Vamped Up (6 page)

“Ruan, please,” she said. “Just give it a shot. We can’t afford to hand over the strength of our elders to someone who wishes to use those powers for evil. And I saw this death shade too. There is nothing more evil. You came here for a reason, right? You answered my call because deep down you wanted to help. You can’t turn away from your duty.”

“No.” He brushed her hand away. “I came here because, despite my better judgment, I thought maybe I could talk to you about something that’s going on with me and the resurgence of my nightmares. Friend to friend. But the first thing you do is ask something of me in the name of duty to a khiss I no longer belong to. A khiss that tried to kill Eve not two months ago. I’m no one’s guppy. Not anymore.”

So that was the reason for the tension in his neck and shoulders. She thought he’d looked too rigid earlier. He thought he’d come back and be put to work. That he’d be nothing more than a servant, a guard, a faceless drone who’d always complete the task at hand without question. And what had she gone and done?

Hope sank to the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t realized what she’d asked of him in the name of friendship. Some friend she was . . .
and what did he just say about his nightmares?
They’d returned? That wasn’t good. Not good at all. The last time his nightmares surfaced he’d gone underground for a decade.

Slade dragged his prying eyes and his supersonic ears away from their conversation. Hiram stood tall, a looming figure in black. He held the scrolls high and let them unroll to the floor.

Ruan stood and adjusted his black sweatshirt over his shoulders. “It was good seeing you, Dylan, but do me a favor and don’t call me again.”

“Wait,” she said, desperate to know she hadn’t muddled things for good. She’d help him with his nightmares. She’d find another way to decipher the scrolls on her own, without him, if that meant he’d come back and they could be friends like they were before. “As my friend and nothing more, stay and talk with me.”

Ruan hesitated. For a second he looked like he was going to take his seat, and her offer.

Hiram shouted, “The person who wrote this section of scroll is in this room at this very moment. This person, and this person alone, can tell us how to stop the devastation that’s to come.”

Dylan swept her eyes over the scroll and settled on the familiar scrawl marking the parchment. “Damn it.” She swallowed hard and hung her head. The one thing she needed to do to stop the death shades, deciphering the scrolls, now meant she’d have to do something in the name of duty—the one thing she just resolved not to do to a friend.

“Ruan,” Hiram said. All eyes in the council followed his gaze. “You weren’t about to leave, were you?”

Ruan spun around, his chin high, his broad shoulders pulled back. “I have nothing to do with the devastation you’re talking about. As far as I’m concerned, you may’ve brought it on yourself.”

“I will overlook your disrespect for your
Primus
and this council for now. As long as you tell me why this section of hundred-year-old scroll, supposedly written by one of our elders, happens to be written in your hand?”

Ruan opened his mouth, looked like he was about to refute what Hiram said, then set his own eyes upon the scroll. He must’ve recognized his handwriting because his gaze shot to Dylan.

“And I suppose you knew nothing about this when you called me?” Ruan said, giving her a hard glare over his shoulder.

No, he couldn’t think she called him here, full knowing Hiram planned to use him. “I didn’t. I swear, I didn’t.”

He threw up a hand, stopping her. “It’s my experience that friends warn each other when they’re about to be ambushed.” With a sigh, Ruan stormed heavy-footed to Hiram’s table to examine the parchment.

Chapter Ten

“You need only three things to live a full and happy life: blood passing your lips, love filling your heart, and a friend standing faithfully at your side.”

After Life coach, Ray Bloodhorn

“D
AUGHTERS OF A
river goddess.” Eve faced her Mythology 101 class, a clicker for the PowerPoint cradled in her palm. Even though the lights were off and only thin slats of sunlight shone through the narrow overhead windows on the far sides of the classroom, she could see her students’ faces, glowing incandescently in the yellow light of the projector. “Though some myths indicate Aphrodite had a hand in their creation. They were the most beautiful creatures on earth, capable of seducing the most loyal companions.”

