she looked up to see the ancient vampire staring at the television, in his right hand a horseshoe, in his left, a struggling eight-year-old held by one foot.
Amanda hadn’t a second to lose. In a whirl of blond hair and sweatpants, she was over the couch and advancing on Yulric with her mother’s cross. The vampire was forced against the wall, using Simon as a protective shield against the twentytwo-year-old’s holy wrath.
“Look,” she spat at the vampire, “I’ve let you stay, despite my better judgment and the fact that you tried to kill me and my brother. For some reason, I feel responsible for you being here, 12 and so I’ve taken pity on you.”
The vampire hissed angrily at the
P
word, but Amanda continued, “. . . and let you spend day after day sitting on
my
couch watching
my
TV. However, Wednesday at eight is my time. And, during the next hour, I control all. The couch, the remote, gravity, if it gets in the way. So get behind me, or begone, or whatever. I don’t care. But you will not. Interrupt. My show!”
The cornered vampire and the human shield gave each other The Look, the universal look of one male to another when they realize the world is not actually theirs. Then slowly, Yulric Bile set the small boy down and, raising his hands in submission, said, “I merely wished to know what you were watching.”
The furies that had risen up in Amanda packed their bags and left, leaving her feeling kind of silly. She tried not to let it show too much.
“The Phantom Vampire Mysteries.”
There was a twinkle in the vampire’s cloudy gray eyes at the program’s name, if twinkle is what you call it when such a being shows interest.
Spark
would be a better term.
Ominous foreboding
, better still.
“May I join you?” he asked. His tone was formal, polite even. Different from before, when any sense of genuine manners was marred by arrogance. There was also a hunger there. A need.
Need. Amanda knew that feeling all too well. It was need that had got her into this mess. Need that had driven her to her brother’s books. Need that had brought them to this house, and, ultimately, to the secret buried deep in its foundations.
In the background of the standoff, the opening credits began to play. Amanda realized that, without meaning to, she had missed the opening scene of the show.
In desperation to save her evening, she relented. “Fine. But no questions. And no bathroom breaks, except during commercials.”
“I don’t go to the—” he began but stopped once he saw her look. Logic, obviously, had no place here.
• •
“Who is that?”
The question broke the silent anticipation that followed the commercials. Amanda tried to let the interruption go. She tried to ignore the fact that it had been exactly two minutes since her ostensible guest had promised not to do precisely this. However, she could feel his eyes on her, patiently waiting for a response.
“Phantom,” she said tersely without looking away from the television.
“Ah,” he said, “the mortal protagonist.”
“No,” she corrected, “the vampire protagonist.”
“Ha!” Yulric let out the hearty laugh of one who thinks they understand sarcasm. Amanda smirked knowingly. He would see soon enough.
He did.
“What are those people doing?” he exclaimed. There was a certain anxiety in his voice that pleased Amanda.
“Why, I think they are drinking blood!” she responded in fake astonishment. As she did, she looked at the old thing on the couch. He was sitting up now, wide-eyed and pointing.
“But why would mortals drink blood?” Yulric asked.
“Because, they aren’t mortals.” She grinned. “They’re vampires.”
Yulric stared at her, eyes wide in panic and fury. His mouth opened and closed. His claws raked at his own skin. And then, without a word, he sank back into the couch, eyes fixed on the screen. Amanda was able to enjoy the rest of the episode in peace.
Once it was over, she turned to face her burden.
Amanda hadn’t a second to lose. In a whirl of blond hair and sweatpants, she was over the couch and advancing on Yulric with her mother’s cross. The vampire was forced against the wall, using Simon as a protective shield against the twentytwo-year-old’s holy wrath.
“Look,” she spat at the vampire, “I’ve let you stay, despite my better judgment and the fact that you tried to kill me and my brother. For some reason, I feel responsible for you being here, 12 and so I’ve taken pity on you.”
The vampire hissed angrily at the
P
word, but Amanda continued, “. . . and let you spend day after day sitting on
my
couch watching
my
TV. However, Wednesday at eight is my time. And, during the next hour, I control all. The couch, the remote, gravity, if it gets in the way. So get behind me, or begone, or whatever. I don’t care. But you will not. Interrupt. My show!”
The cornered vampire and the human shield gave each other The Look, the universal look of one male to another when they realize the world is not actually theirs. Then slowly, Yulric Bile set the small boy down and, raising his hands in submission, said, “I merely wished to know what you were watching.”
The furies that had risen up in Amanda packed their bags and left, leaving her feeling kind of silly. She tried not to let it show too much.
“The Phantom Vampire Mysteries.”
There was a twinkle in the vampire’s cloudy gray eyes at the program’s name, if twinkle is what you call it when such a being shows interest.
Spark
would be a better term.
Ominous foreboding
, better still.
“May I join you?” he asked. His tone was formal, polite even. Different from before, when any sense of genuine manners was marred by arrogance. There was also a hunger there. A need.
Need. Amanda knew that feeling all too well. It was need that had got her into this mess. Need that had driven her to her brother’s books. Need that had brought them to this house, and, ultimately, to the secret buried deep in its foundations.
In the background of the standoff, the opening credits began to play. Amanda realized that, without meaning to, she had missed the opening scene of the show.
In desperation to save her evening, she relented. “Fine. But no questions. And no bathroom breaks, except during commercials.”
“I don’t go to the—” he began but stopped once he saw her look. Logic, obviously, had no place here.
• •
“Who is that?”
The question broke the silent anticipation that followed the commercials. Amanda tried to let the interruption go. She tried to ignore the fact that it had been exactly two minutes since her ostensible guest had promised not to do precisely this. However, she could feel his eyes on her, patiently waiting for a response.
“Phantom,” she said tersely without looking away from the television.
“Ah,” he said, “the mortal protagonist.”
“No,” she corrected, “the vampire protagonist.”
“Ha!” Yulric let out the hearty laugh of one who thinks they understand sarcasm. Amanda smirked knowingly. He would see soon enough.
He did.
“What are those people doing?” he exclaimed. There was a certain anxiety in his voice that pleased Amanda.
“Why, I think they are drinking blood!” she responded in fake astonishment. As she did, she looked at the old thing on the couch. He was sitting up now, wide-eyed and pointing.
“But why would mortals drink blood?” Yulric asked.
“Because, they aren’t mortals.” She grinned. “They’re vampires.”
Yulric stared at her, eyes wide in panic and fury. His mouth opened and closed. His claws raked at his own skin. And then, without a word, he sank back into the couch, eyes fixed on the screen. Amanda was able to enjoy the rest of the episode in peace.
Once it was over, she turned to face her burden.
Similar Books
