At Midnight

Maverick Mitrea If I was human, I would have taken one deep inhale. Of all things humanly possible, I envied those who could take a breath- especially when I felt at peace. I wish I knew what humans felt. Does their skin rise and hive to the light dancing on their skin? I settled for the single thought that today the daylight felt good on my frigid flesh and trusted my word it did- even if I couldn’t feel all of it.  When I was under the sun, it felt like I had a candle over my hand and between us a thick sheet of cloth. I could hardly feel the heat, but at times it aggravated my skin.  I could feel the warmth of the sun because of the ring I wore. A ring I had especially designed for me to walk in the light. And thank goodness for it because if I felt all of the daylight, I would seethe to a brittle.   Laying in the air like trembling veils, steam eroded off the cement. Today, the sun was omnipresent and oppressive. It turned everything gold, from the trees to the grass to the dust on the road. It normally isn't hot in Washington, but from the looks of it, it was a special occasion. I pivoted on heels and surveyed my bedroom; a clutter of books bloated my room as I’d run out of space on my shelves. The piles stacked as high as my waist, but not a single one had a lick of dust as I kept them in mint condition. Creeping around the piles, I headed to my windows and pushed the window hangings to the right. The opaque curtains shifted to the sides to let in the daylight’s visible rays. Greeting the pencil streaks, I embraced its warm twinkles. Even if the weather called for warm temperatures and clear skies, my skin couldn’t soak it all up like I wanted it to. I wished for the zeal on my skin.  My brows drew together, and my mouth twitched into a smile. Every muscle in my cheeks ached as I held the grin in place.  I need to let everyone see I was happy, even if it’s killing me.  Shelves were tucked into every nook and cranny, all filled with books with spines weathered from many rereads. I veered off to the end of my bedroom and followed along with my finger reading the titles on the book’s spine. Staring at my bookshelf for the last hour, waiting for something exciting to happen. Perhaps something magical where my shelves read my mind, and like a witch’s spell, a book would slowly move out of place and tell me what I should read today. Yet nothing. I’ve read everything on my shelf over and over for the last six centuries. No one sold 1300 literature anymore, and modern fantasy books were looking relatively dry compared to how my life really was.  “Maverick?” my mother, Wilma, mumbled. She wasn’t my real mother, but it’ll do. Though about three floors down, her soft voice was like a kitten purring against a scratching post and ear-splitting against my Cochlear nerves. Vampire’s hearing was so keen that they could hear a hunter shuffling through a sheet of snow in the woods.  “Coming.” As I studied my shelf longer, I drew my lower lip between my teeth.  What to do, what to do. There was a soft knock at my door without looking over my shoulder. I said, “I’m coming.”  Leon, the second youngest brother, pushed open the door a little, sticking his head between the small crevice. “We’re leaving; come on.” “I said I’m coming.” I stuck my finger between my lips and chewed on my nail. I still couldn’t pick a book no matter how long I stared. I’ve read them so many times I’ve already spoiled all the endings and the easter eggs the authors left for me to find. At this point, I could almost recite each book by heart- my frozen, dead heart. Leon booted open the door further and cruised into my room, dodging the large piles of books scattered all along the floor. He scooted beside me and gazed at the shelf. “We’re going to a cookout. Do you really need a book?” “I don’t remember telling you to come into my room. Get out.”  Leon shrugged, ignoring my unkind words. Leon never walked on eggshells around me, but he understood his place and knew when he was crossing the threshold between loyalty and disrespect. So I never took any of his words to heart. “There’ll be people, games, and a hiking trail. You could try socializing.” Honestly, I didn’t mind our back and forth arguing like siblings- it just made pretending to feel more natural. I mean, that’s what we did anyway. We all had a role to play; some days, it was exciting while others were boring. “You could try getting out of my room, for starters.” Leon tsked his tongue. “Fine, grab the same books you always read, and let’s go. We’re all waiting on you, sir.” “I don’t know which one to grab.” He stepped forward and reached for one of them. I swatted his hand away, “don’t touch my books.” Leon reached again and pulled a book off the shelf. He handed it to me and swiveled back to the door.  “Come on, sir, let’s get this picnic over with.” Leon shut the door behind him. My jaw tightened, but I pushed the urge to snap at him down into the pits of my empty stomach. I looked down to read the title, THE STRANGE DEATH OF LIBERAL ENGLAND.  I murmured to myself, knowing he could hear me, “not bad, brother.” Pocketing the book under my arm, I headed towards my door. Before stopping, I captured a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror and inspected my clothes.  Remember to smile, I thought. I wrestled my lips into a smirk and straightened my white shirt. A person’s image is everything. It’s how people would remember you. And as a leader, I must be remembered even if there were times I wanted to disappear. I didn’t even want to remember my own past, but it hung over my head like a widdle spider in the back trying to land and latch onto you.  But if I smiled all the time, no one would dare ask me what was wrong. No one will pry so deep into my core memories and extract them with a probing tube. Smiling kept people away. Smiling also made me look confident, and a good leader always was confident. I stepped out of my room, locked it, and walked down the steps until I reached the outdoors, where my family picked a car to jump into. Even the wind, which whipped and lashed and roared around us, was meek and tickling the leaves.  My mother, Wilma, walked over to me and hooked her arm around my neck. Her tight brown kinks bounced like a giggly high school girl. Her baby face appearance made her look like she was thirty-one with no wrinkles in sight, but she reached her 300s in May. If you ask me, her undead years have not been kind to her. She wore so much makeup that if she wiped it all off, it would take about 3 baby wipes to get the blush and brown smears off her cheeks that gave her dimensions.  Wilma pecked my cheek, raked her fingers through my brown hair, and styled it behind my ears. “Do you want me to fix your hair a little bit? I have a comb and hair gel in my purse. I could do it for you real quick.” Her lashes fluttered.  My lips drew back a snarl, but it didn’t make Wilma flinch. She rocked back on her heels and curled her fingers on the end of my shirt.  I hate when she does that. I scruffed my hair back into place. “I thought I told you to stop touching me?” Untightening my jaw, I relaxed my muscles because even if I didn’t like it, Wilma was soft minded and any harsh words would ruin her mood for days. And honestly, I’d rather give in to what she wants than listen to her whine. I forgot to smile for her, dammit.  “But you can put this book in your purse,” I handed it to her. “Now.” I forced a smile, but Wilma’s more genuine and welcoming. She was good at reading me better than anyone else. She took the book and stuffed it in her big bag. With her rough fingers, she shifted my ring by accident. I readjusted the silver, bland ring back on my middle finger. We don’t need that falling off- I’ll burn to death. “Are you riding with us, sir?” She led me to my parent’s black compact SUV.   “Depends.” If Cassius and Ysabelle weren’t carpooling, I’d usually join Ciro and Wilma as they were my favorite and the quiet ones. But lately, as Cassius, my youngest brother, brought his girlfriend around more, I started hitching rides with anyone other than my “parents.” Ysabella was due for a swore-in into the coven, and as the leader, I have been putting it off for far too long.  I tugged on the backdoor handle and slid into the seat. The other side opened too. Cassius’s pale face came into view, and a muted smirk played on his lips. His jaw was firm and his nose long but slightly crooked, like it had been broken and left to its imperfections. “Morning, sir!” Ysabella and Cassius greeted as they slid into the backseats. Bitterness thrummed through my veins. My fingers jolted into a sealed fist. As I saw Cassius and Ysabelle buckle themselves into the backseat, I kicked my legs out and quickly shut the door in front of them. And since they were carpooling with Wilma and Ciro, I hopped into the back seat with Nessa in Leon’s car. When I got into Leon’s jeep, I rolled down the glass and stuck my head out the window and listened for the trees rustling in the warm breeze.  “Start driving,” wiggling a finger at Leon. His eyes cut to the rear view mirror and bowed in command. Now this was one of those moments I wished I could take a breath.                   _____________________________________ I kept my nose deep in my book. At this point there was no need to read it out of enjoyment, but now a competition to see if I could remember it word for word and recite it back to myself by the end of the night. My senses were engaged in the smell of pine from the forest and the beating of everyone’s heart around me. I noticed, when peering over the edge of my book, that everyone’s heart beated differently. Especially the meaty humans on wheels. Their’s beat as slow as the full turning of their squeaky tires on the pavement.  “Ciro, you made it!” One of my dad’s coworker’s hollered. His coworker raised his arms up to greet Ciro with a hug, but my father stuck to the customary waving and smiled. Compared to everyone, the Mitreas were like Greek Gods.  Huh, stupid comparison.  Not my words to be exact, but to all the girls who liked to look at my coven from afar and swoon over any of them. The joke among them all was that Ciro was Zeus. And I, the quiet and infuriating, was Hades. At first I used to laugh at their silly fantasies, but now I think calling me Hades was more a compliment. A ruler among the dead has a nice ring to it.  King is what I thrive for. When people asked about my family, we all agreed we’d tell everyone we were adopted. My brothers were: Leon, Sebastian, and Cassius. I was the oldest of my so-called siblings, since I was the oldest vampire and led my coven, as Cassius was the youngest. My sisters were: Nessa and Demetria. Ysabelle, the annoying girlfriend, hitched along every ride and soon to be joining our coven. Ciro and Wilma were our parents. I am not too sure what other reasons I had for wanting a coven like this, but in all actuality, I enjoyed mastering them from where I stood. I liked watching them all put on a show when we were around the humans and other vampires. And all the other covenants assumed Ciro was the leader, which made finding the true leader of our coven much harder to kill.  I had a role to play. I won’t lie, pretending to be something I’m not made me feel like a child opening a present on Christmas morning. The persona I took on was a stuttering, scared Mitrea boy that never talked, it made the little me inside do a tickle-me-Elmo laugh every time. He was even harder to play, but I enjoyed the challenge. And I enjoyed listening to other covens mock and pick on me as it made it much easier to pick out my next kill. It surely excited me. I’m supposed to be shy and weak so you have to feel bad for me, but what I loved most about all this pretending was behind my weak, pathetic smile was a monster lurking from within. And if anyone gets too close, it’s over for them.  It wasn’t just the covenants I played a role for. The humans got to see me like this too. When we arrived at the company cookout, we grabbed a seat at one of the park picnic benches near the dance floor. “You finally made it to one of these events, and you brought the family!” The coworker waved at everyone at the table, but I kept my nose down in my book so I wouldn't have to make small talk. Small talk was for people who had interesting things going on in their lives. “You’re going to love it. We got games for the kids,” Ciro's coworker pointed to the field behind the picnic benches while the kids rolled around a soccer ball. “Hiking trail. And music,” he then nodded to the dance floor in front of us. “Mayor Wilhem hired some new performers to dance and sing tonight so I’m excited to see what they do.” “Can’t wait.” My father nodded and smiled. That was Ciro’s way of wanting to end a conversation. I curled my shoulder’s forward as the town’s people got louder and more people came to greet us at our table. If I had a heart it would probably pound so hard against my ribcage, it would tear a hole through me and fall out of my chest. Their scent made my stomach growl.  One of Ysabelle’s human friends came by the table, Jessica, as always to gossip in her ear. One of the many reasons I couldn’t stand Ysabelle. For a woman who said she hated confrontation, people, and all that was fun she had a funny way of showing how she hated it by all the human friends she hung out with. Jessica was basically a gossiping gazelle and if she was a frolicing mammal, I would’ve picked her out of my teeth by now. I think Ysabelle only said all that to get on my good gracious, but it just made it easier to see past her lies. Cassius and Ysabelle sat at the end of the table, Jessica leaned over with a low cut shirt for all to see while murmuring into her friend’s ear. Without turning her head, Jessica’s eyes ran a searching gaze over me. I honed into their conversation as her nasally voice boomed through my eardrums, “so is he dating anyone?” Ysabelle whispered back, knowing damn well I could hear her, “no, but I wouldn’t bother him too much. He doesn’t talk much.” “Who cares? Once he gets a load of these puppies, he’ll have to want me.” Jessica adjusted her top. Ysabelle scuffed under her breath as that was her poor attempted way to laugh, and I rolled my eyes to the left.  