A Sanguinary Rose (Complete)

On my first day back to school, it became clear how widespread the knowledge of my disappearance had been.

Upon filing into the crammed commons and removing my hoodie to allow my hair to breathe, people took notice of me little by little, the looks and pointed fingers I was getting exponentially growing until it became somewhat overwhelming—a kind of overbearing awareness knowing you’re at the center of unwanted attention and every move you made would be caught or judged firsthand. Some of the muttering I could hear was directed at how I’d changed: my weight, my shape, etc., and most of it questioning the how, when, who, and why of my vanishing and reappearance. It made no matter, all of it came from either human or deviant or mystic.

Well, the reason for all this attention could’ve been due to either my sudden reappearance, or the fact that I’d walked in holding hands with a beaming Anja as if we owned the place, or both. Valentine was still a month away, but Anja decided to call it early anyway.

Before I wouldn’t have been able to stand under such bright spotlight and be subject to every opinion or judgment imaginable. My old self would’ve scurried into the nearest restroom and sat inside a toilet stall until my nerves abated. Now I found myself taking the brunt of the heat and glancing it off. The opinion of a King of Hell and the judgment of a mad warlock had infinitely more bearing, and even those lost their weight over time and experience. Mom once told me, I couldn’t remember when, ‘their words are leaves in a storm.’

I still felt the burn of a blush on my cheeks.

It was hard readjusting to student life after surviving a terrorist attack and traveling back to Earth through dimensions. During our block period of cryptology, Mr. Royce agreed to not give me any schoolwork and allowed Oliver to help me catch up for a week’s worth of work.

“Do you think I give off the vibes?” I asked him once during calculus. “A little?”

He tittered and gave me a don’t-put-me-on-the-spot kind of look and continued explaining the boring logarithms.

Since we didn’t share all our other four periods, I sometimes had to ask Anja or Morganne to lend me a hand in catching up. The witch was a proud owner of several F grades, so she wasn’t much help.

Melanie worked quietly next to that good-for-nothing bum called Eli. A few times I caught her glancing at me, but she’d quickly turn to what she was doing. The devil next to her now treated me differently than he had all school year. If anything, there was fear I could sense coming from him. A bully at the start of the year, now Eli looked meek and small in his seat. It was my suspicion that he could sense the King’s power in me. Now he knew better than who to mess with.

The first afternoon I showed up for work at ORPHEUS’s Bureau, my employers turned me away for the ‘foreseeable future.’ I noticed a few scratches on the lobby seats, some pieces torn off the marble pillars, but otherwise, the building looked clean from any damage caused by bullets or the vampire we set free.

We reduced the number of days we went to Beliagard Keep. In part I wanted to avoid ‘bumping’ into the King, or the heir Prince, Dexter. My last visit had left a sour taste in my mouth. Mr. Royce said it was much easier for him that way. Now he could spend less of his leisure time grading and preparing coursework and actually getting sleep. But the few times we went, he doubled down on our training. On the bright side, now I could stay until much later with everyone else, and then go shopping downtown and to have dinner with Anja in the evenings.

The training had all paid off in the end. Anja knew how to throw a good punch and how to use her innate catlike agility to dance around the target, becoming hard to hit. The way the dummies would go flying in the air told me I wouldn’t want to get on her bad side.

Oliver had put a lot of effort into his fire-bending. He molded flames to larger sizes and gave them more creative or damaging shapes and forms.

Morganne hadn’t yet figured out what her magical forte would be, so she spent her time casting numerous spells for different fields. One thing she sure she as hell couldn’t do was mend injuries or repair objects, otherwise you’d end up with the skin on your hand turned inside out for trying to heal a tiny cut. Conversely, her destructive spells were powerful and obliterated anything she set her sights on. I knew Mr. Royce secretly admired the potential she had as a witch.

The first time I stood before the dummy after coming back, I forgot about the boost I’d received from the King. Weeks of pent-up frustration, worry, and stress were vented in a single blow. The plastic figure hurtled across the room in an arc, nearly grazed the ceiling, and disassembled its pieces in midair before they all skidded to a halt several yards away.

Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare between me and that mess.

