Dhampir Page 2

  “I don’t want to be racist,” Mallory admitted.

  “It’s not racist to ask a question. Besides, that fat lady loves you.”

  “Would you stop calling her that?”

  “What? The fat lady? Why not? She’s fat!”

  Nina slapped Malik’s side. The young man smacked his lips. “She’s lucky we

  don’t eat her.”

  “Yum,” Jett smirked. Malik smiled, bumping his new friend in

  agreement.

  “Okay,” Mallory interrupted, “no more talking about eating anybody. Look

  at all this food we’ve got!”

  “Human food doesn’t heal the soul,” said Malik. “This stuff’s wack without

  a Bean.”

  “You’ve got a bucket of those, too!”

  Mallory dropped the granola bar into her own bucket to point to a white one Malik was carrying. It looked heavy.

  “So? These things are wack, too.”

  Malik dropped a Chipotle container on the ground in order to pull the

  bucket up to his chest. While Mallory went behind him to pick up his litter, he opened the bucket. It was filled to the top with green beans the size of marbles. Nina, Malik, and Jett grabbed their share: a single Bean — good enough to feed a Gothic being with proper nourishment for a full day. Mallory was too busy throwing away Malik’s container, whispering her displeasure the entire trip.

  “You’re greedy,” Malik poked at Jett. The tall, young man looked down at

  his shorter companion.

  “Real wolf need double,” Jett said in his normal, Tarzan-sounding voice. He

  rolled two Beans around in his palms before putting them in his mouth.

  “Real wolves have color,” Malik glared at Jett. Jett’s chewing grin turned

  angry.

  “Don’t even start,” Nina warned.

  “Guys!” came a yell from Mallory. “Look!” The trio turned to face the

  princess. Beside a trash can, she was holding a box of pizza. She opened it to reveal at least half of a large, pepperoni pizza — if you added up the unfinished slices. “Ta-da!” The trio hurried over in excitement. The noisy bystanders going about their daily lives shook their heads in confusion. It was too beautiful of a Saturday afternoon to be dealing with such nonsense.

  “What is it?” Nina asked.

  “Pizza,” said Mallory. “Humans love this stuff.”

  The four Goths took their share of the pizza. They could see why it was popular.

  “Why does human food taste so good?” Malik wondered.

  “I think all bad food tastes good, and all good food tastes bad,” Mallory assumed, chewing as slowly as possible to savor the moment.

  “Master Loo says we’ll be puking this out in a few hours,” Nina added.

  “Look,” Jett interrupted, pointing across the crowded street. In the direction of his finger stood a group of men in suits. They were smoking cigarettes, turning in different directions to pretend they weren’t scoping out the four Goths. The way the other humans avoided getting close to them gave Mallory and the others a bad feeling.

  “Here,” Malik bumped Mallory. He motioned for her to take the bucket of

  Ava Beans. “Nina, come on.”

  “You’re going over there?” Mallory asked, grabbing the bucket. Malik held

  it firm.

  “Don’t drop these,” he told her.

  “I won’t.”

  “Mallory, whatever you do, do not drop this bucket.”

  “Why are you even giving it to her?” Nina asked. “Give it to Jett.”

  “Hell no,” Malik countered. “I’d never trust a white Lycan with my

  life.” He let go of the bucket for Mallory to carry. “You guys have fun.”

  As Malik and Nina crossed the street, Mallory looked up at Jett. He was

  gritting his teeth in anger, staring Malik down as if he had disrespected his fallen

  parents. The princess nearly spilled the bucket patting Jett on his bare back.

  “He doesn’t mean it,” she assured him.

  Back to the situation at hand, Mallory sat down on the sidewalk and stuffed her mouth with pizza. The rest of the food in her KFC bucket would be her next target. If she’d have to run, she knew she wouldn’t be able to take anything besides the heavy bucket of Beans. While watching Nina and Malik talking to the men in suits who surrounded them, Mallory began to get jealous. Despite the conversation looking tense, Nina and Malik were still holding hands.

