Forever Dark: Book 1 of the Forever Dark Series

Chapter 7 - Blood in the Halls

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 9

I woke to the smell of the ocean, the taste of Scott Carmichael on my lips. I lay there hugging my pillow, pretending it was Scott.

Why had the dream returned after three years? What did it mean? And why was Scott coming to my grave when it had always been Faith? But the weirdest change was my tombstone. I'd never been able to read the date before—Faith's flowers had always covered it—but now I knew the month. This month.

It's just a dream. It's not real.

Only it felt more real than ever. Although I didn't want to admit it, I'd never completely given up my fantasy of becoming a vampire. I wouldn't have to be scared anymore, and life would be so much easier. No more school, no more bullshit. I could still be popular and hang with the cool kids after dark. Let plastic whores like Dakota rule the day. The nights would be mine, and I would fill them with parties, romance, and fun.

Somehow, I made it through the day. I didn't tell Naomi about the dream, and now I sat in sixth period English wondering if I should tell Faith. Only it would bring up a part of our past we both wanted to forget.

Mr. Heap was explaining to the class how Holden Caulfield, the main character in The Catcher in the Rye, was an unreliable narrator. “This type of narrator can't be trusted,” he said. “He may make mistakes or even lie to the reader, but not always because he means to. For example, he may be ignorant, delusional, or simply trying to make himself sound better than he really is . . .”

Faith yawned. “So how's your romance working out?”

“Great! We're going out Saturday. It's gonna be awesome.”

“So your parents are letting you hang with seniors now? Because I remember they were pretty strict about who you could be friends with.”

“Yeah, well, what they don't know can't hurt me.”

“Sounds like you're learning,” Faith said. “A little late maybe.”

I frown tugged the corner of my mouth. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, just that I'm proud of you for standing up to them.” She reached into her bag and handed me a dogeared paperback. “Hey, check this out.” It was Kiss of Death, the latest Allura Demone, Vampire Witch novel. “Remember book eight? Devil in Chains?”

I nodded.

“Well, this one's way dirtier. I marked all the best parts. You can borrow it if you want.”

I flipped to a random page and read:

Allura Demone gazed at the trembling werewolf, fixing him with her hypnotic might. The vampire witch sneered. How easy men are. No matter this had once been her most bitter enemy. Wraith, the Wolf King, was hers, and free to do with as she wished.

His exquisite masculine form lay draped over the freshly-filled grave, all hard muscles and russet fur. Wraith was beaten and bloody after their long battle, but now that he was defeated, the werewolf had awakened her insatiable lust to consume him in every way a woman could.

“Love me,” Allura commanded, “Worship me!

“Yes,” Wraith panted, his topaz eyes clouded by her perfect storm of ageless beauty and will. “I am your slave, now and forever.”

“Then come, wolf! Crawl to your mistress.”

Tail between his legs, the once-proud werewolf worshipped Allura, her slim body becoming his altar, her undying flesh his only desire.

It only got better from there. This was so not Twilight! I felt myself blushing, but it was impossible to put the book down. It brought back warm feelings of rainy nights in Faith's bedroom, both of us lost amid stacks of horror novels and DVDs. Remembering all the fun we'd had, I realized how much I missed it. I tried to return the book, but she wouldn't let me.

“Keep it,” she said. “Maybe Allura can teach you a few tricks.”

The bell rang. Out in the hall, Kim and Vicki Swenson lingered. I thought I might say hi and tell them about Scott, but some of the Blonde Squad showed up and they all walked off, chatting about boys. I was the the last thing on their minds.

My chest grew tight. Invisible fingers crawled through my brain, spreading panic, the cold, crippling certainty that I'd blow my chance with Scott, that I'd never be popular, never be anything. I shut my eyes and sucked in a breath, willing the attack to stop. Only it didn't, and my thoughts grew even weirder:

If the school is a body, the halls are its veins. The kids are the blood pumping, flowing, bringing it new life, new energy . . .

I opened my eyes.

Faith stood next to me. “You all right?” she asked. “You're shivering.”

“I'm fine,” I said. “Just a little dizzy. I skipped lunch.” And breakfast.

We stared at each other, feeling awkward.

Faith said, “So if you ever wanna do something, or maybe just talk, here's my number.” She handed me a piece of paper decorated with bats around the edges.

“OK, thanks.” I stuffed it in my pocket.

Faith sighed. “You're not gonna call, are you?”

“I didn't say that.”

“I know,” she said. “But you didn't say you would.

Naomi walked up to Faith and jerked her thumb toward the exit. “You lost? Cemetery's that way.”

Faith smirked. “Clever. Guess that's my cue to split. See you around, Cin.”

Faith was the only person who ever called me that. She started when we went Goth, telling me “Cindy” was too Cinderella, too fairy tale. “But Cin,” she'd said, “that has a nice, dark ring, and it's ironic 'cause you're such a virgin.”

Naomi pulled me aside as Faith walked away. In a hushed tone, she said, “Have you flipped? What are you doing talking to Countess Dracula?”

“Come on, don't call her that! She asked about the reading assignment, that's all.”

Naomi popped a chunk of gum in her mouth. “Uh-huh. Look, Cindy, I know you and Faith used to be tight, but she is so not gonna help us reach our goals. Besides, your parents would die if you were friends again.”

It sounded like they wouldn't be the only ones.

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© 2014 Jackson Dean Chase. All Rights Reserved.