If we didn’t go to the castle, Anja would invite me over to her place. We’d watch movies cuddled up together on the couch, which inevitably led to her purring through several stretches. We’d chat hours and hours on end in her bedroom, and once she showed me her favorite anime show, which she hadn’t shared even with Oliver. The way her lynx ears perked up so straight while watching told me how much she loved it. Sometimes I’d be hunching down over homework while Anja lay her head on my lap to play on her phone. Maul was her pug’s name, an annoying little beast. She loved feeding him Scooby snacks after having him perform tricks at her command, and she’d often burst out laughing in my mouth when he jumped barking on top of us while we were busy.

What I’d give now to have those moments back. That month was full of some of the happiest moments in my life, impending Witch Hunt and King’s task aside.

***

Dad was my prime reminder things were not okay.

There was a palpable tension whenever we were in the same room. He avoided eye contact with me, and his words had become sharp and curt. The rest of the day he spent at the police station or locked up in his office. He found out about Anja and me several days later and only because Mom made casual mention of us. He’d been that way ever since I came back home, and those two men from ORPHEUS asked to talk to him in private.

March soon arrived, and with it, more pressure, stress, and re-emerging fears.

Student life hadn’t been as difficult until now. We’d always had homework before, but one thing or another led all our teachers to leave monstrous amounts of work, cutting us short in precious time for anything else. Our final projects were due soon. Adding to that, all four of us signed up for driving classes at school. And with the fast-approaching SAT exams and filling out applications for college, my mind was next to crammed to worry about anything else. If anything, all of that brought me solace. Occupying my mind gave me much needed relief. Good thing I had nothing else to worry about—the governments of the world would take care of it, right?

Although soon came the little news pieces. One by one, more and more often. Sometimes they skipped a day or two. But they never failed to bring me the grim reminder of what was at stake. While scrolling through social media, I’d bump into a news report about an attack in Beijing, then in Hanoi. The next day would be Seoul, and Vienna right away. When the news seemed quiet, I’d go searching deeper for more news reports and find that Prague and Amsterdam had been attacked afterward. All of them against ORPHEUS. Joint strike in Berlin and Brussels at the same time the week after. The thing was, none of them were headliners. You had to look for these news pieces, otherwise they’d slip your attention. The stories felt hushed up, as if to draw the attention of as few people as possible. Even newscasters didn’t mention the slightest thing. Nobody seemed to talk about the topic but us.

One afternoon we got together to finish homework in one of the castle’s living rooms. Even with soft cushions against my back, chilled tea at my fingertips, and the help of three others, the pressure and stress could be too much to handle.

Anja flipped a notebook in frustration and her pen went flying. She seemed to become a different person under duress. “Why do they do this to me? Seriously, a two-thousand words essay analysis, this fat math packet, the biology final project, and on top of that SAT studying? They’re not helping anybody.”

“I’m just gonna half-ass it,” Morganne said across the table. “Mitochondria ain’t gonna save my life. I promise you all, I will find some elder being to craft a spell so powerful that it does all your homework by itself.”

For me, though, it was a quiet moment of peace, a moment I knew I would cherish. I couldn’t complain. It could be much worse.

I grabbed Anja’s hand while typing on a laptop with the other. “Hang in there, babe. We’ll make it.”

“It’s too much.”

“I know.”

Oliver called me from the room next door. There was a hint of worry to his voice. “Scarlett, could you come over, please?”

I gave Anja’s hand one more gentle squeeze, set my laptop down on the couch, and went. I half-expected what he’d show me, but when he did, my heart sank.

The headline on his computer screen read Alleged vampires hanged and staked in suspected hate crime, Cape Town, ZA.

He gave me a glum look. “It’s begun.” He clicked on another tab on the browser. “Check this out. The day before.” Riots break out over impure freaks of nature infiltrating society, Cairo, EG. Woman’s house is set afire after neighbor suspects her of witchcraft, Bali, ID. “It gets worse. If you search in classified ads websites, you get things like this front page and center.”

The words escaped me. “Oh no.”

Even though none of the tragedies above had happened in our continent yet, the rippling effects had reached us all the same. There were ad listings for hiring vampire hunters, priests, exorcists, paladins, Teutonic Knights and so on popping up across the country.

I slumped on the chair beside Oliver. Words refused to leave my throat.

