Page 4 of Ravenswynd Legends


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  A few weeks went by and I couldn’t stop thinking about the man in the mall and several times a day I recalled the dream. I recognized my fascination with the man, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why this particular dream chose to haunt me. I could not make any sense of it. Not much seemed to make sense in my world anyway.

  My twin, Melinda and I had spent most of our lives isolated. All we ever had was one another. When we were three years old our parents died in a plane crash and because neither had any siblings or any other living relatives, the state placed us in an orphanage. Two years later we were placed in a foster home together. Melinda says she has no memory of our parents at all. The only memory I have of my mother is when I was sick with a fever, and she held me in her arms all night long as I fell in and out of consciousness. I believe the memory stayed with me because every time I opened my eyes I saw the frightened look on her face. And any time I’ve ever been sick since that day, I’ve been haunted by her fearful look.

  The little we knew about our parents came in bits and pieces through the years from our foster mother. She had told us they were originally from Peace Dale, Rhode Island, and they moved to Providence just after their marriage. The few pictures we had of them revealed how much we resembled our mother, especially around the eyes. I would like to believe our foster parents took both of us in after falling in love with our cute little heart-shaped faces and dark, sapphire-blue eyes. But the reality of it is more likely due to the fact that we refused to be separated. If and when anyone ever tried, our blood curdling screams caused them to re-think their actions immediately.

  Even our teachers learned their lessons quite fast. One time in grade school, the teacher tried to make my sister sit on the other side of the room, farther away from me. It only took five minutes of stereophonic, high-pitched screaming for that teacher to change her mind. It didn’t matter how much reasoning was used: we never gave up; we would not be separated - period.

  It wasn’t until our senior year in high school that we attempted to become two separate individuals. We determined together that eventually we might want to go on a date alone, possibly even kiss a boy, and we were sure none of the boys at our school would feel the inclination to ask the two of us out together. So it was then, in our last year of high school we told our guidance counselor that we both wanted to try taking a few separate classes. Melinda took the initiative to enter his office alone and told him about our decision. He just about fell off of his chair, and of course, he had to check with me first before he could change anything. By the look on his face when I entered his office, sans my sister, he was almost positive Lindy had just changed her clothes and re-entered.

  He put his pen down; a puzzled look wrinkled his face, and said, “Melinda?”

  After extensive persuasion, he finally believed I was indeed Elizabeth, and not my twin. We had decided we would try two separate classes: English and History. These two subjects being our easiest, we could study and do our homework alone, finally not relying on one another for help.

  This arrangement worked out so well that we even decided to make a few changes in our appearance. There was no one acquainted with us besides Fiona who had the ability to tell us apart, including our foster parents - not that they would take any notice even if one of us had shaved her head. We were quite sure the only reason they became foster parents was for the money.

  Halfway through our senior year, Lindy started to curl her hair. Not frizzy curls - not spiral curls. She just took a curling iron and sort of twirled the ends a little, which was not much of a change, but enough so people had at least a small clue as to who was who. We had raven black hair that hung down to our waists - pitch black and pitch straight, thick and full with no bangs. While growing up, if anyone ever tried to cut our hair, we gave them our infamous scream. After one or two tries, our foster mother gave up the idea. We trimmed one another’s ends once or twice a year once we were old enough to handle a scissors, trusting only our love and passion for what we hoped to be our most attractive quality. It seemed like a constant struggle for me; and so much work went into keeping my hair tangle and frizz-free. Although we both invested in so many products that our bathroom overflowed into our closets with straighteners, dryers, creams and conditioners, I was convinced that Lindy’s hair was much thicker and prettier than mine was. We ended each night in our room brushing our hair together. We once read that brushing it nightly like this would make it shiny and beautiful - a crown of glory - and we knew it had to be the first thing anyone noticed about us when we entered a room. And even though we sometimes did get those envious looks, so often the only thing I liked about my hair was its length. And after Melinda took to curling hers, not only did we begin to receive more attention as individuals, but now my hair even looked longer than hers. Fellow students started to treat us like human beings instead of some sort of untouchable, inseparable twosome. It was a big change. And it was a little sad. But all in all, it had been a good decision - a decision which marked a turning point. We became less reliant on one another, and we made friends - some alone and some together. We even went out on dates with boys - separate dates that never amounted to much in the way of real relationships. We enjoyed our last year of high school learning to grow apart while still remaining best friends.

