Wallflower craned her neck to stare at a looming mansion that took grandiosity to the point of surreality. Mansions like that had always been distant, nebulous concepts to her. She knew they existed—or that they could exist, at least—but standing in front of an actual one was like being on another planet.
That it was a girl she recognized—if only as a distant acquaintance—who’d brought her there only made matters worse.
“Are you sure we’re supposed to be here?” Wallflower asked.
The girl with the white pigtails—Sugarcoat sounded right—shot her a sharp look. “Yes. Someone is very interested in you.”
That might have been happy news, had it come at another time. Just then, it was befuddling and slightly worrying.
What would someone who lives in a place like this want with me?
When they reached the door, Sugarcoat pulled a key out of her pocket, and stood aside once the door was open to wave Wallflower inside.
The foyer alone must have been the size of Wallflower’s house. There were too many expensive, fancy things in it for her to notice all of them; paintings on the walls, a grandfather clock tocking idly in the corner, two gilded doorways peeling off to the sides while a stately staircase of flowing wood marched upwards.
Sugarcoat, somehow, moved through it all as if it was as interesting as her own palm, straight for the staircase with nary a sideways glance. “Come on,” she said. “We’re almost late.”
They went up the stairs, off to one side, down a hall, left at an intersection, then came to another door.
“Here we are,” Sugarcoat said as she approached the door. When she gripped the handle, she turned to give Wallflower a stern stare. “Go inside, be polite, and try not to make yourself look like an idiot.”
With that, she yanked the door open and all but shoved Wallflower inside, closing it behind her.
The room inside was, to her surprise, both small and plain. The finery that had been so ubiquitous throughout the rest of the house stopped abruptly, and was replaced only by a wooden table, a matching chair off to the side, and two shelves that ran along the walls.
Candles lined the shelves, a crowd of flickering flames wrapping the room in a warm orange glow. Three more sat on the table; a myriad of different scents filled the room, but a faintly oceanic one won out.
And yet there was nobody else to be found. Wallflower frowned, glancing about as she stepped further into the room. She glanced behind herself, at the one and only door, and bit her lip. Then she looked at the table again.
Worries started to gnaw at her. Something might have gone wrong; maybe she’d said the wrong things to Sugarcoat, and now—
All the candles went out.
She jumped, gasping and tensing. The room plunged into an ocean of darkness, a blur that her eyes were helplessly adrift in, unable to penetrate even an inch.
Amidst the sound of her own quickening breaths, a soft sigh of fabric reached her ears.
Somewhere in front of her, fingers snapped.
And then a small flame sprang to life, at the end of a thin piece of wood pinched between long, slender fingers. Light danced across the sharp features of a regal woman’s face; vivid green eyes, lazily half-closed, met Wallflower’s only briefly.
Wallflower stared. Her mouth hung agape, and she whipped her head back towards the still-closed door, then to the woman. “Wha—how did—who are—”
Calmly, silently, the woman lit the candles on the table, one by one, then lifted the match to her lips and snuffed it with a breath. The light from the candles fell over a shapely figure hugged tightly by the fabric of an evening gown.
“Come closer, little one,” the woman said. She gestured to the chair. “I’d rather we not raise our voices.”
Wallflower couldn’t make her pulse slow. She stared at all the lifeless candles around her, at the baffling single door, then back to the woman in front of her.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
There had to be explanations for it, of course. Maybe a panel in the wall, some kind of… thing that could put out candles…
What else could it have been, though?
The woman circled around to the front of the table. Her movements had a sinuous grace to them that was hypnotic at first glance and unnerving at the second. She was tall, strikingly so; the way she sauntered lazily about in high heels made Wallflower feel like a turkey in front of a peacock.
“Sugarcoat’s told me an awful lot about you,” the woman said. She sat on the table, crossing her legs at the thighs. Lit from behind by the candles, she was an eerie sight, framed by a flickering halo. Her skin was a dark shade of grey, so dark it was hard to tell where her skin ended and the shadows around her began. Only her lustrous, straight teal hair, gleaming green eyes and bright white teeth were easy to pick out. “We’ve got a lot to discuss.” She gestured again. “Sit down.”
Wallflower obeyed without even thinking. Her movements were awkward and stumbling, painfully clumsy next to the image of effortless grace seated in front of her. She sat down and gawked up at the woman.
The woman looked back at her. With the candles off to her side, her face was wreathed in dancing shadows, darkly beautiful. “Did Sugarcoat tell you who I am?”
Wallflower gulped. That question, at least, was easy to answer once she found her voice, but she found herself wondering why she wasn’t bolting for the door. “N—no,” she squeaked. Everything wrong about her voice leapt out at her; it was too high, too unsteady. Just that one word, and she’d already—
“Shh.” Like she’d read Wallflower’s mind, the woman lifted a finger to her lips and shushed. “What did she tell you, then?”
Another gulp. “Just that… just that you wanted to see me.” And to not look like an idiot; guess I threw that one out the window. She winced.
“I did want to see you, yes.” The woman smiled. Wallflower frowned; she could’ve sworn she caught a glimpse of a fang amidst those teeth. “I have an offer for you,” the woman said. “More of a gift, really.”
“A gift? But… we don’t even know each other…” Wallflower felt herself shrinking back in her chair, wrapping her arms around herself. “Why would you want to give me a gift?”
“Why not? If everything Sugarcoat tells me is true, then you—” the woman leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table “—are very special.”
“What?” Wallflower’s chest tightened. She bit her lip, then slumped her shoulders. “No, you… you must be thinking of someone else.”
“Oh? Why do you say that?”
“Because…” The ease with which she thought she could answer was nothing short of shameful. She knew people who were smarter than her, who were better looking than her, who’d done more with the last few months of their lives than she’d done with all of hers…
There were people at her school with magic. Actual magic. Good, kind, beautiful magic, not like the cruel thing she’d gotten her hands on. How was she supposed to compete with that?
“I’m not special,” she mumbled.
She looked up, ready to murmur an apology, stand up and walk out, only to be halted preemptively by the smirk the woman wore.
“I disagree,” the woman said. She laughed again; this time it was a sly, quiet cackle, like she was the only one in the room who’d heard a joke. “But even if you aren’t, you will be soon.”
Then she smiled again. This time, the two fangs in her mouth leapt out to Wallflower’s eyes.
“Did Sugarcoat tell you what I am?”
Wallflower stared, momentarily transfixed. She cocked her head, and her brow knit. “N—no? What are…” Sinking dread coiled in her stomach; speculation made her heart race.
“Well…” The woman sat upright and lifted a hand to her lips. “The word isn’t important, really. Nobody quite agrees on what it’s supposed to entail. Let’s just say…”
She poured off of the table, then held up a long-fingered hand. “... there’s more than one kind of magic out there.”
A click of her fingers, and the candles on the table went out. Wallflower lurched back, gasping, almost falling out of her chair until a slender, surprisingly strong, surprisingly cold hand caught her by the wrist.
She looked up and saw the woman’s bright green eyes peering at her through the now-ravenous black of the room.
“Come,” the woman said, flicking her head. “How would you like to have some of mine?”
