I am a miracle. Or that's what Alice says, at least. As far as anyone knew, it was impossible for a vampire to procreate. My father is a vampire, stuck at 17 since 1918. His relationship with my mother is unique because she is not a vampire like him or any of my other adoptive aunts and uncles. Like me, though, she is no human. Because venom is responsible for my creation, I was born a sort of semi-vampire, possessing characteristics of both species. I shared my distinctive blood with my mother in the womb, and she became like me. Although we age over time, it's a process that we can easily control by succumbing to the parts of us that are immortal and revel in blood. The thrill of the hunt rejuvenates my mother, hardening her age to a permanent twenty-two.
Even in firm control of my desires, though, even acting as human as possible, I still age much more slowly than my human classmates. I have to change schools a lot. In reality, I am twenty-four, but I carry the body of a sixteen-year-old instead. The difference in my actual age and appearance is remote now, but given time, the gap would multiply immeasurably.
It's raining today, and the scent of wet asphalt hits my nose while exiting my gunsmoke-colored coupe. I'm forced to rearrange my books when Aaron surprises me just outside the high school's front doors. My nose isn't as strong as a full-fledged vampire, and it's difficult to detect human scents when it rains and the scent of fresh, wet vegetation permeates the air.
"Hey Violet, did you finish the biology homework?"
Of course Aaron wouldn't have done it, I think. He's always procrastinating, putting work off until the last minute!
"Yep," I answer, a bit of a lecturing edge drifting into my tone. "You know, if you think I'm going to let you copy it, you're wrong. You're never going to pass your biology midterm slacking off."
"I know." He purposely let disappointment color his voice. "But I probably would have just gotten the answers wrong anyway. I'm no good with science."
"Well, I'll bargain, then. You can use my notes, but you're not allowed to copy my paper." He sighs. He knows it's pointless to argue when I'm in a lecturing mood. I can tell that he's glad to at least have received permission to use my notes. We both walk toward the east side of the school and then part ways so that he can go to his algebra class and I to advanced art.
Carrying a canvas and a paper plate splattered with day-old oil paints, I take a seat in the back of the art room. I'll be able to dabble in my developing painting undisturbed. The assignment is to create a self-portrait, but I look odd standing in front of my interpretation of the Hoh Rainforest, where I spend summers in a beautiful, old, ivory house with my family. Tendrils are snaking delicately around branches as if ready to strike and pull my portrait-self back into the trees and brush with them. My dark hair is a cloud around my pale features, dark ocher eyes staring back at me from under arched eyebrows. The setting seems so natural to me, but I just can't place what's wrong with the image of myself. I begin to use my fingernail to chip away at the layers of caked on paint on the table next to me. My thoughts drift away from my painting, distracted by the way the green water is swirling around a paintbrush in a nearby jar.
Suddenly, a familiar scent hits my nose. I distinctly detect that there is a vampire nearby, but my family doesn't visit me at school. They tend to be conspicuous, especially my parents, who practically look like my peers. Only an emergency elicits a visit. My ears perked up, hearing the shuffling of nearby feet. Even in a crisis, someone in my family would realize that I would have already picked up the scent and come to meet them in the hall. Horrible images run through my mind as I imagine what sorts of horrible things would warrant this lack of common sense.
Then, he enters the room. Although I recognize all the common features of a vampire, this is not someone that I've met before, let alone someone with whom I've "grown up." He looks to be about seventeen physically. He hands a slightly crumpled piece of paper to Mrs. Summers, who examines it briefly before setting it on her desk and returning to talking to a student about the width of his brushstrokes. She barely notices him, and neither does anyone else, consumed by their own self-portraits. The mystery boy turns to examine the room and notices me staring. He eyes me warily, then turns back as if he's about to take a step toward the other end of the room. Just then, I barely notice his nose twitch. He's picked out my scent from the other students, and I can tell he's surprised. We both stare at each other for one long moment, before his features relax again into a nonchalant, apathetic expression.
A new student was not uncommon. There were at least a dozen or so every year, and they generally didn't catch my interest. Another vampire in the school was uncommon, though. Although I've never known anything other than the "vegetarian" lifestyle my family leads, I know that most vampires are nomads who prefer to submit to their urges. The idea of a vampire even bothering with high school was boggling, even though my parents and pseudo aunts and uncles have all been through it (diplomas being one of the few documents that they've received legally), most of them more than once.
He took a seat in a corner, opening an art history book. Although he stared intently at the page, his eyes never moved to indicate that he was following a line of text. He kept up that rouse until the sound of the bell ringing shattered my thoughts and brought me back to reality. I hastily started putting away my equipment. I was half-watching the new boy, so I managed to bump my head on the edge of a table after crouching to pick my books up off the floor. My hand flew to where I'd injured myself, but the touch only sent a fresh wave of throbbing pain through my skull. Instead, my hand fluttered over my bump, unsure of what to do before repurchasing my hold on my books. Even though I sometimes moved with the grace of a semi-vampire, I had my clumsy moments, inherited from my mother.