  Among her jealousy, Mallory noticed Jett standing towards the argument with his eyes closed. Mallory closed her own eyes, focusing on the figures across the street.

  “We know.”

  “How’d you manage to skip the Toll?”

  “You can’t come here without checking in!”

  “The bosses want to talk to her.”

  “You’re all in for a wide awakening.”

  Mallory opened her eyes, her body gasping for air as a side effect of her power. She’d heard enough to know that they were in a jam. She hurried to her feet and grabbed the bucket full of Ava Beans.

  “Jett, come on,” she whispered to her friend. He didn’t break his focus. “Jett!” Still nothing. She rolled her eyes and moved on. He’d be fine unless these guys were the real deal. She, on the other hand, had little experience when it came to anything — especially combat.

  “Hey!” came a yell from across the street. Mallory had barely made it to the sidewalk’s corner before they called her out. She hobbled across the street — dodging a passing car or two — towards an area filled with what looked to be hundreds of tents.

  Mallory hopped over trash, stray animals, and homeless humans before finally making it to a big, blue tent shaded by the loud freeway above them. The rest of the Goths — all nine of them — shook their heads.

  “I think we’re in trouble,” she said.

  “We can tell,” Brenden smirked. “What is it this time?”

  “I don’t know,” Mallory admitted. She looked over her shoulder but saw nothing but humans. “I just don’t want to be someone’s science experiment.”

  As the other Goths rolled their eyes, a young adult with a black ponytail rose. He wore a calm attitude that soothed Mallory much more than the others.

  “The Godmother warned us of Gatsby,” he said. “You insisted we come.”

  “I know. It’s probably not that big of a deal, but it could be. We just need to get out of here. Quick.”

  The other Goths’ signs of frustration nearly made Mallory miss the many men surrounding them, coming from all directions.

  “When I say quick, I mean now! Run!”

  The other Goths must not have believed her until she, herself, bolted. She wanted to see whether the others took her seriously or not, but she was too busy using the crowd of tents, homeless people, and busy citizens to her advantage.

  After ducking and dodging her way through the crowd, Mallory slipped into a Wendy’s. A busy Wendy’s, I’d say. A really busy Wendy’s Mallory would say, as she managed to bump into a father of four while making her way to the restroom. Hundreds, possibly thousands, of green marbles were sent rolling all over the restaurant’s floor! Mallory’s first reaction was to drop her jaw, along with the nearly-empty bucket. She was so stunned she didn’t even try to pick any of them up. When four men in suits entered the restaurant, they joined the slippery chaos, nearly breaking their backs and rolling their ankles due to the madness. Children, adults, and the elderly were slipping about in either pure fun, or agony. Mallory backed up, turning to hide in the bathroom. She was successful, for a while.

  That “while” wasn’t even long enough for her to bawl her eyes out. She couldn’t stop shaking, holding her knees to her chest, while sitting in the corner of the small bathroom. She remembered she hadn’t even locked the door, but it was too late. The men in suits had already arrived — and they were pissed!

  The drive to the abandoned warehouse where
the van stopped was the quietest ride Mallory had ever taken. She didn’t even know it was possible for her to be that quiet for that long — her father would be proud. She was pulled out of the back of the van and escorted into the large building.

  Past the crates and goons, Mallory was pushed through a velvet curtain. Here, was a small room with only a table and two men in tuxedos. They both stood tall — one skinny, one monstrous.

  “Have a seat,” the skinny man said. Mallory had seen enough shows to know that this was not a good situation to be in.

  “Whatever you think I did — it didn’t happen.”

  “Just sit down, princess.”

  Mallory followed his orders. She was stunned that he knew she was a princess. Maybe it was just a human formality to call others princess? she thought. Regardless, the two men sat down just after her.

  “Do you know who we are?” the skinny man continued.

  “The bad guys?” Mallory guessed. The skinny man burst into laughter, the monstrous one downed a glass of wine.

  “Mr. Faizhon,” the skinny man said, sending his arm out for a handshake. Mallory went to shake his hand but was blocked by her handcuffs. One of the goons behind her released them from her wrists. When her gloves touched his hand, he smiled.