He looked unsure about what to do or say. At last, he reached out a friendly hand and patted my shoulder. “They’ll have to go through all of us first.”

It’s not about me. But about all of you.

“Where is he?” My voice was quivering. “Mandala…”

“I don’t know. Seems he’s always on the move. From the looks of it, he’ll be coming to us.”

I don’t care what happens. I’m ready.

That Friday night I couldn’t fall asleep. Earlier when I arrived home for dinner, Dad had pushed past me in the hall and up into his bedroom. “What’s wrong with him?” I asked Mom.

She had given me a pained look and said: “I don’t know. He won’t say a word.” But deep in my soul I knew what had him so rattled. I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge it because it couldn’t be possible, because I didn’t know what I’d do if it was true.

My head was restless as a beehive, with thoughts and nightmares buzzing about in an endless spiral. My eyes were peeled for what felt like an eternity, and no breathing technique, no mantra, and no positive thoughts would bring me rest. The bright light from my phone splashed on my face and I texted Anja. Her response sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

I took my schoolbag, crammed it full of change of clothes, textbooks, and my laptop, and wearing only my pajamas and white running sneakers, I slid out my window and dropped down on our front yard.

The streets were empty, for the most part. Once I was close enough to see the dark windows of her house, I texted her: “I’m outside.”

Her front door slid open quietly, and Anja pressed a finger to her mouth. All the lights inside were off. When he saw us sneaking upstairs in the dark, Maul began barking like a space rat on crack.

Anja hurried us into her bedroom and locked the door behind, and the pug’s yapping went away after a moment. No sooner had we snuggled between her bedsheets than she went straight for my lips, giggling and purring, and I took her by the waist.

It was much easier on the body and soul to fall asleep afterwards.

Sometime in the dead of night I heard a low noise. Soft at first, though not pleasing to the ear, but repulsive—a sucking, invasive babble worming itself inside my ears, like maggots crawling in the muck. Something was out there, crawling, creeping in the penumbra. A creature scurrying from corner to corner, slavering, growling, then feeding. A shiver ran down my spine.

I woke up to find Anja feeding on my neck, her fangs dripping tears of red, and her mouth painted crimson. My hair was crusted with dried blood and plastered to my skin, and the pillows and bedsheets were drenched with the same red liquid. Anja’s eyes seemed someone else’s, a slitted, amber pair. She leered and continued to drain the last drop out of my unmoving body as the corners of my vision darkened.

I bolted upright. The soggy feeling on my back and neck was nothing more than cold sweat. My heart thumped painfully against my chest. Anja lay on her side next to me, her pretty, delicate face serene in deep sleep. A dream within a dream. Even after all signs confirmed it had been a nightmare, it left me shaken and tossing and turning for the rest of the night.

***

Come April the most important academic time of our high school career was upon us. All our work and study culminated in our performance on the SAT exams, so we were told. I reassured myself over and over a passing grade would be enough to save my life.

Out of all of us, Anja was the most distressed, though. Even after our hard studying sessions, and Oliver and me tutoring her on anything she didn’t understand until she did, there seemed to be nothing we could do or say to soothe her fears.

“Well, regardless of what happens, we’re all eligible for the ENOAS (Extra-Human National Orphic Achievement Scholarship). You won’t have to worry about student debt.” That didn’t calm her either.

At the same time, the mania overseas spread to North America like a disease before there had been a single hit on the country’s ORPHEUS Bureaus. I saw it on the news, the internet, and even the people around me. Neighbors were wary of each other, and it appeared everyone always looked over their shoulders. Out in public venues, among strangers, people seemed to lose their politeness. They snapped at each other. The mall, the library, and several public places seemed emptier than ever before.

Old news that hadn’t been given attention at the time when they occurred now resurfaced stronger than ever. Where are the missing people from Halloween week? Then this: Farpoint at night. Avoid at all costs. My favorite though: Avoid north Washington at all costs, a cesspool of freaks and evil.

Even Mom had caught on with the times, she who had always allowed me my night strolls and to spend whole weekends out of the house. Now I had to sneak out and be meticulous in covering evidence. But I couldn’t blame her.