French class passed slowly, my mind trying to wrap around conjugations while I thought about the vampire boy. I want the opportunity to speak to him, but part of me is anxious in an ominous way because I've never had a conversation with a vampire stranger before. Lunch is the perfect time to do it, but maybe it's better to wait until he's been here a little longer, if he plans to stay. I can at least wait until my nerves are settled and I'm used to the idea.
Pondering what I would even say on my way to the cafeteria, I finger the dollar bills in my pocket. I scan the room for Aaron, and there the new boy is, mere feet away from me, eyeing me intensely.
"What are you?" he asks. For a moment, I'm completely flabbergasted, frozen in place. I manage to eek out a small sound, not at all sounding like the coherent words I wish I could speak. I shake my head as if to clear my head from a fog and clear my throat.
"Do you always greet people by inquiring about their species?" I managed to form not only words, but a full sentence, and I couldn't be happier. "Well Hello, my name is Violet, and it's nice to meet you, too." Dry sarcasm glides off my tongue. He raises an eyebrow in response.
"Lucien. But you're not quite human, are you?" He sounds slightly intrigued, betrayed by his placid features.
"And?" I inquired in return, a little annoyed.
"And I'm curious to know what you are. But perhaps you would like to sit?"
Despite my annoyance, I have to admit that I'm curious about him, too, not knowing much about vampires outside of my family. I sign and agree to sit with him. Aaron will survive a day without my company.
To any full-fledged human, Lucien's face would be startling, with beautiful, crystalline skin covering a marvelous bone-structure both fierce in its angles and soft in its intense beauty. His dark, russet hair is slightly mussed, occasionally tumbling just above his serious topaz eyes. I'm used to the startling beauty, being part of a family of vampires and even being a partial vampire myself. However, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something unusual about his face. I almost wonder if I'm staring at a carefully crafted mask, chiseled to perfection and adding a shallowness to his vampire's ocher-colored eyes. The eyes of my family were deep pools of topaz that held the flickers of every emotion; his were flat and offered me no insight into his feelings.
I clear my throat again. I decide to let him begin this conversation, an awkwardness settling over my stomach.
"You smell human, but then, you have a different note to your scent as well. I can't place it, but you don't exactly seem like food to my senses," he explains, gesturing with his hand while he speaks. He assumes that I know what he is, unconcerned with the idea of discussing the truth of his identity while in my presence. Still, he speaks quietly so that no one else can overhear.
"Well, yes, I'm partly human, so it's only natural that I would have blood. I also have a semi-venom in my veins as well. It makes me a little more vampire," I respond.
His eyebrow shoots up again. "Well yes, you have notes of a vampire's scent in your pores, but how does one become a semi-vampire? In my experience, even the smallest amount of venom eventually spreads to the whole body of a human."
"I didn't 'become' one. I was born this way." Lucien's eyes become wide with shock, letting his carefully nonchalant demeanor slip. He opens his mouth, as if to question me further, only to close it again. I silently wished to know his thoughts about that, cursing that I couldn't have inherited my father's mind reading talents. Unfortunately, venom was not designed for reproduction. It's empty of hereditary information, so all of my traits come from my mother's side. Venom is barely even an enabler for cells to divide, shocking them into doing so more than anything else. That's why Alice calls me a miracle; it was one chance in a million that the venom catalyzed reproduction. Most of the time, it's fruitless to a human female.
Lucien finally finished selecting the words to question me further. "You have parents? Vampire parents?"
"Vampire parent," I correct. "My mother is like me: a hybrid of sorts." I explain it a little more for him, though I skipped through some parts. Talking about your parents in an intimate way is uncomfortable, part vampire or not.
My stomach rumbles. I hadn't realized how hungry I was while skipping lunch to talk to this vampire boy.
"How is it that you eat human food? Do you even drink blood?" he asks.
"Well, yes, but it's difficult." His face twists slightly, as if pleading for me to explain it. I sigh in response. "I have blood of my own, so I don't generally feel the urge to go out rampaging in the city. Mostly, I just eat regular food. Vampires use blood for energy, though, and I steadily use up small amounts of it. If I don't drink, not only do I hunger for blood, I also have trouble thinking clearly."
Standing up, I almost begin walking to the cafeteria kitchen to buy myself a slice of pizza, but I'm stopped dead in my tracks by the loud bell in the cafeteria. My expression becomes defeated as I realize that lunchtime has come and gone. I reach for my bag, but Lucien is holding it out for me to take. I take in his flat eyes, and sling my bag over my shoulder.
Somehow, I know that I'm never going to finish my self-portrait with Lucien there to distract me.