A Vampire's Guide to Surviving Holidays Read online

  A Vampire’s Guide to Surviving Holidays

  Vampire Innocent Book 8

  Matthew S. Cox

  A Vampire’s Guide to Surviving Holidays

  Vampire Innocent #8

  © 2019 Matthew S. Cox

  All Rights Reserved

  This novel is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual persons living, dead, or undead is coincidental. No enchanted kittens were harmed in the making of this book. No portion of this book may be reproduced without written permission from the author. (Except for quoting a line or two in reviews/blog posts.)

  Cover & interior art by: Alexandria Thompson

  ISBN (ebook): 978-1-950738-20-5

  ISBN (paperback): 978-1-950738-21-2

  Contents

  1. Adulting is Overrated

  2. 1001 Uses for a Vampire

  3. The Absent Professor Montgomery

  4. Weird

  5. Hunter Hunted

  6. A Moment to Think

  7. Another Lifetime

  8. Politics Always Ruins Everything

  9. Homework and Banishing Spells

  10. Tmi

  11. Thanksgiving Miracle

  12. A Little Helpful Prodding

  13. Every Family Has Secrets

  14. Pie

  15. The Hunter in the Ointment

  16. Nothing is Illegal if You Don’t get Caught

  17. A Girl’s Gotta be Careful at Night

  18. Cats and Dog

  19. Near Miss

  20. Conflict of Interest

  21. Underestimated

  22. Vampire Delivery Service

  23. Unlife Isn’t Fair

  24. Caught Red-Handed

  25. Air Ambulance

  26. Mission Complete… Sorta

  27. Fog and Kittens

  28. Not Quite Dead

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other books by Matthew S. Cox

  1

  Adulting is Overrated

  Anxiety has a way of making people rearrange their priorities. For me, I find myself worrying a lot more about the lives of my family and friends than my own… considering I’ve already lost it. Generally, I’ve come to terms with becoming a vampire and things are even starting to feel second nature. But, dammit, the Universe is just not done screwing with me yet. Every day that passes without me getting sucked backwards through the inner workings of a pan-dimensional chaos machine counts as a victory.

  Today’s the first day since a pack of vampires from LA kidnapped my little brother and his friends that I haven’t noticed any trembling in my hands during moments where my attention isn’t focused on anything specific. No, the shakes didn’t come from fear, more restless energy and anger. Like an itch never quite exactly where I scratched, a sense of impending retaliation haunted me. Still kinda does. Completely out of sorts for my personality, I’m worried we hadn’t killed enough of those LA vampires. It would only take one getting away alive—well, unalive—and holding onto a grudge to create problems down the line. So, yeah, lots of looking over my shoulder.

  That feeling of dread that used to haunt me whenever I went somewhere alone at night in life had come back, and dammit—it’s not right! I’m a creature of the night. We’re not supposed to be jumping at shadows. And let me tell you, jumping at shadows is a real pain in the ass when your eyes can’t see them.

  Unlike before my death, I’m not worrying about some random creep looking for a girl to assault. Now, I keep expecting angry vampires to drag me into an alley or stuff me in the trunk of a car. My pants aren’t going to be what they try to separate from my body—more like my head. Maybe they’ll chain me to a tree and let me wait for the sun to rise. Given a gloomy enough morning, the joke would be on them. Ultimately though, it feels exactly like it used to feel to be alone at night. And this bullcrap is something I’d thought no longer applied to me. Getting away from that dread had been the second best part of becoming a vampire.

  Yes, flying is awesome.

  Anyway, finding myself scared in the dark again has me in a near permanent state of being pissed off.

  For the most part since the ‘LA incident,’ I kept up a normal face around my family, especially the Littles. Sophia is too empathic for her own good. She knows how bothered I’ve been. Pretty sure she’s the reason behind Ashley and Michelle taking me to TGI Friday’s for a girl’s night out. Is it weird to go to Friday’s on a Sunday? Do they have laws about that?

