Tainted Crimson (16 page)

I stand instinctively and so does D. We follow Natalie outside and she shuts the door behind the three of us separating us from her grandma.

“I’m
so
sorry about that guys. She’s uh...really old. She insists on reading these fantasy books all the time, I think she’s read them her entire life. Anyway, sometimes she mixes up reality with the stories and stuff. She’s really not all there. I think it’s what happened to my dad too. I think it’s some mental illness that runs in the family. I just hope I don’t get it when I get older. She’s always talking about ‘the beasts’ she thinks they were real, she thinks shape shifters existed a century ago. She’s nuts. I’m seriously so sorry about that. She doesn’t usually go off like that around guests.”

“It’s not a problem, Natalie, we understand. Thanks for the cookies and everything. We’ll see you around, I’m sure,” I thank her while giving her a reassuring but awkward smile.

She looks relieved that we’re not mad or freaked out. Without another word, she slips back into her house and I’m left alone on the porch with D, who looks rather amused.

“What?” I question him.

“Oh, nothing. Jacob’s just going to be in a whole lot of trouble.” D shrugs and begins heading back towards our house.

“Why?” What does anything have to do with Jacob?

“That old lady isn’t as crazy as you might think. The Silver’s were a group of hunters from a time before even I was born or Arianna and Marco. They claimed that there were these shape shifters living amongst the humans and they spent their lives hunting these creatures. The witches never believed in the shifter’s existence and just let the hunters go about their business. It’s kind of like the whole Sasquatch thing, there’s no evidence it exists but people still hunt for the damn thing and claim they see it and whatever else but there’s never any proof. When the hunters found out about the witches existence, they tried to kill us all. I really don’t know what their vendetta against the supernatural was but on multiple occasions they attacked us. They never got far because they were always killed in our self-defense. Then, almost a century ago, these hunters just vanished from existence. Like
poof
. Gone. They stopped attacking us and just disappeared. We thought maybe a group of witches knocked them out or maybe they just gave up on trying to kill us. Anyways, as far as I’m aware, no one has seen or heard from these hunters since they went silent. Until now anyways,” D explains curiously. “I think I’d like to have another chat with that woman soon. Jacob is going to be in trouble because your father asked him to check the area for supernatural creatures and he came up empty. The Silvers aren’t supernatural, they’re only human, but they’re nearly as large a threat as any supernatural being because they’re human. No one would ever suspect them.”

“But if they’ve been gone for a whole century then how would Jacob know to look for them?” I ask.

“He shouldn’t have been looking for the Silvers exactly but for hunters. Even today there are still humans who call themselves hunters. They mainly hunt vampires so we don’t have to worry about them much but for your safety, he should’ve checked.”

“But if they’re not supernatural, how would he have found them?” I continue my questioning as I open the front door of our house.

“The hunters, all of them, go by the last name Saunders. You’d think that’d be a dead giveaway, you’d think that all the vampires would gang up and just kill all of the humans who have the last name of Saunders but it’s actually how they find vampires. You see, since they’re human, they have no way of sensing supernatural presences. They’re not trying to hide, they’re trying to be found. All Jacob had to do was search town records for anyone with the last name of Saunders or Silver. That’s why he’s going to be in trouble.”

I don’t respond. I merely step into my house and throw my shoes into the boot closet.

“Anyways, I’m going to make my macaroni nuggets now,” D changes the subject and disappears into the kitchen. I roll my eyes.

I take this time to grab a scrap piece of paper from my father’s desk, take it out to the kitchen table, and practice trying to lift it up. D sits across from me after his food is in the oven and watches.

“You suck at magic,” he concludes after ten minutes of nothing.

“Thanks,” I say sarcastically and sigh.

He takes the paper from me and places it on the table in front of him. Then he puts his hand over it and I watch as it lifts into his hand. Then to show off, he folds it into a miniature paper hat in the air without touching it.

“For you, ma’am,” he jokes and sets it gently onto my head, again hands free.

I scowl at him and place the folded paper back onto the table. “I’m starting to think that you lied to me about me having magic and I’m just doing this for your entertainment.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Watch this,” he says excitedly.

I hear the oven beep and look over to it. It’s suddenly turned off. Then the oven door swings open and a drawer pulls open across the room. My eyes widen. A potholder comes flying from the open drawer and lands on the table in-between the two of us. Then the pan removes itself from the oven and hurtles through the air towards us. I flinch, not wanting to get burnt by the pan. It carefully sets itself down on the potholder and the oven door and drawer shut themselves at once.