Still, things couldn’t get much worse, could they? Sooner or later the best cadre of warlocks in the world, backed by the global governments, would bend Mandala and his allies to their knees and stop this nightmare from spreading. Right?

Then the worst thing I’d hoped would be averted happened after months of speculation.

Terrorist attack. Government building on fire, Hollywood, CA.

Oliver connected his computer’s screen to the TV in his living room and put on the news report of the day. There was an aerial view of the building, its dark fumes billowing up to a darkening sky. Five suspects detained, read the label over the live broadcast’s image. Police body cameras showed them up close, three men and two women. The masks they wore looked eerily familiar—a grinning cheshire cat, a mad hatter top hat, a porcelain fox mask, a ghostly kabuki and a painted clown. In the footage, the cops led them out to the open at gunpoint.

As soon as they stepped out under the sun, their bodies smoked, and without uttering a word or complaint, they burst into flames. “***k, get away. Get away from them!” one cop shouted while the cameras swayed, which then cut back to the news anchors’ shocked faces.

“Those are just like the ones that attacked us on Halloween,” Anja said, sitting at the foot of the couch between my legs.

My nails were digging into the couch’s armrest. It’s almost time.

“Did you guys see the clip that went viral yesterday?” Morganne said, turning her laptop around to show us. The screen was black, save for a white horizontal line. She played the video, and it began to wiggle and wobble in time to the voice’s sound waves.

It sounded heavy, husky, deep, and it was altered with sound editing. “Predators do not bend to their prey, nor do they hide from them. Take a stand. This is not a war. We do not condone mindless killing. It is a wakeup call. This is our fight for equality. Not to oppress, but to not be oppressed. If they come knocking down your doors, harassing your loved ones for the sole reason of being, rise and fight back. Standing together we’ll weather the storm. In the end, a new dawn of thought will come where all sapiens live as an equal.”

“That was inspirational,” Morganne said when it was over. Off Anja and Oliver’s troubled looks, she added: “Jeez, I’m joking.”

I couldn’t help sharing the sentiment with Mandala. But… “He’s too radical.”

Almost as if on cue, the living room’s door opened, and Dexter strode inside. He sported an eye-catching checkered doublet and white scarf. Morganne’s eyes became wide orbs of fascination the instant she saw him.

Dexter gave everyone a passing glance with a warm smile and his gaze landed on me. “A word, if you will?”

A tight knot tied up in my throat. Morganne shot me a jealousy-laden look, as though I had just won the lottery in front of her. If only my troubles were that skin-deep.

I rose from the couch and Anja gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

Outside in the halls, Dexter produced an envelope from his sleeve and handed it to me. He cut right to the chase. “We’ve been told where he’ll strike next. Here’s what we know in case you’re interested. Father’s getting anxious.”

It was sealed in red wax with the sigil of their House.

“I suppose I should form a disclaimer and tell you you’re not obligated to act upon this piece of information.” His lips gave me a sideway smile. “After all, it is a fool’s errand. I’m only saying you should. Since you did make a pact with the devil.”

All my thoughts came back to what might become of us if Mandala went unchecked. Angels and devils had their own dimensions to retreat to. Everyone else was screwed. What were my choices? Hide in the attic until it all blew over, praying none of the people I care about was harmed? Fight back and shed blood? Or root out the problem before it became irreversible?

That’s when I doubled down on my choice. “I will.”

“I wish you the best of luck. May our Great Father Belial, Icon and Sovereign of Fire lend strength to your fists. Here’s one more thing you should have,” Dexter said. He reached down to his belt and unfastened from it a sheathed weapon. “Watch where you point it. It’s… pointy.”

The dirk rasped against the sheath when I drew it. It was wrought of a dark metal, a tinge of red running along its bladed edge. Its leather handle was small and comfortable for my hands, and the edges of its blade jagged and serrated, like a twisted aberration of a combat knife.

“Oh, and one more thing.” Dexter bent over a little to whisper in my ear. “It’d be a tremendous idea to not get my brother involved.”

“I won’t.”

He gave my shoulder a condescending squeeze and marched down the hall. The maids dusting the bookshelves and sweeping floors stopped mid-task to bow their heads as he passed.

