The Birth of Vengeance (Vampire Formula #1) (7 page)

“Or weapons,” I responded.

He looked down his glasses at me, “Maybe.”

“One of the formulas will give the taker the power of the vampire for just one night.”

I placed my hand around the needles now in my coat pocket. It had to be these needles; why else would she have shown them to me. But why show them to me?

“Blood and anger,” she said at the beginning.

She sensed my anger, smelt my blood and wanted me to have revenge. Yes, revenge.

“Revenge, revenge my darling,” her voice sounded in my head again, although it grew fainter as we ascended.

I imagined her again, face ashen and drooped, and the sadness and the sympathy I felt for her. The meeting of our eyes and her raven hair blowing in the wind. Her red lips, glistening body, the mist enticing me forwards and my desire drowning me. The UV lights triggered her change to protruding fangs, fiery red eyes and contorting muscles, as she smashed against the mirror and invoked my fear. The sadness I encountered when released from her possession. At the end, her ashen face, walking back to her bed, sad and lonely again. I sensed a connection, a shared sense of loneliness.

“What’s her name?” I asked.

Dad looked at me puzzled and frowned at this question.

“What’s her name?” I asked again.

“I don’t know,” he replied perplexed by this question.

“She is just Subject X,” he added, as if this were a proper obvious answer.

The rest of the journey back up to the entrance of the building carried on in silence, and we waited quietly outside until my lift arrived. My Dad had arranged a taxi to take me home and gave me his set of keys to get inside. As the taxi pulled up, he whispered in my ear.

“Remember. You saw nothing. My job and our safety rely on it.”

I slept fitfully all night with dreams of the attack by the gang, the kicks in the back, and their snarling angry faces spitting and shouting at me. The dreams of Subject X whispering the word revenge repeatedly. Her raven hair blowing from an unknown breeze, her sky bright eyes dazzling me, and her warm glistening body seducing me. Her turning into a vampire, red burning eyes, fangs snarling, and then smashing through the mirror and biting my neck. I woke up dripping in sweat with it stinging my bruises, not sure what was real and what was a dream. The attack was real as the bruise all over my body acted as a painful reminder. The events in the basement must have been a dream but under my bed hidden away in my suitcase, a red needle was waiting and willing me to use it. The other I had hidden away under the floorboards for extra safekeeping in case something went wrong.

I stayed off college to recover, and I worried they would come after me again, or Scarlett, so I decided not to tell anyone who had done it. My mind floated back and forth between Subject X’s image, sad to beautiful to angry and then sad again. The feelings of sympathy and desire I felt overwhelmed by when I fantasised about her. To feelings of anger and rage aimed at Barry and his gang.

The sick days ran straight into the weekend, and as time went on the dreams of Subject X began to drift away like a beautiful nightmare, and I started to think of Scarlett again. Scarlett finally came around to see me on Saturday afternoon, two days after the attack. I had been emailing her and calling her the last two days but with no reply. Her lack of response proved she was embarrassed by me and had lost respect for me. She probably wanted a proper boyfriend that could look after her.

When she arrived, my emotions flipped back and forth between happy and angry. My Dad showed her in and she came up to my room, which I had hardly left over the last two days. I hadn’t bothered to decorate my room when we came to London. Instead, I had just filled the room up with posters and pictures. The posters showed bands, films, and scantily clad women, which I had taken off the walls when I started dating Scarlett. The room had until recently had been tidy as I had tried my best to keep it clean for when Scarlett came around, but over the last few day I had returned to my old ways and the room had descended into a mess. I paused my Xbox and turned my music off, as she climbed the stairs.

She tapped lightly on the door and gave an embarrassed smile as she walked in.

“Hi, how you doing?” she asked, looking sheepish.

I couldn’t be bothered with the niceties but even though I felt angry with her, I still couldn’t help noticing how beautiful she looked. Her flame red hair tied back, and her green eyes dilated as they adjusted to the darkly lit room as she entered. She wore her tight blue jeans and a white t-shirt saying “RED” across the chest in red brick texture letters.

“Where have you been?” I asked angrily.

“I thought it just best to leave you alone for a couple of days. My mum didn’t want me going out after college after what happened,” she replied.