  Fiona had been our closest friend since just before junior high school. We grew even closer when she told us that she, too, had spent time in foster care, but her life seemed far sadder than ours. She had been bounced from family to family, and without any siblings, she had to endure it alone. We understood exactly how she felt; we at least had each other. Being such a dreamer and superstitious sort, Fiona had always been a huge fan of the local legends and would keep us well informed and entertained with her stories, sometimes keeping us awake at night during sleepovers, shivering as we imagined all the ghosts, goblins and vampires. She never relented. Her face would become as red as her hair if we ever acted amused or disbelieving. These fantastic stories, which she swore she had not made up, went on past high school, slowing down only a bit once we started college. But we loved our crazy, little dreamer and would not have wanted her any other way. We were wrong to think we’d spend all our college years together. Instead, we ended up with another roommate and were not able to see Fiona as often as we had hoped. She simply could not afford full tuition plus the cost of a dorm room, so she lived at home, working and going to school only part time.

  The day I was invited to the party is one I’ll never forget. I had just left my building and started down the sidewalk. The sudden winter-like chill in the air went right through me and, once again, I had the strange haunting dream on my mind, which in turn, brought back the memory of the beautiful man in the mall. Weeks later and still he was in my head. I was just about to Gage Hall when Fiona stopped me mid-jog, interrupting my thoughts.

  “Lizzy!” she shouted, out of breath from trying to catch up to me. She took a deep breath, blew out a huge plume of steam that seemed to float in slow motion from her mouth into the frigid air. “Brr. I can’t wait for winter to be over,” she said as she wrapped her arms around herself with a shiver, “and it hasn’t even really started yet!”

  “Fiona, I don’t want to be late. What’s up?” I attempted to sound sincere, but was sure she noticed the tone of impatience in my voice.

  She appeared to be searching for the right words and stumbled over them for a few seconds - seconds that irritated me more and more. Why couldn’t she hurry up and just spit it out already? At this rate I’d end up missing my exam! My impatience smoldered as I felt my cheeks turn red with more than just the cold wind. I wrapped my scarf around my face pretending to be cold and I stamped my feet a few times, feigning my chill.

  “What is it, Fiona? I can’t be late for Anthropology. We have an exam today!”

  “Well,” she started out slow, “I’m wondering if you’d like to
join me this Friday night.” She pulled her hood tighter and tucked in some stray wisps of red hair. “There’s a party I’ve been invited to,” she paused and seemed to struggle to get the words out, “and I’d like you to come. Everyone is allowed to invite one other person.” She raised her eyebrows and widened her green eyes. She tried to sound calm and collected, but I had known her long enough to know she was anxious. Her extreme blinking gave her away. At first, I couldn’t understand the obvious nervousness at her invitation, other than the fact that she knew I hated parties and seldom went to anything that even closely resembled one. Before I could object and run toward the building, she grabbed my arm with her brown-gloved hand.

  “It’s not what you’re thinking either, Lizzy,” she said and then lowered her voice. “This is the party of the decade. THE Party!” The way she emphasized the word sent serious chills up my spine. “The party I’ve been telling you guys about for years.”

  The wind stopped for a few seconds, and I heard the faint sound of a siren in the distance. Fiona’s face was all screwed up: partly a smile - partly a fearful grimace. I didn’t know if I should believe her or if she was trying to pull a fast one on me. After all, this coming Friday was also the thirteenth. How convenient.

  I thought back for a minute while we stood there silent as statues listening to the wind picking up again - now an eerie howling sound. This party she spoke about had to do with a vampire legend. Supposedly, once every decade there was a gathering of vampires from all over the world. No one knew for sure what they hoped to achieve by including humans, but it was rumored that they came peacefully and only privileged humans were invited and sworn to secrecy.

