Heather Brewer - Tenth Grade Bleeds

“Because you’re goth and he’s not.” She shook her purple-streaked head. “He wouldn’t get it.”

Vlad’s feet slowed to a stop. “But I’m not goth.”

Both Snow and October stopped in their tracks and stared at him. “Wow, Vlad!” Snow shouted. “You’re so goth you don’t even know you’re goth.”

Vlad shook his head, bewildered. “I’m gonna take a break, okay?”

The girls nodded, and Vlad headed back to the couch, where Kristoff sat scowling into a goblet of the syrupy red “blood” mixture. Vlad took a seat across from him but didn’t say anything. He had a strong feeling that Kristoff didn’t care very much for his company.

Kristoff met Vlad’s gaze. “Don’t you have better things to do than go slumming with us?”

Vlad raised an eyebrow. “Did I do something to offend you? I wasn’t aware we hated each other.”

“Just stay out of my way. And keep away from October.”

Sudden realization hit Vlad, and he smiled inwardly. Kristoff had a thing for October and thought Vlad was trying to edge his way in. He couldn’t have been more wrong. “It’s not like that, man. I have a girlfriend.”

Kristoff grew very quiet. Subdued. Almost calm. After several minutes, they were joined by a girl who looked like a china doll. Kristoff stood when she approached and took her hand in his. “Ah… dinner has arrived.”

Vlad couldn’t imagine biting through all that makeup just to get to her veins, but hey… whatever does it for you.

Then Kristoff swept the girl into his arms and, once she moved her hair to the side, he bit her on the neck. The fangs weren’t real. Vlad knew that much. But seeing something that resembled his own fangs sinking into flesh-not breaking skin, but biting nonetheless-sent Vlad’s fangs shooting from his gums, and suddenly it was all he could do not to rip the girl from Kristoff’s arms and indulge in every last delicious drop of her. Vlad clutched the couch cushion and forced his eyes away.

But it wasn’t enough to keep him from thinking about what he’d seen, or to stop his stomach from rumbling.

Moving as quickly as he could, Vlad hurried toward the nearest exit, which opened up to a back alley. The music blared into the night until the door swung shut, muffling the trance-inducing beats. Vlad leaned against the building’s outer brick wall, resting his head back. His fangs were fully elongated and, try as he might to will them under control, they wouldn’t shrink. The gums beneath them pulsed with hunger.

In hindsight, he should have known better than to come to a club full of humans without bringing a backpack full of blood-not that he thought it would have been enough to prevent this. His bloodthirst had grown to obnoxious levels, and lately, just the scent of blood and adrenaline coursing through a group of humans’ veins was enough to bring his fangs out and set his stomach rumbling. He was losing control, and he had to find a way to rein himself in. And fast.

The side door swung open, and out stepped Snow. Vlad eyed her for a moment, her porcelain skin, that perfect blue vein that ran up one side of her neck. It moved slightly, pulsing with life-oddly, in sync with Vlad’s gums. Vlad tore his eyes away and slid his thumbs in his front pockets, making certain his lips were covering his fangs at all times. “It’s cold out here. You should go back inside.”

Snow cast a timid glance back at the door, her eyes shimmering, the black eyeliner under her left eye smudged. “I can’t. My dad’s in there.”

And that’s when Vlad noticed the red mark on her left cheek… about the size of a hand. “Did… Snow… did someone hit you?”

Tears poured from her dark eyes and she nodded, drawing her arms around her small frame. “My dad. He’s drunk again. He’s always doing this.”

The door swung open again, and a burly man with a swagger in his step stumbled into the alley. His words were slurred. “You better get home like I told you. Hanging around these freaks-didn’t I raise you better?”

Vlad stepped in front of Snow, ready to defend her. She was, after all, such a tiny girl, and her father a hulking mass of muscle and flab. “I’ll make sure she gets home okay, sir.”

The man shoved Vlad aside and, closing the gap between him and his daughter, started to unbuckle his belt. “ This time I’ll knock it right out of you. Teach you a lesson you won’t forget.”

Snow backed up against the wall and squeezed her eyes shut, as if she knew she could no longer run from his abuse. Her cheeks, coated with tears, glistened in the streetlight.

Vlad didn’t think. He didn’t have time to think about what was right and what was wrong, about who might see and who might not. He grabbed the man and pulled him back, then shoved him as hard as he was able.

Snow’s father hit the ground several yards away. He groaned in pain, stood, and ran off. To where, Vlad didn’t know. But at least he was gone.

And Vlad was left with the understanding that shoving Tom that hard last year hadn’t been a fluke. Apparently, another skill Vikas and Otis had yet to mention was vampiric strength. He flexed his fingers and turned back to Snow, who looked beautiful despite her tears. “Hey. He’s gone now. You can open your eyes.”

Snow looked down the alley, then blinked at Vlad, confused. “Where did he go?”

Vlad shrugged. “Let’s just say I convinced him to go home and sleep it off.”

She met his eyes, and understanding filled them. Then she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him, nice and tight and close. Her skin smelled like roses and Vlad drank in her scent, so sweet. He couldn’t resist placing a small kiss on her pretty cheek, still moist from tears. And then another, on the smooth, pale skin of her jawline. And one more, just one, as he inhaled her sweet, irresistible scent, on her neck. He could taste the salt of her tears as he placed each kiss, and when he kissed her neck, they flowed into his mouth and over his tongue. They weren’t salty anymore, but sweet, like her scent, like her. And she tasted… so … good.

Vlad’s jaw tightened, bracing her neck against his jaw even tighter. He knew he was drinking from her, swallowing mouthfuls of blood, but he couldn’t stop, no matter how he tried. He swallowed and swallowed, feeling terrible that he was feeding from her, but not caring that he couldn’t seem to stop. He couldn’t recall when he’d started. The kiss on her neck, he surmised. But there was no stopping, no walking away now. There was just her blood and his hunger. Nothing more. Nothing else seemed to matter at the moment.

Vlad slipped his arms around her, cradling her body as she trembled, then weakened into his embrace. Her heartbeat was fluttering against his chest, each beat sending a splash of crimson onto his tongue. And he swallowed, drinking it down, so much better than anything he’d ever tasted before. He wanted more, so he took it, ignoring the fact that her heart was rattling at a dangerous rate, that he was probably killing her, that she was a human and he’d vowed not to do exactly what he was doing right now, never, never, never. But he was doing it. He had to. It was so sweet and tasty and filled his muscles with an energy he’d never felt before. And she tasted… so… good.

And finally, his belly was full, but Vlad kept drinking, just to taste her, just to have her blood coursing through him just a little bit longer. The idea that she was dying sent an excited chill through him… and that’s when Vlad’s stomach clenched. He shoved the girl away from him, not caring that she was going to fall onto the hard pavement, only that she’d be away from him, and safe… safer than she was in his arms. His fingers were trembling, a twisted blend of fear, excitement, and insatiable need. His face felt warm and flushed. His feet refused to remain still, so Vlad paced the alley, his dark eyes locked on the nearly unconscious girl lying next to the Dumpster.