Excitement and dread coursed through Wallflower, and it was impossible for her to guess which one dominated.
“A—alright.” She had her head bowed as she spoke, and nervous tremors rippled through her voice. “What do I…?”
“Shh…”
A hand cupped her cheek gently. “Don’t worry about a thing, little one. I’m going to give you everything you need.”
Bright green eyes locked with hers, and her world spun. Everything around her faded and swirled—sounds muted, colors melted into a sea of grey, the mattress became textureless. Something gripped her, a formless, ethereal something that engulfed all her senses.
But the eyes she gazed into were just as vivid. The hands holding her, the chest she collapsed against, were all just as solid, just as smooth as they’d always been.
“What’s…” She murmured, dreamily, but finding words was like trying to catch water in her hands. “What’s happening to…”
“Shh…” The woman placed a cold finger on Wallflower’s lips, silencing her, then pressed on the side of her head. “It’ll be over soon.”
Wooziness began to overtake her. The woman leaned forward, lips spreading apart, mouth full of fangs…
Wallflower awoke awash with sensations. She could hear the lightest of footfalls off to one side, clearly make out the finest intricacies of the chandelier hanging above her. None of her typical morning dreariness afflicted her.
It was possibly the most energized she’d ever felt upon waking. She sat up, clumsily brushed her hair away, and looked around.
If the rest of the house had been something out of a dream, the bedroom was out of a fairy tale. It looked like it belonged in a castle, not a mansion. Paintings hung on the walls, framed by gold, and all the wood she could see was so immaculately lacquered that she thought she might see her own reflection in half a dozen pieces of furniture.
“Good evening.” The woman’s voice caressed her ears from the side. “Did you sleep well?”
Wallflower looked over. The woman held a bottle of dark red liquid, and had already started filling one of two beautiful crystal wine glasses.
Wallflower frowned. ‘Evening’…? There weren’t any windows for her to look out, but a clock on a nightstand read six sharp. “I… guess so?” Uncertainty started to gnaw at her again. What have I gotten myself into?
She felt good, though, that was for sure. Better than she’d felt in years, by a long shot.
Hesitantly, she lifted a hand to her neck, feeling her skin. The woman had… bitten her… puzzle pieces snapped together in her head. “Are you a… vampire?”
The woman topped off the second wine glass, then delicately picked them both up. She looked over to Wallflower, and shrugged. “If you want to call it that. I don’t, but you wouldn’t be the only one.”
“Then what would you—”
“Why should I call it anything? I know who I am.” The woman sauntered over, one glass in each hand, and sat down on the side of the bed. She held one out to Wallflower. “Or who we are, rather.”
Wallflower bit her lip, rubbing at her neck. “So now I’m a—” She cut herself off. Twisting, nagging feelings churned in her gut. Vampires were monsters, weren’t they? They stalked about at nighttime, doing bad things, drinking blood…
She felt awful. Had she really just done that to herself?
“Not yet, you aren’t. But you’ve done the hardest part.” She glanced down at the glass she was holding out. “That’s worthy of celebration, don’t you think?”
Wallflower eyed the glass. “N—no, I—can’t. I’m—”
“One glass won’t hurt you.” The woman leaned forwards, holding her eyes on Wallflower’s. “Not everyone could have done this.” Her lips spread into a smile. “I told you you were special.”
Special…
Wallflower looked at the woman and, while she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to or not, she imagined being everything that the woman—vampire—was. She imagined herself being wealthy, elegant, beautiful, clever, magical…
It was a fantasy, but in that moment it seemed closer to her grasp than all the others she’d ever had.
Hesitantly, she reached out and took the glass, awkwardly trying to emulate the way the vampire in front of her cradled the other one.
The vampire smiled a little more broadly, lifted her glass subtly, then brought it to her lips and sipped. Wallflower hastily did the same, and almost gagged. The taste was not a familiar one, like no drink she’d ever had. A faint trace of sweetness leapt out, but the rest was strange and sour.
“You’ll get used to it,” the vampire said. “If you’d like to keep going, that is.”
Wallflower forced herself to swallow a sip of the wine, and managed to stop herself from wincing too noticeably this time. “It’s…” She found herself laughing bashfully. “Too late to turn back now, right?”
The vampire shrugged. “Not necessarily.” She took a mouthful of wine, then gestured to Wallflower’s neck. “My magic’s inside you, now, but there’s one more step if you want to keep it there.”
Before Wallflower could manage a question, the vampire brought her fingers to her own neck. “I tasted your blood,” she said, “and left a little in it, so you’ll get a taste of what I’m offering. To make it stick, though, you’ll have to have some of mine.”
She stood up, then, draining her glass and setting it down, then turning to Wallflower and holding out her hand. “But we’ll talk about that later. Let’s get you back home. You should rest some more. We’ll speak again soon.”
Wallflower took the vampire’s hand and let herself be pulled to her feet. The wine glass was taken from her, and went unmissed. “W—wait,” she said.
The vampire looked at her, one eyebrow arched.
“What can I do now?” Wallflower wrung her hands. “Like, you did that—that thing, with the candles. I… want something cool to show my friends.”
She winced afterwards—she sounded like a child. It was exactly the kind of blunder she’d have erased, a little while ago.
And yet it was nothing but patience and understanding that the vampire wore as a response. She made a small but knowing smile. “Of course you do,” she said. She tapped her chin thoughtfully, then grinned. “I’ll help you put on a show for them.”
Wallflower stood in a room that she knew ought to have been totally dark, and yet she could still see clearly.
She kept her eyes trained on the door, and the lightswitch beside it. Her friends would be walking through it soon. They’d have their geodes with them, their magic.
And they’d see that they weren’t the only ones, then.
“Don’t worry, little one. They’ll see how special you are,” the vampire had whispered to her; the experience had been a comforting, reassuring one, but the memory of it, much less so.
The only reason she wasn’t panicking was because she didn’t have time to. She could hear footsteps, out in the hallway, nearly as clearly as if she was out there with the girls making the noises.
But everything was going to be fine. It wasn’t the first magic they’d seen. Compared to stealing memories or making wishes or… half the things they’d told her had happened, really, what she had was hardly offensive at all.
She could think that, easily, but believing it was not so simple. There was a pesky, intrusive addendum of “so far” in her thoughts.
She was out of time, though. The footsteps drew closer. A door creaked open, light burst into the room from outside. A light switch flipped.
Beside Wallflower’s feet, fluorescent lamps bathed the room in light.
“Hi,” she said, looking down at her gaping friends with her feet firmly planted on the ceiling.
Sugarcoat pulled the door open and stood aside. Wallflower nodded to her and hurried inside.
The room was dark, but she wouldn’t have guessed it at first. There were neither lit lamps nor open windows—not that windows would’ve helped at that late hour—and yet when the door closed she could immediately make out the shapes of furniture and decorations that she vaguely remembered.
Her heightened senses didn’t surprise her as much, after a few days with them, but all the things she could see still made her smile.
There wasn’t anyone else in the room, though, not that she could see. That made her worry for a moment.
But then flickering flames sprang to life on a table. She thought they took on a greenish hue for a moment, but then a slender hand caressed her shoulder and the vampire sauntered by her.
