Immortal After All (Vampire Hunter Book 3)
Read Immortal After All (Vampire Hunter Book 3) Online
Authors: S.C. Reynolds
By S.C. Reynolds
For Mom
I had been back from the dead for nearly two months. I guess you could say things were becoming ‘normal’ – whatever that meant. I was living at home now, in my old room, no longer sneaking around Henry’s house like a prisoner.
When I’d arrived at my parent’s house –
my
house – and my mom had opened the door to find me standing on her porch, she’d broken down into uncontrollable crying. I’d ushered her inside the house, not wanting the neighbors to hear a commotion and come outside.
My dad had run into the room to see what had made my mom so upset. And then
he
had started crying. I’d never seen my dad cry before that day. I’m sure they were wondering why in the hell I hadn’t broken down sobbing, or maybe they were in too much shock to think about it.
Not that seeing my parents again, finally getting to hug them again, wasn’t emotional. I just
couldn’t
physically cry. It was one of the side effects of being a zombie.
When they’d finally calmed down and were able to speak, my mom had kept repeating over and over that it must be a dream. She bruised her arm that night from pinching it so many times.
“I just can’t believe it,” she’d said. Both of my parents had sat down on either side of the couch, me squished in the middle. My mom had hugged me against her as though she was scared to let go.
“You’re crushing me,” I’d said, pulling away awkwardly. It had felt so weird to be back that first night, even though I was thrilled to get to see my parents again, it didn’t quite feel like home anymore.
Kayla was spending the night at her friend’s house. My parents were glad. They wanted to compose themselves, think about the best way to re-introduce us, the way that would cause the least amount of chaos.
“Where in the world have you been for the last year?” my dad had wanted to know.
Of course,
that
was a loaded question. One I knew I’d have to explain, sooner rather than later, but hoped to dodge until the initial shock of me being back wore off a tiny bit. I didn’t want to give them both heart attacks, after all.
So I’d told them I wasn’t sure where I’d been – which was only stretching the truth a little, if you think about it.
After she had stopped crying, Mom had suggested we call the police to file a report. “No, no,” I’d said quickly. “We’re all still getting used to the idea – just give me until tomorrow. Besides, I don’t want to deal with a ton of questions.”
Or a medical exam.
My parents had reluctantly agreed, and eventually I’d retired to my room. My mom had apologized profusely about my old room, which they’d turned into a guest bedroom. I’d assured her it was okay, but inside I’d been a little bit hurt.
Logically, I knew that when someone died you had to clean out their things, try to move forward. It would be a bit creepy if they’d kept my room in the same exact condition from over a year ago.
So I’d settled down into my old bedroom, still furnished with my bed and other furniture, but nothing
personal
. None of my stuffed animals – which I’d vowed to get rid of since I became a teenager, but I hadn’t been able to force myself to do it yet. None of the photos I’d taped onto my mirror. Pictures of Henry and me, pictures of Kayla, cut outs from magazines of new products I wanted to try.
So it was my room – but yet it
wasn’t.
My parents had said they’d put my things in storage. They knew they couldn’t leave my room the same, yet they hadn’t been able to bear going through my belongings and throwing everything out. I’d been relieved – the thought of them reading my diary was mortifying.
That first night back, my mom must have checked on me fifty times. I kept hearing the door open and close, but I pretended to ignore it, that I was asleep.
Instead, I’d lied in my bed, staring at the ceiling, almost
willing
a blackout to happen. Much as they scared me, my blackouts were the only reprieve from my own thoughts.
Thoughts about Henry, who probably still hated my guts, and Lucas, who was God-knows-where.
And I had no idea how in the hell I was going to tell my parents I really had died, then crawled out of my grave. But the clock was ticking, because I knew I couldn’t stall them for long, and calling the police was
not
an option.
Lucky for me, all of that worry on my first night back was for nothing. The very next day a package had arrived in the mail. It was a thick padded envelope, addressed to me. I had taken it to my room to open, away from my parent’s prying eyes.
Inside was everything that I needed to legitimately stage my return. There was paperwork from a hospital about “Jane Doe,” a hit and run victim that had been in a coma for a year. There were even pictures of (what looked like) me in a hospital bed with my head bandaged!