I wanted to curl into the shelf of a bookcase between the hard covered books and countless notebooks just to get away from everyone like the obnoxious need for connections and laughter- and Jessica specifically. Her scent was biting, blood pumped and I felt the pounding in her chest on the tip of my tongue.  She was a healthy one. I took a silent whiff of air, letting the metallic aroma ride my senses. When I lowered my eyes down to Ysabella, she caught me staring and stopped chuckling. Her head dipped in submission.  I know we’re supposed to play a role, but I’m not too entirely convinced all of us are playing right. I raised a brow at Ysabella and then Cassius before peering back down at the book. She’s desperate- so pathetically desperate for friends. Maybe she’s not meant to be a part of my coven. If anyone is going to ruin anything for us, it’s Ysabelle. She’s been spending too much time with that mundane. Once the town finds out about us, we’ll do what we do best. Pack up our things and go. Leave for another hundred years and come back. This was my second time back in Bretemon, Washington. I came back once their borders were weak. A lot of covenants did.  And these mouth breathing mundanes were soul crushing to be around. Humans knew monster’s like me existed, but none of them really wanted us around which is why my coven and I hid in secret. Washington’s one of those towns monster’s stayed away from as these people loved their torches and pitchforks. And they were smart to keep us out. But me, I have a plan for these people.  As a few folks walked past, I made a mental note of who I was killing first. Jessica, for sure. Vampires were associated with red and black eyes, and though they questioned why ours were gold we never gave them any reason to believe we weren’t human. We scarfed down the food they made, we puked it up when they were away, always had warmers in our pockets, and we hunted animals to control our thirst. Only until my plan is set into motion. If I was going to take over this town, we had to be quiet about it.  And Ysabelle is going to ruin it for us. It was soul crushing to do this every day, but it was the way I chose to live. When a person breathed it was just a daily reminder that my life was dangling off the edge off a cliff and tied to a bungee rope. No way up and no way down- not without a knife of course. Not like that could kill me even if I wanted it to.  I envied that about humans- I want to know what a heartbeat is like, eating food, dying easily, and most of all I want to know what it feels like to have a disinterest in tearing friends or people apart. But I’m dead, and to survive, I gotta kill.  Music began to play from one of the speakers and everyone’s attention directed to the dancefloor. However my eyes roamed over the words of my book.  An announcer pressed the microphone to their lips, “please give a warm welcome to the Shalam Tribe. And their performer Leila Pelare.” While butchering her last name. The music had a south Asian melodic structure that quickly grabbed my attention as it made me think about the last time I visited Mongolia. There was a point in life where I needed alone time and chose to take a vacation. On this vacation I left home for two years and to find the very thing I wear now.  My ring. Adjusting it slightly. And when I came back, there he was, Cassius, trying to take my coven and lead it. I let him have his two years of control of my coven, but the punishment was severely needed after that. Now thinking back, I smile perched up on my lips- fun times.  When I heard the speaker blasting the sounds of a war drum-I thought deja vu? My brows arched in question while tethering me away from my thoughts. Most of those who lived in the town of Bremerton like their country folk music. They never had a taste for anything else. Maybe that’s why they seemed astonished to see the dancers and the poppy music. A woman took the beginning stance of the dance and reached straight up. Her long jet black hair cascaded down to her tailbone. Unfortunately, her arms were not the only thing to rise. As she reached up her top slid up over her breasts, the bottom revealing through her yellow scarf top. The small mounds bounced slightly. When she flipped her black hair, she revealed her beautiful crystal blue eyes and the markings on her face. I couldn’t pinpoint it, but I’d seen those markings before. The dancing woman had a thin oval line on both sides of her cheeks and one on her chin. Sure, her eyes were a gorgeous blue, but her expression was guarded somehow, a sadness lurked there that spoke of tragedy of some sort. The woman smiled as she could tell she had struck these simple-minded people from their ghastly gasps.  