Fate of the Vampire (3 page)

“You know who did this to her, don’t you?” Grandma said in a low, harsh voice, clasping my arm tighter. “You know who sank his fangs into her flesh and sucked out her blood until she was nothing but a dried husk. And then he threw her away. Hid his shame by getting rid of her body.”

“No,” I said, struggling to free my arm. “He wouldn’t.”

“He did,” she hissed, leaning closer to the body and dragging me with her. “Who else could it be? There’s no one. He killed my beautiful sister, and now he’s come back for my great granddaughter.” She was wrenching me around, pressing me toward the hideous corpse; I was only a few inches away. “I’ll tell you who killed Colette,” Grandma cried. “It was Jessie Vanderlind.”

“No!” I screamed.

“What’s going on?” Mom shouted, charging into the room followed closely by the doctor.

Grandma Gibson released my arm so suddenly that I stumbled backward and crashed into an empty gurney. “Mom,” I sobbed, running over to her and collapsing in her arms.

“I shouldn’t have let her in here,” Dr. Kalla said, mostly to herself. “I should have used better judgment.”

“What happened?” Mom asked, wrapping her arms around me. “Grams? What’s going on?”

“I was just giving my great granddaughter a lesson in what happens when a girl gets involved with the wrong boy,” Grandma Gibson said, not the least bit remorseful for having terrified me.

“Well, I hardly think frightening her with a dead body is the way to do it,” Mom said, her temper rising. She always tried to give me my space but, like any mom, was also very protective of me. “Besides, I don’t think that’s a lesson that Aurora needs to learn. She’s not boy crazy
, and I meet everyone she dates.”

“Do you know that she’s seeing someone right now?” the crazed woman formerly known as my great grandmother demanded.

“Yes,” Mom said, straining to hold back her anger. “He came over last night, and he’s a very nice young man.”

“You invited Jessie Vanderlind into your home?” Grandma asked, the color draining from her face.

“Yes. I said he came over,” Mom repeated. “He’s very nice.”

“You let a killer into your house!” Grandma Gibson shrieked. “He killed Colette
, and now he’s coming after Aurora!”

Dr. Kalla eventually got Grandma sedated and held for observation overnight. “I think after all these years, the grief just overpowered her,” the doctor said. “I’m sure she’ll be fine in a couple of days.”

I was crying so hard
, I wished I could be sedated, too, but I wasn’t the one screaming about how a seventeen-year-old boy had murdered a girl who disappeared before World War II. It was absolutely horrifying to see Grandma Gibson so upset, and I felt doubly guilty knowing that there was a strong chance she was right. None of the hospital staff knew that, of course. They all just thought she was losing her battle with dementia.

I managed to pull myself together a little once we were in the car and headed home. Mom must have been a little shell shocked herself, but she still tried to comfort me. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” she said, reaching over and rubbing my back as we waited at a red light. “I don’t even know how to explain Grams’
s behavior. I’m really sorry I asked you to go with me. I just …” She gave a big sniff as the light turned green and she turned to concentrate on the road. “I was just frightened and didn’t want to face everything by myself. That was stupid of me. I shouldn’t have put you through that.”

“No, it’s okay,” I assured her, forcing myself to sound less upset. None of this was my mom’s fault
, and I didn’t want her suffering because of choices Colette and I had made. “I feel bad that I lost it. But Grandma really freaked me out. And then the body was just so horrible. It’s just …” I forced myself not to break down into tears again. “It’s just, Grandma Gibson always talks about how much I look like her sister. I never thought I did from her old photographs, but looking at the body … Well, I could really see it. I really do look like her. And I was just wondering … Do you think it’s possible …”

“What?” Mom asked gently, giving me the space to breath
e.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?” I finally blurted.

“Oh.” Mom nodded her head up and down several times. “I understand. I wasn’t putting the whole thing together, but now it makes sense.”

“What does?” I wanted to know. I felt a mild sense of alarm, but there was no way she could have figured everything out.

“Aunt Colette was working at the Vanderlind Castle when she disappeared. Grams told me once that she thought Lettie had run off with one of the sons.” Mom pulled into the driveway and clicked the button to open the garage. “And now you’re dating one of the Vanderlinds. I think she got confused and somehow decided he was the same boy.”

I gulped. “Yeah, maybe.”

“And to answer your question, no. I don’t believe in reincarnation,” she said while we both sat in the car with the doors locked waiting for the garage door to completely close.

“But I do look a lot like Colette Gibson,” I pointed out.

“You do look like her from what I can tell, but I think that’s genetics, honey. Not reincarnation,” she said, finally opening the car door.

I wanted to tell her the truth. I had a good relationship with my mom and I was used to being able to confide in her. I opened my mouth to start, but the words just didn’t come out. I didn’t even know where to begin. How could I explain that in many ways
, Grandma Gibson was right? Yes, in fact, I was dating the same boy that Colette was in love with all those years ago. And if I was being perfectly honest with myself, there was a strong chance that he was the one that killed her.

I didn’t know how I felt about Jessie coming to see me that evening. He’d said he wanted to drop by to start courting me properly. Up until a few weeks ago, we’d mostly been focused on survival rather than dating. I desperately wanted to see Jessie yet was also terrified. I couldn’t believe that he had killed Colette, but it was the most likely explanation as to how she’d died. I felt like I was being torn in two—half of me loving Jessie so much that I couldn’t believe he would ever do something so evil and the other half knowing that it was his nature to be a killer.

I remembered reading about how serial killer Ted Bundy’s mother refused to believe her son was guilty. Even after he was convicted of numerous hideous murders
, she just couldn’t accept the fact that her darling boy had done those horrible things. I began to wonder if I was suffering from the same delusions as poor Mrs. Bundy. Was my love for Jessie blinding me to his actions?