Everything I might need was in that envelope – down to medical documents for my release from the hospital after I woke up from the coma.
The last page in the package was a handwritten note. It read:
Dear Aurora, this will help with your return to your old life. I’ll come back when I can.
L xxx
My parents had been surprisingly cool about accepting the truth, although my mom still tried to coax me to “have just one bite” of her homemade dinners.
Of course, they’d wanted to know all about Lucas, the mysterious stranger who sent the package. I had told them about staying at Henry’s house after coming out of my grave, how Lucas had tried to help us figure out what had happened.
However, I’d left out the part about Lucas
initially
planning to send me back to my grave. And the fact that he was a vampire. And the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous.
So maybe I hadn’t quite told them
everything
, but they had dealt pretty well with what they did know, which was impressive. Kayla on the other hand…
I couldn’t figure out what was going on with my baby sister. She’d acted happy when we were reunited, but ever since then she’d been distant. She spent almost all day in her room with the door locked and had rebuffed any attempts I’d made to try to spend time with her. Every night she stayed over at her friend Gina’s house – supposedly. She didn’t seem to have – or want to
make
– the time to be with me.
As for me, I was a bit of a celebrity for the first few weeks. The local newspaper ran a story with the title
Back From the Dead.
If only they knew the truth.
But since the package he’d sent me, I hadn’t heard anything from Lucas. And even though I’d been at my parent’s house for over a month, Henry hadn’t contacted me either.
Sure, lots of
other
people were calling, texting, emailing me. All of my old classmates wanted to know what had happened, to welcome me back. But I hadn’t agreed to see or speak to any of them. My parents were getting worried; they wanted me to reintegrate myself into society. But I couldn’t. What was the point?
The only contact I had with the outside world was my tutor. Henry had said he’d help me this summer so I could start back with him in our senior year at high school, but obviously
that
plan had gone straight out the window when he decided I was a crazy liar hell bent on destroying his family.
So instead my mom had found a nice college student named Meg who came to the house a few times a week to tutor me. I would have to take a placement test at the end of the summer and if I passed, I could start back as a senior in the fall.
I hadn’t told anyone, but I wasn’t sure I really cared. How awkward would
that
be, anyway? All of the same people – many I’d known since grade school – gawking at me in the hallways? And my former partner-in-crime not even able to look at me because he thought I wanted to destroy his family?
No thanks. I might even fail that placement test on purpose, at this rate.
I had done a good job of throwing myself a real pity party this summer. It was seriously turning out to be
the worst
summer ever. Even worse than when I broke my leg in second grade and spent all of the best summer months stuck indoors with an itchy, sweaty leg I couldn’t scratch because it was shoved inside a plaster cast.
So when my phone beeped, signaling that I had a new text message, I almost didn’t even look. But most of the people who had tried to contact me after the news that I was alive spread had given up when they figured out that I was now a recluse.
Curiosity got the better of me and I snatched up my phone to see who was texting.
Henry!
Holy shit.
I had resigned myself to the sad fact that the next time I saw my former best friend would be walking the halls of Donaldson High, trying not to make awkward eye contact.
The text read:
Long time no see. The party got postponed and it’s happening this Saturday. Want to come?
The party Henry was referring to was the big bash at The Manor House. The one where his parents were renewing their vows for their 20
th
anniversary. Henry had told me about it, that fateful night when I had lost him as a friend forever.
But I was confused. The party was supposed to have happened
weeks
ago.
I quickly decided that it didn’t really matter. Henry was at least
talking
to me, even if it was just via text message. I had sent him so many over the last few weeks, begging and pleading with him to forgive me. But all I had gotten was stony silence.
With trembling hands, I typed a message back.
Sounds like fun. What time are you picking me up?
I only had two days before the party. After I’d agreed to go, an envelope showed up in our mailbox inviting my entire family. My mom and dad had been pleased, but Kayla seemed more annoyed than anything.
“I have to go to this BS?” she had snapped.
“Watch your language,” Dad had warned her.
She’d only rolled her eyes in response.
