Rosary
Hell
Dimitri
Ah. Sunlight. How it felt so good, so warm—fuck! I yanked my hand to my chest, throwing the contents of my water bottle over my flaming hand. The fire went out, but I still felt the effects of the burn. Andromeda burst into my room, wearing fuzzy black bunny slippers and an old white t-shirt that went down to her knees. She took one look at my hand and sniffed the air. “Be right back. Now you know why I didn’t complain when you chose this room.” She was right; her room faced the back of the house, and thus got sunlight much later than mine, which was at the front.
She disappeared, and reappeared before the door had even swung shut with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and two towels, as well as a bandage. She laid out the towels underneath my outstretched hand and poured about a third of the bottle out on my hand. I tried to yank it back but she grabbed my wrist to keep me from doing exactly that. She made sure my hand was covered, then carefully bandaged it up. “It’ll heal in a week,” she told me, holding up her own hand. On the top was a tiny burn scar. “It’ll leave marks, but the pain should be gone in about two days.”
She stood up and took the soaked towels with her, leaving before I could say thanks.
Avery walked into my room about an hour later, and didn’t even comment on my bandaged hand. “Breakfast’s in an hour. After that, we’ll be going to the school to get you enrolled.” Hm. That was odd. Avery wasn’t bitching at me to do something. Maybe she was only a bitch because she didn’t get laid often enough. But she didn’t get laid often enough because she was a raging bitch. Ah, vicious cycles.
“Wait. Avery. You can’t be serious. School? In the middle of the day? Are you trying to kill me?”
She threw me a piercing glare. “Boy, if I wanted to see you dead, I would’ve left you in Vladivostok.”
I nearly shuddered at the reminder; if Avery hadn’t been there, I’d be dead. No question about it. “You’re going to school. That’s final.” And with a small smile, she added, “Be more careful next time.” She looked pointedly at my hand, then threw a bottle of sun block at me. “Make sure it goes everywhere. And I do mean everywhere, Dimitri. You don’t want to have to explain burn marks to your future lady, hmm?”
Avery had been a fancy lady—in other words, a hooker—back in early Elizabethan times, about four hundred years ago. A client had taken her to his home and stabbed her mercilessly, then hid the body behind a bookshelf inside a hidden room. Then he’d come back and bit her, unsure if his methods would work. Once he realized they did, and she regained enough strength, Avery killed him and left his body in the same hidden room he’d left hers in.
I got up as Avery got up and closed the door with a sharp yank that could’ve easily torn off the old-fashioned doorknob. It even had a keyhole. The key to it was currently sitting in a glass case on top of the ivory-tinted glass desk I’d constructed for myself about forty years ago. The case had a black cloth draped over it.
I walked to my dresser, which held a TV and an Xbox game console atop it. I’d spent most of the morning putting my room in order, though when I was done, I’d just collapsed on the floor without a second thought to the window feet away from me. The curtains weren’t long enough or dark enough to shield me from the sun. So tonight I’d clear out the closet and make my bed in there, in the dark where I was safe.
I opened a drawer and drew out the first things I laid my hands on, throwing the black jeans and yellow and black flannel on. I ran my hand through my curly black hair and walked out of my room, hearing Andromeda’s boom box working on full blast. I was surprised the house wasn’t shaking with the bass vibrations going through it from the heavy rock music.
On the outside, we appeared much like a normal family. We had our differences, our problems, even more so than a modern family, seeing as we all hailed from different parts of the world and had been birthed in different time periods and cultures. Christmas was a hoot for us; Andromeda and I had been atheists in our human lives (despite Avery’s efforts to convert us to Protestantism), Avery had been raised Protestant, and Lucien was the only one who’d been raised Catholic. The latter two always clashed around, well, any type of religious holiday.
I smelled fresh blood on my way down the winding stairs, which would be awesome to slide down the banister of, and stopped when I reached the bottom. Lucien walked out of the kitchen, blood smeared over his face, and jerked his thumb back towards the kitchen door. His skin was flushed and his dark green eyes were bright. Two signs that he’d just fed.
