Bite Me! (13 page)

She was right. It was totally interesting. So much so that I stayed up all night reading it.

According to the text, there was once a group of magical people known as Frieceadan Druids. The women were “Mother Earth.” They were gardeners, cooks, midwives, and healers. They had a talent for potions; they could manipulate the elements and had the greenest thumbs in the world, and though they had some use of magic, they couldn't cast spells. That wasn't the case for the men in the clan. They had all the power (isn't that always the way?). They not only had the earthly and elemental abilities the women had, they also could cast spells, do incantations, and, according to the lore, some could see into the future. Crescent moon birthmarks signified their magical status and no Frieceadan woman had ever been born with the mark. (What is it with birthmarks and paranormal beings, anyway?)

It was the “seeing into the future” part that got them into trouble. At one time, the Serpentines were allied with the Frieceadans, but it wasn't long before a small group of Serpentines began to make noise about tainted blood and losing power to the warlocks. This was all because one of the Frieceadan seers predicted the birth of a mixed-blood child whose blood would be the anti-serum for the
Serpentine venom. This child would bear the mark of both clans and its blood would effectively render the Serpentines powerless.

The seer inscribed his predictions into what is now known as the Serpentine Scrolls and the Runes of Destiny. I guess he was the warlock version of Nostradamus.

But the druids had very firm laws against recording their predictions in writing. It was considered an unhallowed practice, so it was strictly forbidden. So once the prophecy passed from oral to written, many in the Serpentine clan became fearful. A small, noisy group ousted the leaders and created their own laws.

In order to protect the prediction, and ultimately their destinies, the leaders of both races formed a high council and placed the runes under the protection of the Frieceadans, and the scrolls with the Serpentines.

The new clan elders did everything in their power to prevent the birth of this prophesied child, which meant not only killing off all the Frieceadan Warlocks but eliminating those who tried to leave the clan. And if anyone bearing the mark of the Serpentine couldn't be brought into the folds of the clan, they would meet a fate worse than death: They would be turned.

It almost made me understand why Dad went back
to them. I shuddered.

Being bitten by another vamp was the absolute worst punishment a genetically born vampire could face. It basically drains you of your human side, turning you into a dichampyr. Once turned, you're under the command of your creator until you become strong enough to release yourself or he deems you worthy of freedom. But there's nothing freeing about living a dichamp's powerless and feral existence.

The fact that the Serpentines would do this to their own kind told me more than I ever wanted to know about my family tree.

This family history of mine was not looking so swell. These were not stories I would want to tell my grandkids one day. “Don't worry, kids, we can't help that we're evil. We were just born that way.”

The book went on to say that annihilating the Frieceadans to block the child prophecy actually worked
against
the Serpentines because the runes held a key to something greater than the prediction in the scrolls. When the elders learned this, they wanted the runes, but the secret hiding place had died with the last guardian. Seems the Serpentines had cut off their own nose to spite their face.

I rubbed my temples, trying to absorb all the information. A dull pain worked its way from my head down to my neck. I needed a massage. Preferably one given by a big, bulky dude name Sven with a penchant for necks.

Not biting them—rubbing them. Sheesh.

It was five
A.M.
and I hadn't slept a wink. I was totally amped up on caffeine, bloodsicles, and wicked family history. I lifted the shade to allow the sunrise to filter in. Noah was still out there. I'd felt him all night, though he never seemed to come near the house. He stayed on the perimeter of our property, prowling and sneering and generally trying to get into my head. Yet for once, I never felt unsafe, only uneasy.

I was dying to call Bridget, but since (a) it was too early to call anyone and (b) I wasn't talking to Bridget right now, there was no reason to.

But I had to talk to someone.

I decided to throw on a pair of shorts, a tank, and running shoes, grab my iPod, and hit the pavement until it was a decent hour. Then I'd call Malia.

I left a note in the kitchen in case Mom thought I was skipping out on my house arrest. All I was missing was an ankle bracelet. Hell, it probably wouldn't be too long before those things became part of a mandatory parenting kit.

This morning, I took the route I would've driven to school. I jogged past Bridget's house, which was still dark inside. All the while, Noah kept pace with me, sometimes running, sometimes jumping from tree to tree. His laughter echoed through my headphones, so I pumped up the volume and kept on running. I didn't know exactly why he was keeping his distance, but I had my suspicions that he wasn't allowed too close to me. Whoever had turned him controlled him. Noah was a youngling in the vampire world—he wasn't strong enough yet to break free.

He can't hurt you. They need you.

When the words popped into my head, I stopped short.

This voice was different. It wasn't like the voices in the scrolls—it felt safe, familiar in a way. And frankly, while I was being stalked by the undead, I would take any reassurance I could get. I figured if the voice was wrong and Noah broke away from his master, then I'd have to protect myself the old-fashioned way—fighting fang-to-fang.

Strangely, now that I knew Noah was not a product of my imagination or guilt, I wasn't nearly as frightened. Plus, my voice told me he couldn't hurt me. People always tell you to go with your gut, right?

Okay, maybe I was just being stupid. Whatever. He
was keeping his distance and that was really all that mattered.

At this hour, most houses were still dark, except for the few inhabited by old people who got up at four to read the paper and drink their first gallon of coffee.

As I ran, I pondered the new information that Jill had sent me. According to the book, the Serpentines were scared of losing their power. They had done everything they could to prevent the birth of the child whose blood would be their Kryptonite. But blocking the prophecy hadn't been enough. Now they needed the runes because they held the key to something bigger.