She scanned the stadium-seating auditorium, her eyes coming to rest on random students scrambling to take notes, and others covering their eyes, clearly snoozing. There wasn’t a single empty chair in her class; a pleasant change from last semester, when the auditorium echoed with emptiness. “Their voices were a soft song of promise; their intentions wicked beyond measure. They were Sirens from Greek mythology and the focus of our next unit.”

She swiped a stack of study notes from the elongated table at the front that doubled as a desk, and strode to Dante, who was occupying one of the movie-theatre-style chairs near the door. He was studying her with an intensity that made her self-conscious. What was he thinking with those melting gold eyes? He’d been so mysterious since being assigned her assistant at the start of the semester; she hardly knew a thing about him, other than his name.

She put the papers on his tiny pull-up desk and walked away, feeling his eyes boring into her back. He stood and distributed the papers as she continued.

“Some claimed they were bird-women, luring fishermen to their island with their innocent songs so the mesmerized men would crash their boats on the sharp rocks lining the shore. Once shipwrecked, the sirens would steal the seafarers’ treasures. Then kill them. Some legends say the sirens were mermaid-like creatures that would enchant fishermen with their beauty to the point of delirium.” She clicked the PowerPoint screen to a slide showing a golden-haired goddess with fluffy white wings, playing a harp. Lustful eyes, yet an air of innocence. She was beautiful enough to stop a man’s heart. Perfection in its utmost form. “Other myths indicate Demeter gave them wings to search for Persephone when she was kidnapped by Hades and dragged to the Underworld. Because of their journey to the other realm, the Sirens were then cursed with the knowledge of past and future.”

Someone in the back mumbled, “Hmph, I’d like to have that curse.”

Her attention shifted to the shaggy-haired, broad-shouldered twenty-something slumped into his chair about ten rows back. “I could see how, on the outside, knowing what lies behind you and ahead of you might be a blessing. You could play the lotto and win. You could see who your one true love is and know when they’ll enter your life.” At that, she paused, letting them ponder the endless possibilities as if there were no negative repercussions. “But you’d also know the exact moment each loved one would die and how they’d meet their ends. You’d relive their deaths each day when you saw their faces and looked into their eyes. You’d also see your own end and need to come to grips with the fact that you couldn’t change anything if you tried. That’s quite a burden to bear, don’t you think?”

The twenty-something nodded methodically, his pencil tapping the edge of his desk. Dante sighed heavily, drawing her attention to where he stood against the door-jamb, watching her again. Her gaze shot to the clock. Not much time to delve into the next chapter on muses. The inspirational beings would have to wait.

“All right, that’s all for today. Remember there’s a midterm Wednesday on chapters one through five, and your essays on Mythological Allegories in Modern Fiction and Film are due Friday.”

As the students filed out, Dante flipped on the lights. The auditorium looked so much bigger without students filling the seats. It was hollowed out—four walls, tan carpet, bare bones. “Thanks again for picking up those study guides,” Eve said, shutting down the PowerPoint projector and turning off the computer. “Now I can feel better about giving them that killer of a test on Wednesday.”

Dante gathered papers on the front table. “No need to thank me. I told you it wasn’t a problem. I was just finishing up my run and headed to your office anyway. And I’m sure your students don’t share your relief for my last-minute errand. No study guide meant no test, although I don’t know why you hold yourself to that standard. They don’t need a piece of paper to study by.”

He looked different today, Eve realized, as he swept past her to pick up a scrap of paper under a chair in the front row. His hair was the same, a dark shade of auburn and spiked up in front. His clothes exhibited the usual professionalism she’d come to know him by. Suit and tie were an appreciated norm.

Maybe it was his eyes . . .
yes,
that’s what was different about him. His eyes were darker than normal. Not the light liquid gold she’d been intrigued by from time to time, but a deep citrine.