  “I’ve heard that if you are invited to this party, you can actually join them if you want to!” This had always been one of Fiona’s favorite stories, and she never showed one ounce of fear while telling it - almost as though she wished it was true. And it always led to another: Bram Stoker himself had researched the history of our town before he wrote his famous book, Dracula, simply because of all our legends. One night when she talked about the vampire legends we had been camping out in our backyard in a tent. I can still hear Fiona’s voice as she went on and on in her excited, pleading tone.

  “They do exist, you guys! Why else do you think he would bother researching our town? I believe he found the truth, and then wrote about it in his book.”

  She then told us another more grisly, yet famous vampire story. “It was a bitter cold winter in 1892 when Mercy Brown died of a mysterious disease. So cold, in fact, that the grave diggers couldn’t get through the frozen ground.” Fiona spoke in hushed whispers as we huddled together in the small tent.

  “They had no choice but to place her body in a crypt and then, afterwards, people reported seeing her walking about town. Soon after her death her brother, Edwin, became deathly ill too. Their father feared the worst: that Mercy was a vampire, and he got permission to exhume her body. When they did, Mercy still looked alive and seemed to have moved inside of her coffin, and when they cut out her heart they were horrified to find it full of fresh blood!”

  I remember the look on Melinda’s face at this point in the story. She always pretended she wasn’t afraid, but her wide eyes told me that she felt the same goose bumps crawling up her spine as I did.

  Fiona’s face glowed in the thin beams of our flashlights as she finished her story. “After Bram Stoker died, guess what they found among his papers? Clippings from the Providence Journal about Mercy Brown!”

  The sound of a siren brought me back to the moment. Fiona’s eyes were glued to mine as she waited for an answer. My mind whirled with memories of her stories through the years. How could she still be so gullible? Providence: home to vampires? This idea bordered on the ridiculous. Who would believe such nonsense anyway? I supposed people in the old days did. After all, they believed anything that went bump in the night had to be some sort of evil entity. Surely not now, in this present age of science and knowledge. And surely not now when I was already late for my exam!

  “Listen, Fiona, I’ll have to catch you later. I’m sure you understand that I have a few questions for you before I can give you my answer. Okay?” I took a few steps backwards toward the building as I spoke. A furious wind started to whip up around us now, no doubt, surprising all the meteorologists with this sudden burst of winter-like weather in mid-October. Crisp orange and red leaves rustled and twirled around my feet as I eased my way toward the glass doors, hoping beyond hope to avoid my redheaded friend, at least until Saturday.

  Her freckles seemed to stand out even more in the daylight as she smiled and said with a note of sadness in her voice, “Sure, Lizzy. Don’t forget though.” She took a quick glance around and added in a tone much like she had a huge secret, “There are rules that can’t be broken. Don’t mention this to anyone until you give me your answer. If the rules are broken, we won’t get to go.”

  I wondered how “they” would know if I did bother to mention this silliness to anyone, but I nodded my head as I waved, turned and jogged the rest of the way to the doors. I smiled to myself and tried to forget about Fiona and her ridiculous party. I had to gear myself up for the exam and force myself to focus on that, and nothing else.

  Fifty minutes later I dropped my exam off on the professor’s desk and left the building. The instant the howling wind slapped me in the face it reminded me of Fiona's invitation. I pulled my coat closer to my chilled body and tucked my hair down into my hood as I ran to the Café to meet Lindy for lunch. Immediately upon entering, I spotted her black hair. The sunlight coming through the window made it look radiant with hues of dark blue streaking through the blackness. I had no doubt that my hair appeared smashed down flat from my hood after running through the wind. I pulled off my hood, shook my head, and untangled it with my fingers. I couldn’t help but notice a few eyes glance my way and then back to my twin. We were an unusual sight, I supposed, identical in every way. But I was sure, too, that they noticed how much nicer Lindy’s hair was.

  I glanced down at the rest of Melinda’s lunch when I joined her at the table and realized we had purchased exactly the same meal: a turkey club sandwich wrap with bacon, a large gourmet cookie, and a bottle of water. We both reached for a napkin at the same time and laughed as our hands touched. Her giggle echoed mine. Even our voices were identical, especially on the phone.

  I set my things down on the table and hung my coat on the chair behind me. We exchanged smiles as I started eating my sandwich, and she finished hers.