I walked into the kitchen to see some poor sap that Avery had probably picked up off the side of the street thrashing against bonds that held him secure to the kitchen chair.
“This one didn’t take,” Avery told me, referring to the endorphins a vampire bite released. This man should’ve been complacent with his lot. “Kill him.”
I fell onto the unlucky guy with a fervor our kind fell into when we were half-starved. Once Avery felt that I’d taken enough—when the man stopped struggling—she yanked my head back away from the man’s neck and licked the wounds herself to start the healing process. “Leave some for Andromeda.”
Then we heard the tell-tale clunking of Andromeda’s shoes making their way down the stairs. Avery took one look at her adoptive daughter and kept staring. She wore pink glossy lipstick, and had on a pair of gray skinny jeans and a pink shirt to match the lipstick. Her shoes were the only black things she was wearing. She grimaced when she noticed us staring. “I forgot to do laundry last night. These are my last-choice clothes.”
“But they look so much better than all that black,” Lucien said as he strolled back into the kitchen.
“And?” she asked as she sank her teeth deep into the man’s neck. Blood dripped down his neck, and she grabbed a towel from beside her to mop it up quickly and make sure no blood stained her clothes. The man eventually stopped moving, even the smallest of movements, and Andromeda withdrew. She took a look at her clothes, and satisfied that they were without a speck of blood, bounded off to go put in her contacts. We were both being enrolled in the local high school as seniors, which meant Andromeda had to either pretend she was blind (which she had no self-control to do) or put in blue contacts daily. Which reminded me that I had to do the same: Avery had told me I couldn’t go to school with red eyes; I’d give everyone a heart attack. So I put in my blue contacts, the same color as Andromeda’s. With the red tint underneath, however, my eyes looked more purple than blue.
Avery walked into my room, grabbed my hand, and seconds later, we were at the doorway of the house. Everything was pure white, and Avery let go of my hand to grab jackets for us. Andromeda was already pulling hers on as she walked out into the cold. Though since we were only about twenty degrees warmer than the outside temperatures, this was warm for us.
Avery hurried us to the heavily-tinted car, and I noticed a curtain blowing in the cold breeze ripping through Columbia Falls. I stopped and looked at our next-door neighbor’s house. An older gentleman was standing at the window, blatantly staring at us. He lifted a finger accusingly and another, much younger man, probably his son, came to the window and led him away. But not without a look outside first. The son locked gazes with me, and we stared at each other in mutual understanding.
I didn’t know how, but I was fairly sure this young man knew, instinctively, what we were. How we lived.
And then he came running down the front steps of his house, without even a jacket. What an idiot.
“I’m Max!” he called to us even as he slipped on the ice and got right back up. His brown hair whipped around from the freezing winds, and he shivered. He dashed back inside and grabbed a jacket, telling us to wait. When he finally made it past the fenced in front yard, he ran up to us. He stopped in front of me. “Hey, I’m Max,” he said, holding out his hand. “I just wanted to welcome you to our shitty neighborhood.”
I took his hand and shook it. Avery hissed, “Dimitri, we have to go!”
I gave Max what I hoped was a friendly smile and then got in the backseat. Andromeda had already taken the passenger seat. We drove Avery’s banged up, dull yellow 1948 Buick, one that we liked to experiment with and see how fast it could go. With a few adjustments, of course. Which was why it was so banged up. I rolled the window down and said to Max, “Hey, thanks. Dimitri, by the way.”
And then the car shot off down the still icy street, but Avery could drive with her hands tied behind her back. Driving on ice was really not much of a problem for her. We reached the school in ten minutes; if it weren’t for the hellish traffic, we would’ve made better time, but every high school student in Columbia Falls had decided to block the streets on our way.
Finally Avery was able to park in what was probably some sore loser’s parking spot, and we got out of the car. Andromeda had thought ahead and handed me a pair of sunglasses to shield our eyes from the blinding reflection of the sun on the bright snow.
And then we walked into what was probably going to be pure hell.
