Totally a Vampire Thing || ONC 2024 ||

Chapter 8. The Mausoleum

My screech must have sounded so disturbing, the vampire crouched next to me. "Look at me, Señorita Zoe, please."

I obeyed, and the glance gave me the shaking-up I needed. In my mind, Bartolome still wore his grandfatherly face, not this mustached, bronzed, hardened mask of a fighting man, that sent a shiver down my spine.

"A vampire's weapons are their fangs, their speed and strength," he said. "You have none of these, and Freida had fed in secret on human blood. I don't think she ever stopped, like the rest of us at the Acres. We have to use every advantage to defeat her."

To call me an advantage, when even my friends treated me as a charity case, was quite a compliment. "I can't fight, Monsignor."

His etched lips curved into a smile so cold, it gave me another start. "Change this to 'I must fight', or Corazon was right and you're a sacrificial lamb."

I expelled a slow sigh. "No. No, I'm not a lamb. I still wish there was someone else you could ask to help you. Someone more powerful."

"Señorita Zoe, as far as I know, you're the only person who has thwarted Freida's plans since I caught her in Seville." That wintry smile played on his lips non-stop, but his mustache perked up. "You're a wild card, and against the overwhelming foe, there's nobody more powerful than a wild card. Do you understand?"

I didn't want to fight, or to be a wild card in a game between Ancient vampires, but I also didn't want Cruz to suffer a fate worse than death.

After I discovered the truth about him at the Eternal Acres, every other boy at our school dulled. Yes, I wanted to avoid the red flags since Dylan, and 'he's a vampire' was a strobing red light with a siren, but I couldn't stop falling more and more in love with Cruz. I wanted a chance to tell him that, even if we died afterward. But if we didn't, and he liked me back...that would be so much better! There was nobody else I would rather go to prom with.

Prom, gosh! How could I still be thinking about the prom!

I sobbed. "Basically, I'm doomed either way, so might as well go down fighting. Right?"

"Tsk, tsk, so gloomy. I'm supposed to be the tragic creature of darkness here, Señorita. Your role is to be young and eager."

"I don't feel eager," I muttered.

Bartolome spilled the contents of my tote on the floor. A wallet, school card, car fob, a sudoku book, phone and a crocheting hook impaled into a ball of yarn.

Seeing the knitting stuff brought up an even louder sob from me: I came prepared to spend an hour in an old folks' home, not fight vampires!

As if reading my thoughts, Bartolome picked up the crocheting implements. "The best weapons already belong to you, Señorita, rather than thrust into clumsy hands. So, a farmer would fight best with his pitchfork and a blacksmith—with his hammer. Ergo, you shall grapple and tangle."

There wasn't time to confess I was a beginner, though I loved it. The magic's blue glow emanated from Bartolome to imbue my simple kit. The yarn hung itself at my belt, and the hook inserted into my clenched fists.

Bartolome flourished his hands in the air. The wall mirror taller than even his great height disappeared from its frame, replaced by the billowing fog. Blue, of course.

"¡Santiago!" Bartolome bellowed and charged in.

His battle cry tagged on some strings in my heart I never noticed before. With it pounding in my chest, I followed the vampire into the blue, instead of executing a strategic retreat under Freida's bed. All my earthly possessions remained behind, but I doubted Necrontium had cell reception, and the rest of the items were even more useless.