  “Did you see Fiona today?” she asked, brushing some crumbs off her lap.

  It was an innocent question, but I had hoped to avoid all talk about Fiona until later.

  “Yeah, but we didn’t get to talk much. I didn’t want to be late,” I mumbled, sounding vague. After all, what if I decided I did want to go to the party? I’d have to wait to tell my twin about it and ask her to come after I gave Fiona my answer. Actually, the whole concept of vampires had started to intrigue me. Maybe it would be fun... and enlightening. Maybe it would finally put to rest the whole idea of the crazy, unbelievable legends once and for all. Or maybe I’d find out my crazy friend had been right all along! Nah, that was impossible. Although the more I thought about it, the more fascinated I became.

  Melinda tapped her fingers on the table to get my attention. I looked up into her almond shaped eyes, mirror images of my own.

  “Lizzy! You’re a million miles away. What in the world is churning in that mind of yours?” She stopped tapping and rested her chin on her hand.

  I put my sandwich down, half-eaten and all but forgotten, flipped my hair back away from my face and said in a voice as monotone as possible, “Nothing. Just wondering if I passed my exam.”

  “Sure you are.” Sarcasm radiated on her face as well as in her voice as she picked up her cookie and took a large, crunching bite. “You’re hiding something from m
e!” She chewed with a deliberate slowness as she narrowed her eyes and then dabbed the paper napkin on her now pouting lips.

  “Ok, you got me.” I tried to keep a straight face. “I can’t talk about it just yet, but I’ll tell you later, I promise.” I held out my hand, holding up my pinky finger.

  Lindy reached across the table as a smirk touched her face. She linked her pinky to mine, saying “I knew it! It’s a guy, isn’t it?” Her voice became soft and inquisitive.

  “I said I’ll tell you later. You know my pinky promise is good, sis.”

  She flicked back her hair, mimicking my earlier show of aloofness. Her blue eyes twinkled as she stood and said, “Alrighty then. Later it is. I have a class in five minutes. See you back at home.” She grabbed her coat and backpack in one hand, her empty wrappers with the other, and kissed the top of my head. She didn’t say another word. As she hurried off I enjoyed the slight scent of her jasmine perfume in the soft trail of wind that followed her away.

  I had to admit I was glad she had to rush off. If not, she would have pestered me with questions right up until the time I had to leave. As I thought about our brief sisterly tiff, my mind went back again to the party. As if on cue, Fiona appeared before me. I cringed at the sight of her heading straight to my table. I still hadn’t quite made up my mind, and, even though I flirted with the idea of going, I didn’t feel like dealing with it right this minute.

  Her curls bounced like springs now that they were freed from her hood. Her red hair was short in comparison to ours - only to her shoulders. She smiled as she approached my table and then placed her salad down across from me.

  “Hey, Lizzy,” she said as a hopeful look washed over her face.

  “Hi, Fiona. No, I haven’t said anything to anyone. Sit down and relax!” I smiled at my fantastically loony friend.

  “Thanks, Lizzy! I so want to go. I have been waiting for this for years!” Her whole face beamed relief.

  “So, refresh my memory about the secret bash,” I said in a sweet voice.

  “Okay.” She sat down and dropped her book-bag on the floor, and then leaned forward. “The only way to get an invitation is by word of mouth. No one is told where it’s held, and the only way to get there is by boat. Each invited guest is allowed to invite one other person.” Subdued fervor filled her voice as she went on. “Once your invitee says yes, you can tell them where to meet, but not one minute sooner.”

  I had to ask the obvious question. “Who asked you to go?”

  “Oh, just some random guy I met at the coffee shop. It was so strange. He just came up to me while I stood in line and handed me a slip of paper with his number on it. He asked if I might be interested in going to a party and, if so, I was not allowed to tell anyone else about it, but I could invite one other person and give them the same instructions. I knew immediately this was the party!” Her eyes were large, and her face was flushed with excitement.

  “Fiona, in all seriousness, do you believe all this? How could a true vampire keep himself away from such easy prey?”

  She leaned closer still and whispered, “The vampires will not feed on humans during the party; it is forbidden. And in no way can they change a human into one of their own, unless specifically asked to do so by the human. The humans are sworn to secrecy about the party regardless of their outcome - what they decide to do. These rules cannot be broken.”

