
close to him. Normally, he had the darkest green eyes I’d ever seen, but today
the brilliant sun turned his vampire eyes solid black.

“Are you okay? No cuts or anything?” he asked, a small frown
appeared between his eyes.

“No, I’m fine, thanks to you.” Smiling at my secret crush, I
scrambled for the perfect words. "That's twice in one day."

He nodded once, keeping a gentle hold on my chin. He gazed
into my eyes for what seemed like an eternity, as if he memorized the moment.

I concluded I must’ve knocked my head silly in the explosion
and I was dreaming.

A booming explosion broke the spell.

“Stay here,” he ordered in a gentle, yet firm voice.

I nodded my agreement, shivering in the brisk December
breeze.