  Anyway, a week and a few days without any sign of trouble from LA vampires could mean I’m in the clear. Not like we pissed off anyone old, powerful, or politically important… basically they’d been the vampire equivalent of a street gang. The most potent vampire involved, Armand—yeah, I know… but it wasn’t his real name—had only been a vampire for roughly forty years, not even as old as Dalton. He’d also taken a sun bath, so he’s not a problem anymore. The bigger worry is him having a sire or progeny who’d be looking for payback.

  If someone ever killed Dalton, the idea of me going off on a revenge quest doesn’t seem likely. For one thing, I’m not a violent person—mostly. Dying has definitely given me new confidence. For another thing, any vampire who could kill Dalton would completely spank me. Any chance for me to avenge him would rely on sneakiness combined with a boatload of luck, and as the spyglass incident proved, my attempts at being a thief don’t pan out.

  By the way, I mean thief in the sense of the roleplaying games Dad and Sierra like. You know, like character classes and fantasy stuff. Those thieves don’t necessarily all steal; they’re good at stealth. At least, that’s how Sierra plays hers. Kinda strange that she regards taking property as ‘something bad guys do’ but she has no problem ambushing and killing the enemies. Like, theft is bad but murder isn’t? Guess that’s kinda like people who watch a movie with massive amounts of violence, rape, drug use, or that sorta thing, but only seem to have a problem if the characters use bad words.

  I’m astounded Sam brushed off the entire incident like something he’d seen in a movie. I mean, for real… my little brother had a vampire’s severed arm dangling from his neck like a tie. As far as he’s concerned that whole experience had been a cool adventure. And yeah, I looked into his head to make sure he didn’t crack and go nuts. Despite being scared during a few close call moments, he really did regard the whole situation as exciting. He’d been more worried about me being hurt than himself. Fortunately, he’s not in any hurry to go on another ‘adventure’ with murderous vampires.

  It seems my new normal is spilling over into my siblings’ definition of ordinary, too.

  I mean for crying out loud, Sophia has a teleporting kitten she made from mushroom dust.

  So, anyway, Ashley and Michelle showed up at the house earlier and whisked me out the door the way they used to do when we’d go hang out together before the bad thing happened. No, I’m not talking about my almost-murder and becoming a vampire. The ‘bad thing’ is us growing up—or at least starting to. Thoughts like this shouldn’t be in my head considering I’m eighteen. Then again, undeath is quite a shock to the system. Hell, it made me appear a few years younger, so it’s probably powerful enough to alter my brain, too.

  A girl my age shouldn’t feel nostalgic. I haven’t had enough life yet. Well, I mean ‘life’ metaphorically there. And it’s not like I’m having a crisis like my parents where they’ve become so overwhelmed with responsibilities they want to jump back to being fourteen again. My ‘nostalgia’ takes the form of missing the time from like seventh grade to junior year in high school when the three of us had been old enough to enjoy a little independence while remaining young enough to dodge any
true responsibilities. Dad is pretty sure vampirism did something to my head since he only started missing those years after he turned forty.

  And, while getting frozen looking like I’m somewhere between fourteen and seventeen depending how the light hits my face has more than its share of annoyances, I’m never going to get any older or fatter or worn out. Yeah, being a vampire is pretty damn amazing. Just wish the price of admission wasn’t so damn high.

  Sitting at a table in Friday’s with Ash and ’Chelle reminds me of like a year or two ago. None of us really appreciated the drastic changes we’d all crash face first into once high school ended. Like blind lemmings rushing for a cliff, we only thought about having fun until one day, society expected us to grow up. The nerve.

  And yeah, through no fault of my own, I wound up slamming on the brakes at the cliff’s edge watching my friends fly past me over the side. They’re going to cruise headlong into the rest of their lives while I’m stuck as a teenager for eternity. My parents—once they got over the emotional rollercoaster of nearly losing me—tease me constantly about being jealous. Mom’s job stresses her out so much, she flat out said if she could go back to being a teen, she’d do it in a heartbeat. She didn’t really mean it, though. Mostly, she wants a break from stress.