  I could only assume that after the party all the rules were suspended and worse yet, if a human spilled the beans, the only recourse would likely be death. And not the kind that was enjoyed by these so-called undead beings, such as having eternal youthfulness, being forever healthy, and basically, immortal. It probably meant really dead. Dead without benefits!

  Fiona remained calm as she went on. “Of course, it’s likely there are more rules and regulations that we will learn about once we attend the party...”

  I interrupted her, “If we attend.”

  “I am going, Lizzy!” She picked up her fork and stabbed at her salad. Fiona had been a vegetarian for years and she eyed what was left of my sandwich with disdain. “Are you sure you didn’t say anything to your sister?”

  “I swear! Although it wasn’t easy. You know Melinda. She can tell if I’m hiding something from a mile away.” I winked at her trying to lighten the increasing sense of mistrust she now showed me.

  “But you did manage to keep your mouth shut, Lizzy? Not a word?” Her voice was hope mingled with doubt.

  “Not a word.” I echoed her question. At the same time, something else had dawned on me. I had always been interested in local history, though I never did find anything in my research regarding these legends and I supposed, if there was any truth to them, nothing would be written down anyway. Stories passed down from generation to generation would have kept the legend alive. But, during one of my family history searches, I did uncover something a bit strange and I decided to share it with Fiona now.

  “Did I ever tell you what I found the last time I researched the Rose family?”

  She knew how obsessive I could be regarding my ancestry. Her chewing slowed down as she shook her head.

  “Well, it’s quite interesting! There was an article online about the Rose family from Peace Dale, Rhode Island that took place in 1874. Now, don’t get me wrong. I have no proof that these people are my ancestors. Anyway, somehow the patriarch of the Rose family decided that his deceased daughter was a vampire and he took it upon himself to exhume her body and cut out her heart, burning it afterwards!”

  Fiona’s mouth fell open and she became saucer-eyed. “For real? Awesome!”

  “Awesome? She was already dead! What will burning her heart do?” I asked rhetorically as I shook my head and continued. “I know you’re probably comparing it to the Mercy Brown legend, but listen! The freaky part about this story is - our paternal grandmother’s name was Ellen…Ruth…Rose.” I paused a moment and then said in a more excited tone, “Fiona, the story I found said the heart-less exhumed body was none other than Ruth… Ellen…Rose.” I said the names slowly for effect, somewhat pleased I could finally offer Fiona a creepy story for a change. But then, I reconsidered and continued with less enthusiasm, concerned I might be fueling a dangerous fire.

  “There wasn’t much more, but I remember the father’s name was William G Rose, and there was no mention of any other children, living or dead.”

  “This is no coincidence, Lizzy.” Fiona’s eyes were wide as she shook her head back and forth. “I bet you and Lindy are related to these people! I’d bet my life on it.” As usual, the stranger the story, the more fantastical and attractive it was to Fiona. “You simply must come too!” she said, starting to stab her salad again.

  It hit me then, exactly how much Fiona had been looking forward to this party and how very important it was for her to have me come along. I knew, too, that she would still go, even if I didn’t. Worried that her excitement would end up getting her into trouble, I decided she’d be much safer if I went - if we went with her.

  Slowly but surely, I had talked myself into going to the party, and now, I’d have to invite my twin. Even though we had learned to be apart more often, something this huge had to be shared. I could already picture Melinda rolling her eyes in disbelief, but at the same time, I knew how she loved a good party. She’d accept the invitation, I was sure of it.

  “Yes. I’ll go with you,” I said without another thought.

  “Oh, thank you. Thank you, Lizzy!” Fiona’s smile was wide. “I wanted you to come so badly. And as much as I do want to go, I think I’d be afraid to go alone.” Her salad stabbing increased in speed as she finally started to eat again. Her furious eating made me think it was good she was a vegetarian. Surely she’d choke on meat as fast as she stuffed her face. At least in her frenzy, she had the common courtesy to keep her mouth closed.

  “Do you want to stop home with me later so I can ask Lindy??
?? I snickered. “I hope she doesn’t think we’ve gone completely mad!”