  “Satin, I presume?”

  “How should I know? My mom made them.”

  The monstrous man moved his partner’s arm aside to get his own grip on Mallory. He swung her arm so much it looked like she was doing the wave.

  “Mr. Gruff,” the man smirked. “My friend here’s a bit shy. He’s never felt a princess before.”

  “Neither have you,” said Mallory, whisking her hand away. “This is just a glove.” Mallory could’ve sworn she saw Mr. Gruff snarl.

  “What brings you royals to the Human World?” Mr. Faizhon finally asked.

  “The Human World?”

  “Don’t play dumb with us,” Mr. Gruff interrupted. Mr. Faizhon had to ask the aggressive man to allow him to do the talking.

  “I suppose we haven’t been clear in explaining our profession. We are Gothic Sperns ourselves, employed by the Spirit Toll to make sure the Human World is cleansed of Gothic influence — at least, publicly. We are known as The Enterprise around our jurisdiction.”

  “We’re on vacation,” Mallory lied. “That’s it.”

  “You brought a lot of Beans for a simple ‘vacation’,” said Mr. Faizhon.

  “Vampires take their time.”

  “I can attest to this truth,” Mr. Faizhon smirked. “However, I am quite disappointed that you came here illegally.”

  “Illegally?”

  Mr. Faizhon took out a pen and poked a notebook he had lying on the table.

  “Is it not illegal to bypass the Spirit Toll? To enter a realm without a proper invitation? Vampires should know this better than all races.”

  “I was invited.”

  “By whom?”

  “Read ‘em.”

  “Read ‘em? Read ‘em who?”

  “Read ‘em and weep, mother—”

  Mallory tried to stand up and untie her cloak, but she was shoved back down into her seat by a goon. She had forgotten that he was behind her.

  “Princess, you’re being highly disrespectful.”

  “Whatever. I’ll try to be lowly disrespectful next time.”

  Mr. Faizhon fixed his blue tie.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do. Instead of contact the Spirit Toll and have you sent back to the Gothic Realm, we’ll give you a shot.”

  “You’ll let us stay!?”

  “If you abide by our rules, we’ll let you and all of your friends stay in Gatsby for as long as you’d like. Granted, this means you must keep your head down so we’re not penalized by the Toll.”

  “We’ll do anything,” Mallory assured them.

  “Anything?” Mr. Gruff smirked. Mr. Faizhon had to whisper a short lecture on civility to his friend.

  “There are a few ground rules you must follow,” Mr. Faizhon continued. “Number one: You’re not allowed to eat humans. Sperns, either. Number two: All enchanted weapons must be given to us for safekeeping. We’ll just call it — a deposit. Number three, and most important of all: Binding is forbidden. The creation of a Dhampir is not only universally frowned upon, but absolutely forbidden in the Human World.”

  “Who said I was Colonial?” Mallory shot back.

  “We know your story, princess. Tales about your parents—”

  “Okay, fine. You got me. I won’t Bind anybody.”

  “I know,” Mr. Faizhon smiled. “Scan her.”

  The Enterprise goon behind Mallory stood her up and whipped out a baton. Immediately after doing so, it began buzzing. It was so uncontrollable that the goon could barely hold it.

  “Take off your clothes,” Mr. Gruff ordered.

  “No thanks.”

  “I don’t mind doing it myself.” Before Mr. Gruff could stand Mallory spoke up.

  “Chill out. I know why it’s buzzing.”

  Mallory untied her cloak and laid it out on the table. It's dark purple backside — trimmed in black — matched her tailcoat and gloves, but the inner lining revealed an endless void that looked like it contained its own galaxy. Mallory stuck her arm deep into the void, swirling it around, before pulling it out. She dropped a hefty book on the table before them. The baton burst into many pieces upon the book slamming the table.

  “There you go. The only enchanted item I own.”

  “What is it?”

  “A book.”

  The two Enterprise bosses turned to each other. They were both annoyed with Mallory’s vague answers.

