The Madman of the Woods | ONC 2024 Shortlist | Vampire Romantasy | Supernatural

18 Hypocrite

After having parked the van by her family's house, Josie sat inside, indecision eating at her. So much had happened in the past couple of days. She would need weeks to process it all. She had killed a vampire for the first time in her life, or rather, finished what Lailoken had started, and had let him go even though he killed two men. Everyone was bound to believe that Banshee was responsible for the lumberyard massacre, and only she knew the truth. One could argue that she was protecting a killer. Then why was losing his trust the only thing that weighed her heart?

Her moral compass was broken. She was broken and defeated.

Their family ranch house was expanded with extensions into the shape of a horseshoe and served as their clan's residence as well as the headquarters and training grounds. What used to be horse stables, now housed trucks and a locked armory. The nearby trees were cleared out, providing an unobstructed view of the fenced property. It was safe and so quiet, it felt lifeless.

Thankfully, she didn't have to pass by the main house to get to her room, being able to access it through the patio door, but the van stood out. Her father would know she'd returned. She couldn't bear to face him, but that was tomorrow's problem. Exhaustion won. She snuck past the security cameras, got to her room, and collapsed on the bed.

She had nightmares, dreaming of cutting off Banshee's head over and over again and laughing over her corpse like a cartoon villain. She woke up to banging on her door. Though she wasn't even close to rested, she was thankful to stop the dream loop.

"Josie, you awake?"

She groaned and croaked back, "Now I am."

Mark walked in and opened the curtains, flooding the room with light. He grimaced while looking around her room. "Ever considered cleaning the place?"

She threw her pillow at him. "What do you want?"

He caught the pillow and threw it right back. "What's up with you?" He approached and sat on her bed. "You've been acting weird. You got Banshee at last. Come on, let's celebrate."

She hugged the pillow to her chest and stared at the dust floating in a ray of sunlight. "Celebrate what? Becoming a hypocrite?"

"Oh," he rubbed his buzz-cut scalp, "sounds like you've got something to get off your chest. Give it to me, sista. I'm all ears."

She smiled a little, looking at him. She would miss him when she moved out. It was strange how clear that decision was in her mind. She was confused and conflicted about everything, but not that: she had to leave the comforts of her home and figure out what to do with herself because she no longer believed in anything she was taught.

"Ever wonder about the nature of good and evil?" she asked.

He snorted. "You serious?"

"I've gone all my life looking down at vamps, and holding them accountable for hurting people." She sighed. "I thought less of them because how can you kill and not have any remorse? I didn't want to listen to any of their excuses. Right and wrong were clear as night and day."

"And now they're not?"

"I killed Banshee, and I don't regret it. It was the right thing to do for multiple reasons, but does it matter? In the end, a person is dead and all reasons are an excuse to absolve me of guilt. I'm a hypocrite."

He shrugged. "We uphold the law. That's the right and wrong. You were within your right to defend yourself against a creature much stronger than you. If you had hesitated, hoping to take her in alive, you might have lost the fight, and we'd be packing up your body instead of hers." He patted her on her leg. "Don't blame yourself even for a second. It was just a vamp."

Just a vamp... She looked at the ceiling, thinking about a different vamp. "I'm not blaming myself. That's the thing. I feel no remorse. I can see the irony now... but it's too late. I lost his trust."

"Nah. It's never too late."

"You really think so?"

"Yeah. Dad will get over it. You're one of us now. It's time to make it official." He clapped her on her leg again and rose from the bed. "Get cleaned up, and we'll get you over to the tattoo parlor."

"Give me a couple of days," she said. "I have to figure some things out."

"What things?"

"Please."

He staggered as if someone had punched him, then he put a hand to his ear. "Did I hear that right? Josephine Seolta said the P-word? Are you well, sister?"

She laughed and threw the pillow at him again.

He ducked out of the way and opened the door. "Fine. Stew in your confusion for a couple of days if you wish. Gives me more time to plan a celebration." He winked at her and ducked out of the room before she could throw anything else at him.

She was alone in her room once again. She didn't want to break his heart but knew that sooner or later she'd have to tell him she was leaving the clan. Where exactly would she go? She didn't know. She had no friends or allies in other clans. Who'd want her?

She had a flashback to the dimly lit van and intense midnight-blue eyes staring up at her. Lailoken wanted her.

She pushed the thought aside. She had to stop thinking about him. He hated her guts, and he was a vampire. Even if she could redeem herself, they had no future together.

She went about her day and took a long, steamy shower, during which she couldn't help but remember a beautiful vampire sleeping in a motel jacuzzi. She loaded the laundry machine and laughed, remembering how Lailoken had hanged his robes from plastic jungle vines. Through the walls, she overheard her brother humming along to an upbeat Latin rhythm and remembered how excited Lailoken had been to hear the radio. No matter what she did throughout the day, she couldn't get him out of her head, and honestly, she didn't want to. Every memory brought her a smile. He was silly and full of innocent joy. Even the thought of him biting into Banshee's heart no longer scared her. He did that for her, she realized. It was his twisted little gift, a promise he would take care of her and protect her, no matter if he had to kill his own kind in the process.

The more she remembered their brief time together, the more in awe she was that he was real, and she hadn't dreamt him up. He was full of contradictions: powerful but vulnerable, old and wise but also childish and naive, old-fashioned, and yet, blending in perfectly within a modern rave party. And he looked at her with such desire... She had never been looked at like that by another man. She wasn't feminine or sexy. Instead of makeup, she wore scars. She'd been called a dyke or a tomboy all her life, and she went along with it, not wanting to show weakness, but she'd always secretly wished there was someone out there who saw beauty in her.

When the sun started to go down, she couldn't help but wonder if Lailoken had slept well and if he liked the family he had found. If he had a cell phone, she would send him a text or even call him already. As that wasn't an option, she felt an overwhelming desire to get in the van and surprise him. She reached for the keys and nearly left her room, but reality caught up to her. She had a flashback to the look of betrayal on his face when he figured out her lies. It would take more than an apology to fix that wound.

He showed her he cared. There had to be a way for her to reciprocate.