“How did it go?” she asked as she made her way towards a cabinet. “Did you get to show off for your friends?”
Whatever nervousness Wallflower had felt before vanished. Exhilarating memories came to her in a rush. “It went perfectly!” she exclaimed, beaming giddily and giggling. “They were a little surprised at first—okay, maybe more than a little, but—” She recognized herself babbling, but she got a look from the vampire that made her think it was okay to be a little inelegant. “A—anyway, we must’ve talked about it for, I don’t know, hours?”
And what a delight that had been. Her friends had asked her all kinds of questions—she hadn’t been able to answer most of them truthfully—shared stories both cautionary and insightful about learning to use their own magic, offered to help her experiment and practice…
Just thinking about it made her giggle and almost bounce in place. She’d wished that meeting had never ended, but left with hope that the next one would be just as good.
“So, um… yeah.” She finally reined it all in and moderated her smile, looking bashfully at the vampire, who’d stopped whatever she’d been doing to face her with enraptured eyes and a knowing smile playing on her lips. “It went really, really well. I’ve… never felt so included with them before, but now…”
“I’m glad things went the way you wanted them to.” Her lips lifting into a smirk, the vampire pulled two wine glasses out of the cabinet, set them down, then took out a bottle. She paused, slightly, then picked a second bottle and opened them both. “You might like this one more,” she said, glancing back at Wallflower, “if you feel like celebrating.”
No protests came from Wallflower, this time. She was on top of the world, so why not skirt around the rules a bit?
So she gave an enthusiastic nod, and a short while later she and the vampire were sitting on the side of the bed, clinking their glasses gently and sipping in synchrony. The taste, this time, was far, far, sweeter, and slightly saltier. It was more familiar, like it was meant only for her. The taste stirred something, deep inside her, and she found herself gulping down the whole glass in what felt like seconds.
Beside her, the vampire smiled and took her second sip. “You seem quite happy with the state of things.”
“I—I am!” Wallflower leaned back on the bed. “It’s wonderful, it’s… yeah.”
“I’m glad.” The vampire sipped yet again. “Most people in your shoes had more they worried about, though.”
“Well…” Wallflower bit her lip, looking away. The elation that had come with her fond memories tarnished slightly. Then she looked at the vampire, at the face that made her feel like she could say anything. “You were saying that it wasn’t going to last, not unless I—”
The vampire set her glass down, then swiveled to face Wallflower directly, then reached out to stroke her hair. “It won’t, but you have time.” She smiled, briefly flashing the fangs in her mouth, then brushed a finger over Wallflower’s lips. “You don’t have the equipment to bite me yet, anyway. So, for now… just relax. Enjoy it, little one. This is the easy part.” She leaned forward, smiling again. “The fun part.”
The touches, the smiles, the soft voice… they all collaborated and conspired to melt Wallflower’s worries away. Mostly, at least.
“But… what’s the hard part going to be like, then?”
“You’ll start getting sunburned more easily, for one. Sunscreen and hats help. Mainly, though…” The vampire took Wallflower’s arm, held it up, rolled back her sleeve, and ran a finger down her faintly visible veins. “Your blood isn’t going to be very good at holding my magic until it’s got some of mine mixed in.”
Wallflower frowned. “What does that…?”
“You’re going to be sick, basically.” The vampire let Wallflower’s arm drop, then offered her a light, reassuring smile. “It won’t be so bad at first—you’ll notice the sunlight more, for a while. But it’ll get worse for a bit. That’ll be your cue that your time is running out. You’ll likely have your fangs by then, so you’ll have a choice: finish the process and keep my magic forever, or tough it out and lose it all.”
Being sick sounded horrible, and Wallflower started to wonder how well she’d function if she couldn’t go out during the day, but it all sounded so distant, and she felt so much better than fine in the moment…
If things got really bad, she could always back out of it. Without even doing anything, by the sound of things! That couldn’t be too bad, could it?
“Which choice did Sugarcoat make?”
The vampire laughed quietly. “She doesn’t know what we are, little one. It’s safer that way.”
“So it’s just the two of us, then?”
“I did tell you you were special, didn’t I?” The vampire smiled, and it filled Wallflower’s heart with joy. “I have a few other friends who’re like Sugarcoat, but right now, yes, it’s just the two of us.”
An excited shiver shook through Wallflower’s body.
“Right now, though… I’d like to ask a favor of you,” the vampire said. “Don’t worry, it’s not very difficult.”
A favor?
I guess I do owe her for doing this, right?
“S—sure,” Wallflower said with a nod. “What do you need?”
“I’ll explain on the way,” the vampire said as she stood up. “Let’s go for a walk.”
The night air was cool and refreshing, and made Wallflower wish she’d worn something with shorter sleeves so that she could feel more of it on her skin. On the flipside, of course, anything less baggy would only highlight how plain she must have been in her present company.
Granted, she fit right in with the neighborhood they walked through. It was close to where she lived, both in location and in tone. The suburbs seemed far plainer now that she’d had a taste of fantastic wealth.
She looked up at the taller, shapelier woman walking along beside her. “Where are we going?”
The vampire gave her only a short look. “I’m going to make us a new friend. Sugarcoat told me about her the other day, and I think it’ll be good to get to know her.”
“Okay.” Wallflower frowned. “What do you need me for, then?”
Before answering, the vampire turned sharply, beckoning Wallflower as she slipped into a dark alley between houses.
“I stand out a bit around here, and I’d rather not have to deal with much attention. But, if what Sugarcoat told me is true, you shouldn’t have that problem.”
Wallflower’s frown intensified. Memories that she knew ought to have been painful drudged themselves up, and yet a silky smooth voice made them feel like justifications for praise she should have been proud of.
The vampire stood at the edge of the alley, and pointed. “See that house right there? The green one?”
Wallflower squinted. The low light and the distance would have been staunchly obfuscating to her a month ago, but her new eyesight let her pick out the specified house with ease.
“Keep an eye on it for a little while. I’ll come find you eventually. If you see anyone close by it, I’d like to know, and try your best not to be noticed. Think you can do that?”
“Yeah, I think.” The thought of being invisible again, of purposefully slipping under the radar… wasn’t pleasant, to say the least.
Or it would have been unpleasant, if she hadn’t been assured by a comforting hand on her shoulder and those beautiful green eyes. “Of course you can,” the vampire whispered with a smile. “You’ll be fine. Go on, then.”
“Okay.” Wallflower nodded, gulped, then stepped out around the corner.
I can be invisible, for a little while.
She wasn’t quite sure how to make it happen, though. In the past, it just… always did, whether she wanted it or not. Doing it intentionally sounded as daunting as teaching someone how to breathe.
On the flipside, then, maybe that meant she didn’t really need to do anything, that she could just… trust it to happen?
She swallowed. Would the vampire be mad at her if she made a mistake? Friends wouldn’t be mad at her, certainly, but if she didn’t even know somebody’s name…
Well, she didn’t have time to worry like that. Not then, at least; if nothing else, she owed the vampire a favor for giving her magic. Magic! The least she could do was give a little trust in return, right?
