Authors: Serena Robar

Tags: #Vampires, #Fiction, #Horror, #Horror & Ghost Stories, #Schools, #Juvenile Fiction, #School & Education, #High schools, #Fantasy & Magic

Braced to Bite (6 page)

BOOK: Braced to Bite

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“That would be werewolves, Mom.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

I pointed to myself and said, “Hello? Vampire here. Silver bullets are for werewolves.”

“Don’t get sassy, young lady; it’s not like you’re an expert on vampires. You only just became one.”

Truer words were never spoken.

“If vampires burn up in the sun, how come I slept in the ravine without dying? Also, how am I going to feed every night without fangs? Why can’t I eat regular food?” I jumped up in agitation. They really should give you a manual or something when you turn undead.

“Excellent questions, but I think we need to do more research before we can sort out fact from fiction. By the way, Piper called when you were in the shower.”

“Piper called? Why?” I asked, surprised.

“Maybe because she was worried about you. Really, Colby, is it so surprising people cared you disappeared?”

“Did Marci or Rachel call?”

“Well … no, but Rachel’s mom did call yesterday to offer her assistance. I’m sure your friends were in shock and will stop by to see you tomorrow.”

I thought about that for a moment, imagining Marci and Rachel’s reaction to the news I was missing, possibly murdered. They were probably pretty shook up. But still, Piper was the one who had called to offer comfort to my mom—my two best friends hadn’t even bothered.

“What did Piper say?”

“She was very relieved to hear you were okay. She helped rally the candlelight vigil at the school. She said it was a full house. She thought you would like that.” Mom smiled at me.

Yep, the thought of a crowded auditorium full of mourning students holding candles and praying for my safe return did appeal to the drama queen in me.

“You know, she stopped by yesterday with a casserole from her mom. I almost didn’t recognize her. Her hair is jet-black now, with burgundy underneath. She wears it in a flip.” Mom
tsked
. “Such a free spirit. I wish she would lighten up on the black eyeliner. She has such pretty eyes.”

Yes, on the eve of my rising from the dead, Mom was gossiping about Piper’s current fashion and offering makeover advice. Life in the suburbs was pretty surreal at times.

Mom tried to stifle a yawn, so I put my hand on her shoulder.

“Mom, go to bed. I can do the research. I’ll bookmark the sites that seem interesting. You look exhausted.”

She patted my hand in reassurance and stood up. She looked me square in the face, pulling the sunglasses down my nose.

“I love you honey.” There were tears in her eyes and she hugged me. Well, actually it felt closer to clutching me for dear life. As if she was afraid to let me go or I would disappear into thin air.

“I love you too, Mom.” I patted her on the back and whispered, “It’s okay Mom. I’m here, I’m safe. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

She pulled away, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Of course it is. You’re home now. I don’t know what’s come over me. Probably all that leftover emotion from you being missing and all. I’ll head to bed. Are you tired?” she asked.

“Mom?” I said, pointing to myself. “Nightstalker, remember?”

She
tsked
her way upstairs and I was suddenly alone in the kitchen. Just me and the Demonic Angel hangin’ in The Castle. After a couple hours of taking notes and surfing the Web I decided to head to my room to read a bit. Every site seemed to contradict the other about what a vampire was or wasn’t. About what vampires could do or couldn’t do. I figured I would start my own series of tests tomorrow to separate the fact from fiction.

Besides, I still had work to do for my World War II report and all this vampire minutiae was starting to depress me.

I grabbed two books and climbed up the stairs. Then I slipped into some pajamas, brushed my teeth and completed my nightly skin-care routine. I liked the normalcy of doing everyday things. I jumped into bed with my books.

About a half hour later I heard my dad opening the garage door and then enter the house. I knew he might stop by and see how I was doing so I took preventative measures.

“Hey, angel,” he whispered from the doorway. I pretended to be asleep because I was still pretty pissed off he’d left so quickly, without even talking to me. Did he think I wanted to be some undead freak out of some form of teenage rebellion?

“I know you’re awake, Colby.” He sighed.

“How?” I asked, still turned away from him and curled in a ball.

“Because you always curl in a ball and face away from the door when you’re pretending to sleep. When you’re really asleep, you lie on your back and drool.”

I huffed out my breath. I do NOT drool.

He walked into the room and sat on the bed. He gently stroked my back and leaned closer.

“I guess you’re pretty angry with me right now.”

I shrugged, but still didn’t turn around.

“Sweetheart, don’t hate me for what I did. Please.”

I was surprised by his pleading tone. My father was always a confident, firm paternal figure, if not a little distant. The man begging me to still love him didn’t sound like the man I knew at all.

“I don’t hate you, Daddy. Okay, I’m mad at you but I don’t hate you.”
Sure, walking out on me when you discovered I was turned into a vampire hurt my feelings, but I don’t think I would label it hate. Just extreme disappointment.

“Honey, I can’t go back in time and change what I did. I can only hope to make up for it now.”

Okay, this conversation was just getting weird. So he hid in his office until he could get a grip, it wasn’t like he tried to stake me or something.

“Dad, are we talking about the same thing here?”

“I’m not sure, what do you think we’re talking about?”

“Duh, the way you ran out of the house and completely freaked when you found out I was a vampire.”

Dad looked surprised at that revelation.

“What did you think I was talking about?” I asked suspiciously.

“I thought you’d hate me because of the oral surgery. I was the one who recommended Dr. Bennett take out your canines and now you can’t, you know,
feed
. Because of me, you might starve to death!”

To be honest, I hadn’t given the lack of fangs much thought up to that point. Since I’d managed to have a, um, light snack earlier, I wasn’t hungry but now that my dad brought it up—how
was
I going to eat, anyway?