I looked away and thought for a second; it was probably true.

“Stopped you using your phone and computer as well?” I asked sharply.

She stared down at the floor, with no excuse forthcoming.

“Sorry I didn’t know what to say. It felt a bit weird after what happened,” she said apologetically.

My fears confirmed, she was embarrassed and didn’t want to associate herself with me anymore.

“Oh great, not only did you get me into this but now you don’t want to talk to me either,” I said, spitting out the words.

“What? I didn’t do this,” she replied.

“It’s your fault. They told me, you’re one of their girls. It’s the way you dress. What did you expect?”

“What the hell. You seem pretty happy about it normally, getting the girl the other boys wanted. I have seen you strutting around. … Anyway, I can dress how the hell I want.”

“You should have some self-respect, and you dropped that damn bag as well, which tripped me up.”

“Oh, it’s all my fault is it,” she retorted, eyes narrowing and glaring, with her hands on her hips. “Grow some balls. Stuff just happens, so deal with it,” she shouted.

“You left me there alone. Let me get beaten up. They may have left me alone if you were there,” I shouted back.

“Just like you did with Giles,” she snapped back with venom.

“Get lost,” I screamed, in disbelief that she had thrown that in my face. I told her that in confidence, my darkest deepest secret.

“With pleasure,” she said crashing out of my room and slamming the door, shaking the pictures on the wall and leaving a ringing in my ears. She thumped down the stairs, shoved her boots and coat on and then slammed the front door.

“Bye Scarlett,” Dad shouted out sarcastically.

I sulked for the rest of the day not sure what to do. The anger returned stronger than before, and images of Subject X flooded back to the forefront of my mind. I pictured her through the glass; sad, beautiful and terrifying, all in the space of a couple of moments. I’d not slept much over the last two nights, too many strange dreams of vampires and of being mugged. In one of the dreams, Subject X killed Barry and his gang, and I woke up in the morning disappointed it wasn’t real.

A few hours later, I sat in my room alone with the darkest music I could find to play. I opened the suitcase and sat crossed legged on the bed, with the needle in one hand and sleeve rolled up on the other arm. I dressed all in black ready to head out into the night. I knew where Barry and the gang would be tonight, as there was a party being thrown by one of the sixth form students who was friends with Tony. I sat there hoping the music and the memories of the beating would motivate me into injecting the needle, taking the formula and taking my revenge. I could kill them all. I could win Scarlett back.

I leaned against the bedroom wall, and the bruises ignited in pain. I relived each of the kicks again thumping in as they spat in my face, shouting abusive threats that rang in my ears, the tears streaming down my face and stinging it in the cold autumn wind. It triggered new tears to roll out my blackened eyes and into my mouth. I relived the stealing of my wallet and phone, and the punch on the nose bursting it open and the blood blending into the tears and saliva. The memories were painful to relive, and my nose began to bleed again mixing in with my new tears. My hands tensed up and I built up my resolve, muscles shaking with anger. I wanted revenge. I wanted them dead. I couldn’t go through this again; I didn’t want another Leeds. I had a chance to fix things. I held my breath and pushed the needle down. The needle depressed the skin on my forearm. The fear of the pain and the feeling of it breaking the skin grew stronger than the desire to keep pushing, and I stopped. I couldn’t do it. I was scared of the pain and reaction to the formula. I breathed heavily letting my muscles relax.

“Come on, come on,” I said to myself.

I tried again, muscles shaking and memories flooding back, and the tears and the blood on my face kept pouring. The needle pushed against the skin, and I felt a scratching feeling as it started to break the skin. I stopped again, too scared of the pain. I tried to imagine Subject X and let the memories of the trance try to force me to do it. I relived the memories of her pacing the room looking sad with her drooped ashen face, her transformation into a beautiful goddess with hair flying and red lips, then a vampire snarling at me with fangs and burning red eyes. At the end, a sad lonely woman again. I felt an affinity for her. The sadness stuck in my mind. We had shared a connection when she first looked at me through the mirror. I finally realised the mist and the desire were an effect of her powers, and the vampire face a reaction to the UV lights but the sadness seemed real. I tried to use those memories to inject the needle but again as soon as the needle depressed the skin the pain stopped me. I felt scared, scared of the pain, scared of the reaction, scared it would kill me and I would die on my bed. I didn’t actually know what it would do. I had made an assumption from the images from a vampire and a brief conversation with my Dad. I put the needle back in the suitcase and went back to bed. There must be another way. I tried to sleep, only to be met by more mashed up dreams of vampires, Scarlett, Barry and the gang.