If something went wrong later, she could always back out. It wasn’t like she was committing to anything just yet.
She paused; she’d gotten so wrapped up in her thoughts that she had barely even noticed her own movements. She stood on the sidewalk a little ways from the house she’d been pointed to, and there was nobody else in sight.
Hesitating for a moment, she moved towards the house, glancing about periodically. Still nobody in sight.
It wasn’t until a little later, when she’d passed the house and still not seen anybody else out on the sidewalks, that she came to a stop. She wasn’t quite sure why, at first, but then, across the street, she caught the faintest flicker of movement, and, in a shadowy alley between two houses, made out the shape of a beckoning finger.
Biting her lip, glancing to both sides, she crossed the street, crept over quietly, and, once she drew very close, saw green eyes peering at her.
“How did it go?” the vampire asked in a quiet whisper.
“W—well, I think.” Wallflower wrung her hands; unconsciously, she reflected on her bout of spaciness, and before she knew it a confession was spilling out of her mouth. “I wasn’t paying much attention for a bit, but I didn’t see anyone.”
She winced, immediately, but no anger came.
“Do better next time, then.” A shape stirred in the shadows, and the vampire stepped out, slipping past Wallflower. “Wait here, and watch. If anyone comes, let me know when I’m done.”
Wallflower nodded, and stood silently in the alley watching the vampire stalk up to the house. The streetlights made it easier to see her than normal, and Wallflower saw right away what she’d meant about standing out.
But she got up to the door just fine, and knocked on it. The door opened, and Wallflower could vaguely make out a figure standing in it—the girl who answered the door looked vaguely familiar, but no name came to mind.
From that distance, she couldn’t hear what was said, but a few short moments later they both went inside, the door closed, and Wallflower was alone.
She wasn’t sure why it’d taken her so long to start doing it, but she wondered what kind of friend it was. Vampires were supposed to drink blood, weren’t they? She felt a little queasy thinking about that.
Although Sugarcoat was a friend as well, and she seemed fine. So maybe it wasn’t so bad. Sure, she was a bit… eccentric, but that described half the people in Wallflower’s life, really.
It didn’t take too long before she saw the door opening again; a yellow girl with red and purple hair was visible briefly before the statuesque vampire slithered by her, turned to give a little wave, and then looked right at Wallflower.
Without using any words, those eyes said many things. Wallflower felt the corners of her mouth lifting, and her pace was a brisk on as she stepped out of the alleyway. “How did it—”
A finger pressed to lips, and Wallflower clamped her mouth shut. Her heart skipped a beat; her eyes darted to half a dozen places, trying to look everywhere for something she’d missed. Maybe someone was around and she hadn’t noticed them, or maybe—
“We’ll talk again soon,” the vampire said, smiling as she approached. “You did well, and you’ll be meeting our new friend the next time we see each other.
“But for now, let’s get you home. It’s quite late.”
Wallflower stared blearily at her nagging alarm clock and pawed at it until it went off.
There had been a time when she’d considered herself a morning person. She had to be, really; if she wanted some quiet time in her garden before school properly began, she had to get there early, so she had to wake up even earlier. And it wasn’t like she had anyone to walk there with her, not like so many other people did.
Unless, she thought dimly as she sat up, stretched and yawned, maybe things’ll be different now? She did have people who were interested in her, now. A handful of people, at least, who sought her out, who asked her what was going on.
Something to think about, maybe. But later, when it wasn’t as hard to think as it was in the morning. She’d told herself to try and go to bed earlier, but the last few nights she’d just felt so energized after the sun went down…
That, and perching on the ceiling when everyone else had gone to bed was pretty fun.
But, anyway. She had to get up if she wanted to get to her garden in time, so she dragged herself out of bed, wincing slightly at the daggers of sunlight breaching her room through the window. She staggered away from her bed into the bathroom, yawning as she groped for her brush, then pausing when she saw herself in the mirror.
It was… difficult for her to say for certain what she saw. Herself, obviously, but she looked… different, somehow? Maybe different wasn’t the right word. Better, that was it. She still looked like herself, just better. It was almost unnerving, in a way, how noticable it was and yet how impossible it was to define. She still looked a tad dumpy, but for once she looked at her own face and thought she was pretty.
Did she owe it to the magic? She must. What else would have changed?
That was an appealing thought, when she thought of the older vampire’s alluringly statuesque body, and a tempting one when she thought of bright green eyes on a slate-grey face framed by candlelight and shadows.
Biting her lip, she leaned forward, made herself smile broadly, and ran her index finger over her teeth. At first, flatness made her shoulders slump, but then she felt just the faintest hint of a point. She might have imagined it, but it made her grin turn into a genuine, excited one.
Hurriedly, she pulled off the baggy T-shirt she’d slept in, vaguely hopeful that she’d see more changes.
She had to strain her eyes to convince herself that they were there. It was the same as with her face; she couldn’t say what it was, but she knew it was there and she knew that she liked it.
As she got ready and dressed, she had a bit of a spring in her step, and by the time she got herself out the door all she could do was hope that other people would notice it too.
Unless maybe she didn’t want them to? The fangs, maybe weren’t the best thing for other people to see.
But they were barely there, at least for now. She’d be fine.
“... and then I arm-wrestled Applejack and won, and then I almost kept up with Rainbow Dash when she asked to race me…” Wallflower grinned and giggled while she recounted the events of the day. “Granted, they weren’t using their magic, but…”
The vampire sat behind her, calmly brushing her hair—she’d taken a bit of an interest when Wallflower had mentioned she thought she looked different. “How much have you told them about all this?” she asked.
“Not very much.” Wallflower felt her face flushing and laughed again. “Twilight and Sunset spent a few hours the other day trying to do some experiments, but they haven’t figured anything out yet.” Not for lack of trying, of course.
She hesitated, and the sudden silence told her that her pause had been noticed. That meant she was expected to speak, and gentle fingers playing with her hair coaxed her thoughts right out of her.
“Do you think I can tell them more? It’s just…” She thought of them recoiling from a fanged face, gawking and staring horrified at burned, pale skin, condemning the crimson thirst. She knew she couldn’t tell them. Of course she did.
And yet she remembered them laughing and smiling with her, and thinking about losing that made her think she might cry. She knew there’d be a choice for her if her friends found out, and the more she thought about it the less she wanted to have to make it.
“It will be risky. And difficult. That is a treacherous world you want to live in.” The vampire moved, dropping Wallflower’s hair to sit beside her. “Don’t rush into it. You should make sure you really want this before you say anything you might regret.”
Her tongue flicked out across her lips. She took Wallflower’s arm, peeled her sleeve up, and ran her fingers over her skin. “You do not yet know what it is like to fear the sun. You do not yet know how thirsty you will be, nor what you must do to keep yourself satiated.”
Wallflower gulped. It all sounded terribly daunting, when it was put that way. “Can you show me, then?”
The vampire cocked her eyebrow, then lifted a hand towards Wallflower’s mouth. “Smile for me,” she said; Wallflower obeyed, and then she felt fingers moving along her teeth. “Not much longer,” the vampire said, withdrawing her hand. “I’ll tell Sugarcoat to keep a close eye on you. When you start feeling more symptoms, let her know.”
