“Ow! Dammit, Doc, that hurts! ”
“Well, if you would be more careful-”
“I know, I know,” I cut him off. “Live right. Sleep days. Drink more. Yeah, yeah. But look, education’s important, okay? And the English department doesn’t offer night classes.”
Being a NightChild and a college student isn’t easy, especially in California where it’s almost always sunny. Today I’d managed to forget my sunblock, and had gotten a nasty sunburn for my trouble.
Dr. Goring looked up from where he was spreading one of his nasty concoctions over my shoulder, and favored me with a raised eyebrow over the rim of his antique glasses. “Is that so.” His dark eyes were noncommittal, but his dry tone conveyed his disapproval more than a glare ever could.
“Yes, that’s so. And don’t you start in on how I really ought to be in law enforcement, or something proper. I get enough of that from Mom and Dad.”
He harumphed softly, and gave a couple more dabs of ointment to my flaming red skin before straightening up and beginning to put his tools away.
“So, what’s the verdict?” I pulled a shirt on, grimacing at the rough feel against my traumatized skin, and let my brown hair down from where I’d had it clipped up out of the way.
“You’ll live, but you know that already. Put another coat on later tonight, and get a decent meal, for heaven’s sake. Next thing I know, you’ll be forgetting your sunglasses.”
I smiled to myself. He might be one of the oldest of us around, but he still cares.
“Yes, sir. You won’t tell Mom and Dad, will you?”
“Not unless they ask, child. Just don’t do it again in the near future, and you’ll be fine.”
“Gotcha. Can I offer you anything before you go?”
“No, thank you, Victoria.” He ignored my wince at the use of my given name. My friends all call me “Vic,” but he’s traditional. “I’ll be on my way.” He ran a hand over his dark hair, which was just starting to grey at the temples, and patted his pockets, making sure he had all his instruments.
We said our goodnights, and he left, taking care to use the door rather than the traditional window. I smiled. We’d drag him into the 20th century whether he liked it or not. Well, maybe just the 18th, I reflected. We can’t hope for too much from one of the Old Ones.
I paid a visit to one of my admirers on campus shortly after midnight, leaving him with a pleasant, if somewhat surreal, dream and a little less energy for the next day.
He wouldn’t mind, though. He never did.
*** “Did you hear about Andrea?”
I looked up from my book at the small group of, anxious faces staring at me. “What?”
“Andrea,” one of the girls said, her eyes wide. “She lives in your dorm, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah, I think so. What happened?”
The blonde’s eyes widened even further. “She was, like, attacked! Don’t you read your email?”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention, but I managed to sound calm as I tucked a finger between the pages to mark my place. “If it was in the school email, I’ll read it tonight. “What happened?”
“This freak came after her, and tried to grab her! He was wearing a cape - trying to look like a vampire or something, I guess.” She shivered dramatically, her blue eyes clamping shut briefly. “It’s so scary!”
One of the others added, “yeah, and I heard that it’s happened to other people too, but they didn’t report it.”
At this point, our professor came in, late as usual, and we were cut off. As I opened my notebook and uncapped my pen, I thought rapidly. Who was this guy? Dressing like a vampire?
“Now, where were we?” Professor Chiltern began, opening his copy of The Tempest, “Act three, right?”
I ignored the rest of the lecture, taking notes mechanically while my mind raced. One of the primary responsibilities of NightChildren is to protect humans, it’s in the Pact. The College was my Territory, too, even though I was technically too young to have one. Dammit, dammit, dammit, I thought angrily. What right did this bastard have to go terrorizing innocent coeds? I resolved to check my email as soon as possible, maybe even talk to Andrea. I didn’t know my dormmates very well, being a rather solitary person, but I knew who she was.
“Now, as we see at line 32, Caliban is a Noble Savage...”
*** Back in my room, I booted up my computer and checked my email. Just as the girls had said, there was a Campus Safety report warning about going out late alone and giving a description of the attacker. I growled softly, deep in my throat, and sat back in my computer chair.
The next step, according to protocol, was to call the Territory Guardian. I might be the only NightChild on campus, but this wasn’t really my territory yet. I reached for my phonebook, flipping through to find the number. I dialed swiftly.
“Hello?” The voice at the other end sounded worried and very officious.
“Hi, may I speak with Dr. Barber?”
“I’m afraid Doctor Barber is ill, and cannot come to the phone.”
“Um... may I ask what’s wrong with him?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”
Dammit. “Look, may I speak with his physician? Is it Dr. Goring?”
“Yes, it is, but -”
“I don’t have time for this. I need to speak with Goring, NOW.”
“Very well.” The voice set the phone down and I waited.
“Hello?” I smiled at the irritable tone of Goring’s voice.
“It’s Vic, Doctor.”
“Oh, hello, Victoria. You’re trying to reach Barber, I take it?”
“Yes, can you tell me what’s wrong with him?”
“He ... bumped into an unfortunate young fellow last night, a drug addict. He didn’t realize the young man’s ... state of health at the time.”
I closed my eyes, the hope draining out of me. If Barber had tasted the blood of a diseased human, he was bound to be sick for days, doubly so if the punk had been carrying something. Our immune systems are good, but not that good. “How long will he be out?”
