The Anti-Vampire

Lyle comes barreling up to us, “What the hell—”

Ambrosia holds up her forearm bearing the bloody nail marks and cuts him off loudly, “The guy on the stage did this to me. He’s going after them.”

Lyle stares at her arm. Then looking at Roderick and the two goons on the stage, his face becomes angry. He starts after Gray.

“Lyle, no!” I shout, following behind him with Ambrosia in tow.

Gray motions to the DJ. He makes a fist and flings his hand out as if imitating an explosion. The DJ nods. In a blur, Gray jumps on the stage.

Roderick meets Gray, stopping an inch from him, face to face, just two inches shorter than my hunk, his two friends an inch or two shorter than that, one on each side of him—all three staring harshly at Gray.

Lyle grabs the stage and awkwardly tries to pull himself up, banging his shin on the edge. Without even looking in his direction, Gray reaches down and pulls Lyle to his unsteady feet.

I can hear bits of their conversation as we stand about a foot from the stage, some words buried in the noise of dance, music, and party. People have cleared back a few feet from the stage or left the dance floor altogether.

“You can ta— her trampy friend home with y— and do what you w— to her, but Ambrosia stays.”

Red-faced, Lyle shouts, “She’s no tramp, you son-of-a——she’s a schoolteacher at Riverview High for God’s Sa—”

Still not looking at Lyle, Gray’s hand slaps tightly over Lyle’s mouth—forcing it shut.

“A f——— schoolteacher?” blasts Roderick, laughing without smiling—his lackeys chuckling on cue, “Nice choice, Sim——.”

Gray says something slowly, his face stern. Lifting his hand from Lyle’s mouth, Gray puts both of them together and holds them right in front of Roderick’s face as if praying. The wicked expression that the gesture brings to Roderick’s face is something terrible that I wish I couldn’t see.

Gray says something else I can’t make out, nodding his head yes.

Give about anything to get the bits I can’t hear.

Finally something reaches my aching ears—Roderick saying, “Two minutes.”

He puts his hand right at the bridge of Gray’s nose with two fingers extended.

Lyle still rubs over his mouth as he’s done since Gray released him. Gray grabs him by his shoulders, lifts, and drops him down to the floor.

The bitter-sweet “Voices Carry” begins playing through the speakers.

Gray jumps to the floor, looks at Lyle, and points to the front door. Gray spins Ambrosia around and pushes her toward the bar. He grabs my hand, pulls me in front of him, places his hands on my shoulders and guides me in the same direction. Lyle regains his balance and starts walking.

As we approach the bar, without turning his head all the way around, Gray glances back to the stage. The three remain huddled together, Roderick watching us, the other two with their backs to us, facing Roderick.

Before I realize he’s taken his hands off me, Gray leaps to the bar, grabs the stools, spins round and flings one zinging through the twenty-five feet from bar to the stage, crashing into the back of the man at Roderick’s left, the other stool right behind crashing into the other goon’s head and neck, sending shattered bits of wood into the crowd around the stage. Both goons fall to the ground.

The remaining people rush toward the bar and the front door.

Not looking at his friends who’ve fallen at his feet, Roderick stares at Gray who has leapt back to the floor— standing between me and the stage. Roderick stares with both hatred and a look of crazed amusement at the chaos that has just begun.

The look of amusement flees his face, his upper lip rises like a curtain unveiling hell, fangs shining—he rushes forward, stepping on the back of one of his friends. Sparks and flame shoot the length of the front of the stage, trapping Roderick. The DJ—the last person on the balcony—sprints for the exit, panic screaming across his face.

The flames make a wall of orange and yellow, casting a glow on Gray as he turns to look at me.

Fire rages in the background, but I don’t care if the whole world burns. His azure irises swirl—coursing with emotion. His kiss takes me. Sparks run through my lips. His tongue so intense, desperately trying to tell me the things he no longer has time to say.

Eternity in a moment. Together whole. The same energy racing through both of us.

Damn this world that makes him release me.

I look into his eyes, waiting for the word that will sustain me or break my heart.

His blue eyes quake, yearning to say I’ll come for you, but he pushes his lips tightly shut, holding back the promise. Suddenly, the word falls from his lips.

“Run.”

“Voices Carry” fades away. No sound. Just the hissing of the pyro flickering at the stage.

A hand reaches through the flames, an accusing finger points, flesh burns and singes, and a tense, charred fist forms.

Feeling like I’m fading away with each of his steps, I watch my Gray dream turn from me, possibly for the last time, walking into the fire so I can escape its wrath.

Chapter IV Morning Aftermath

The rumbling above my head booms as if a thousand gargoyles were trying to knock the 4^th floor down upon the 3^rd. Feet pound in stomps, mimicking the desperate beating of my heart.

In a dark fantasy, I imagine their worn, tired eyes becoming wild at the sight of an unprotected room. I picture saliva sliding down their exposed canine teeth, glistening at the opportunity before them. My mind races to the mayhem that is beginning above me, feeling its energy run through the building like a virus, knowing what lies at the center of its terrible heartbeat. It throbs for evil freedoms. The feet stomp for one girl. I’m the one they seek. I’m sure they’d love to never see me alive again.

The bell tolls. While it rings for all of us, it marks certain doom for me. This is what I chose to do—better than the alternative, but it’s still a lousy choice. Just hope no one gets hurt.

Just hope my man in Gray is still alive.

In someone else’s fantasy, the piercing daylight would be scorching its way through my irises, turning my eyes into vapor and jelly, and then sizzling my brain like flesh in a broiler. In my reality, the sun is just irritating my tired eyes that have seen a long night.

There’s been no rest since I saw her last. Knew I had to track her down before Roderick found her. Had very little to go on. Thankfully her coworker had a big mouth, and her phone is still in my pocket.

Don’t know what is so special about her blue-haired friend, but Roderick was willing to expose us all to get her. If he hasn’t found her yet, he’ll be hunting down the only clue that was given, the same one that’s brought me here on the rooftop, 4 floors high:

…she’s a schoolteacher at Riverview High…

Surely the others can’t be far behind me. They’ll come for Ruby to get to her friend.

Should never have gotten her into this. Can’t care about anyone. Too dangerous. I know this. Remember Eleni. Spent a half century alone, because I know better. Come out and party for a few months, and the only girl to grab my soul since Eleni’s death appears out of nowhere. Beautiful—stunning—her face would still be on my mind even if she weren’t in so much danger. It’s been just hours after my hands first touched her sweet body, and death is surely coming for her. They’ll have to tear me to pieces first—never let them touch her. Not while I’m alive, but that may not last long.

They’re plotting or already acting. Roderick must have them in a furor. Impossible to stop them all.

Worst part—I have no plan.