Wallflower nodded, then frowned. “How will I—?”
“You’ll know.”
Wallflower had thirsted for water many times before, and she knew from the moment her eyes blinked blearily open that the burn she felt in her chest was something entirely different. It wasn’t thirst so much as it was pain, less of a reminder and more of a punishment. It was like nothing she’d ever felt her body telling her before.
And yet she knew what it was, just like she’d been told she would. It was an instinct, perhaps, that told her as soon as she awoke that there was only one substance that would make the pain go away.
That same morning, when she went to brush her teeth, she saw a subtle but prominent point to two of them. She stared at them for a few long moments, prodding at them with her fingers, both excited and terrified.
Changes were good, on the one hand. She felt… slimmer, bordering on lithe, and whether other people saw her body differently or not, it felt better than ever. Fangs were a welcome sign, then. They showed her that there was more to come, and that made her grin.
On the other hand, fangs were things that other people could see. Her friends might see them, if she smiled too broadly.
Plights that had seemed distant before seemed to approach rapidly. She knew it was going to be a fun day, though, as long as her fangs didn’t bring her any trouble.
And if her thirst didn’t get any worse. By the time she got to school, she was already half-wishing the day could just end then and there.
Parts of the day were fun, but it was a difficult one.
Wallflower stared at the ceiling with wide, painfully alert eyes. When she felt so energized she wanted to be up and moving but also hurt so badly she wanted little more than to remain where she laid, sleep did not come easily.
Doubly so when there were faint snores in the room to distract her.
Rarity’s house made for good sleepovers. Or Wallflower supposed it did, anyway; she didn’t have many other references to compare it to.
But it had been a good way to spend the evening. Her fingernails were pointier than she could remember them having ever been before, and shinier too.
She sighed, groaned softly, and rolled onto her side, then sighed when she felt a small, soft pressure on her back. There were some downsides to piling eight girls into a single room, it turned out.
Lifting her head and craning her neck, she watched Fluttershy stirring gently in her sleep, dozing silently and contentedly even as she pushed ever so slightly at Wallflower.
Sleep was going to be a rare commodity indeed, that night.
Wallflower groaned again, sitting upright and rubbing at her eyes, urging them to grow heavy and close. It didn’t work, of course; all it did was make her more cognizant of the energy in her and the pain wracking her.
And, then, a thought so dim she’d barely registered it consciously reminded her that there were seven warm repositories of the substance that could end her pain in the very same room as her.
One of them, even, was right next to her.
Her eyes flitted of their own accord. She stared down at the slight, yellow girl next to her, whose flowing pink hair obscured most of her pretty face but left the side of her neck exposed.
Wallflower gulped. The pain in her chest bloomed; realizing how easily she could bring it to an end made her care less for the suffering of the present.
The longer she looked, the worse it became. Her chest tightened, burned, smoldered. She bit her lip, balled her hand into a fist, then clenched her teeth and stifled a whimper.
She had to do it. She sensed blood and her body screamed for it. Fangs begged to be used, hands offered to grasp and secure. Her mind filled with fantasies—liquid pouring down her throat, deep gulps cleansing the strife of her heart, stolen strength reclaimed by her veins.
And yet she could not do it. She trembled, shook, thought of pain and screams, and became rooted where she sat. Nightmares coursed through her—wide, panicked eyes looked up at her, slumbering bodies sprang upwards into attention and alertness, vindicated anger drove limbs to seize her, hearts to excoriate.
A blurry minute later, she was in the bathroom, the door pulled closed behind her, shrouded in darkness. The small room was silent, save for her heaving breaths and her violent, pounding pulse.
She had to talk to Sugarcoat as soon as she could.
The vampire cocked her head to the side as she examined Wallflower’s teeth, but slowly, her lips spread into a smile. “Those’ll do,” she said, and that made Wallflower grin.
With that, the vampire turned and walked out into the hall, beckoning for Wallflower to follow. “You’re going to meet our latest friend,” she said when Wallflower asked where they were going.
Wallflower wondered, as they walked, just how many rooms the mansion had. The hallways felt like they made a maze, and the familiar route she’d learned quickly turned into unfamiliar territory.
Eventually, though, they reached a peculiar destination, a room that was as strange as the vampire’s archaic chamber, in a starkly different way. It was bedroom so small and sparsely decorated that Wallflower could see it being at home in her own house.
In it, seated at a desk with a book held in her hands, was a girl Wallflower vaguely recognized. Yellow skin, large, thick glasses, red and purple hair… she’d seen that girl at school, and once elsewhere late one night.
“Hello, Moondancer,” the vampire said. Her voice was distinctly sharper, harsher than it had ever been to Wallflower’s ears. “Come. I’ve got someone for you to meet.” She gave a command, not a request.
Moodancer set down her book, stood up, and turned to face them. Her movements were stiff and wooden, her eyes glassy and vacant. Wallflower frowned at the sight; when Moondancer stood still, she almost looked like a statue or sculpture.
She turned to the vampire for answers. “What’s… what’s wrong with—?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” the vampire said. She sauntered over to Moondancer, circling around to stand behind her, reaching down with both hands to cup the short girl’s head and grip her neck. “Minds are malleable things,” she said, locking eyes with Wallflower; her voice had gone back to being soft and gentle again, “easily betrayed by blood.”
She tilted Moondancer’s head—the girl gave little resistance, moving limply—and brushed her hair away.
Wallflower looked down, and gasped. On the right side of Moondancer’s neck were two gruesome scabs, wide and blotchy and all the wrong colors. The sight made her queasy in an instant, and she covered her mouth and hoped she wouldn’t gag.
“It’s not very pretty, I know.” The vampire covered up the wounded side of Moondancer’s neck, then tilted the girl’s head to other way, baring a swath of intact neck. “But this is usually the easiest way. Try it.”
Gulping, Wallflower approached, acutely aware of the shudder ripping through her. She must have looked like a quivering wreck next to the older vampire; one look up at green eyes that seemed to whisper “you can do better” put her slightly at ease, but it was far from adequate.
She stood in front of Moondancer, breathing deeply and trying to calm herself. It had to be done, she told herself. It was the only way. It was that, or keep being thirsty, and she didn’t think she liked that alternative very much at all.
“Nervous?” the vampire said, just as Wallflower had started to open her mouth. “You’re not going to hurt her too much, if that’s what you’re concerned about. I’ll make sure of that.”
For once, the vampire’s voice did little to soothe Wallflower’s worries. Thoughts of blood and wounds invaded her head and made her stomach churn. She trembled, eying Moondancer’s neck, wishing that there was a different way.
And then, like she’d read Wallflower’s mind, the vampire slipped around Moondancer, letting the bespectacled girl go still, and touched Wallflower’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” she whispered. Her voice was sweet like honey, just like it’d been so often before. “If you can’t, you don’t have to.”
Wallflower let out a small gasp, then bit her lip, then made a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I just—”
“I know. I understand.” The vampire looked away. “Moondancer, go and sit down.” While Moondancer complied, the vampire looked back to Wallflower, then took her hand, stepped past her and tugged her towards the door. “Go back to the usual room. You still need to feed, but I’ll be along to sort that out soon.”