“At least a week. Apparently the young man had contracted a form of hepatitis.”
“Hell.”
“My sentiments exactly, dear. Maybe I can help?”
“Not really, Doctor, thanks. Go on back to your patient.”
“Good-night, then.”
“Good-night.” I hung up the phone with a silent moan. The attacker here on campus was all mine to deal with. If he was one of us, I was in trouble. If he wasn’t, though, I could handle him no sweat. Please, I prayed silently, let him be a deranged human!! If that were the case, dealing with him would be no problem. But a deranged NightChild (for no rational one of us would attack like that)... I shied from the thought, unwilling to even contemplate it. The Pact was so clear as to brook no dispute, and all NightChildren were sworn to adhere to it, both those brought into the fold by another NightChild, or those few (like me) born to NightChild parents. Dammit. I was the only one of us on campus, and as such, the nominal Guardian, especially with Barber out of commission. There was always the Council, but you didn’t call them, they called you. I shivered. I’ve got to figure out what he is, I realized. That was the big question. I could handle a human, no problem -- the legends about amazing strength and speed are true.
If people were following the instructions to go around in groups, he’d be looking for a solitary walker, late at night. It was time to lay a trap, with myself as bait. Dangerous, but not horribly so, if I took a few precautions.
Dammit.
*** Midnight. I’d already fed (poor Jay was going to be tired again tomorrow, but he would cope), and was ready. I twiddled the club I’d brought, and cursed under my breath at the twinges of pain in my fingertips, even through the gloves. Ash has never been kind to us, and being young, I was even more susceptible. A good blow to the head, and man or NightChild, he’d go down. If he came. I’d kept a careful watch the last few nights with no luck. Evidently the public outcry had frightened my quarry off, at least temporarily. Time to be more blatant. My homework was beginning to suffer from all my time out and about.
I tucked the club under the jacket I had over my arm, and strolled nonchalantly across the quad, headed for the area where the last attack had taken place. Once I’d reached the shady area just off the quad, I paused. No sign of him. Guess I’ll just have to ... my thought was cut off as a shady figure loomed up from the underbrush, dim even with my good night vision. Adrenaline surged into my bloodstream, and I felt my fangs sliding out of their sheaths in reflexive reaction to danger. Projecting as much helplessness as I could muster, I half-whimpered, “Who’s there?” My eyes probed the darkness, and I barely had time to raise my hands when he lunged. NightChildren are powerful, but one motivated by pure thirst is strengthened by adrenaline and fury. He took me down like a cat on a sick mouse.
I had an impression of light hair and fair skin stretched taut over what would have been a handsome face before my head slammed into the cold ground and I almost lost my grip on the club. Clenching my fist even tighter around it, I swung at him, connecting with his shoulder. His head whipped up, and as his mouth opened in pain, I could see his extended canines. Godsdammit, he is one of us. I’m really in for it now. With the sure knowledge that failure meant death, I thrashed under him, bringing a knee up to that area so tender in both human and non-human alike. He yowled, and for one brief, clear moment I could see his eyes piercing mine, so dilated the iris was little more a dark band of color around a bottomless pit of black.
Then he went for my throat again, one hand pushing my face away to bare the vein. I managed to get my club hand free and hit the side of his head with as much strength as I could get at the awkward angle. He cried out, and pulled back, kneeling over me as one hand went to the side of his head. I took a quick breath, and whipped the club backhand against the other side of his skull. The crunch was sickening, and abruptly all the strength seemed to go out of him as he fell forward, pinning me to the ground, his long blonde hair spilling onto my face.
I listened close, and heard his breath, slow and soft next to my ear. He was still alive. Good. I’ll get him all nice and ready for the Council. Unfortunately, that was my last coherent thought before the darkness swallowed me whole.
*** I woke in the health center, a nurse bending anxiously over me.
“Hrfghnh.”
She gasped in relief, and vanished, presumably to find the doctor. But I was surprised to see who she returned with.
“Doctor Goring??”
“Yes, child, I’m listed on your sheet here. And unlike most doctors, I keep unusual hours. What have you been doing to yourself?” He approached my bed, and inspected the burns on my right hand.
Even with his light touch, I flinched. “What have you heard?”
“That some students found you, pinned under an unconscious man dressed in a cape.”
“That’s about right. Have you called my parents?”
“Yes, and your... relatives in the area.” He gave me a significant look, and I nodded in understanding. He’d called the Council.
“Good,” I said, and meant it.
“Now, let’s see about that hand, eh?”
*** Months later...
“Did you hear what happened to that maniac you caught?”
I looked up at the circle of eager faces with a sense of deja vu. “No...”
“Well, it seems that someone broke him out of jail -- put the guards to sleep or something, and just walked off with him!”
“Hm.”
“Yeah! Aren’t you afraid?”
I thought about what the Council did to those who broke the Pact, and let a smile flicker briefly over my lips. “No,” I said thoughtfully, turning back to my book. “No, I’m not.”
Finis copyright 1998 Ealasaid A. Haas