Ah. Sunlight. How it felt so good, so warm—fuck! I yanked my hand to my chest, throwing the contents of my water bottle over my flaming hand. The fire went out, but I still felt the effects of the burn. Andromeda burst into my room, wearing fuzzy black bunny slippers and an old white t-shirt that went down to her knees. She took one look at my hand and sniffed the air. “Be right back. Now you know why I didn’t complain when you chose this room.” She was right; her room faced the back of the house, and thus got sunlight much later than mine, which was at the front.
She disappeared, and reappeared before the door had even swung shut with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and two towels, as well as a bandage. She laid out the towels underneath my outstretched hand and poured about a third of the bottle out on my hand. I tried to yank it back but she grabbed my wrist to keep me from doing exactly that. She made sure my hand was covered, then carefully bandaged it up. “It’ll heal in a week,” she told me, holding up her own hand. On the top was a tiny burn scar. “It’ll leave marks, but the pain should be gone in about two days.”
She stood up and took the soaked towels with her, leaving before I could say thanks.
Avery walked into my room about an hour later, and didn’t even comment on my bandaged hand. “Breakfast’s in an hour. After that, we’ll be going to the school to get you enrolled.” Hm. That was odd. Avery wasn’t bitching at me to do something. Maybe she was only a bitch because she didn’t get laid often enough. But she didn’t get laid often enough because she was a raging bitch. Ah, vicious cycles.
“Wait. Avery. You can’t be serious. School? In the middle of the day? Are you trying to kill me?”
She threw me a piercing glare. “Boy, if I wanted to see you dead, I would’ve left you in Vladivostok.”
I nearly shuddered at the reminder; if Avery hadn’t been there, I’d be dead. No question about it. “You’re going to school. That’s final.” And with a small smile, she added, “Be more careful next time.” She looked pointedly at my hand, then threw a bottle of sun block at me. “Make sure it goes everywhere. And I do mean everywhere, Dimitri. You don’t want to have to explain burn marks to your future lady, hmm?”
Avery had been a fancy lady—in other words, a hooker—back in early Elizabethan times, about four hundred years ago. A client had taken her to his home and stabbed her mercilessly, then hid the body behind a bookshelf inside a hidden room. Then he’d come back and bit her, unsure if his methods would work. Once he realized they did, and she regained enough strength, Avery killed him and left his body in the same hidden room he’d left hers in.
I got up as Avery got up and closed the door with a sharp yank that could’ve easily torn off the old-fashioned doorknob. It even had a keyhole. The key to it was currently sitting in a glass case on top of the ivory-tinted glass desk I’d constructed for myself about forty years ago. The case had a black cloth draped over it.
I walked to my dresser, which held a TV and an Xbox game console atop it. I’d spent most of the morning putting my room in order, though when I was done, I’d just collapsed on the floor without a second thought to the window feet away from me. The curtains weren’t long enough or dark enough to shield me from the sun. So tonight I’d clear out the closet and make my bed in there, in the dark where I was safe.
I opened a drawer and drew out the first things I laid my hands on, throwing the black jeans and yellow and black flannel on. I ran my hand through my curly black hair and walked out of my room, hearing Andromeda’s boom box working on full blast. I was surprised the house wasn’t shaking with the bass vibrations going through it from the heavy rock music.
On the outside, we appeared much like a normal family. We had our differences, our problems, even more so than a modern family, seeing as we all hailed from different parts of the world and had been birthed in different time periods and cultures. Christmas was a hoot for us; Andromeda and I had been atheists in our human lives (despite Avery’s efforts to convert us to Protestantism), Avery had been raised Protestant, and Lucien was the only one who’d been raised Catholic. The latter two always clashed around, well, any type of religious holiday.
I smelled fresh blood on my way down the winding stairs, which would be awesome to slide down the banister of, and stopped when I reached the bottom. Lucien walked out of the kitchen, blood smeared over his face, and jerked his thumb back towards the kitchen door. His skin was flushed and his dark green eyes were bright. Two signs that he’d just fed.
