Bag of Blood - Vampire Mystery Romance
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Authors: J.O. Osbourne
Bag of Blood
J. O. Osbourne
Copyright 2012
J. O. Osbourne
- All rights reserved.
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Lena Thresh looked around the crowded upper floor of her public high school, a miniature cooler dangling from her hand.
He never makes this easy,
she sighed to herself.
"Blood Whore! Over here!" a nasally voice called after her. Freezing, Lena turned slowly on her heel, her hazel eyes narrowed in anger. Taking slow, robotic steps one after the other, she approached the group that snickered at her, leaning against one of the school's large pillars.
She refused to look at Rebekah, who had shouted the insult to begin with, and Hannah Miller, who tossed her dark hair over one shoulder and shot Lena a sneer, and instead focused her fury at Gabriel who stood coldly between the two girls, giving Lena a pseudo-smile, fangs and all.
Sticking her hands into the icy confines of the cooler, she removed one of the two half-pint bags that sloshed wetly within, tiny ice crystals forming over the liquid. She walked even closer to the tall boy whose very appearance screamed
vampire.
Black hair coming down to his shirt collar, eyes blue and unreadable emotions swirling within. His skin was white as snow, fangs dripping slightly past his bottom lip.
Walking towards Gabriel Metcalf until she was practically nose-to-nose with him, she released her hold on her own plastic-encased blood, dropping it with a
splat
on his foot. It didn't explode, and she felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. Without speaking a word, she turned away and began her descent down the school stairs, in search of her second client of the day.
"Bitch!" she heard Hannah call after her. She ignored it.
In a distinctly bad mood now, she was grudgingly grateful to find Elliot in the promised meeting place- standing outside of the door leading to the electives building.
"Here." she thrust out a hand holding the blood-bag to the green-eyed vampire, making sure not to sound overly friendly.
Elliot Franz ducked his head to meet her gaze; his green eyes meeting her hazel, she had a sudden urge to push the flyaway strands of his blonde hair out of his eyes. Clasping her hands behind her back, she waited for him to move before she could enter the building. He took the chilly bag from her hand, his fingers brushing hers. She pulled away instantly, taking a quick step backwards. Elliot smiled.
"Thank you, Lena, for doing this for me. I don't know what I would do without you." He gave her a smile, politely sheathing his fangs so that the smile didn't come off as threatening. He gently took her hand in his free one, pulling it forward so that he could push her sleeve back, where he looked at the multiple puncture marks and bruises that marred the crook of her left elbow, knowing the right elbow matched the left one without even looking at it. "You sacrifice so much so that we can attend school. I truly appreciate this."
Yanking her hand from his grip, she pushed past him and strode into the building, determined not to let the German vampire catch even the slightest glimpse of the blush that had bloomed on her cheeks.
"How are you today, hun?" Megan asked her friend as Lena settled into her chair a few minutes before the first period bell rang. "It was your donation this morning, right?" Megan Whitgrass had been Lena's closest friend since they met back in the third grade.
"I'm alright." Lena reached under the desk to lift up the sewing machine, plugging the chord into the power outlet that was underneath each desk. She attached the foot-pedal to the machine, snatched up a spool of black thread, and began to thread the machine, ignoring the echoes of pain that she still felt in her right arm, the one Elliot
hadn't
looked at, that had a small bandage over its newest puncture.
She felt Megan's dark-eyed gaze on her face, assessing the lie, as Lena knew Megan always would.
"It's Gabriel, huh?" Megan asked knowingly. "Was he being an ass again?"
Appreciating the excuse, Lena nodded, and then winced, seeing the trap only after she had fallen into it.
"Ha! I thought you "didn't give a damn" about what Gabriel thinks or does. You are lying. That means..." Megan paused to take a breath for effect, "that the handsome Elliot Franz is what has your knickers in a twist, as he always is. What did he do, be nice to you again?"
Lena shot Megan her frostiest glare at the jibe. Of course Megan knew. Megan knew perfectly well how uncomfortable Lena felt around members of the opposite sex, especially when they displayed kindness towards Lena. Sometime around when junior high started and Lena grew a pair of attention-grabbing breasts, after the years of teasing and the comments and the lies, she had lost all trust in males her age. The nicer they were to her, the worse it was. She still trusted Robert, her friend from well-before the Junior High days, but as for the rest of the males at the school, they were to be ignored at all costs.