When Monday came around again, I reluctantly returned to college. My face still bruised, and I had agreed with Dad to tell everyone I didn’t know who had done it. I walked slowly to college, with coat pulled up and baseball hat pulled down to try to hide my bruises and black eye. I didn’t want to go back but knew I had to face it eventually. At least they didn’t actually go to the college unlike back in Leeds. I would be safe inside the college, and I hoped Scarlett and I could be friends again. The gang hung around the gates again. Barry saw me and nudged a boy with him, and then whispered in his ear. They both glanced over, and the boy jogged across the pavement and thrust my mobile phone into my hands. Maybe my luck had changed. Maybe they wanted to be friends after all.

I walked into the common room and over to the other side away from Scarlett and Mary. I had said some nasty things to her on Saturday and didn’t know what else to do. All the other students looked at my face, and whispered to one another as they noticed I wasn’t sitting next to Scarlett anymore. Scarlett ignored me as I walked in, by looking the other way and pretending to be in a deep conversation with Mary.

Then my phone beeped, it was a video with a message, “Play me.”

I pressed the button and the video of my attack began playing on the phone. The video shook about as Barry walked. Tony and John stood around me and were kicking me in the back and legs, as I curled up on the floor. They kicked at my head but my arms and hands covered it up. I watched the close up of my sad pathetic battered face covered in blood, spit and tears. Next, I saw Tony stealing my wallet, phone and keys. I realised how I lost my keys, and felt relief Dad had changed the locks straight away. I felt sickened by watching the video, and the whole episode replayed itself again in my mind. The bruises on my back stung, as if they had been poked with a stick reminding them they should still hurt. Suddenly, a number of other phones beeped in the room. In a few seconds, half dozen phones were playing the sounds of my attack. The muffled noises of screams and laughter in unsynchronised waves of sound echoing around the common room. Those watching it looked over, and a few laughed and handed it around the class. The boys who Scarlett snubbed on the first day laughed the loudest and pointed over at me. I knew they were friends of Barry and I guessed they were possibly involved in the attack. They were enjoying my pain. I went red with anger and humiliation. I jumped out of my seat, knocking it clattering to the floor, and shot out the room banging into people as I went, and ran into the toilets. The laughter followed me down the hallway, as I hid in the cubicle waiting for the bell. I tried to focus on my anger, rather than let my pain take over and the tears to flood. I should have guessed they would send the video about. My phone beeped again and I got a number of text messages.

“Told you, I would make you famous.”

“You are such a wimp.”

“She won’t fancy you now.”

The first bell rang, and it triggered my tears to flood out. I wanted revenge on the gang and also all those people in the classroom. All those people who happily joined in with the bullies games. I still had the needles, maybe I could kill them all. I pictured myself looking like Subject X, a vampire, and wading back into that classroom tearing their stupid laughing faces apart. Ripping them limb from limb and smearing the walls with the blood of everyone. They wouldn’t be laughing then.

However, I knew I wasn’t a violent person. I had never intentional hurt anyone and this was why I struggled to take the injection the other night. I was a coward and didn’t posses the strength to take the risk of injecting the formula and taking my revenge.

I stayed on the toilet trying to work out what to do next. I knew I couldn’t sit on the toilet all day and plucked up the courage to face my tormentors. I arrived late and tried desperately not to look at Scarlett as I strode past staring at the floor.

The text messages kept coming all day from different numbers. Next thing I knew, at lunch break, other people at the school huddled around phones watching the video of my attack then looking over at me, pointing and laughing. It spread around the college and school like a virus, and anyone with a phone seemed to be watching it or had watched it. I logged on to my social networking page to be confronted with insults and humiliating comments smeared across it as well. There was no escape.