With a deep inhale, I welcomed her sweet scent. How could anyone forget a scent like that? She sighed and adjusted her top then went to try the same position. Once again her top slid up. She tried a different position, stretching her arms out to the side. This was only slightly better. The shirt, while it no longer tried to come off, now stretched tighter to her body. The woman winked at the crowd and wrinkled her nose as she lowered her arms.  Odd of you. You know just how to get our attention. What was this woman thinking? Of all things to try here and now, you choose this small town to wear that in? Burying my face into the pages, I chuckled as she was definitely going to give these town folks an aneurysm by the end of the dance. When I looked back over the pages, my coven didn’t hear me, and a wave of relief swept over me. The woman took a different position. One that focused on leg movements. With her arms down by her sides and her legs spread slightly apart, she started moving her hips from side to side. As her hips went to the right, she pulled it up slightly as her left side dipped a bit. Then she pulled her hips to the left, bringing it up as her left side dropped. The thigh necklace had bells and little trinkets on it to sing to the rhythm.   A tension built up around my heart but also strangely relaxed me at the same time. For a brief moment, I felt better than normal while watching her. As much as she looked good, she was the biggest tease. I wondered, did she notice me? Once she got into a steady rhythm, her hips drew a horizontal eight in the air. She was finally getting the hang of it. But with each sway of her hips the seam of her yellow skirt split rode higher into the place it had no right to invade. Her wrist jingled and as her body moved it was as if she was riding the music and it followed her gracefully. Her eyes locked onto my gold iris. Without a word it was as if it was speaking telepathically to me, it said come here. My fingers pinched the corners of my book. Her lashes batted at me.  A warm flood of invigorating energy, anticipation, and a breathless longing overwhelmed me. Long before anything woke up downstairs, my fingers fidgeted with the desire to move and touch her markings. The fabric of my jeans quickly tightened. “Watch this,” Jessica’s words entered my right ear and drew my attention from the center dancer, Leila. And any b***r I did have was now just a free willy out at sea, and Jessica knew just what to do to make it limp. Sticking my face deeper into my book, Jessica came around from behind. Her scent quickly engulfed my senses and I could tell from the way her heart beated so fast she would be like biting into the fruit of Eden.  My stomach quietly rumbled, but as she leaned in closer over my shoulder her scent enveloped my clothes. A hot iron poked at my throat as the smell for blood began to make me choke. My stomach twisted and my canine stretched with the mind of its own.  I placed my book down and my hand over my mouth and pointer finger over my nose while not trying to alarm my coven by playing it off like I was thinking- but thinking of killing her.  Jessica knocked over one of the opened and full can of coca cola all over me and part of my book. I rushed out of my seat to stand and grabbed the book quickly but it already soaked up the velvety liquid. My eyes beamed at her and then shut my eyes tight. Silence. Okay. Okay. I choked the panic rising in my brain and tried to remain calm. I nodded. I can keep my s**t together. Maverick is supposed to be weak.  Wilma kicked her legs over the bench seat and rushed over to me to look at it, but the papers were already stained and sticking together.  No, I can’t keep my s**t together! “You’re f*****g kidding me, right?” I hollered over the music at Jessica. The music continued to play and the dancer went on to shake her hips, but I could feel a thousand eyes on the back of my head. Ysabella turned ice cold, curling her shoulders as I cut my attention to her. “She didn’t mean it,” Wilma comforted with a whisper in my ear, but as she patted my back we both knew it did nothing but make the fire uncurl even higher in my heart.  I drew my lower lip between my teeth. “It doesn’t matter now, it’s ruined.” My eyes shuffled between Jessica and Ysabella- and quite frantically she was due for a reminder. Ysabella’s shoulders curled inward and she rubbed the back of her neck.  Swallowing down my frustration, I curled my fingers and shook my hands as a sign to Wilma back up and piss off. Jessica was now top of my list to kill. “It’s f*****g ruined.” Pivoting on my tennis shoes towards a trash can, I slammed the book down into it. Deciding now was the right time to take the hiking trail.