“You look surprised,” D acknowledges. “Did you really think that the best I could do was make paper hats? You haven’t seen anything.” Then he reaches his hand over the nuggets and whispers something short under his breath, he then reaches for one.

“Don’t burn yourself, you idiot!” I cry and knock his hand out of the way.

“They’re not hot, try one,” he taunts while pulling one off the pan and biting into it. “You’ve really got to learn how to do these little parlor tricks. It makes life so much easier.”

I sigh. I can’t even lift a piece of paper from the table. I follow his lead and take one of the nuggets from the pan carefully, still expecting it to be hot. It’s not. I shove it into my mouth. It’s actually quite delicious. I take another.

“Good right?” D asks hopefully.

“Yeah, actually.” I giggle and grab a third.

“So uh, we haven’t really talked much about Talia. How are you?” he asks while shoving two into his mouth at once.

“Fine I guess. What do you mean?” I wonder. I’m not the one he should be asking that to. I wonder how Blake is doing and I realize that I have no way of contacting him to see if he’s okay.

“Well...you did find a dead body yesterday...that was covered in blood.” He says as if it’s obvious.

“A few days ago, I found out that vampires and witches and immortals exist,” I grumble through my full mouth.

“Good point. So back to my original question, how are you?” he tries again.

I shrug. “I’m still breathing. I’m overwhelmed but I’m still alive, unlike Talia.”

“True.” He nods. “You’re taking this ten times better than I thought you would. Not just the Talia thing, but the entire situation. I thought I was going to be babysitting a balling teenager for the next few weeks until you sorted through everything going on in your head.

“Gee, thanks, asshole.”

“What are you doing?” I ask D later that night as I enter his bedroom. His door is open so I don’t count it as a privacy breach. He’s lying on his back staring up at the ceiling. His eyes wander down to me and then he closes them.

“Just relaxing for a minute,” he answers sounding tired.

“I forgot to ask you earlier if you found the vampire,” I remember.

“I did,” he grunts.

“What happened?”

“I killed it, it couldn’t control itself. It had a bunch of bodies with it in its car. I think it was just passing through. I think. You were right by the way, it was a man,” he admits without humor. I realize I can’t tell if he’s tired or if he’s sad.

“Oh, told you,” I tease.

“Do you have everything you need for school tomorrow?” he changes the subject and sits up, finally opening his eyes to look at me.

“Yeah, I think so,” I answer. I have pens and paper, what else could I need?

“Good,” is all he says and then he runs his fingers through his dark hair and groans. “I think I’m going to go to bed. I’m exhausted. I guess I’ll see you in the morning,” he murmurs and lays back down. I’ve never seen him act like this, given I’ve only known him for a few days. It just doesn’t seem like him.

“Okay,” I reply, a little saddened, and head back to my room. So much for us going out for dinner. I’m sure that last night was a big drunken mistake on D’s part and I find myself angry at myself for even being excited about the whole thing. Of course he’s not into you, Ariella, you idiot. Why would he be?

The next day I wake up to birds chirping outside my window as if they’re fighting and roll over just in time for me to shut off my alarm clock before it begins blaring. I sigh and stretch out my legs. I check my phone, there’s a message from my dad as well as one from Jacob, wishing me good luck at my first day of school. I’m no longer excited to just go back to school, I’m actually dreading going back to tenth grade. Right when I was almost to freedom, BAM, I’m basically starting high school all over again.

I roll out of bed and spend more time than necessary getting ready. An hour later, I’m dressed, packed, and ready to head out. I descend the stairs and grab a granola bar from one of the nearly empty cupboards.

“Good morning, beautiful,” a familiar, joyful voice calls from the bottom of the stairs. I’m glad to hear that he’s in a better mood than last night.

“Good morning,” I greet him back and pull my backpack up over my shoulder.

“Ready to go finally? I heard you banging around in your room for almost an hour,” he teases with his usual smirk.

“Yeah, nice backpack,” I jab back, taking in his Spiderman themed bag.

He smiles. “I like Spiderman. Well, actually, it was the first one I saw when I popped over to the store this morning in a rush because I forgot to get one.”

I roll my eyes. “Nice.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too.” He laughs. “I’m driving. Wait until you see the ride I bought myself yesterday morning. I forgot to show you it yesterday,” he exclaims enthusiastically as he bursts into the garage. I follow him.

