Once Bitten, No Longer Shy, Julie Steimle [i wanna iguana read aloud TXT] 📗

they did take his cell phone, checking over his outgoing texts.

“Who did you alert?” One held it up. “Who is this?”

“My cat,” Troy said with a smirk.

They scrolled through the other texts. There was one from Tom Brown, similar message. Same night. Troy had not seen either as he always kept his ringer off. He hated the sound of the cell phone constantly interrupting him with demands to be picked up. And the teachers did not appreciate them going off in class. Besides, there were certain places phones were simply not allowed. And the library was one of those places that insisted on the phones at least being put on vibrate.

One of the vampires threw his phone out the window.

“Hey!” Troy reached out to stop it, but the phone was already gone.

“They can be tracked,” that one said, but not to him.

Troy elbowed him in the gut, causing some pain to his captor but not enough to free himself.

They went on to New Yok City. It was a few hours, hours which Troy admittedly had a difficult time keeping his eyes open. The vampires were wide awake, of course, holding him close in case he attempted to make a break for it—especially when the car came to a halt at lights or slowed down. When they went into the city off the freeway, Troy could feel they were coming close to his end.

He had a lot of time on this journey to think about it. They were either going to all ravage him somewhere together—possibly also destroy his father though he doubted it—or they were going to find some way to force him to become a vampire.

Generally speaking, the latter was impossible. Vampirism was a life choice. Bites did not make a person a vampire, no matter how much Hollywood had been selling the idea. Their bites only made a person an eternal victim. Vampires became vampires through drinking a vampire’s blood, which was toxic. They were inducted into their society by either a vampire sharing their own blood, or by a vampire group collectively offering their blood to be drunk by the inductee. Fact was, Interview with a Vampire was closer to the truth, though it still was wrong. Troy had read it one day just for amusement. He pondered on it now, wondering if Ann Rice had actually known a few vampires.

Thing was, real vampires were not beautiful creatures. Not those smelly ones near him. Not any he had ever met—including his parents. They were corrupted people. Demons. Some could be sexy—but none were beautiful. Beauty, true beauty and not that superficial stuff, came from goodness. And they were intent on leading him to that same destruction.

So he had a choice. He, of course, would still try to escape. But most likely he would be overwhelmed by the Order of Blood and killed. Death was basically imminent.

Troy sighed, wondering if his life could be described as good. His childhood had been ok, up until his father ruined everything. But even then, he had escape with his life to end up at Gulinger High. And though he had an eternally bleeding neck from their bites, he had managed to grow up, go to college, and he had planned to help those who were suffering with vampire bites the same as him. That life could be described as kind of good. He had friends, for pity’s sake. And yes, some of them were werewolves, half-imps, and a witch’s familiar. That certainly wasn’t a bad thing. But as death was imminent….

But you might not die, said a notion in his head which he had been shoving away from his thoughts for years since Carlos Mendez predicted his fate. Carlos could be right. You’ll become a vampire.

However, he closed his eyes, telling himself that Carlos did not have the ability to see everyone’s future. He could not predict Rick’s fate. And he had said Tom would die blind—yet of old age. Tom had yet to lose his sight, though he had been preparing for the event in any case. Carlos could be wrong about him also.

But Carlos was right about the guardian angel with black wings who saved Matthew Calamori, said the nagging thought in his head. However Troy mentally argued that away. The so-called guardian angel was nothing more than a demon who just wasn’t evil. And angels, in the technical sense, were nothing more than messengers. That’s the meaning of the word angel. They could be anyone.

Tom could still lose his sight. He is young yet. Troy’s worries haunted him. Truthfully, Carlos’s prediction had rattled him. It was why rule number two was to eat garlic in every meal. It had not been a habit before then. It was also why he never went out at night. He had been braver before they had met the kid who was nicknamed Muerte—the guy who could predict a person’s death.

They rolled into what felt like a more dangerous neighborhood. The old high line was above them like a relic from a medieval era. And under it in the shadows was a crowd. And as they got closer, Troy could see it was a crowd of vampires, a good number of men, though a few women intermingled with them. It appeared a bit like a costume party of the most peculiar kind.

Shuddering, Troy felt sick.

Bitter Taste

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

 

Troy retched the moment he stepped out of the vehicle. The vampires with him thought it was a stunt, but it most certainly wasn’t. He felt sick, and he could not keep it in. Terror had seized him. There was no way any of his friends were going to able to find him or get to him in time. No way. He was doomed.

They grabbed Troy and dragged him to the center of the group of bloody hedonists. Almost immediately the vampires in the group hissed and spat on him. Each of them were like surreal pictures out of a history book, though some were better blended with modern era than others. He recognized one of the vampires who eyed him with severe spite. But, Troy noticed his mother was not among them.