I tore into the envelope, smoothed out the paper and read it. May 11th, Salem, MA, they’ll coordinate to take out the Bureau’s overseer and ‘lift the veil’ between 5:00 pm and 7:00 pm EST. That was tomorrow. There would never be a time to say a proper goodbye to loved ones in case I didn’t return. Because then I’d never dare to take the leap. If I didn’t go through with this, well, the Witch Hunt was now a real thing and shit would hit the fan any moment.

“What’s that? What’s that he gave you?” Morganne demanded when I came back.

“Nothing to get all excited about.”

Her voice turned from demanding to pleading in a second. “C’mon, show me. Pleaseee. You got the girl. Let me get the medieval hunk.”

“He’s yours, by all means.”

Clearly, she had a carefully devised argument ready to use because her mouth hung open in a moment of stupor. “Oh, okay. But can I see what he gave you?”

“For my eyes only.”

Oliver looked away from the document he was typing out on his laptop to give Morganne a deadpan stare and say: “It’s disturbing hearing you talk about my brother that way considering he’s about twenty years older than you and married.”

When I took my backpack by the straps and slung it over my shoulders, I realized my hands were sweating profusely. All the while my mind was forming blanks from the folly I was about to do, my heart a jackhammer against my ribs.

Oliver turned to me, his previous wince turning into a smile while raising an eyebrow. “Leaving so soon?”

“Uh… yes. Sorry, guys. There’s… something I gotta go do.” I forced my lips to form a smile. “Anja, show me to the exit?”

As I grabbed the door’s handle, a strong desire to cry took over me. The tears came forward while I faced the door, and then I pushed onward, and Anja followed. She held onto my hand without noticing my turmoil, probably mistaking the silence down the halls for some romantic quiet time.

Once in the castle’s inner yard, I turned around and hugged her tightly, holding on to her for a much longer time than usual. Soon she realized it wasn’t a typical goodbye. As it dawned on her, I felt a tear drop on my bare shoulder and then her chest heave against mine as the outflow of sobbing began.

Her voice was breaking. “Please, don’t. Don’t go.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My voice would be too stricken as well. And there was no point in denying it or reassuring her I’d be fine.

“Stay with me. With us.” She sniffled. “Who’s gonna take me to prom?”

My only response was to hug her closer, feeling each other heart to heart. One last time to feel her skin against mine, to never forget the jasmine scent that brought me so many happy memories this past year.

She pressed her face against me. “I c-can’t imagine… my life where you don’t exist anymore.”

Walking my way home from the Armstrong Manor, I had enough to time to think what I’d tell my parents. I unlocked our front door, locked it again, hung my hoodie at the peg by the entrance, and trudged up to my bedroom while musing the exact words and phrases I would use. I unslung my backpack as I pushed into my room, and my heart gave a turn.

My eyes stung and watered. All the shutters had been completely cleared away and late afternoon sunlight streamed on my desk and bed. I raised an arm to cover my face.

Dad was sitting at the edge of my bed, facing the door. How long had he been there waiting? The sight of it all and the meaning behind it robbed me of words. Everything I had planned to say on my way here was obliterated in a split second.

“I told them they were crazy. Told them to get out of my house,” Dad said. It seemed it had become unbearable to look me in the eye. “But I was never one to shun facts. To run from the hard truth. Even when I knew it’d break me.”

My body rooted to the spot, unable to move. My mind floated in a stream of thoughts, yet it was empty. The fear gripped my stomach like an iron fist. All I heard was my heartbeat ringing in my ears. “Dad… w-what’s going on?”

“Take a look at these,” he said, gesturing to the photographs strewn on the bed beside him.

I took a few trembling steps, fighting to keep steady, prompted by curiosity. As I realized what kind of proof he’d gained, I felt something break inside of me, and I wanted nothing more but to disappear from the face of the Earth.

The first picture showed Melanie, her glazed eyes staring at the ceiling, lying on a dusty hard ground.

“Those cops said they’d explain everything. They did. They were full of shit.”

The second picture revealed the fate of the girl wearing the pink sweater with its white bunny print. Lying by a tombstone, her despair-stricken face looked up pleading to the sky.

“But these tell me otherwise.”