  Fiona was not at all surprised by my choice to ask my twin. But she looked at me with a question in her eyes, and then she frowned like a child caught in the act of making up a story.

  “Lizzy, you do believe me, don’t you? I mean, about the legends and all. It really is true. You’ll see.”

  “Fiona, all I know for sure is that I’ve agreed to go out on Friday night. I have no idea where, or who else will be there other than you and my sister if she says she’s even interested. And that I plan to have some fun.” I felt like I had succeeded in avoiding the question quite well, but then I saw the look of hurt come across Fiona’s face. Her eyes became moist with tears, and I thought she’d lose the battle to hold them back if I didn’t add anything more. I reached across the table and touched her pale hand.

  “Oh Fiona, I think you’ve wanted the legends to be true for so long that, to you, they are. Don’t get me wrong. I think it would be cool if they were true. I’m just not so sure I can have as much faith in the legends as you do, but I’m willing to find out first hand. That’s got to mean something, right?”

  With a heavy uneasiness, I flipped my hair behind my shoulder. I hated to hurt people’s feelings more than anything.

  “I knew all along you didn’t believe me, Lizzy,” she sighed. “But you’ll see. You’ll finally find out for yourself. I don’t know about you, but if some of the other stories are even remotely true,” she said lowering her voice, “I mean the stories about being able to ask one of the vampires to change me. Well, I’m planning to ask!” Her face, usually the shade of paper, became pinkish around the edges –alive, and more determined than I’d ever seen her. Her freckles all but disappeared completely with this new color in her cheeks. It was quite becoming. I had always wondered why she didn’t try just a little makeup but, for some reason, she refused to even consider it. Just a tad of blush would go a long way on so pale a face.

  During my musings about her cheek color, her statement struck me like a lightning bolt. She wanted to become a vampire! I was at once completely appalled and, at the same time, fascinated with such a thought. Being immortal? I had never seriously considered such a thing. Immortality only happened in movies or pertained to angels or something akin to God. I wasn’t able to wrap my brain around the whole idea of it. I blinked back the ever-increasing sense of darkness as my mind wandered toward the meaning behind these thoughts of living forever: Immortality – life without end.

  “Did you hear me, Lizzy?”

  “I...um... yes, I did hear you.” I had turned into a stammering fool. “I don’t know how to respond to that.”

  Dumbfounded at both her statement and my sudden and unbelievably agreeable impression of the very idea of it all, I could barely breathe. It seemed like such a wonderful concept. I had no idea I wanted to live forever. I never imagined it could be possible. Why now? Was it just the truth behind my red-headed friend’s face, or could there be something lurking in my family history that I never was aware of until this exact moment in time? My heart jumped as though given a shot of adrenalin, and then began to hammer so hard and fast I thought it would burst. As the pounding increased I started to freak out, and I had to force myself to take some deep breaths…in and out… in and out - in a slow, methodical way. It didn’t help. I put my hand on my chest and was even more alarmed when I could feel the pounding!

  “What’s wrong, Lizzy? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. You’re as pale as me!”

  Fiona’s words echoed in the back of my mind. My ears started to ring and then plugged up as if stuffed with cotton, muffling Fiona’s words. My head spun. My vision blurred. Everything evaporated into blackness. The next thing I knew, Fiona’s frightened and now bright red face loomed above me as I opened my eyes.

  “Lizzy! Lizzy, are you okay? Oh my God, what happened to you? I thought I lost you for a second!” she said, as her hands fluttered from my cheeks to my forehead feeling for a temperature. “Can you get up yet? I think you fainted!”

  Fiona helped me sit upright with a soft hand on my back. Immediately feeling self-conscious, I looked around to see if there were other people still in the general area. My sigh sounded more like a moan. Someone in a black hooded sweatshirt had just gone out through the glass door leaving The Café nearly empty, except for one flannel-clad individual slouched in the corner facing away from us. I felt my head for bumps or blood. There was none.

  “I think I’m okay,” I said in a mumble, and smoothed out my hair.

  My heart rate had slowed considerably while I sat on the floor for a few more minutes and then took Fiona’s hand. She helped me stand back up and ease myself onto the chair. I glanced up at the clock and realized I had already missed half of my next class.

