Chapter one: Damien
I keep thinking about what really happened that night and what we told everyone about what went on.
Pat and I saved Brian from a pissed off vampire that had a grudge against me from the basement of the abandoned warehouse. The authorities, with the help of the Feral Society, managed to keep what happened at the warehouse out of the daily papers and off the local newscast, to protect the three of us from the public eye and to make sure that a story about a vampire didn’t get out.
In doing so, they had to move the homeless kids that they found dead in back of the warehouse to another location. They twisted the story a bit, making it about a homeless man living on the streets being under the influence of PCP, or angel dust. They said he attacked and robbed some street kids before killing them and leaving them to die, dumping the bodies under one of the bridges.
If you’re wondering what the Feral Society is, in part it’s an organization that looks out for paranormal kids to help them fit into society. Then, when the kids come of age, they step in when the regular authorities can’t handle certain situations.
Things are great with Brian and me. We have been seeing each other ever since that day—but I still haven’t mustered up the courage to tell him I’m a vampeal, or tell him the truth about the death of the homeless kids. I’m not sure that it would be a good thing right now because Brian doesn’t remember too much about that night. Sometimes he looks at me strangely, like he is trying to remember something and just can’t.
I turned fifteen over the summer and Brian just turned seventeen and now is a foot taller than me; he’s still slim with shaggy blond hair. He got his driver’s license and some money from his trust on his birthday to buy a slightly used car. He helps out running errands for Mrs. Crabtree now and then. Brian is the oldest kid in the house and Mrs. Crabtree let Brian move into the attic to give him his own space, and she lets me come over anytime I want to see him as long as we keep up our grades.
Pat and Mrs. Crabtree still don’t want me to stay too late at night because of school, and prefer me to use the front door. That doesn’t mean I don’t try to sneak in now and then. It’s a lot easier now that I figured out that I can leap to the second story of the house with ease. Brian still thinks I climb up and down the trellis. Sometimes it scares me that Brian is growing up faster than me and will probably go off to college soon, leaving me behind.
After I moved into Pat and Matt’s house, I was putting away the few things I own when I looked in my backpack and found something I’d forgotten about: a drawing that came from a boy that I met at the park the next day after I got kicked out of the Crabtree house.
That part of the day is a little fuzzy after all that went on. What was his name? J… Jason that was it. I think he was a blondish redheaded boy about my age. He was sitting on a bench in the park drawing the bridges that cross the river. I sat down next to him to taking a look at what he was working on. A strange thing happened when I touched him and we both got zapped when I accidentally siphoned off some of his energy. I was okay but Jason was a little out of it for a moment, so I gave him part of my cookie that I’d saved for lunch to see if it would help. He seemed fine after a few minutes, and he went back to his school bus to get the lunch he had forgotten. I got scared and ran off.
Later that day I met Pat, before everything happened that night. I gave the drawing to Pat for safekeeping. I wonder whatever happened to that boy.
Pat is out of town right now and Matt is back home from Florida babysitting me. He’s mostly like a cool uncle, and is Pat’s identical twin brother—they have the same short brown hair, but Pat wears glasses and Matt doesn’t, and he lets me get away with more than Pat does. It’s not his fault, but Pat just takes the parenting thing very seriously sometimes. I put up a fuss now and then, but I love them both. They are the only family I’ve ever known, and I’m not sure what it’s like to have a real family anyway, but I’m trying to figure it all out. I guess it’s the same for any kid my age. We are all doing our best to make sense of the hand life has dealt us.
It’s nice having my own bedroom on the second floor with Matt’s room right across from me, not that he is here that often to use it. Pat’s room is downstairs next to the study and I’m glad that there are two bathrooms, one upstairs and one down. One of my favorite things in the house is the fireplace in the living room that I like to sit in front of for hours, watching the flames dance back and forth. We have a barn next to the house, but never use it—well, except when Brian and I fool around in there sometimes, but that’s a story for later.
Mr. Craft told us after they found the bodies of the homeless teenagers, that it may have been a newly turned vamp, a fledgling that its sire left unattended to go on a rampage, and that I just happened to get caught up in it that night. Even though the vampire was a real dick, I’m still dealing with the after-effects of killing him. They have me going to therapy once a week to talk about that night and what I did. When I looked into his eyes, I could see real pain behind them before he turned to dust. I’m still shocked that they really do that. Then I looked over at Brian laying there on the sofa, praying that he wasn’t hurt.
I’m so pleased that he doesn’t remember anything about that night. Who knows what he went through? One thing I’m sure of is that I could never tell him about the teenagers that were killed. I pray he never finds out; I’m not sure what he would do. In fact, I’m not sure what I would have done if I saw the vampire feeding on someone. I’m glad vampeals don’t have blood lust but I sometimes wonder if taking in too much life energy might, over time, become addictive. The Society has people that I can feed on if I need to, so I don’t accidentally drain someone by mistake again like I did when I was younger at one of the other foster homes. If I ever did that to Brian, I would never forgive myself.
I don’t know how I’m ever going to get some sleep. I keep wondering what he is doing and if he is thinking about me as well. Well, at least I will see him tomorrow when he comes over.