The scent was overwhelmingly potent. Once the goblet was in front of her, she could barely think of anything else, barely cognize anything but the red, sweet-smelling liquid. She craved it, yearned to learn its taste, ached every instant she remained deprived of it.
“Come, little one,” the vampire whispered. Her voice was hazy and indistinct, because it was not the trickling of fresh blood. Her eyes were muddled and blurry because they were not sanguine. Her fingers, wrapped around the goblet, were textureless because they were not warm and wet and sticky. “Drink.”
Wallflower took the goblet without hesitation. She lifted it to her lips, took her first sip.
Electric delight surged through her. It was the best feeling she could have imagined.
A torrent of sensations swept her along. Blood sliding down her throat was a river of pleasure. Blissful tastes serenaded her tongue, delights dragged her down into a dream of gluttony and avarice.
Wallflower awoke. Her eyes snapped wide open, she lurched, and the movement of her startled arms made water splash.
“Shh…” Comforting hands pressed gently on her shoulders from behind, and a silky smooth voice massaged her mind until it calmed. “It’s alright. The first taste is usually intense.”
Relaxing slightly, Wallflower let herself sink back, pausing when she felt warm water all around her and a hard surface at her back. She glanced down at herself and bathtub she sat in, and felt her cheeks flushing. “Why am I—?”
“You made quite a mess,” the vampire said. “Most people do.” She leaned forward—Wallflower could see the tips of her hair hanging down in her peripheral vision. “But don’t worry about what you did. How do you feel?”
Fantastic. Invigorated, nourished, rejuvenated. Thirst seemed like a distant dream, as far behind her as learning to walk. Her senses seemed even sharper, bringing clarity and a peculiar vivacity to everything she saw and heard.
“Better than ever” was the only answer that felt right, so she gave it gladly.
“Good.” The vampire stood up, turned and moved away. “I’ll let you finish up here yourself. Sugarcoat’s out buying you new clothes, but she should be back soon.”
Wallflower nodded. Then she tilted her head. “What about Moondancer? What happened to her?”
“She’ll be fine. I’ll let you see her when you’re cleaned up and dressed, if you’d like to make sure of it yourself.”
With that, she was gone, and Wallflower alone in the bathroom.
“See? She’s perfectly fine.”
The vampire stood behind Moondancer, tilting the yellow girl’s head. Wallflower stared—Moondancer’s eyes were as spacy and unfocused as before, but it was her neck that drew Wallflower’s attention.
Not because of how ugly it was, though, not like the last time. Quite the opposite, actually.
“Is something wrong?” the vampire asked.
As always, those green eyes dragged honesty out of Wallflower in an instant. She stared at the two wounds on Moondancer’s neck, which looked like pin pricks next to the hideous, mangled flesh she remembered. “Nothing, I guess,” she said. “Just thought it was worse before.”
“Memories do not always serve us obediently.” The vampire released her grip on Moondancer’s head, then whispered into her ear. With a silent nod, Moondancer took her leave.
“I guess not,” Wallflower mumbled. She sighed, but relaxed. “I’m glad she’s alright, then.”
Somewhere in the back of her head, she thought, quite dimly, that there was some caveat to that, some addendum that she was missing, but a look into bright green eyes persuaded her that she wasn’t forgetting anything.
“I did tell you she’d be fine, didn’t I?” The vampire smiled, baring her fangs. “So, as you can see, there’s nothing to be worried about.” She stalked forward, lifting a hand and giving Wallflower a soft, gentle caress to the cheek. “As long as you’re careful, you’re not going to hurt anyone too badly at all.”
That was wonderful news.
“And, you know… unless there’s something you haven’t told me yet, you’ve got plenty of time to change your mind about all this.”
“I guess so, yeah.”
If that was the case… she could tell her friends about it, maybe? It’d be nice to not have to keep secrets from them, and if she could assure them that she wasn’t hurting anyone that badly, maybe they wouldn’t have such a problem with it?
Before she could finish that thought, a click of the vampire’s tongue brought her attention and bid her follow. “We’ll talk about that later, though,” the vampire said as she made her way to the door and dragged it open. “There’s something else I want to show you right now.”
Portraits. More than a dozen, lining the walls, clad in frames of burnished gold. Wallflower gulped when she stepped into that room, marveling silently at the images of some of the most handsome men and glamorous women she’d ever seen. They were unanimously stately, captivating and regal… and, by virtue of heavy shadows wreathing their faces and distinct crimson tints to their already-vivid eyes, darkly beautiful.
“These,” the vampire said, stepping past Wallflower and making a broad, sweeping gesture, “are all those who have tasted my blood. And that—” she paused where she stood and pointed with a long finger to a naked patch of wall “—is where you might end up, one day.”
The phantom image that formed in Wallflower’s head made her grin. It was like those pictures encapsulated all her desires; the thought of her own face joining them was a dreamily enticing one.
“Who were they?” she asked. In the back of her head, she hoped that the answer would be that they weren’t any more special than she had been. “Before they—”
“Hardly anyone.” The vampire stalked over to one of the portraits, gazed up at it and smiled. “But each and every one brought something very special to me. Including you.”
“What do I do that’s so special?”
“More than you think.” The vampire turned away, moving towards the center of the room. She seemed… sad, perhaps. There was air of solemnity to her that Wallflower couldn’t remember seeing before, a sense of longing that was perplexing—what could someone like her long for?
Wallflower looked to the portraits and bit her lip. If she hadn’t seen any of those other vampires, then…
She didn’t feel much, not when the realization dawned on her, but a second look at the vampire in front of her made her heart sink. “What happened to them?”
“All sorts of things.” The vampire drew closer to Wallflower. “There are people out there who would hunt us, I’m sure you realize. We did our best to stay hidden, but…” She reached up, touched her own face, and again looked to the portraits. “All it takes is one person noticing that your face never changes and you could wake up in the afternoon to a house covered in flames.”
Wallflower felt her chest tighten. A visceral blend of anger and dread churned in her gut.
“But if nobody can remember what your face looks like…”
A plethora of painful memories made Wallflower tense. She looked away, down at the ground, wrapping her arms around herself.
A hand cupped her cheek, coaxed her to look up again. “You think of it as a curse, I’m sure. For many people, it might be.” The vampire regarded her with a fond, pearly smile. “But it’s exactly why I knew you’d be perfect as soon as Sugarcoat told me about you.”
Wallflower shrank back. How could someone see the very worst part of her as a good thing? She’d have done anything to make herself less forgettable, she’d once thought.
“It’s a little strange for you, I’m sure,” the vampire said as if she’d read Wallflower’s mind. “But think about it. When you’re invisible, you can go wherever you want to. When nobody notices you, you’re safe from the ones who would hunt us.”
It felt… odd, hearing all that. The words themselves made her think she ought to have been… proud of her invisibility? It was such a strange thought, that notion, and pride was so far removed from shame and bitterness that she hadn’t a clue how she was supposed to feel it.
A look into green eyes made her think it wouldn’t be so hard, though.
“Okay,” she murmured, slightly hesitantly. “I guess I can see how that might be nice.”