Mom had hoped that the three of us could go shopping for dresses together – the invitation said black tie – but Kayla wanted none of it. “I’ll go get something with Gina,” she’d informed us disdainfully, as if Mom and I had the worst taste in clothes in the world.
Mom had taken off work so we could go to Macy’s. I could tell that she was excited, which was strange because I’d never thought of her as the fancy shmancy type before.
Maybe she’s just trying to reconnect with her daughter.
As much as I hated to admit it, I had been almost as standoffish with Mom as Kayla had been with me. It wasn’t intentional or any reflection on Mom, but it must have hurt, nonetheless. I vowed I would try harder.
So we set off for Macy’s that Thursday morning.
“Want to grab a bite to eat before we shop?” My mom asked when we got to the mall. Immediately, her face went red. “Sorry, honey, old habits die hard.”
It was true. We always used to “fuel-up” as we jokingly called it before any shopping trip.
“It’s okay,” I assured her. “It’s still strange for me, too.”
“You’re sure you aren’t hungry? Not ever?” my mom pressed.
“Mom,” I groaned. “We’ve been through this!”
I could see why she couldn’t get used to it, though.
“You can get something if you want,” I offered.
“No, let’s just shop.” Her voice was light but tinged with sadness. We could pretend all we wanted, but it was never going to be the same.
For the next couple of hours, we tried on dress after dress. I wanted my mom to get a deep crimson gown. It was fitted with sequins around the hemline and hung just to her knees.
“It’s too flashy,” she said.
“But this is black tie,” I argued. “It looks fantastic! And it takes ten years off your age.”
“The neck is too low,” she said.
“Come on, live a little,” I encouraged her. Mom added the dress to the ‘maybe’ pile that was already stacked high in the fitting room.
My mother kept picking out dresses for me to try on that were colorful: bright purples, electric pinks, a sunny yellow. I would have liked all of them in the past – but that was the
old
me.
Today I vetoed them all. “They look to prom-y,” I said, wrinkling my nose.
“You’re prom age!” Mom reminded me.
I feel a lot older.
But I didn’t say the words aloud.
I already had in mind what I wanted to wear to the party. Now it was just time to find it.
When I did locate the perfect dress, my mom was skeptical. “It makes you look so much older than seventeen,” she said.
“It’s appropriate for the party,” I argued. “It’s not risqué or anything.”
Not like what Kayla will probably buy.
Since my mom couldn’t argue with my (valid) points, she let me get the dress.
As she paid for our purchases – I’d finally talked her into the crimson gown – I stepped outside the mall, taking in the hot summer day.
Lucas would be miserable right about now.
I remembered how tough it was for him to take me to spy on Henry’s father that day, how he’d been sweating even with the pills that kept him from burning up in the sun.
Don’t think about him!
I instructed myself.
But it was pointless. If Lucas could see the dress I was wearing on Saturday, maybe he wouldn’t think of me as a little girl anymore. Even when he had opened up to me about how he felt, he had immediately shut back down, always saying something about my age.
Just because I haven’t lived as long as him doesn’t mean I’m totally inexperienced!
And hell, I would never catch up with Lucas, but now that I was immortal, too, I could live for thousands of years, just like him. When would he quit thinking of me as a kid?
I forced myself to stop dwelling on Lucas. He wasn’t going to see me in that dress, but someone else, someone just as important, was.
Henry.
I couldn’t help but smile. I had never been so excited about something but yet so nervous. I wouldn’t blow it with Henry this time. I wouldn’t say
one word
about his dad being unfaithful. I’d tried to make him see the truth, and he obviously wasn’t ready. I had to respect that.
“What are you smiling about?” my mom asked, walking up beside me. “Excited to see all your classmates?”
“Something like that,” I said vaguely.
“I know Henry invited you,” Mom continued. “Is it a date? He’s pretty cute, you know, and so polite.”
“Yes, I know,” I said, hoping my voice was normal. “But he’s just a friend, Mom!”
My mom raised her eyebrows but didn’t comment.
You don’t know the half of it.
Was Henry just a friend? I’d kissed him, then ruined our relationship by blabbing about his dad. Did he even
still
think of me as a friend? At one point I know he thought of me as
more
than a friend.
I guess I would find out where things stood on Saturday.