  “Oh, flaming hell!”

  Fiona’s eyes followed mine to the clock, understanding at once what I meant. “Sorry, Lizzy. I guess it’s my fault.”

  “No, that’s okay. I don’t know what that was about, but I’m guessing maybe I’m a bit anxious about Friday night, is all. I mean, if you’re right, and the legends are true, we would be taking quite a risk, wouldn’t we? Who’s to say they just don’t lure us weak-minded humans to their so-called party, pretending all is fine for a few hours, just so they can do whatever they want to do with - and to us?”

  “I know,” she sighed, “I’ve thought of that too, but a part of me totally believes the legends, and that’s what I’m clinging to. I don’t want to spend my life wondering if it was real, only to end up like my foster mother. Old and lonely. If it is true, I plan to be twenty-two forever. And, with any kind of luck at all, I will meet my soul-mate.” Fiona raised her eyebrows and gave me a quick smile before going on.

  “I heard that if you meet your perfect someone at one of these parties, you’ll be together forever...for all eternity...just like all the silly fairy tales we heard when we were little...happily-ever-after. Only, in this life here as humans, happily-ever-after is more like hardly-ever-happens. And, even if it does, it only means you’ll have but a few years here on earth with your loved ones, and then bang, you’re gone.” She shook her head back and forth so slow and sad; it made me want to cry.

  I took another deep breath, mulling over what she’d said. “Well, let’s hope it is true then. Since you’ve painted such a bleak picture of my future, I have to hope you’re right.” I studied her thoughtfully and then smiled. “Now, let’s go ask my sister if she’d like to go to the only party I know of where you get to have your cake and eat it too, eternally speaking.”

  Fiona laughed at what I knew was my feeble attempt to be funny. But I could tell it was a nervous laugh, and I assumed it had to be due to her increasing fear of my brand new ability to faint without any known reason. Most likely her fear centered on me fainting again and hitting my head once we were outside, thereby making me unavailable to enter the realm of the secret world of vampires she so hoped to witness. I had to chuckle at my own crazy musings now as we buttoned up to head out into the early winter breezes. It surprised me when Fiona held my arm and carried my backpack. She was truly worried for me.

  All of a sudden I was struck with another question for my nutty vegetarian friend. I was sure she’d already have an answer for this, and although the cold wind whipping in our faces made it hard to breathe, much less talk, I still had to ask.

  “Fiona,” I started with caution. “How in the world can you consider becoming a creature who consumes blood when all these years you’ve refused to eat meat in any form?”

  “That’s an easy one, Lizzy,” she snickered and put her hand on her chest as she continued, “No animals will be harmed in the making of this vampire!”

  I had a good chuckle at that one too. “Imagine that,” I giggled. “You may become the first vegetarian vampire! Oh!” I said in a quick shout. “I’ll make you a new b
umper sticker to put over your animal rights one. Instead of P.E.T.A. we can replace the P with a V.” All but in hysterics now, I could barely spit it out, and then finally between snickers and snorts I said, “Vampires for the Ethical Treatment of Animals!”

  Fiona scowled at me and my silliness as I continued to laugh at what I thought to be quite witty.

  “Whatever you say, Lizzy,” she said shaking her head as she pulled me toward the sidewalk.

  When I saw the determined look on Fiona’s face I realized again just how serious she was about this. The sudden chill crawling up my spine coupled with her sober look ended my laughter with an abrupt snort. I could see that she had made up her mind, and no amount of teasing would sway her. In the midst of an unsettling shudder, I realized that drinking human blood wasn’t going to bother her in the least.

  We eventually made it to my building without any negative happenings, other than the fact that my face was frozen and I could barely move my lips.

  When we walked into Sweet Hall in silence, Fiona was still clutching my arm, apparently not taking any chances with me. I was deep in thought about the upcoming weekend and what it might entail; Fiona was probably sending up silent prayers that nothing would prevent us from going through with our plans.

  Rubbing a sore spot on my head, I hoped that my sister didn’t have the same reaction as I had. My plan was to talk to

  her while she sat on the bed, pillows all around us, just in case.

 
Sharon Ricklin's Novels