No, I couldn’t believe it. Every time I thought about it
, I started shaking my head, my body fighting against my brain.

“Sweetie, why don’t you just go to bed?” Mom asked as I sat at the kitchen table, staring morosely at nothing.

“Jessie’s supposed to show up any minute now,” I told her. “I’d call him and cancel, but he doesn’t have a cell phone.”

My mom gave a theatrical double take. “There’s a teenager in America without a cell phone? I can’t believe I haven’t read about this on Yahoo News.”

I knew she was trying to lift my spirits, but it wasn’t working. I was too conflicted and miserable. Instead, I ended up just giving a heavy sigh. “They don’t get good cell reception at the castle.”

I knew for a fact that there was no cell reception at the Vanderlind Castle, the giant fortress where Jessie lived, because I had once tried to call for help from inside the stone walls
, and I couldn’t even get one tiny bar of reception.

“Go take a shower and climb in bed,” Mom told me. “You look exhausted. I’ll tell Jessie you don’t feel well
, and he can call you from a landline tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I said, getting to my feet. I’d developed a throbbing headache
, and no matter how much I wanted to see Jessie, I knew I was in no state, mentally or physically, to be with him.

I stood in the shower for a long time. Usually I
didn’t linger because we were on a budget and I didn’t want to run up our bills. This time I couldn’t help it. I lost track of what I was doing as I stared at the tiles on the wall. I couldn’t remember if I’d already shampooed and just needed conditioner or what. By the time I finished up, the water had turned cold.

Shivering, I quickly changed into my pajamas and scurried into bed. My hair would be a fright wig in the morning, but I just didn’t have the energy to blow it dry. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, rubbing my Pools of Light pendant across my lips. It was a natural crystal stone
, flawless and cut into a perfect sphere. The orb was held in place by a belt of white gold that had flowers and vines crafted into the metal. Jessie had given it to me as a token of his affection when we first met, and it was my most cherished object. Originally, I had believed it was silver, but vampires can’t touch silver without being burned—something I learned firsthand in the worst possible way when Jessie had a silver net thrown over his head and was painfully seared. Fortunately, vampires also have an incredible power to heal. I would love him even if he was permanently disfigured, but it was nice that his gorgeous face was still perfect.

No
, I chastised myself.
You are not to let your brain drift off thinking about how much you love Jessie. You have to think about if he’s responsible for the death of Colette.

There was a gentle tapping at my window and I froze, caught between joy and panic. It could only be Jessie out there on the porch roof on a cold night in December, wanting to talk to me. But did I want to talk to him? My body screamed yes, tear open the window
, and fling yourself into his arms. My brain was more cautious. I absolutely could not believe Jessie Vanderlind was a killer, but I knew the fable of the scorpion and the frog: the scorpion stings the frog while riding on his back crossing a river. With his last breath as the venom paralyzes him, the frog asks, “Why? Why did you sting me?”

And the scorpion replies as he sinks beneath the water to meet his own death, “I couldn’t help it. It’s my nature.”

I couldn’t believe that Jessie Vanderlind had sucked the life out of Colette Gibson; he loved her too dearly. But it was a vampire’s nature to drink the blood of humans. The smartest thing I could do was not open the window.

“Aurora,” I heard Jessie whisper from outside. His voice sounded ragged
, and I could tell he was in pain. My mother must have unwittingly told him about the discovery of Colette’s body. I wanted to spring from my bed, fling open the window, and wrap my arms around him, but my brain kept telling me
no
. “Please,” Jessie said. I heard a gentle thud, and I knew he was resting his forehead against the glass. “Your mom told me …” His breath caught, and he didn’t continue.

My body
did a quick coup d’état and overthrew my brain. I was out of bed and dashing across the room before I even realized it. “Jessie,” I cried, tearing back the curtains and wrenching open the window.

Jessie looked even paler than usual.
A single tear ran down his cheek, tracking silver in the crisp air of a winter night. He clutched a bouquet of disheveled red roses in both hands, their petals tumbling into the dusting of snow that swirled around his feet. “They found her,” he managed to say, although his voice was very tight. “They found Colette. They found her body.”

“I know,” I said, opening my arms and reaching out to him. All I wanted to do was hold him and make it all better.

He didn’t move any closer, just shook his head rapidly back and forth. “Did you see her? Did you see Lettie?”

I nodded, lowering my arms. I felt empty without him. “Mom and I went to the morgue with Grandma Gibson.”

“And Lily confirmed it was definitely her?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Could the coroner tell how she died?” Jessie wanted to know, his mannerisms very stiff.

I stared at him for a few seconds, unsure of what to say. Did he kill Colette and somehow not remember doing it? Finally, gathering my nerve, I told him, “The doctor said she was exsanguinated.”

A breezed kicked up, ruffling Jessie’s hair. He shuddered. “From a wound or from …” Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to finish. “Or from a vampire?”

“I couldn’t see any wound,” I admitted. “The doctor said they don’t know for sure yet what caused her death.”

Jessie turned away from me. “I have to see her. I have to know.”

“You can’t. She’s in the morgue,” I told him. I sincerely doubted the morgue of a small town like Tiburon was open all night. “I’m sure it’s closed.”

“I can get in,” he said with decided determination.

“Jessie, I don’t think you should.” I gulped before adding, “At least not by yourself.”

Giving me a fierce look that I knew was concealing pain, he said between clenched teeth, “I have to.”

“Then take me with you,” I said, leaning out the window into the icy wind and reaching for his hand, my wet hair making my scalp ache. “You can’t see her by yourself. You’ll need me there.”

“No,” he said, jerking away from me. The next thing I knew, the roof was empty but for a few red rose petals blowing in the snow. Jessie was gone.