  Sure, I’ve thought about grabbing Ashley and Michelle’s proverbial hands to stop them from flying off the cliff, but I can’t bring myself to do it for several reasons, not the least of which is that Dalton never showed me how to make someone else into a vampire. Ash wants to be a mother someday, and she couldn’t do that as an undead. In Michelle’s case, her parents are overly religious and would never be able to handle the mere concept of vampires. They still don’t know about me, and it’s going to stay that way even if I need to erase their memories. If Michelle turned, she would have to go through with the normal process and allow the mortal world to believe she’d died. This would also have the effect of making it a pain in the ass to hang out with her.

  The third and most compelling reason: neither of them asked me for the Transference. Forcing it on them is totally wrong. I’d have enough trouble doing it to them if they both wanted it and were already going to die through some other cause. No damn way could I ever ambush them against their will.

  As cool as it would be for my little circle of friends to be frozen in time, it’s not right.

  Is it weird that I am an actual teenager but have to force myself to think like one? Stopping myself from worrying about a future more distant than a few hours takes effort. I fail at teenagering. That’s me. Weird. But at least I’m not ‘ten-foot pom pom of death’ weird. My sister has some issues. Maybe there’s something out there sillier to be morbidly terrified than a giant puffball, but darned if I can think of what.

  Our waiter is a skinny, tall, dark-skinned guy only a few years older than us named Jordan. He’s gotta be a theater major since he’s the most extroverted, friendly person in the entire state of Washington. He has a hint of a foreign accent, but I’m not sure what it is beyond cool sounding. We skip appetizers and go right to the entrees. It still feels wasteful for me to order normal food, but at least I can enjoy the process of eating and tasting it.

  “No inferno bites?” asks Ashley. “You, like, always get them.”

  I squirm in my seat. “Umm. They don’t like me back anymore.”

  ’Chelle and Ash peer quizzically at me.

  “Ever see that movie Fire Down Below?”

  “That bad?” asks Michelle.

  “What does that movie have to do with chicken?” Ashley blinks at me.

  While I could tell them it felt like having a lit candle an inch away from a place a lit candle should never be, we’re about to eat. “Food doesn’t process, remember? Not the movie, just the title. Kinda burns on the way out.”

  Ashley covers her mouth to muffle a laugh. Michelle gawks at me while squirming.

  “Yeah. Exactly. I can’t do spicy anymore.” I exhale. “So, what’s going on with you guys? Haven’t seen you much lately.”

  We talk about random stuff, mostly their college courses and jobs. Michelle grumbles about living at home and can’t wait until she’s able to move out. She’s stuck in a fairly awkward situation. Her parents are loving and take good care of her, but Michelle’s nowhere near as into the churchy stuff as they are. The big problem, though, is that her parents consider LGBT people ‘sinful.’ I’m not the only one keeping a secret from Mr. and Mrs. Gerard. No, not Michelle. Ashley’s bi. For the most part, she’s out—except for Michelle’s parents.

  I can’t help myself but chuckle.

  “Exactly what is funny about my parents?” Michelle raises one eyebrow.

  “It’s not funny,” I say between chuckles.

  “So why you laughing?” asks Michelle.

  “Trying to figure out what would make your ’rents freak out more: learning about Ash or that I’m a vampire.”

  The mild annoyance in Michelle’s expression fades to a blank look. Bet she’s trying to legit come up with the answer.

  Ashley grins. “They’d probably spontaneously burst into flames if they got near a gay vampire.”

  I’m done. Head down on my folded arms, I laugh myself to tears.

  “Guys!” Michelle pats the table. “We are not making jokes about my parents being on fire.”

  “It’s okay,” says Ashley. “Don’t feel awkward. It’s not your fault how they are. Besides, if you went to an out-of-state school where you had to dorm so you could escape being dragged off every Sunday, then you wouldn’t be able to hang out with us, so it wouldn’t matter.”