People I’d never spoken to before barged, laughed and shouted at me.

“Welcome to London new boy,” one of them shouted sarcastically.

“Why don’t you f off back north new boy.”

“Loser, loser,” a group of younger kids from the school chanted at me during the break times and then ran off.

By the afternoon break, I couldn’t face people’s gazes and bullying, and hid out of sight. Scarlett and Mary found me hiding out in the art room, in amongst the paints and paper away from all the crowds and potential bullies. Thoughts of using the needle kept coming back to the forefront of my mind.

I hunched over the desk frantically scribbling on a piece of paper in a trance of anger and fear.

 
“Revenge, revenge, revenge.”

 
I had written again and again on a piece of paper in ever decreasing circles from the outside towards the centre. In the middle, I had drawn a picture of Subject X as I remembered her that night, hair flowing, red lips with her hands stretched out towards me offering one of the red needles in her hand.

Scarlett took tentative steps over, and I felt relieved and happy that she still wanted to talk with me. I needed a friend.

“Scarlett, I am so sorry,” I blurted out before any stupid ideas stopped me from apologising.

“I know, you were just angry,” she replied walking over and sat beside me, placing a comforting arm around my shoulders.

I leaned into her body, placed my arms around her and felt comforted by her warmth. Maybe it would be okay after all, as long as I had someone who cared and was willing to stand by me. I never did for Giles but Scarlett might for me. I felt terribly guilty for what had happened to Giles and his family.

My phone beeped again and a picture message arrived. Intrigued, I opened it up. It took a while to work it out but I could make out red hair and some flesh and numerous bare limbs entwined. My brain finally made sense of the images, and I saw a picture of Scarlett lying beneath Barry. Both semi-naked, with Barry turned towards the camera grinning, and Scarlett flat on her back expressionless. A message came with the photo.

“I told you she was one of ours.”

I sat up sharply and thrust the phone into her lap.

“What’s this?”

She stared at the picture for an age, and then her body recoiled as the moment of recognition took place. Mary grabbed the phone from her, deleted it quickly and put the phone down on the table.

“What is it?” I asked again already fearing the answer.

“It was an accident.”

“Oh he just fell on you.”

“No, I was angry with you. I got drunk, and I went over to have a go at them. But he was nice. They told me they thought you were someone else. They never meant it to go so far. If only you hadn’t hit them and run away,” she said. “I must have had too much to drink to build up the courage. I don’t remember much else,” she continued.

“So you slept with him,” I stated bluntly, the anger in me growing every second.

Scarlett got up and walked away avoiding eye contact.

“Sorry, I never meant to; it just sort of happened,” she said.

“Bitch,” I shouted, jumping up, thrusting the chair to the floor and pushing her hard in the back. She began stumbling forward, her head whipping back, and feet tripping over one another. She crashed forward and bashed her face into the wall. Scarlett crumpled onto the floor, and her hands grabbed her nose as Mary rushed over and put her arm around her. She turned around and a trickle of blood ran out her nose from beneath her hands and stained her lips red.

“You bastard,” Mary screamed.

Scarlett looked at me in horror, tears in her beautiful light green eyes welled up and then they burst out rolling down her face. Tears of pain and anger? They would have been easier to cope with. The look on her face, I couldn’t work it out. Was it surprise? Shock! No, her eyes glazed over and mouth rolled down; it was heartbreak.

Mary lifted her to her feet and helped her out of the room. They didn’t look back. Scarlett was sobbing, and Mary offering words of comfort as she helped her weave through the tables and chairs and out of the room.

“I’m sorry,” I shouted in vain but I knew it was pointless.

Maybe I was violent person after all, and I sat alone to confront the rest of the nightmare by myself.

I stared back down at the picture I had been drawing of Subject X trying to think of what to do next. The words revenge circling her started spinning anti-clockwise around the outside of the picture, going faster and faster until they merged in a blur of spinning letters, then the hand holding the needle rose out of the page offering its solution. I blinked a few times to shake it off, and the picture of her smiled baring her razor sharp fangs and eyes flickered to a fiery red. I shook my head and looked back again; the picture had returned to normal.