My adoptive parents weren’t wealthy, so it was a surprise when I found out I had a scholarship to St. Vincent’s. For what, I had no idea because I didn’t play sports, and barely managed a 3.0 GPA. I’d learned long ago not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and St. Vincent’s was a thoroughbred you took to the Kentucky Derby. Students who went here had pipelines straight to the Ivy’s, Oxford, Cambridge, you name it. I couldn’t make it at those types of places, but I’d get into a decent school just by virtue of graduating from here.
Back to the really important matter at hand: Lilith. She fed on members of the student population as long as there was consent, which there always was; but she also had a side business like any entrepreneurial young person. She threw a bone to the lowly humans every once and a while for the right price. It only reinforced the whole whore argument, but she gave zero shits, and that was all that really mattered. Being poor, I didn’t have a shot at a night with the succubus, which made my earlier BJ comment that much more pathetic. I watched her walk through the doors Brad had entered, and sighed in defeat.
“Come on, honey. Let’s turn that frown upside down,” Brad put his arm around me and steered me after Jerome.
A lot had changed since the Revelation, but somethings remained the same. Whether it was a rom-com set in 1980s suburbia, or a modern day elite private school, it was all the same at the end of the day. When classes let out: the jocks went to practice, band geeks went to play, drama geeks went to act, and the undesirables, the rejects, and everyone who could be described as other, went under the bleachers to do whatever the hell they wanted. There, I was king.
I exchanged fist bumps and cool-guy head nods to a half dozen stoners scattered between the steel pilons. Jerome had already lit up and taken a deep drag before handing it off to me. I took it without hesitation and took a hit. The smoke soothed me as I inhaled, and brought a little bit of joy to my shitty day.
As our trio ventured deeper, I heard a rustle from the darkest corner. Down here, under the VIP section, the sun barely penetrated. Weak rays were all that was leftover of the bright fall day.
“I hear you are the latest piece of toxic masculinity infecting our school,” a voice stated from the shadows.
“Not you too,” I groaned. “I didn’t feel her up, grab her ass, or anything else that you might have heard.” I’d had it up to here with this rumor mill shit.
“I heard you embarrassed Sally. You said she had a pointy head, it was sexy, and it distracted you in class,” the speaker emerged from the shadows.
“Well . . . yeah, that’s about right, but it doesn’t sound good out of context like that, Makaylah,” I replied as the fourth member of our group stepped into the pseudo-light.
It didn’t take long to realize why she buried herself deep in shadows. Her skin was chalk white, her eyes a hungry crimson, and her canines were about a half inch longer than they should be. In a world of mages and werewolves, of course there were vampires; although, legends had it wrong more times than not.
Vampires were the victims of a supernatural disease more than paranormal genetics. Some type of ancient plague permanently changed their DNA makeup back when man was just learning to use tools. It created Homo Sanguinis. Like most supernatural creatures, their myth and legends were spread across cultures, and in the vampire’s case: pop culture. More than any other paranormal entity, the true essence of vampirism had been twisted to meet the needs of hormonal teenage girls.
Vampires did not have preternatural strength and speed like shifters or succubae, but they were two to three times stronger on average than a normal human. Their particular affliction optimized the human condition. They were not immortal, but their life span was measured in millennia instead of decades or centuries. They possessed heightened senses, and healed incredibly fast as long as they were well fed. They did have a sun allergy, but it was just that; an allergy. Prolonged exposure would give them hives, caused shortness of breath, made them feel ill, and was generally a pain in the ass. They certainly didn’t spontaneously combust under UV lights, and the most common fix for their condition was SPF 100 sunscreen. They were deathly pale, as Makaylah displayed as she approached, but they didn’t favor monochromatic color schemes.
“That doesn’t make you any less of a dick,” she didn’t accept my explanation as she pulled a loose thread from her bright pink jacket, and brushed her white-blonde hair out of her eyes. Despite the pixie cut, her bangs still tended to get in the way.
“Olive branch?” I asked, holding out the joint to her.
She considered it for a moment. “Accepted,” she smirked as she took a hit that consumed half the weed before chasing it with sticky liquid from her water bottle. It sure as shit wasn’t water.
Makaylah wasn’t a normal vampire in more ways than one. First off, she was a vegetarian. One thing the legends, and chick-lit, got right was that vampires needed blood to survive, but not a lot. A cup would get them through a week, and to over indulge was taboo and could lead to addiction. The blood crazed killing machines people saw in horror movies was the real-life equivalent of a vampire addict on a binger. Due to their prevalence in legend and media, and desire to stay