“Daddy, I don’t blame you for not having any fangs. I mean, how could you know I would need them later in life? You just wanted me to have a perfect smile.”

My father nodded, looking somewhat relieved.

“I don’t want you to think I left the house because I couldn’t handle what happened to you. I mean, yes, it is a shock but honey, we didn’t know where you were and thought the worst.” He shivered. “That was awful. I was just so happy you were with us again. Your mother told me about your fangs and I thought, well, I thought maybe I could help you there.”

A little sensation of dread started at the back of my neck and raised the fine hairs.

“What do you mean, Dad?”

“Well, I went to the office and reviewed your last teeth molds. You know the ones we made so you could have a bleaching tray?”

I nodded, still remembering the gaggy melon-flavored gel I used to keep my smile bright.

He put a small box on the bed next to me.

“This is what I came up with.”

I eyed the box warily.

“Dad, there isn’t a pair of fangs in there, is there? I mean, you didn’t make me a pair of ceramic fangs to walk around in, right?”

What was worse than a vampire not having fangs? How about one who had them all the time, not just when they were feeding?

“No, no. I wouldn’t know where to start in creating ones that stayed sharp enough to feed but then would retract when you weren’t using them. No, no, this will work much better for your needs. Go ahead, open it up.” Apparently, he had given this a lot of thought.

I pulled myself into a sitting position and picked up the box. One look at his face told me he was quite proud of this invention and couldn’t wait for me to open it. Now I was
sure
I wanted nothing to do with the little container and its contents.

Taking a deep breath, I opened it.

Puzzled, I said, “Looks like my old headgear.”

“Precisely!” He pulled out the apparatus to show me. “I created a new upper retainer with stainless-steel fangs. It hooks to your headgear in two places so it stays secure. Then, when you’re done, you just pop it off and voilà, no one is the wiser.”

I could feel my mouth hanging open and tried to close it. A fang headgear set. As if life wasn’t hard enough for me, now I would be the laughingstock of vampires everywhere.

“Here, let’s try it on.” Dad gave me the retainer, which I dutifully slipped into place. Crap, a perfect fit. Then he adjusted the headgear so a band went behind my neck and over my head. The straps met on either side of my face and slid into the metal plate of my retainer. He grabbed the mirror sitting on my bed to show me his handiwork.

It took all my control not to scream at the reflection. Attempting a smile into the mirror, I caught a flash of silver. I opened wide and closed again. It was a nice snug fit, without any gapping. I experimented with chomping a couple of times. As hideous as it was, it just might work for eating out. But I couldn’t possibly wear it in public, could I? Wasn’t starving better than being caught in this thing? I mean, wasn’t it?

“Dad, I own’t know what to shay. I’sh really shomshing.” I had a lisp! I struggled not to burst into tears then and there.

“I know it isn’t the most fashionable thing but when the time comes, it should work out.”

Dad stood up. He took one last look at me in the headgear and nodded. “Yep, it just might do the trick. I’m going to try to get a couple hours of sleep before morning. I love you, angel.”

“I luff you shooo, Dad.” I took another look at myself in the mirror after he left, staring in horror. My tongue kept running over the strange appliance in my mouth, trying to get familiar with it. I ran my finger over one of the fangs and cried out in surprise. I looked at my finger and saw a pinprick of blood. The fangs were sharp. Very sharp. I carefully removed the headgear and fell back on the bed. As the sun started to rise and the day began, I couldn’t help praying for a good old-fashioned wooden stake to put me out of my misery.

Four

I
slept like the dead, if you can pardon the pun. I awoke sometime before dinner, the once mouthwatering scent of pot roast and tiny red potatoes wafting into my room, bringing me slowly to my senses. Stretching like a cat, I enjoyed the aroma of Monday night dinner but didn’t have the salivating anticipation I once did. My mom made the best pot roast and I was suddenly angry that I could no longer enjoy it.

If I’d known that my last meal was going to be a side of brown rice at the local teriyaki stand I would have rethought my order. I was now on a permanent liquid diet and the killer was, I doubted I would be able to lose those remaining six pounds. Oh, the injustice of it all!

I changed into jeans and a sweater, pulled my hair back with a clip and grabbed a pair of retro FosterGrants. The big frames made me feel as though I were a famous Somebody trying to escape the paparazzi unrecognized. That sounded much better than Newly Undead Nightstalker hiding funky yellow eyeballs.

I loped down the stairs and stopped short on the bottom step. Mom, Dad and Aunt Chloe were just sitting down to dinner.

“Why didn’t you call me down?” I was annoyed they hadn’t waited for me. Dinnertime—except when practice and games interfered—was sacred family time, no excuses were accepted, and they’d started without me?

“You were sleeping so peacefully, dear, I didn’t want to disturb you. You’ve had such a rough time,” Mom said.

I sniffed and made my way to the table. I was somewhat mollified by my mother’s excuse but still, I was a vampire, not a porcelain doll. I wasn’t going to break if woken up to join the family for dinner.

I sat in my usual spot and marveled at the amount of food Mom prepared.

“Isn’t this a little overkill for the four of us?” I asked skeptically.

“Yes, a little,” Mom replied, a bit embarrassed. “It’s just so many people came by yesterday when you were still missing and dropped off food. The fridge is overflowing.”

I used to wonder why people brought food to families who suffered a tragedy, but not anymore. Who wants to cook dinner when their daughter was missing, possibly dead?

“Well, it looks great,” I said and meant it. I really, really meant it. And I couldn’t have any of it.

I shoved back from the table in a fit of self-pity. “I’m gonna go watch some TV.”

BOOK: Braced to Bite

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