Parked in the garage is a shiny new black car. I’m not much of a car person so I have absolutely no idea what kind it is but it doesn’t look like it belongs in this town, where most of the vehicles on the streets are old farm pickups and minivans. I smile appreciatively.

“Nice, eh?” he asks.

“
Eh?”
I tease. “You’re already turning into a Canadian.”

“I’ve spent a lot of time in Canada, Ariella. Maple syrup, mooses, and ehing are basically a part of me.”

I can’t hold back the giggle rising in my chest. What an idiot. I jump into the passenger side and throw my bag into the back seat. I wrap my seat belt around myself and take a bite from my granola bar.

“Are you excited?” he asks as he pushes the button that opens the garage.

“No. Nervous, maybe. I’m kind of choked that I’m going back to tenth grade. You?” I ask.

“Annoyed that I have to go,” he agrees.

Then he’s backing out of the driveway and onto the street.

“Come on, you seemed to get along so well with all those guys at the party the other night,” I joke.

He shrugs. “I’m almost three centuries older than them, they’re not exactly my crowd.”

“I thought you said you didn’t consider yourself to be three hundred years old?” I accuse.

He shrugs but says nothing, turning on the radio and the air conditioning. A few blocks later, we’re pulling into the school.

“Watch everyone checkout my car,” he snickers and turns up the music, rolling the windows down a crack.

I snort and look out the window at all of the kids young and old. He’s right, they’re all staring but I’m not sure if it is at his car or at his beauty. Suddenly I feel my cheeks heat up and I’m embarrassed. I hate being the center of attention.

D finds a parking spot and glides into it. Then before I have a chance to unbuckle my seatbelt, he’s out the door. I realize that he was so fast because he wasn’t wearing his own safety belt. He grabs a pair of dark sunglasses from the visor in his car, slams them on his face, and then shuts the door behind him. I struggle to get out of the low car, I’m used to my father’s big truck. I get my bag and sling it across my shoulder.

“Ready?” D asks, suddenly behind me. I nod and look up at him. He’s smiling and doesn’t look a tad bit nervous, unlike me who is shaking like a god damn foot massager. For a mere moment I’m lost in his pure beauty. Is it even legal to look
that
good all the time? Somehow I doubt it. When I glance around, I can tell that I’m not the only one wondering this. Parents, students, and teachers alike are all gazing at us but more specifically they’re gazing at D.

As we approach the main entrance, people from the party rush up to us and begin asking us questions about Talia. I’m not sure what to say so I just tell them that I don’t want to talk about it and D just goes along with me. Some kids are balling and I can tell that this death has hit the community far harder than a death in Denver would have. All the upset people remind me of the fire at prom and I can’t help but tear up a little while thinking about all of the people who died that night. I feel terrible that I can’t be there for all of my friends and also that I left without any explanation at all. I wonder if some people think that I was one of the ones in the fire who didn’t make it. I wonder how the school is doing after such a traumatic event. I wonder how many people that I knew personally died that night. A tear runs down my cheek and I quickly wipe it away. Will I ever know?

“Are you okay?” D whispers in my ear.

“Yes,” I answer vaguely.

I feel his fingers interlace with mine and a chill runs down my spine. I struggle to control my breathing. God, I’m such a girl. He’s so close that his scent is inescapable and I sigh with bliss. I’m reminded of the other night in the truck box. I’m snapped out of my daydream when I see Blake leaning against a locker on his phone.

I debate going up to him. He barely knows me but at the same time I feel like I have to say something. He looks up just as I’m about to look away from him and we make awkward eye contact.

“How are you?” I blurt without thinking.

“Surviving, which is more than some people,” he manages through clenched teeth and I immediately regret talking to him. “Sorry, I’m just getting so sick of being asked that,” he apologizes. “Thank you for everything you two did the other day.”

“Nothing to thank us for,” D replies.

“Any idea where the office is? We need to get our schedules.,” I interrupt as the first warning bell rings.

Blake laughs. “What grade are you in again?”

“Tenth,” D answers.

“Dude, you look like you’re twenty five, not sixteen. Whatever you’re doing to get wicked facial hair like that, let me in on it will you?” Blake forces a laugh and then pulls a piece of paper from his locker and hands me it.