I walked into the kitchen to see some poor sap that Avery had probably picked up off the side of the street thrashing against bonds that held him secure to the kitchen chair.
“This one didn’t take,” Avery told me, referring to the endorphins a vampire bite released. This man should’ve been complacent with his lot. “Kill him.”
I fell onto the unlucky guy with a fervor our kind fell into when we were half-starved. Once Avery felt that I’d taken enough—when the man stopped struggling—she yanked my head back away from the man’s neck and licked the wounds herself to start the healing process. “Leave some for Andromeda.”
Then we heard the tell-tale clunking of Andromeda’s shoes making their way down the stairs. Avery took one look at her adoptive daughter and kept staring. She wore pink glossy lipstick, and had on a pair of gray skinny jeans and a pink shirt to match the lipstick. Her shoes were the only black things she was wearing. She grimaced when she noticed us staring. “I forgot to do laundry last night. These are my last-choice clothes.”
“But they look so much better than all that black,” Lucien said as he strolled back into the kitchen.
“And?” she asked as she sank her teeth deep into the man’s neck. Blood dripped down his neck, and she grabbed a towel from beside her to mop it up quickly and make sure no blood stained her clothes. The man eventually stopped moving, even the smallest of movements, and Andromeda withdrew. She took a look at her clothes, and satisfied that they were without a speck of blood, bounded off to go put in her contacts. We were both being enrolled in the local high school as seniors, which meant Andromeda had to either pretend she was blind (which she had no self-control to do) or put in blue contacts daily. Which reminded me that I had to do the same: Avery had told me I couldn’t go to school with red eyes; I’d give everyone a heart attack. So I put in my blue contacts, the same color as Andromeda’s. With the red tint underneath, however, my eyes looked more purple than blue.
Avery walked into my room, grabbed my hand, and seconds later, we were at the doorway of the house. Everything was pure white, and Avery let go of my hand to grab jackets for us. Andromeda was already pulling hers on as she walked out into the cold. Though since we were only about twenty degrees warmer than the outside temperatures, this was warm for us.
Avery hurried us to the heavily-tinted car, and I noticed a curtain blowing in the cold breeze ripping through Columbia Falls. I stopped and looked at our next-door neighbor’s house. An older gentleman was standing at the window, blatantly staring at us. He lifted a finger accusingly and another, much younger man, probably his son, came to the window and led him away. But not without a look outside first. The son locked gazes with me, and we stared at each other in mutual understanding.
I didn’t know how, but I was fairly sure this young man knew, instinctively, what we were. How we lived.
And then he came running down the front steps of his house, without even a jacket. What an idiot.
“I’m Max!” he called to us even as he slipped on the ice and got right back up. His brown hair whipped around from the freezing winds, and he shivered. He dashed back inside and grabbed a jacket, telling us to wait. When he finally made it past the fenced in front yard, he ran up to us. He stopped in front of me. “Hey, I’m Max,” he said, holding out his hand. “I just wanted to welcome you to our shitty neighborhood.”
I took his hand and shook it. Avery hissed, “Dimitri, we have to go!”
I gave Max what I hoped was a friendly smile and then got in the backseat. Andromeda had already taken the passenger seat. We drove Avery’s banged up, dull yellow 1948 Buick, one that we liked to experiment with and see how fast it could go. With a few adjustments, of course. Which was why it was so banged up. I rolled the window down and said to Max, “Hey, thanks. Dimitri, by the way.”
And then the car shot off down the still icy street, but Avery could drive with her hands tied behind her back. Driving on ice was really not much of a problem for her. We reached the school in ten minutes; if it weren’t for the hellish traffic, we would’ve made better time, but every high school student in Columbia Falls had decided to block the streets on our way.
Finally Avery was able to park in what was probably some sore loser’s parking spot, and we got out of the car. Andromeda had thought ahead and handed me a pair of sunglasses to shield our eyes from the blinding reflection of the sun on the bright snow.
And then we walked into what was probably going to be pure hell.