“Still doubtful?” The vampire slithered back. “How about a sample, then?” She gestured to the pictures on the walls. “In this day and age, technology can make those in the blink of an eye. We leave evidence everywhere we go, now.
“You and I might know that what we do isn’t really so bad, but other people aren’t so certain.” The vampire’s lip curled, and she folded her arms across her chest. “The police tend to disapprove, for one. And while I’d rather not hurt anyone I don’t need to…” She again eyed the portraits, and her face flickered between grief and anger, only to stabilize into calmness when she looked back to Wallflower. “I will do whatever it takes to keep us safe.
“But… if they were to acquire some information about us…” She moved closer again, leaning in and focusing intently on Wallflower’s eyes. “It would be nice if someone could take it away from them without being noticed, don’t you think?”
Wallflower frowned, and found herself shying back. “You mean… steal from them?” She bit her lip, unsure why that thought bothered her so. It didn’t hold a candle to taking someone’s memories, she supposed.
“It would be unfortunate, I know. But it’d be the lesser evil of the two, wouldn’t you say?” The vampire looked around. “I like this house, and I’d rather bend the rules than be forced to leave it behind because someone started looking too closely.”
“I… guess that makes sense, yeah.” Wallflower shifted in place, anxiously fidgeting. Her thoughts were filled almost to the brim with certainty, but not all of it made its way to her heart. “If it were to come to that, then yeah, I guess it would be safer for everyone if…”
“Of course it would be.” The vampire smiled softly. “You’re right to be apprehensive.
“But.” She stepped close to Wallflower, planted a gentle hand on the girl’s back, and nudged her towards the door. “Why don’t you come with me? I’ve got something for you to do.”
Wallflower looked up, tilting her head but slowly nodding as she was led to the door. “Okay. What did you…?”
Well, Wallflower thought as she eyed the police station and pulled the hood of her sweater over her head, I did say I’d be okay with it, didn’t I?
She would’ve guessed she’d be more nervous after breaking into a police station. For a little while, she had been exactly that, petrified at times. Fear of the potential consequences, the shame of purposefully drawing out her most loathsome quality…
It had all turned to warm contentment and quiet pride when, as she was recounting the events of the night, the vampire’s inscrutable, enigmatic calm bloomed into fondness and nurturing satisfaction.
“You did very well, by the sound of things,” the vampire said. “Just like I knew you would.”
She moved towards a cabinet Wallflower recognized and procured a bottle and two glasses. “Shall we celebrate, then? Walking unseen is one of the cornerstones of our existence, and I think you’ve proved yourself quite adept at it.”
It was odd, hearing that—Wallflower’s friends had helped her towards not being invisible anymore, and made wonderful progress; being praised ought to have felt like regression, and yet the sincerity with which the vampire spoke gave Wallflower little but joy in that moment.
A few minutes later, she was in the well-known, comfortable position of sitting next to the most exotic woman in her life, sipping sweet-tasting wine.
And they just sat there for a little while. The dim light of the room felt relaxing, and the silence was a comfortable one—whenever they looked at each other, they said, wordlessly, that they wouldn’t mind ending it, but felt no need to.
Idly, Wallflower pondered how many of her friends, if any at all, could make her feel appreciated with no words and hardly any looks.
She wasn’t sure there were any, but… well, there was a kind of kinship she had with the vampire that she didn’t share with anyone else, wasn’t there? Of course there was. That was obvious.
Just as obvious, once she realized it, was that she longed to feel that elsewhere.
She bit her lip, trying to put her feelings into words—that small tic drew the vampire’s attention, and green eyes and a pearly, fanged smile encouraged her silently.
“I want to tell my friends,” she said at last.
That earned her an arched brow. The vampire sipped calmly, then ran her tongue over her lips. “Of course you do,” she said, holding up a finger on her empty hand. “But, you must be aware of what might happen, right?”
Of course she was. In that moment, almost painfully so, even if the vampire’s soothing presence helped to dampen the feeling. “Yeah. I know there’s a chance they’ll…” She shook her head and looked down at her arm. She focused for a moment, and the shadows left by the candlelight seemed to draw her limb into them, turning it faint and hard to see. It didn’t last long—some tricks were harder to get the hang of than others. “But I don’t want to give this up.” Memories of laughter and play and long-awaited camaraderie were bittersweet at the forefront of her mind. “And I don’t want to lose them either.
“So if there’s even a chance that I can have both…” She swallowed and looked up at the vampire next to her, gazing pleadingly. “I have to try.”
“You’re being reckless.”
Wallflower felt her shoulders slump. She looked down at the ground.
“So let’s talk about how you’re going to do it.”
Her heart leapt, in a good way. She looked up again. “But you just said—”
“I’d say it again.” The vampire made a sly little laugh. “But if your heart’s set on something and you’re going to do it anyway, I’d rather you do it right.
“So,” she said, turning to face Wallflower head-on, “tell me about your friends and we’ll figure out how you’re going to handle this.”
Wallflower stared upwards at the ceiling of Pinkie Pie’s house. Rest would not have come easily to her, then—she’d slept through the whole day until the time had come to leave for the sleepover—but she did not seek it. Not that night.
Her mind had cultivated a nagging, twisting dread that had refused to leave her throughout the whole evening. The task that loomed over her was one of the most terrifying of her life.
Even knowing that, as the vampire had suggested, she’d only be talking to one person—Fluttershy, they’d agreed, was the best choice—she could easily imagine half a dozen ways it might go wrong, or maybe even more if she really tried.
Somehow, though, after far longer than she’d planned on taking, she’d managed to make herself sit upright, pause to steel herself, and then creep over to Fluttershy’s sleeping form.
A gulp, a deep breath, a shiver, and then the smallest of nudges. No response at first, so she stifled another shudder, then tried again, slightly harder.
The second attempt was a success. Fluttershy’s eyes blinked open, bleary and unfocused but slowly coming to focus. “W—wallflower? What’re—?”
“Shh…” Wallflower put her finger to her lips, furrowed her brow, glanced about at the sleeping girls scattered throughout the room. “Do you…” She kept her voice low, but found it cracking and wavering in the most awful of ways, and fought to steady it. “Do you mind if we talked? Sorry, I… didn’t want to…”
It only took a moment before Fluttershy nodded. There was no understanding to be seen on her face, just unflinching, matter-of-fact kindness.
“Thanks,” Wallflower whispered, making herself smile before stepping back towards the door. “Out here, maybe?”
“Of course.” Fluttershy nodded, then closed her eyes and yawned, covering her mouth as she followed Wallflower.
There wasn’t anyone else awake, as far as Wallflower knew. Good. That was good. It was just the two of them, just her and Fluttershy. Everything was going to be completely fine.
“What did you want to talk about?” Fluttershy asked once they’d made it out into the kitchen, a comfortable distance away from the bedroom.
Wallflower paused to collect herself. Or try to, anyway. It didn’t quite work. “It’s… about my magic,” she managed to say, slowly, quietly and carefully.