“I know most of the students would do fine without the study guide, thanks to the extra tutoring sessions you opened up last semester,” Eve said. “But I feel better knowing I’ve done my best to prepare those who might’ve fallen through the cracks. Besides, this unit was pretty extensive.”

Dante three-pointed the scrap of paper he’d picked up off the floor into a waste bin by the door. “It has nothing to do with my extra study session, believe me. It was only one more hour twice a week. Speaking of . . .” Dante leaned back on the front table, crossing his arms and his ankles. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about cutting back on that last class.”

Eve stopped shoving papers into her bag so she could focus on what he was saying. Cutting back usually meant stopping all together. Or at least heading that direction. She needed him more than he realized, especially since she wanted to spend every spare moment in Ruan’s arms. Running mindless errands to Staples and the Religious Studies department office would be a colossal waste of time. Valuable time she couldn’t get back.

No one understood her predicament.

Ruan seemed to have all the time in the world. He’d outlive her by hundreds of years and live her life over again—maybe two full lifetimes—without her. Every minute was one Eve couldn’t get back. She planned to use them all without regret.

Maybe she’d have to stop working all together. But if she quit her job, how would she pay for their rent? Or her car payment? Sure, Ruan’s training lessons brought in money, but it was enough to support
him
. Not the both of them.

If donating blood for vamp blood banks across Crimson Bay paid for withdrawals, Eve mused, she’d be in the clear! She’d donated regularly since high school, since she was old enough to volunteer for the service. There was so much she owed the vampire race for what they did for her when she was young. She owed vampires—a single vampire, actually—her life. She’d repay that debt a thousand times over with the blood running through her veins.

Eve tried not to think about that part of her past, yet the gruesome images seemed to be stained in her memory. Her mother being attacked by a therian flickering in and out of canine form outside their home; cries for Eve to run to safety, to get help; her mother’s blood pooling on the sidewalk, oozing over Eve’s fading hopscotch lines.

She was only six years old. Too afraid to run or scream. Young, naïve Eve stood, staring at her mother being shredded to pieces by large wolf claws. It had turned on Eve next, slamming her face-first into the pavement. Its incisors had cut into her neck and shoulder, releasing warm streams of blood down her neck and arms.

From out of nowhere, a woman with ratted red hair appeared at their side and sliced the therian in two with the quick swipe of a jagged blade. As the therian rolled off Eve’s shaking body, dead and flickering, Eve realized something was wrong—she’d lost too much blood. Her arms were tingly. Her vision blurred. Before she faded out of consciousness, Eve could’ve sworn the woman with the flaming red hair leaned over her and told her it’d be all right. That it wasn’t her destiny to die on the sidewalk in vain. And then she smiled, showing the whitest, longest set of fangs Eve had ever seen.

She’d been saved.

It was the first time Eve realized humans weren’t alone in the world. And that vampires were truly good creatures, capable of love and mercy like everyone else.

“So what’d you think?” Dante asked, dragging Eve back to the present. “I don’t think cutting back on that last study session isn’t going to make or break any of your students. Mind if I pull back a bit?”

Shaking her head more to dust off the remnants of the memory she’d fallen into than to answer his question, Eve slipped her notebook labeled Myth101 into her bag and zipped it shut. “That’s fine. Do what you need to do. But do you mind if I ask why? Is your current class-load too heavy or am I working you too hard?”

He laughed mischievously—two muffled humphs that told her how off-base she was. “No, it’s nothing like that. I just . . . well, I decided to pick up some extracurricular activities and I don’t think I’ll have time to devote to helping out as much as I’d like.”

“Extracurricular?”
Did she just ask that aloud?
God, she’d never been this nosy.

“I’ve, uh, signed up for a special kind of workout program.”

Eve could see his wheels turning in the glimmer of his eyes. He wanted to say more, but hesitated. Something inside her itched to probe deeper. “You mean at the gym or something?”

His eyes measured hers before he said, “I guess you could say that. Anyway, it’s just going to be taking up a lot of my time from here on out.”