“Where is Mom?” Troy looked around.

Some of the vampires laughed. Their voices sent chills along Troy’s skin.

“Your mother,” his father said with a snarl, “left me for some European.”

More laughs came.

Troy huffed. “Well, it wasn’t like you were faithful to her either.”

They shoved him up against a concrete pylon.

Two better-dressed vampires strolled to the forefront of the mob and one spoke. “Troy Devlin Meecham—”

Troy cringed at his full name. He had always hated it.

“—You are hereby charged for heresy—”

“I am not a blinking vampire!” Troy shouted out.

“—against the Order of Blood.” The vampire then eyed him over. “You were invited and vouched for, and you spat upon it.”

“I never asked to be a vampire!” Troy’s face flushed, his heart thundering.

Eyes shifted to his father who looked uneasy. He must have lied to them at some point to save his skin. However, he merely shrugged as he said, “I had been misled to assume our family wanted to be together.”

“You cheated on Mom!” Troy shouted back, chest heaving. “If anybody was breaking up the family, it was you!”

Several other vampires snickered.

“I was giving you an opportunity,” his father said gravely, though he was sweating. It was clear now that he told the Order of Blood one thing when the other had happened. He was definitely covering his butt. “But you chose to associate with a werewolf.”

Troy rolled his eyes. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Do you deny it?” the better-dressed vampire said, his red eyes fixed on Troy’s sweating face.

Looking directly at him, feeling like he was pulling a tiger’s tail, Troy said, “I was taken to safety by the police. The fact that a werewolf owned the place I was taken to was not my fault.”

“Will you denounce your werewolf friend, here and now?” the vampire asked, his voice digging in to Troy’s scalp like nails. The vampire gave off the aura of someone who had literally outlasted the Spanish Inquisition and knew their torture techniques. 

“Will you let me go if I do?” Troy asked, wondering if Rick would even care if he denounced him to a pack of vampires to buy himself some time. It was just words after all, and it wasn’t like he had sworn allegiance to Rick or anything. They were just former classmates. Old friends back in high school, if barely that.

“It will gain you our forgiveness, and you will be allowed to live,” the vampire said.

That phrasing was suspicious. Troy had a feeling that vampire was telling a half-truth. Allowed to live, but as what? Somehow he got the feeling they were not going to let him go.

“Let me get this straight,” Troy said, mentally tugging on that proverbial tiger’s tail more, “If I denounce Rick Deacon who had saved my life numerous times before from the SRA and other vampires, you will spare my life… but as a vampire. Am I right?”

The vampire’s smile spread thinly across his mouth and he nodded.

“And if I don’t want to be a vampire?” Troy asked.

That thin smile stiffened. The vampire said, “Are you rejecting our offer?”

Looking up at the dark underside of the old highway, Troy shook his head. “You know… I vowed to myself that if I could not escape you, then I would choose to die. I could prove Carlos wrong.”

“Who is Carlos?” one of the vampires asked.

“I will NOT denounce my friend,” Troy said louder. “And if you kill me, I will haunt you all until the end eternity.”

The vampires snorted, several chuckling.

“A ghost can do nothing,” one of them murmured though rather crude snorts.

“A ghost can do a great deal!” Troy snapped back. “I know a guy who can see ghosts. A cop. I can wreak more havoc on you as a ghost than as a man connected to a werewolf. I know the supernatural world better than you do, and how it works.”

A tremulous murmur passed through the crowd of vampires. Some incident was being discussed, some horrific, but nearly recent event. Something about ghosts created by unrestrained vampire feeding causing the end of an important colony somewhere in California. Something about a demon vimp whom they should have killed long ago.

“He’s bluffing,” one vampire said.

“Of course he is!” his father shouted. “He’s texted one of his friends on his phone. He’s stalling. He wants a miracle!”

Which was true. But hearing that mockery from his father’s own mouth was the worst. The man had most definitely become a monster.

“So then let us be done with this,” one of the more dignified vampires said. “Verdict?”

One vampire called out from the hungry throng. “We tear him apart. Drain him.”

“He’s eaten garlic,” a different one complained “Can’t you smell it on him?”

They all groaned. The near ones could smell it. The vampiric ability to smell blood was useful in this instance. He was repulsive, and deadly to them if they dared drink his blood.

“I have a better idea,” called out another vampire, approaching them. She had a wicked look in her eyes as she said, “Give him the blood he hates so much. The blood will decide his fate.”

“Hear! Hear!” chimed in two others.

His father