"I knew it," Megan shuffled through her sewing basket, removing her neatly-folded red fabric as she got back to work on the simple skirt she was creating for herself. "You know, Elliot is actually a pretty nice guy. You should talk to him more; I think he likes you. You're going to have to get over yourself sooner or later."
Lena was saved from having to think up a response as the first-period bell rang and other members of Home Economics class began to file in by groups of twos and threes, followed by the teacher of the class. Lena got to work on her panda-patterned pajama pants and the classroom was soon filled with chatter.
Lena liked sewing, liked turning raw fabric from its original form of something flat and dull to something useful and real. She felt herself relaxing, as she always did. It was only the middle of October and already she loved this class, she and Megan had signed up for this one on a whim and needed an ‘elective’. She was just settling into the rhythmic thrum of the machine eating up the long length of her pajama legs, when a loud, shocking buzzer rang. The frightened voice of their principal then rang over the intercom.
"Students and staff, this is a lockdown. I repeat! This is a lockdown, this is
not
a drill."
Feeling uncertain, the sewing class students hid underneath the large desks that made up the classroom. Lena met Megan's dark eyes, which were staring at her nervously. Sliding her hand underneath their desks, Lena found Megan's hand and clasped it reassuringly. Megan gently shook her hand free, held both fists up, and signed to her friend.
"What's going on?" her hands spelled. Lena was grateful that the two had signed up for American Sign Language together; in moments where one was required to be silent, like in this one, it came in handy.
Red and blue lights flashed, visible in the classroom's large windows, and a collective gasp rose from the students. The police were here, and it was obviously serious (if they required the lights and sirens). Megan's eyes widened in fear.
"Don't worry!" Lena quickly signed, trying to soothe Megan's frayed nerves. She was aware of her friend's tendency to panic, sometimes even leading to hyperventilation. She gently rubbed Megan's hair much in the way one would stroke a cat; after a few moments, Megan seemed to relax slightly.
There was a crunching and a clicking at the door; someone was unlocking it from the outside. The absolute silence of the large room was tangible; it pressed down on the heart like a weight. Underneath her hand, Lena felt Megan shake a little.
The door opened, and an officer strode in.
"I need you all to evacuate the building at once," he spoke in a ringing, authoritative voice. "You need to return to your homes immediately. The school will contact your families with more information when it becomes available; until then, do not return to this campus. This goes for teachers as well as students."
He left no doubt to inform other classes of this news. Mrs. Hesse stood, her fluttering hands straightening her butterfly skirt. "Alright, everybody," she said, clearly trying not to let her voice quiver. "Follow me."
...
Rumors flew wildly around Chilhowie Public High School. They all heard the ambulances pull up, followed by multiple cop cars. The staff tried to keep it on the hush, but being released from school when it was only first period was certainly something unusual.
"Dead girl," was what Lena heard whispered in the hallways, in the bathroom stalls, on the sidewalk leading to the parking lot. "Dead girl." Lena knew it was important to take all rumors with a grain of salt, but even she could feel the chill in her bones that had nothing to do with the fall season when the suspicious eyes of policemen followed the students as they found their various ways away from school.
A familiar, faded blue Chevy pulled alongside the two girls.
"Get in", was all Robert said. Megan and Lena gratefully obliged.
"Where's Claire?" Megan asked as Lena stuck her hand underneath the seat of the car, searching… searching… ah, there it was; her fingers gripped a hair clasp, and she quickly used it to wind her loose hair into a bun. She always made it a point to leave hair ties wherever she spent a lot of time; hair in her face drove her crazy.
"I don't know." Robert's thick jaw was clamped tight in what Lena recognized as worry. He was gripping the steering wheel unusually tight as they made their way through the crowded student parking lot to the traffic light. "You're keeping an eye out for her, right?"
He's worried, Lena realized, because he's heard the rumor, too. He's probably worried about all of us; in case the 'dead girl' thing is real…
She put forth a great effort, scanning the crowds of students for Robert's step-sister, but it was Megan who finally spotted the head of thick purple hair. "There she is!" Megan rolled down her window. "Claire! Hey! Claire!" she bellowed. The girl turned, dark eyes narrowing in irritation. She sauntered towards where Robert was as he showed signs of relief in every crease of his features. Throwing open the passenger's side door, the youngest of the group clambered inside beside her step-brother.