She left it at that.

When they exited the classroom and pushed through the heavy double doors of the hall into the high-noon sun, Eve walked straight to the wrought-iron bench she’d always stopped by after class. It was tucked beneath a eucalyptus tree and offered a perfect view of CBU’s campus. The grassy, tree-flecked courtyard was too large to see from one side to the other clearly. L-shaped gothic-columned buildings lined the outskirts. A cathedral tower that rivaled the elegance of Notre Dame’s stood strong in the center—a perfect place for college students to gather and study or relax and make out.

Dante sat beside Eve as he usually did, but today he didn’t pull the schedule out of his backpack. He didn’t ask about tutoring classes or her next lesson on muses. Today he sat reflectively, his eyes following hers around the courtyard.

They were seated too much like lovers for Eve’s taste. She scooted over, deciding to grab the Dasani out of her bag and earn some breathing room. Her fingers skimmed over something hard, tucked into the bottom corner. She frowned, puzzled. She pulled out a long, narrow box wrapped in brown paper with her name and address scribbled on the front. How did she miss it in the stack of mail she’d picked up yesterday?

Dante cleared his throat, breaking the silence hanging between them. “In the lesson back there, what did you mean when you said the Sirens would be cursed with knowledge of the past? You made it sound like the past was something foreign to their victims.”

“Uh-huh.” She turned the package over in her hand.

“But everyone remembers where they came from.”

That question wasn’t what she was expecting. Did she not explain it well enough in class? “The Sirens knew the trials everyone has faced since the first generation of Cain.”

“I thought I was well-versed in biblical studies, but I’m not sure I follow you,” he said, spreading his arms over the back of the bench, getting comfortable. “You’re saying everyone’s lineage can be traced back to Cain and Abel?”

Eve tore open the side corner of the package. “Exactly. But not just family lineage. Your own line.”

“As in . . . reincarnation?’ ”

“Yup. Some people believe past lives travel all the way back to Cain and Abel. That we’ve always been descendants of either the good or the evil brother. It doesn’t mean we’re destined to do good or bad our whole lives, generation after generation that we’re reborn on this earth—it just means we have an inherent tendency to exhibit certain traits. Who we meet in our lives and how we chose to live day by day influences who we become. The Sirens were able to see all of that, in everyone. What we’re all capable of.”

“Nature versus nurture,” he said, finally understanding. “You said ‘some people believe’ . . . what about you? What do you believe?”

As the last scrap of paper fell away from the box in her hands, Eve realized what it was. She hadn’t seen the familiar red crushed velvet necklace box since she was a girl—in her mother’s dresser drawer. Eve carefully unhinged the box, hardly catching the hitch in her throat when she laid eyes upon her mother’s amulet necklace nestled into an ocean blue velvet pillow.

Delicate silver chain hooked onto a tiny screw lid. Silver encrusted casing. Black onyx set into the center of the gothic design.

It was the necklace her mother received from her father as a Valentine’s gift when Eve was a baby—or so she was told. A necklace her mother wore every day of her life. She downright refused to take it off, no matter the occasion or how many times Eve begged to play dress-up with it.

“What’s the matter?” Dante asked. “What is it?”

“It’s my mother’s necklace,” Eve said, her voice breathy and light.

“It’s a beauty. Looks really old.”

“It’s an amulet, said to protect the wearer against harm.” Her brows pulled together as she tried to unscrew the top to peer inside. It must’ve been stripped from years of non-use because it didn’t budge.

Confusion set in. Her mother had been wearing the amulet when the therian attacked her. Some amulet of protection, Eve scoffed, and turned the stunning piece of jewelry around in her palm. It was beautiful. Flawless. With simple, elegant lines in the silver and deep, endless color in the onyx. It was so tempting to try it on. But something inside her felt like it was wrong. What happened to the amulet after her mother passed? Eve couldn’t remember. Who had sent it? And how could she have overlooked the package when she picked up the mail?