If all the Frieceadans had been eliminated, then how could the Serpentines find the runes? Were they actively searching for them and, if so, why
now
? I suppose it was possible that the Frieceadans hadn't been wiped out, but then wouldn't there be some mention of them somewhere? Surely there would at least be a rumor of their existence?

As I rounded the corner by the school, the sun peeked over the horizon and the sky began to fade to that unnamable shade of grayish purple. I kicked up my pace through the parking lot, down the alley behind the science building, and crossed over to Lake Drive, which would take me past Malia's house on my way back to mine. Maybe she'd
be up and at it when I jogged by.

Or maybe not.

I sighed and slowed as I approached the lifeless house. I thought grandmothers were always up early. There goes my theory that the mandatory four
A.M.
rise time came automatically with your first grandchild.

Suddenly the air around me seemed to get lighter and I knew Noah was gone again. I was getting used to his angry and persistent presence, so it was quite noticeable when he wasn't around. It was like having a boulder lifted off my shoulders.

I stood on the small porch. Well, I could just knock on the door. It
was
six o'clock, and Malia would have to get up for school pretty soon, anyway. What difference would thirty minutes make?

I lightly rapped on the screen door. I don't know why I was so nervous. I guess it was probably because I hadn't seen Grandma Gervase since she took Malia away from us after her parents died. Grandma G. had always been a crotchety old woman; maybe knocking this early hadn't been such a great idea.

Just when I had talked myself into walking away, the door creaked open until the chain caught.

“Who's there?” an old woman barked.

“Um, Grandma Gervase? It's AJ Ashe, Malia's friend?”

“The roosters ain't up yet and you're knocking on my door? What's wrong with you, girl?”

“I'm sorry. I'll call Malia later.”

“Never mind now,” she said. “Damage is already done. I'll send her out.”

I sat down on the stoop with my head in my hands. I had let my excitement over this Frieceadan stuff wash away any common sense I once owned.

The door opened behind me, but I didn't even want to turn and look. Malia carried out two cups of coffee, handed me one, and sat beside me.

“You're an idiot,” she said with a laugh. “And what's that smell?” She sniffed and scooted away from me.

I took a drink. “Mmmm. God, I needed this.” Then I sniffed my pits. “I don't smell that bad.”

“Whatever. So what's going on? I'm assuming there's a reason you're here at this forsaken hour, risking life and limb in waking up the dead?”

“Oh, yeah. There's a reason. You won't believe what I discovered last night.”

I told her everything (leaving out the detail that Noah isn't quite dead). As I delved deeper into the tale, her face
changed from sleepy but tolerant to total fascination.

“AJ, you have to tell Mr. Charles!” she said.

“I will. I figured you could just give him an update at school today and then afterward we could meet.”

“No way. We're telling him now.” She jumped up and opened the door. “I'm gonna run in, change, and brush the funk from my mouth, then we're going to drive straight to Mr. Charles's place.”

“Malia, we can't do that.” I mean, technically, we could. Mr. Charles lived just a couple of blocks away. But still, just because we
could
didn't mean we
should
.

“Oh yes we can. This is important. I'll be right back. I'd invite you in, but given Grandma's current mood…” she said.

“Fine, I'll wait. But if he gets pissy with us, you're taking all the blame.”

It was six-thirty when Malia pulled into Mr. Charles's driveway.

“This is not a good idea,” I said for the umpteenth time.

“What are you afraid of?” Malia asked as she rang the doorbell.

“First of all, what if he had an overnight guest? We would be interrupting.”

“Then we'd have some good gossip,” she said.

“Malia, you're impossible.”

Mr. Charles answered the door wearing a pair of running shorts and a short-sleeved Under Armour shirt. Yum.

“Ladies, what are you doing here? This is highly unusual. It had better be important.”

“It's very important,” Malia said. “AJ made a really cool discovery last night, Mr. Charles. Apparently the Serpentine Scrolls are somehow connected to the Fri—what were they called?” she asked, turning to me.

“The Frieceadan Runes of Destiny. I think in order to find out what I need to about the Serpentines, I need to start with the Frieceadan Warlocks.”

Mr. Charles green eyes flashed bright. “This sounds very promising. Come on in.”

 

After I told Mr. Charles the story, he picked up the phone and promptly called in sick.

“I can't possibly go in today. I would be way too distracted, anyway,” he said.

“Then I'm skipping, too,” Malia said.

“I don't think that's a good idea,” Mr. Charles responded. “Your closest friend was suspended yesterday.
If you get caught skipping and you're with her, you could get into big trouble as well.”

“So?”

“Malia, if you get caught ditching and hanging with me, not only will you get into trouble, but I'll get into
more
trouble,” I said.

“But I don't want to miss out on any of the good stuff,” she whined.

“Just go,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I promise to fill you in on all the details when you get back this afternoon.”

“Fine. I'll go, but I don't have to like it.”

“Where is the book?” Mr. Charles asked.

“It's at home. Do you have the scrolls still, or did you return them to Jill?”

“I still have them.”

“Why don't I run home, shower, grab the book, and meet you somewhere?”

“I need to be careful. I can't have people seeing me all over town, especially with a student, when I called in sick, you know.”

“Why don't I just meet you at Jill's? She's bound to have more books in that house of hers. And nobody will be looking for you in Yellow Pine.”

“Excellent idea, AJ. Okay, see you then.”

 

After my shower, I set my alarm for eleven-thirty and promptly fell into a dark, dreamless sleep. I say dreamless but, really, that's not true.

It's like when you dream about the perfect guy, where you know him inside and out, like he was sewn together by a thread from your soul, but you never see his face. If you ever see that guy, you'll know him because he's a part of you. Then when you wake up, you question whether or not it really happened and if that guy really does exist.