Lewis Aleman - The Anti-Vampire

As the second Goon falls to the ground, Gray turns to me.

On the dance floor last night, his movements were beautiful, so fast that they were a little scary. While they still may be beautiful in some way and they’re saving my life, his actions are terrifying now.

Passion and adrenaline cover his face.

My veins race with fear of the three that are on the ground, but my heart trembles more at what Gray will say.

Our eyes lock. Just like last night. Peaceful and electrifying at the same time, even at a moment when three thugs are trying to kill me.

In a flash, Gray steps forward and thrusts his hand against my upper chest, shoving me fast but gently to the side. Roderick’s fingernails tear into Gray’s cheek. Fraction of a second later, and those nails would’ve torn into me. Blood. Arms fling in a blur. Gray blur moves faster.

Roderick drops to a knee, and peering around Gray, he shouts, “Get up and fight!”

The two goons struggle to their feet, coming toward us—one of them wincing with every step.

Blue eyes return to me. Pained eyes. Lips tense. A word is coming.

“Run!”

Same word he told me last. The one person I want to run to keeps telling me to run away.

He sends an elbow flying at the first goon. It’s blocked, and the second goon punches him from behind. Gray flings his head backward, nailing the stumbling goon behind him with a headbutt. With a leg sweep, he sends the first goon to the ground.

“I can’t win this. Run! Now!” Gray shouts.

He reaches out, grabs my wrist, and pulls me toward him. He drags me to where he stands, and I run past the goons on the ground toward my car in the parking lot. Look back—Roderick’s fist slams into the fingernail wounds on Gray’s cheek.

“Run,” is the last word I hear out of his bloody mouth.

I see no more of the fight as my legs race as fast as they can. There is a thundering crash, and I hear Roderick cursing.

My legs pump up and down for survival—my tears run for the nameless Gray who faces hell for the second time so I can escape.

“You have to come with me now,” says the male dream before me.

He came upon me like a gray breeze, unexpected, origin unknown, and tingling over my body before I knew he was near. He stands at the edge of the wrought iron table, his shadow covering the coffee cup in my hand.

I fled here after escaping the fight—thinking it wasn’t safe to go home. Too crazy to go to the police. A cup of coffee and lots of other people around were the best I could come up with. Forty minutes later—he’s found me again.

His right cheek is torn in the shape of four fingernails, but it no longer bleeds. Faint bruises mark the corner of his left eye and temple. Even battered, he looks stunning.

I desperately try to think of something to say that doesn’t make me sound as hopelessly mesmerized as I am with him and that also doesn’t reveal just how petrified I am by all of this. I hide my shaking hand on my lap, hoping he hasn’t seen it.

Still not coming up with anything witty, I take a sip of my coffee.

He says, “You’re in serious danger—you have to come with me now.”

Pulling my cup away from my mouth, I say, “I know caffeine’s not good for me, but I’d hardly say it’s a life or death thing.”

He looks at me intently like he’s scanning my inner being, “That’s funny, Ruby, and forgive me for being so curt, but what hunts you has no use for humor—and if you want to live, neither can we.”

“How did you know my name?” spills out of my mouth.

For the first time since we’ve crossed paths, he blushes and looks away from me.

I continue, “That Roderick guy knew my name too. What the hell is going on with all of you?”

“He’s dangerous, and he’s after you. We need to leave.”

“How do I know you’re not dangerous? I don’t even know your name.”

“Simon. My name is Simon.”

I fight the smile that begins to form at the sound of his name.

“Well, Simon,” my mouth alive as if being kissed at saying his name for the first time, “all I’ve seen is a lot of dancing and some crazy fighting. How do I know you’re not just as dangerous as he is?”

“Because I’m the one who’s been rescuing you.”

“All that means is that you’re after me too. All this could be about you trying to get to Ambrosia. Maybe you’re both fighting each other for her.”

“If I wanted her, I would’ve grabbed her last night. I told her to run, remember?”

Bite my bottom lip and nod.

“Still haven’t answered my question. My name—how do you know it?”

He looks away again. I could swear the bruises by his eye are fading.

“If you want me to believe you, you’ve got to look at me and tell me.”

His eyes quiver nervously, but he aims them at mine and speaks, “The DJ—his name’s Mark. I never gave you your phone back after he tossed it back down to me,” he pauses and exhales heavily, “Knew they’d be after you. Brought the phone to Mark—he thinks he’s some kind of a techno guru. Thinks he’s in The Matrix or something. All of his electronics glow with blue lights. But Mark came through. He traced your name and address from the phone number. Found out where you go to college.”

“So you enlisted a cyberpunk to track me down?”

Embarrassment comes over him, but in a millisecond, he regains composure, “As good as you smelled, it’s a big city to track you down by your fragrance—as sweet as it may be.”

Feeling the blood rushing to my face, I tap his hand, and change the subject, “So, that explains how you found me earlier. How did you find me here?”

“Your car looks like a convertible rabbit. It’s not that hard to find.”

I grin. My white Karmen Ghia. One of my only possessions that makes me smile.

His face drops all signs of amusement, “We need to leave now. Won’t take them long to find you either.”

“Wait a minute—I need some answers.”

“Don’t have time.”

“You seemed to be able to handle them fine last night and today—what’s the hurry? Why would they rush after you to get beat up again?”

“Not that easy. I hit two of them from behind with stools to the back of their heads—fire took care of Roderick.”

“And today?”

“Jumped off the roof and sucker-punched, well sucker-kicked, Roderick to the side of his head to start with. Barely held them off long enough for you to get away.”

“You’ve held them off so far. Why run?”

Shaking his head, “You just don’t get it. It was only three of them, and I got lucky.”

“What do you mean only three of them?”

“If there were three at the high school, there was at least one waiting at your house, another at your college, one everywhere they’ve figured out that you go.”

“Lucky I picked a new coffee shop today.”

“Luckier than you can imagine. Lucky now—lucky last night—lucky at the school.”

“What happened at the school—after I left?”

“I got in some good shots, but they beat me down to a knee and left.”

“They just left?”

“They’re not after me, remember?”

“Ambrosia,” the word whispers out of my mouth.

“No, they’re looking for you to get to Ambrosia. They can’t find her.”

“Of course they can’t; she’s—”

His arm jets across the table and presses a finger over my lips. Shaking his head solemnly, “Don’t even say it.”