  “The Book of Souls,” Mallory decided to add. “I honestly don’t know what it does, or why it’s important.”

  “And your cloak?”

  “What about it?”

  “Your cloak is enchanted, princess. You proved it with your little magic trick.”

  Bats! Mallory thought to herself.

  “It’s not an item. It’s a person. His name is Despy, and—”

  Mr. Faizhon wasn’t trying to hear it. He wagged his finger.

  “A deal’s a deal.”

  Mallory sighed. “Sorry, Despy.” She could feel the cloak moving in protest, but she bundled him up, regardless. The goon took the grimoire and cloak before leaving the room, struggling to keep hold of the shaking cloak.

  “Good,” Mr. Faizhon smiled. “We should be done here.”

  “Thank the stars!” Mallory sighed again. “My life flashed before my eyes when I dropped that bucket. Malik and the others would kill me if they knew what I did.”

  “About that . . .”

  Mallory’s eyes widened.

  “What? They’re gone!?”

  “We’ll be keeping them, as well.”

  “No! Why!?”

  “It’s a safety measure to make sure you’re all on your best behavior. We’ll give you your daily rations every week, or so.”

  “You’ll give me those Beans right now!”

  “We’re done. See you later, princess.”

  Mallory wasn’t finished. She stood from her chair in fury and slammed her fists on the table. It split the table in two. Both Enterprise bosses jumped to the corner of the room. Mr. Faizhon even drew his pistol.

  “Give them back!” Mallory hissed.

  “These are the types of outbursts you will avoid if you wish to stay to here,” Mr. Faizhon warned. “All of you. If you want your freedom, then heed my advice and live your lives out of sight, out of mind. Otherwise, I will be forced to call my Timberwolves to deal with your naughty behavior. And trust me, if there’s anything you don’t want, it’s problems with the Timberwolves.”

  The way Mr. Faizhon threatened her made Mallory’s skin crawl. The Enterprise won, and The Goths lost. The Gatsby war had begun.

  3

  The Passenger

  Mallory had lost her supply of Ava Beans, The Book of Souls, and her legendary Cloak of Despair all in one ba
d day. So when The Enterprise offered her a ride back to Midtown Gatsby, she refused. Instead, she walked past the many Enterprise suits, their smirks, and their cars — making her way down the side of a lonely road.

  There were only a handful of drivers who used the road, with a few taking the time to offer Mallory a ride.

  “H-Hey,” came the first driver. He fixed his glasses and sprayed a substance foreign to Mallory all over the car. “It’s lonely out here, eh?”

  The aura of the man creeped Mallory out. He was staring at her without a single blink, drooling as if she were a meal. When she stared back — holding the gaze for eight seconds — she was able to capture some of his thoughts. They were very abusive. She shook her head in disapproval.

  “Hey, pretty lady,” came a boisterous yell from a truck blasting country music. “Nice jeans. Need a lift?” A friend of his was snickering in the passenger seat. Were my jeans REALLY that terrible? Mallory asked herself. They’re leather!

  The princess shook her head. She’d dealt with enough jerks to know she’d be their pet within a couple hours.

  “Have it your way.” The second driver was furious. He threw a beer can her way, and sped off — leaving a dust trail that caused the princess to choke on smoke.

  So, when the third driver pulled up to Mallory in a minivan, the princess was on edge.

  “Miss,” the third driver began, “where are you headed?”

  Mallory ignored him.

  “I wouldn’t advise you to walk alone in a place like this.”

  Still nothing.

  “Sorry to bother you.”

  When the teal minivan began to pull away from her, Mallory had a change of heart.

  “Wait!” she yelled. She hobbled towards the van in her ankle boots flailing her arms to the sky. She knocked into the minivan after it abruptly stopped.

  “Sorry!”

  Mallory made her way to the passenger’s side of the vehicle.

  “Can you take me to the place with all the tents?”

  “Tent City?”

  “I guess.” A nervous tic of Mallory’s caused her to wave her arms in the air. The driver raised his eyebrow at first but ultimately complied.

  “Hop in.”