I feel something reverberating off him. So much pain. I stutter and sit up. I turn and face him. If only I could heal what ails him, maybe this throb of anguish would stop. I reach my hand out to touch him.
“No!” The shadow demon jumps to the other side of the aisle. His yell reverberates like a vice against my head.
“Shit,” I whisper. But the unrelenting stabs to my brain, my body and even my soul ease.
“Don’t touch me, not while I’m dressed.”
Despite the pain, a smile curls the ends of my lips and I can’t help a retort. “So touch you naked?”
A gurgle bubbles up from the shadow demon and his coughs echo, but it’s the kind of hack that hides his surprise. “Bit of a masochist, are we?” His mirth is as transparent as his body.
“I’m a 5.0 student, what do you expect?” I wait for the question everyone asks—how do you get a 5.0? Simple. Weighted grading scale. Better known as honors classes.
But he doesn’t comment, and I’m still drowning in pain. Agony shoots off him like ocean waves. I gasp and fall back to my seat. I want to get away from him, but it’s almost like I’m trapped there, like I can’t move.
“You are beautiful…” He whispers as he steps forward, and my vision goes white. Blinding hot knives dig into my arms, my legs, my organs. I can’t even get used to the hurting; it changes and twists, never settling on one type of pain. “I’ve never seen one of you before…”
I muffle a cry. “Go away!”
Another sigh-hiss is my only indication that he comes closer.
“I’m sorry I must put you through this,” he says.
“Then stop!” I cry out, tears running from my eyes.
“It won’t be much longer.”
Then, I’m in so much pain, the only thing I can do is escape into the blackness of unconsciousness.
TWO♀♥♂♂♂♂JEAN-CLAUDE
Riven is a pain in my neck. And not the kind of pain I like. Usually, I am the one doling out agony in spades.
But whatever the schoolmaster wants, it must be important.
Thankfully the halls of his academy are clear. At least I don’t have to deal with rugrats on my way to his office. It was enough to be summoned out of Raven Night. In the day no less. I might be old as fuck, but that doesn’t mean light has no ill effects on me.
Has the shadow demon any decency? Half the population of Dread are night crawlers, but he surely isn’t negligent, calling a vampire out in the middle of his rest.
To my left, a door opens. Blinded by bright light, I instinctively shield myself with my cape and gurgle a hiss. Yes, I’m a vampire and yes I wear a cape and, yes, I suppose its cliché. No, I don’t care.
Some ragtag student rushes into the hallway, and before he can blink, I pin him to the wall of lockers by his neck. Metal rattles as he kicks his legs and claws my arm in his struggle.
I lift him into the air and shake him. “Do they not teach you creatures etiquette?”
A tiny gasp of air escapes his lips. Right, air breather. I set him down and force him to his knees. “Well?”
He nods the best he can with my fingers wrapped around his throat.
“Wonderful. Then tell me, what am I?” The centers of my eyes burn, telling me the glow in my eyes is unmistakable.
Looking at my eyes without seeing my face must be disconcerting because he stutters… “V-vampire.”
“Not just a vampire,” I sneer. “Which vampire?”
He strains to suck in a breath. “Don’t know, don’t care.” His dark eyes glare at me. Impudent little bastard.
“Which vampire?” I repeat.
I believe he says ‘dick vampire’, but I cannot be certain.
“Do they not teach you history in this blasted place?” I shake him. The curriculum obviously doesn’t include self-preservation, either.
He doesn’t answer, and I squeeze his neck tighter. “The vampire you’ve just managed to piss off is Count Jean-Claude Von Zarovich… the third.”
His eyes widen in recognition.
“Ahhh, so you have heard of me.” He might know me as the co-founder of Dread, or the patron of the very academy he stands within, but most likely he only knows me as the vampire who slaughtered enough elves to drive them back into their original forest. Away from Dread. Ever since, no others have tried to “cleanse” or colonize my city.
“I’ve fucking heard of you, alright?” he demands.
The incubus isn’t breathing, so I loosen my hold enough so he won’t pass out. “Do you know why I’m upset?”
His eyes narrow, and I can feel his Adam’s apple bob. “…light…” he gasps.
“Well done, incubus.” I shove him and let go. “And why do you think I grabbed your throat?”
He lies on the floor, swallowing breaths. “Because you’re an asshole,” he mumbles.
I grit my teeth and lower into a crouch. “Surprised vampires tend to bite. Guess where.” I stroke his cheek and set two fingers against his rapid pulse.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to bite my cock.” Then he smiles. It’s the expression of someone baiting me.
“You should be so lucky,” I mumble. Really, I shouldn’t be bothering with the impudent fucker but he’s quite… irritating.
The incubus pushes away, slamming into the bottom lockers and gripping his throat. His wary stare points towards the floor. Thank a beating heart for his newly found protocol. My rising blood lust isn’t coming down. Between the flash of light, the sudden movement, and being surprised, his only saving grace is his courage. It takes a concerted effort not to run from a vampire.
“What is your name, incubus?”
His lips set in a grim line. “Harlow.”
“Well,