”This is the high school schedule. The tenth grade schedule is the blue boxes. The gym is obviously right over there by the cafeteria.” He points to a double door with the word ‘gymnasium’ printed across them. I look at the so called ‘cafeteria’ there’s ten small tables and then one large one made up of a few tables pushed together. “Mr. Andrew’s room is there, Mr. Tanner’s is there, and Mrs. Matthew’s is there. Find an empty locker and throw your stuff into it. The office is in the elementary end which is down the hall over there,” he explains, while throwing fingers around. “You can have that schedule, I don’t use it. I have it memorized. The grade tens’ first class is in Mr. Tanner’s room. Math.” Then he’s off in another direction.

I look at D who seems to be looking for my lead. I remember that he’s never been to school before. I throw open a locker and it looks empty so I put my stuff in it. I see that none of the lockers have locks and so I just shut the door and D follows my lead. It feels weird not locking up my stuff. I select a pen, paper, and calculator before the two of us head to Mr. Tanner’s room.

When we get inside, everyone is staring at us, even Mr. Tanner. “Good morning, you must be our new students Ariella and Daymon. Take a seat where ever.”

I find an empty seat at the back and D sits next to me. I’m glad that the desk aren’t single chairs and tables but rather two people can sit at the same one. It reminds me of the science lab back at my school in Denver.

“Would the two of you like to stand up and introduce yourselves?” Mr. Tanner asks. I look to D and I hear snickers around the room. I cringe.

D stands up. I follow reluctantly. “Good morning, my name is Daymon,” he announces while removing his glasses and flashing the small class his famous smirk. “I like fast cars and sexy girls especially when they’re together. I’m very practiced at working on them. Both cars and girls, I mean.” The class roars. Even Mr. Tanner laughs and I’m surprised that D doesn’t get yelled at for his inappropriate comment.

“I see we have a clown on our hands. You better watch your class clown title, Thomas,” Mr. Tanner warns humorously while looking at a tall boy seated at the front of the room.

“My name is Ariella,” I stammer awkwardly. “I like...food,” I try. Seriously, Ariella?
Food?
Out of all the thing you could have said? Great, now everyone going to think I’m a fat ass.

I see a familiar group of girls in the corner, the same ones from the coffee shop the other day, snickering and whispering to each other while taking short glances at me. Great, I can tell that they’re already going to be a problem. Who am I kidding, I could already tell that that day in the coffee shop.

“You don’t look like you eat much food,” a big bulky guy says jokingly in a husky voice.

I shrug nervously and take my seat.

Mr. Tanner takes this as his cue to start the class. He gives us each a worn out textbook and tells everyone to open to page 302. When I do, I’m greeted by an array of algebra questions. Thankfully this at least matches to what I’ve learnt over the years in Denver. As I listen to Mr. Tanner go over the lesson I realize that this will be simple. I have two years of algebra on these kids. I take a sigh of relief. I don’t know what I was expecting Canadian math to be like but this wasn’t it.

“What is this bullshit?” D whispers in my ear. “Do you speak this language?”

I look over at his notebook where there are scribbles everywhere.

“What are you doing?” I ask confused.

“Trying to solve one of these equations.”

“Have you never done simple algebra before?” I ask humorously.

“No. Do you think I have time for this crap? What is this even used for? Measuring the mass of the sun? Who needs to know this? I’ve been alive for three centuries and I’ve never once needed this,” he grumbles while crossing out his attempted solutions.

“Can’t you do some witchy trick to answer the question?” I demand while trying to finish my own homework.

“There’s not a spell for solving this blasphemy.”

“Then you’re fucked.” I chuckle quietly.

He groans exaggeratingly.

The teacher notices and looks up from his desk. There are a few laughs around the room.

“Are we having trouble with the lesson, Mr. Thompson?” Mr. Tanner asks.

It takes me a moment to recall D’s pretend last name.

“
Trouble?
Yeah, if that’s what you want to call it,” D answers.

“Maybe Ariella can help you,” Mr. Tanner suggests. The man is a thin thing with seventies glasses and a creepy porn stash. He has a terrible comb over and every time I look at this I have to hold back my laughter.

“She is no help,” D replies hopelessly and I wonder if I should feel offended.

“Well then, bring your work up here and let me have a look at it. Surely you did algebra back home.”

D reluctantly gets up and goes to sit next to the teacher. Finally something that I’m better at than he is.

The teacher glances down at his work and begins erasing everything.
Ouch.
I see D’s eyes widen in shock as all of his attempted work is demolished.