The third picture looked as though taken from a surveillance camera, swiveling from the corner of the cluttered room. The image was grainy and in black-and-white. It displayed the waiting room outside the foreman’s office at the abandoned lumber mill. There I stood near the door, conversing with Tobias. Woody sat on a stool against the wall, listening to his radio. Elena on the other end staring at her smartphone. The picture seemed framed as if to incriminate everyone in it as partners in crime.

Dad grabbed the first photograph and turned it around. His fingers wrinkled its edges. “I told them, ‘It’s impossible you’d find my daughter’s DNA anywhere near that poor girl.’” His eyes were hurting when he looked at me. “But these are all legitimate. The DNA test checked out.”

“Dad, please, what are you… saying?”

“Always covered head to toe, what have you got to hide? Always roaming in the dark, outside at night. Why is your room in perpetual darkness?”

“Please, stop…” It was like a fist, ruthlessly closing around my neck, like a constrictor choking out the air from my lungs. “Dad, look at me. Dad…”

But he wouldn’t look.

Why?

Why had those men from ORPHEUS told him the truth? There must have been a mistake, some misunderstanding. I reached out towards him slowly, trembling on my feet, and he seized my arm, yanked it back and me along with it so it’d be right under the sunlight.

I couldn’t help the hiss escaping my lips. The light burned only for a tiny moment before I snatched it from his grasp and retreated to the shadowed corner of my bedroom. My hair turned a bright crimson in reaction to the pain. With my tongue I felt the sharp points of my fangs when they sprang forth on their own.

“No… no…” Dad took a step back, with a wince of such pain I’d never seen form in his face, his eyes threatening to spill tears. “Not you, not my girl. Please. Why did it have to be you?”

Hands raised in placative gestures, I stepped towards him. The watery sting in my eyes was becoming too much to handle. “I’m still your daughter, your child, your young lady. Nothing’s changed. See?”

His lips quivered. “A year… we’ve been housing a… a… demon for nearly a year. Pretending to be our daughter. Mocking us. Mocking me.”

That hit me like a punch in the gut. “That’s not true. Dad, you’re hurting me.”

“Are you even capable of feeling anything? How do I know it’s not an act? For the life of me, I can’t tell. You’ve been fooling us all this time…”

“Why are you hurting me? I’m the same person you’ve always known, always loved.”

“You’re dangerous to us, to my family. Nothing but a bloodthirsty beast. I’ll give you a chance to walk away and not come back. Ever. Don’t force my hand. Go. Just go. I don’t want to regret the day I find Marcus or your mother like that.”

“Dangerous? You don’t know half of what you’re saying.”

He lunged for the photograph on the bed. “I don’t? Really?” He held the photograph up front, his grip on it disfiguring the image. “Was this you being normal? Reasonable? ‘Chill?’” He flung it at me. Melanie’s picture wobbled in the air and slid to my feet face up. “How long were you waiting to do it to one of us?”

“NEVER.”

“Dad, what’s going on?” Marcus stood outside peeking in from the hall. He wore shorts, and a basketball was cradled around his arm.

Dad’s eyes were wide behind his glasses. He pointed a trembling finger. “Go to your room, Marcus. We’re just talking.”

There was nothing but genuine concern in my brother’s worried expression. “What’s happening? Why’s Scarlett crying?”

Dad’s lips were pulled back in a snarl. “Do as I say and go.”

“I was only saying goodbye,” I told Marcus before he turned to his bedroom across the hallway. “I’m going on a trip. A long trip.”

Dad advanced on me, glaring me down. His eyes were crazed, red, puffy, and watery. He raised a finger to me. “Don’t. You keep away from my son, got that?”

A car’s motor broke the tense silence at that moment. Mom pulled up on our driveway, and the rumbling of the car died off. We listened to the tack of her high heels as she came up the stairs, staring at her phone’s screen, but feeling the suffocating mood blanketing the house, she put it down and stared at us from the hall.

She wore her work attire, a black blazer over a white blouse. Concern and worry washed over her surprised face.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Her purse dropped on the wood-planked floor. “What happened?” She took me in her embrace.

But words only failed me, I gagged on them. The only thought running through my mind was this would be the last time Mom would love me for who she thought I was. Not for who I actually was.

“Get away from her,” Dad snapped, pointing between the two of us.

Mom bristled. “Why? The hell’s wrong with you, Mason?”