Fluttershy’s eyes widened, and she held her hands in front of her and glanced back at the bedroom. “Oh, um… I don’t know if I know much about that. Are you sure you don’t want to talk to—”
“Y—yes, I’m sure.” Wallflower stepped a little closer, and, hesitantly, peeled back her lips to flaunt the fangs she’d been so careful to hide throughout the day. “It’s not like your magic,” she said. “I’m… a vampire.”
She felt an odd sense of pride in saying it out loud, but the face that came as a response turned that pride to a shameful wince.
Fluttershy’s eyes turned to pinpricks. She shrank back, eyes glued to Wallflower’s teeth. “A—a—a—” A babble stumbled out of her, formless and awkward.
“Well… the word isn’t important, really, but—”
Fluttershy took a step forward, with a faintly trembling hand creeping outwards. “Are—are you okay?”
Wallflower frowned. “What? Yes. Yes, I’m—I’m fine. Better than ever, right now.”
“ ‘Right now’?” Fluttershy frowned. “But…” She bit her lip, retracting her hand and wringing it. “But what about sunlight? Or running water? Or—” Her face paled, and her eyes somehow went wider still. “Oh no. Wallflower, do you need to… drink—?”
“Yes, but—” Wallflower’s chest tightened, and she pressed her fingers to her temple. “Yes, I’ve done that. But I didn’t—”
Wallflower flung open the bedroom doors and stormed into a pitch-black room. Her eyes cut through the dark, but still she failed to see what she was looking for. “Wh—where are you?” she called out; her voice cracked, and she thought her eyes might have been welling up. “Are you here?”
A creak of a door, then a slam. Then a fleeting, icy-cold breeze, a sigh of rustling fabric, and a snap of slender fingers.
Candles lit, feet stepped, and calm green eyes looked down at her. This time, it was more than just assurance and confidence that they offered, more than a simple contentment and a vague knowledge that it would all be okay in the end.
That day, they whispered to her that the world hadn’t ended just yet.
“Of course,” the vampire said. Her voice was not kind, but it was soothing. “What happened?”
As had often been the case in that room, Wallflower found the deepest of honesties pouring out of her almost unrestrained. This time, though, the truth spoke with water instead of words.
She was pulled into an embrace and accepted it numbly. Tears streamed from her eyes and there was nothing she could do to quell them, only hope that her eyes would wring themselves dry eventually.
Anyone else would have made her feel ridiculous. Her friends certainly would have, at the very best—stares, shocked and wide at first, were tainted by worry and dread; panic and desperate solutions came where she expected celebration.
Her heart ached. She didn’t want to think about anything, ran away from the feelings and memories that pained her, sought refuge pressed tightly to the vampire’s chest. When she tried to speak at all, a haphazard mash of sobs and babbles spewed grotesquely from her clumsy mouth.
A bed underneath her, hands holding her close, calming nonsense whispered into her ear, and a soft touch of lips to her forehead slowly, laboriously, taught her how to speak again.
“Tell me everything you remember.”
Swallowing, only barely managing to keep herself from lapsing back into the subs and blubbers, Wallflower spoke in a cracking, shaky voice.
She recounted everything she could piece together from her hazy memories: she told of how her friends had… chastised her, was that the word? “If you still want to be friends with us, you’ll have to give it up,” they’d said to her. It was difficult to hear them saying such things, let alone with as much scorn and outrage as she remembered, but that was exactly what they had gone and done.
And as she thought of it more and more, the line between sorrow and pain blurred and became murky. She thought of all the kind things her friends had done for her, how they’d showered her with attention when she first showed them her magic, all the smiles and laughter that had followed, all the joy that had danced in her chest when they included and welcomed her.
How in the world could anyone expect her to throw it all away? Magic had gotten her to that spot. Magic that didn’t hurt anyone badly, not unless she wanted it to.
She hated them for it. Their demands made her furious, even as the thought of pushing them away made her stomach churn and her heart twist and clench.
“I don’t want to stop being friends with them,” she said through her angry tears. “I want to stay with them, I want to—” The list went on and on, and yet the face she gazed up at told her that she could have each and every item on it, so she plowed through as many as she could think of. She wanted to be strong and special and beautiful and powerful and magical, and she wanted to be loved and welcomed and celebrated—
“Of course you do,” was the vampire’s only answer. “All those things and more, I’m quite certain you want.” Her tongue ran over her teeth, and a sharp, white smile came to life on her face. With her slender hands, she rubbed Wallflower’s back and petted her hair, then slowly rose up.
Wallflower frowned up at the vampire’s back, wiped away a tear with her sleeve, and mumbled, “What are you—?”
The vampire looked at her; her eyes blazed in the darkness, like two motes of green fire, and the shadows of candlelight dancing on her face gave her grin a viciously dark sheen.
But then Wallflower blinked, what had been a menacing, inhuman visage was a serene, gentle one, and she knew that to be the right one.
“Come with me,” the vampire said, lifting her hand to beckon with two fingers. “Let’s talk about how we’re going to get you all those things you want.”
Wallflower ran through all the things she was going to say. There was a plan, and if she could just stick with it, everything was going to be okay. There was a happy ending out there for her, and all she had to do was take the right steps and it would surely come.
The school was empty outside the room she stood in, as far as she knew. It was neutral ground, in a sense, shut off from any who might interfere, devoid of biases.
Even with the tension between them, her friends had all agreed to meet her there, late that night. All seven of them, the ones that were so dear and yet so cruel to her.
Footsteps came from the hallway outside, soft and muffled by a wall but clear enough to her keen ears.
She swallowed. There wasn’t much time left at all.
She waited. Less than a minute passed, but it was torture. The door stirred, then creaked slightly. Seven girls stood behind it, slowly funneling into the room.
Wallflower felt her pulse hammering in her chest. She had to do things right.
Sunset looked over to her, and her face grew heavy with confusion. “Wallflower? Is everything okay?”
That she had the nerve to ask that made Wallflower’s blood boil. But she kept it from showing. It was okay. Things were going to be okay.
Sunset came a little closer. “What’s going on? Does this have something to do with…?” Behind her, the other girls mirrored her sentiment, with their faces if not with their voices. Concern, confusion, worry… those were the expressions they wore just then, and they were baffling.
Wallflower stuck to the plan, though. “I’m fine. There was just something I wanted to show you, that’s all.”
She walked over to the door they’d all come in through—the only entrance to the room. “Let me just get this. I… kinda want to keep this between all of us.”
No opposition met her, just murmurs and exchanged puzzled looks.
She breathed deeply. Then closed the door.
Then locked it.
She could stay with the vampire. Live with her, feed with her, become a weird sort of family with her. Maybe even learn her name someday. Spend her life with someone who actually appreciated her for who she was, and things she could do that she couldn't even appreciate herself sometimes.
Or she could keep her friends, the seven people she’d risked so much to impress with magic in the first place. Those who’d forgiven her in spite of everything she’d done, and accepted her into their group so she didn't have to go it alone, as she always had before.
One or the other was a choice painful only to her. Keeping both came at a terrible price.
But she couldn't just let them go. Either of them.
Letting go of the lock, Wallflower reached over and flicked off the lights.
Off to the side, in a far corner, two deep green eyes peered out of the darkness.