  “Maybe Sarah could change their mind about that?” Michelle sips her soda.

  “Whoa.” Ashley stares at her. “You’re seriously… didn’t you tell her to leave them alone?”

  “Yeah, well.” Michelle frowns at her pre-dinner salad. “Dad went off on a screed this morning about the decay of the country’s moral fiber. Somehow, he connects just about every problem to the mere existence of gay people and/or non-believers. I love him, but I’m just so tired of hearing that stuff. I don’t mind the peace and love part of it, but they’re forgetting that for the fire and brimstone.”

  I fidget. “I dunno, ’Chelle. Seems wrong to just go around mind controlling everyone. If you think your father’s going to hurt someone, or if they find out about Ash and flip, sure… I’ll fix that.”

  “No way. My dad would never hurt anyone. All he does is complain.” Michelle teases a fork at her salad. “I don’t think he’d even say what he thinks to someone’s face.”

  “Sorry,” whispers Ashley.

  “Maybe you could at least get them to stop wasting three hours of my Sunday morning?” Michelle stares pleadingly at me. “I have so much damn work to catch up on, it’s not even funny.”

  “It’s kinda bogus that they force you to go. You’re eighteen.” Ashley shakes her head, then takes a sip of her raspberry iced tea.

  “It’s not a ‘force’ type of situation. It’s a ‘stop paying for school and letting me live there rent free’ type situation.” Michelle rolls her eyes. “And my mother would be crushed if I told her I didn’t believe.”

  My parents never did the religion thing. Mom’s parents are kinda spiritual, but they, too, never went to any organized church. They both believe in a higher power, but didn’t see any purpose to large, formal groups. Not once in my life have I been dragged out of bed early on a Sunday. Weekends are sacred holidays of rest. I pitied Michelle for only having one day a week where she didn’t have to obey an alarm clock.

  Ashley’s in the middle of reassuring her she doesn’t hold it against her parents and is okay with keeping that secret from them when our food arrives. Jordan hands out the plates, asks us if we need anything else—Michelle gets a refill on her drink—then walks off.

  Since I don’t have to worry about putting on weight, I ordered a pasta dish with chicken and a cream sauce. It’s probably like 2,000 calories. I’m eating for the tas
te; might as well have something I’d actually enjoy. Also, my plan is to have about a third of it and bring the rest home for the Littles to share. If I ever fed from Ashley, she’d absolutely taste like a grilled chicken sandwich with cheddar cheese and bacon. For as long as I’ve known her—and she’s been old enough to not order from the little kid’s menu—every single time we’ve been out to eat, she tries to get that. The only time she eats anything different is if whatever restaurant we went to doesn’t have a grilled chicken sandwich with cheddar and bacon. She even abbreviates it as CBC (cheddar, bacon, chicken).

  Michelle got a giant steak, way too much for any normal human to eat in one sitting. She always does that when we go out—orders huge and brings at least half of it home for tomorrow.

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you.” Ashley wags her eyebrows at us over her sandwich. “Mom’s out on a date tonight.”

  “Whoa, really?” asks Michelle.

  “Yeah. Someone from her work. She didn’t tell me much about him yet.”

  “Nice.” I smile. “Think it’ll work out?”

  Ashley shrugs. “No idea. I haven’t even seen the guy. Never thought she’d bother with dating again after Dad left.”

  “Sorry.” Michelle gives her a pitying look.

  If I see Mr. Carter again, I might break my rule and mind control him to do something embarrassing at the Boeing holiday party. The guy up and left them, deciding he simply didn’t want to be married anymore or deal with the responsibility of having a daughter. Weird thing is, he didn’t cheat. The guy probably has some kind of mental condition where he can’t process emotions properly and lacks any understanding of the effect his leaving had on Ashley. He’s an engineer, one of those guys who finds it fun to sit in a lab for fourteen hours in a row. Mrs. Carter once joked that she did lose him to another lover: work.