“Her, not you. She’s not setting foot in this house ever again.”

Mom let go of me. “Have you completely lost your mind?”

“Wait, what?” Marcus blurted out from the hall.

“I told you to go to your room, boy,” Dad shouted back. He turned to Mom. “We need to talk. You’ve seen the news; you know what’s happening. We won’t be safe in our own home until she’s gone.”

Mom was scowling. “What does the news have to do with anything at all?”

There was no stopping myself. It was inevitable. The words escaped my half-closed lips in a whisper. “I’m a vampire.”

She turned, frowning. “What was that?”

“Mom… I’m a vampire. I got bitten.”

But she only scrunched up her eyes. “Are you shitting me? Mason, what kind of bullshit are you two pulling on me?” Mom gave me an annoyed look. “Baby, look, vampires are only dumb fairytales folk used to tell their children centuries ago. They don’t actually exist.” Then she turned to Dad, scowling, her eyes set to mama bear defense mode. “And you, what’s gotten into you. How DARE you talk to our daughter that way?”

Dad looked grim. “She’s dangerous, and I won’t allow her to share the same roof. If that’s who she’s going to be from now on, she’ll do it outside the house.”

“The hell are you talking about? You can’t tell me you seriously believe that bullshit, too? Don’t bring your outlandish conspiracies from work into our home, please.”

“OPEN YOUR EYES.” Dad snapped back at her. Off her astonished look, he took a deep breath. “Abby, honey, they’re on the news. You’ve seen them go up in flames.” He pointed at me. “What do you think will happen to her if she does as well? If you’re so inclined, perhaps you’d want to find out?”

I couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. I wanted to scream, to slap some sense into him by force. Instead, I said: “Do you wanna find out? To see if it’s like in the news? I mean, if you’re right then you’ve got nothing else to worry about—I’ll be gone.”

Arms crossed, chin held on high, Dad watched me sternly, as if waiting to go on with my dare.

Mom shook me by the shoulders. “Don’t listen to him! Baby, Scarlett, can we just drop this whole farce and get on with our lives? Please?”

“Mom, he’s right. I am what he says I am. It’s for that reason that I must leave now,” I said, looking away from her and staring into Dad’s eyes with the little defiance I could muster before the feeling of heartbreak caught up to me. “If you’re not going to believe us, then I might as well show you what happens to me under sunlight.”

I made a step towards the slanting sunset and Mom yanked me back.

“NO. Don’t you dare. If what you say is true, then please don’t.” She rubbed the tears off her eyes, smudging her cheeks with eyeliner. “Fine. I believe you. That’s what you wanted, right? So. What now?” She crossed her arms, biting her lip, tapping her heel. “Yes, my daughter’s a vampire. Fine. I’ll buy it. What now? Nothing? Okay, let’s move on.”

I closed a fist, digging nails into my palm. “I’m leaving.”

Dad agreed, nodding once with more fervor than I was comfortable with.

Mom was at a loss for words. Her dumbfounded stare went back and forth between Dad and I as she tried to rationalize the situation. “Okay, sure. It can be arranged. When? Where will you stay? And when are you coming back? How will you pay for housing and all your necessities? Have you even thought this through?”

“As soon as the sun finishes setting, I’ll be gone. About coming back… I don’t know.”

Dad started bouncing impatiently on his heels. “Find wherever you like, but if you set another foot in this house, you’ll be asking for trouble.”

“Dad,” I said before my voice cracked. “Despite what I may be, I’m still your baby girl and will always be. I love you.”

“DON’T… do this to me, you… d-demon.”

Mom gasped. It seemed her eyes couldn’t contain the tears anymore and she broke out sobbing. I went to give her a hug and she gripped my arms, pulling me in closer to cry into my shirt.

Dad’s nostrils were flaring. “Go. Leave. Leave now and don’t come back.”

I pulled away gently from Mom at first. She wouldn’t let go, so I broke her tight embrace with a bit more force and she let out a cry. “Don’t, don’t go please…” But I didn’t look back, dashing downstairs and snatching the hoodie from the peg.

I stormed out of my house with the last rays of sunlight waning on the horizon, all while I heard Mom running outside, bawling her eyes out for me to come back.

I never once looked back.