"I'm not a pig," she shot over her shoulder at Megan. "You don't have to do the hog-call."
"Could've fooled me…" Megan murmured underneath her breath. Lena smiled. Although they put up with Claire for Robert's sake, neither of them was particularly fond of the hair-dye addicted fourteen-year-old.
They made their way in unaccustomed silence down the scenic Pennsylvania roads, past all of the lovely, tall houses with their Halloween decorations in competitive display. Multicolored leaves flashed brightly in the sunlight, swept along by a chilled breeze.
Finally, pulling in front of Robert's home, the four of them got out of the older truck, which Robert locked with a click of the keys. Claire tried to snatch them from his hand, but he held them above her head, out of reach.
"Not today," he told her sternly, and Lena could see the fury bubble in the underage eyes of the girl, who said nothing but turned on the pointy-toed heel of her furry boots, stomping into the house.
"You usually let her do whatever she wants," Megan commented idly as they stepped into the spacious entryway to Robert's home after Claire, who was storming up the stairs in an enraged cacophony of footfalls. What Megan meant was that Robert would definitely get some form of retribution from the vengeful girl, sooner or later.
Robert passed a hand through his spiked blonde hair. "I know," he said, with a deep sigh. "But I didn't want her to be outside alone." Not when there's possible danger in town, Lena translated in her mind. Oh, Robert…
Lena stooped to peel off her shoes and socks, leaving them in a pile on the plastic mat by the door; Megan and Robert did likewise.
"Claire? Robert? Is that you?" Mrs. Dwane's tinkling bell of a voice carried through the marbled hallways from the direction of the kitchen. "What are you doing home so early?"
"Something bad happened at school, mom," Robert said, as the three of them made their way to the kitchen in search of food. Mrs. Dwane was seated at the wooden table in a festive brown dress with decorative orange swirls; it hung fashionably loose off her slim frame. In her manicured hand was a flute containing some sort of dark liquid. The three averted their eyes; it was barely nine in the morning and Mrs. Dwane was drinking again.
"Something bad?" , she said, with an evident concern in her wide, clear-blue eyes. Nearing forty years old, Mrs. Dwane was certainly a beauty. Nearly as tall as Robert, she tipped the charts at 6'3, but regular yoga and Pilates kept her as in-shape as she had been in her modeling days. She had the same square jaw as Robert, the same feathery white-blonde hair like him and their eyes were the same shade. The only thing they didn't share, really, was Robert's extreme physical strength; Robert had always been like a bull in that category, much like his deceased father.
Her hands shook a little as she took a hasty sip of whatever was in her glass. "Poor darlings. Are you hurt?" she reached out a hand, touching her son's wrist. Robert didn't pull away.
"Yeah." Robert sat down next to her, a serious look in his eyes. "Mom; I think somebody got killed."
Mrs. Dwane put a hand to her heart, a look of horror on her face. "Merciful heavens…" she muttered. "Do you have any idea of what… who…?"
"We don't know," Lena answered, as Megan began rifling through the cabinets in Robert's kitchen, looking for something to eat (she had missed breakfast from running late, and was starving). "We don't even know if it's true or not. But there were policemen, and everybody kept talking about a dead girl…"
"A girl, you say?" the alarm in the woman's voice was rising. "Claire…!"
"She's upstairs, mom!" Robert quickly assuaged. "I wouldn't leave her; you know that."
"Oh!" Mrs. Dwane took a long drink from her glass, draining it and pouring herself another one from the decanter she kept at the table. "Oh, then… Of course. You're my good boy." She stood, bending to press a kiss to the crown of her son's scalp. "I'll just… go upstairs to talk to her, shall I?" she barely swayed as she walked, which was surprising considering the nearly-empty state of the decanter.
Robert waited for her footfalls to fade out of hearing range before putting his head on his arms.
"She's getting worse," he told his two best friends. "She barely sleeps anymore. The littlest thing makes her cry. I probably shouldn't have told her about this…"
Megan settled beside the two at the table, a bowl of Robert's favorite cereal doused in chocolate milk in her hands. She crunched absently at the sugary flakes. Neither girl knew what to say, so Lena did the only thing she could think of, which was to tip her head forward until she was resting it against Robert's warm side.
"We love you," she told him quietly.
"I know." was his equally quiet response.