Vampire Moon (7 page)

 
      
 
The sun was high and hot, and I was sitting in my minivan in the parking lot of my children’s elementary school near downtown Fullerton, where I had parked under a pathetic jacaranda tree. The tree was mostly bare but offered some shade.

 
      
 
Beggars can’t be choosers.

 
      
 
I was huddled in my front seat, away from any direct sunlight, the shades pulled down on both the driver’s side and passenger’s side windows. My face was caked with the heaviest sunblock available on the market. Thin leather gloves covered my hands, and I was wearing another cute wide-brimmed sunhat, which sometimes made driving difficult. I had many such hats—all purchased in the last six years, of course—and all a necessity to keep me alive.

 
      
 
And what happens if I’m ever exposed to any direct sunlight?

 
      
 
I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to find out, either. All I knew was that the sun physically hurts me, even when I’m properly protected. I suspected I would wither and die. Probably painfully, too.

 
      
 
So much for being immortal.

 
      
 
Immortality with conditions.

 
      
 
As I huddled in my seat, I thought about those words again:
wither and die.

 
      
 
You know, I used to lead a normal life. I grew up here in Orange County, was a cheerleader and softball player, went to college in Fullerton, got a master’s degree in criminal science, and then went on to work for the federal government. Lots of dreams and ambitions. One of them was to get married and start a family. I did that, and more.

 
      
 
Life was good. Life was fun. Life was easy.

 
      
 
If someone had told me that one day my daily To-Do List would consist of the words:
1) Buy extra-duty sunblock. 2) Oh, and see if Norco Slaughterhouse will set up a direct billing
... well, I would have told them to go back to their Anne Rice novels.

 
      
 
I sat in my minivan, huddled in my seat, buried under my sunhat and sunblock, wary of any beam of sunlight, and shook my head and I kept shaking my head until I found myself crying softly in my hands. Smearing my sunscreen.

 
      
 
Damn.

 
      
 
I may not have known what lived in me, and I may not have known the dark lineage of my blood, but I knew one thing for fucking sure. No one was going to keep me from seeing my kids. Not Danny. And not the sun.

 
      
 
I opened my van door and got out.

 
      
 
Chapter Eight

 
      
 
I gasped and stumbled.

 
      
 
I reached a gloved hand out and braced myself on the hot fender of my minivan. Heat from the sheet metal immediately permeated the thin glove. Maybe
Stephenie
Meyer’s vampires had it right. Maybe I should move up to Washington State, in the cold and rain, where gray clouds perpetually covered the skies.

 
      
 
Maybe someday. But not now. I had real-life issues to deal with.

 
      
 
I gathered myself together and strode across the quiet parking lot, filled mostly with teachers’ and school administrators’ cars. I’m sure I must have looked slightly drunk—or perhaps sick—huddled in my clothing, head down, stumbling slightly.

 
      
 
A small wind stirred my thick hair enough to get a few strands stuck in the copious amounts of sunscreen caked on my face. I ignored my hair. I needed to get the hell out of the sun. And fast.

 
      
 
I picked up my pace as another wind brought to me the familiar scents of cafeteria food. Familiar, as in this was exactly what cafeteria food had smelled like back when I was in elementary school.

 
      
 
After crossing the hot parking lot, I stepped up onto a sidewalk and a moment later I was under an eave, gasping.

 
      
 
Sweet, sweet Jesus.

 
      
 
Keeping to the shade and sliding my hand along the stucco wall to keep my balance, I soon found myself in front of the main office door.

 
      
 
Focus, Sam.

 
      
 
I needed to look as calm and normal as possible. School officials didn’t take kindly to crazy-looking parents.

 
      
 
My skin felt as if it were on fire. And all I had done was walk across a school parking lot. I wanted to cry.

 
      
 
No crying.

 
      
 
I sucked in some air, held it for a few minutes—yes minutes—and let it out again. My skin felt raw and irritated. I picked hair out of the heavy sunscreen with a shaking hand, adjusted my sunhat, put a smile on my face, and opened the office door.

 
      
 
Just another mom here to see her kids.

 
      
 
* * *

 
      
 
A few minutes later, I found myself in the principal’s office; apparently, I was in trouble.

 
      
 
Principal West was a pleasant-looking man in his mid-fifties. He was sitting behind his desk with his hands folded in front of him. He wore a white long-sleeved dress shirt with Native American-inspired jade cuff links. As far as I knew, he wasn’t Native American.

 
      
 
Principal West had always been kind to me. Early on, just after my attack, he had been quick to work with me. I was given special access to the front of the school when picking up my kids. Basically, I got to park where the buses parked—thus avoiding long lines and sitting in the sun longer than I had to. Good man. I appreciated his kindness.

 
      
 
That kindness had, apparently, come to an end.

 
      
 
“I can’t let them see you, Samantha, I’m sorry.”

 
      
 
“I don’t understand.”

 
      
 
“I got a call today from Danny. In fact, I got it just about a half hour ago. Your husband—or ex-husband—says that the two of you have an unwritten agreement that you will not be picking the kids up anymore.”

 
      
 
“Yes, but—”

 
      
 
“He also says that you have agreed to supervised visits only. Is this true?”

 
      
 
Principal West was a good man, I knew that, and I could see that this was breaking his heart. I nodded and looked away.

 
      
 
He sighed heavily and pushed away from his desk, crossing his legs. “I can’t allow you to see them without Danny being present, Samantha. I’m sorry.”

 
      
 
“But I’m their mother.”

 
      
 
He studied me for a long time before saying, “Danny also said that you are a potential danger to the kids, and that under no circumstances are you to be alone with them.”

 
      
 
I was shaking my head. Tears were running down my face. I couldn’t speak.

 
      
 
Principal West went on, “You’re very ill, Sam. I can see that. Hell, anyone can see that. How and why you pose a threat to your children, I don’t know. And what’s going on between you and Danny, I don’t know that, either. But I would suggest that before you agree to any more such terms, Sam, that you seek legal counsel first. I have never known you to be a threat. Outside of being sick, I have always thought you were a wonderful mother, but it’s not for me to say—”

 
      
 
I lost it right there. I burst into tears and cried harder than I had cried in a long, long time. A handful of secretaries, the receptionist and even the school nurse surrounded me. Principal West watched me from behind his desk, and through my tears, I saw his own tears as well.

 
      
 
He wiped his eyes and got up. He put an arm gently around me and told me how sorry he was, and then escorted me out.

 
      
 
Chapter Nine

 
      
 
I hate all men
, I wrote.

 
      
 
Even me?

 
      
 
Are you a man, Fang?

 
      
 
Yes, but I’m a
helluva
man.

 
      
 
Despite myself, I laughed. I was in my hotel room sitting in the cushioned hotel chair. I should have been comfortable, but I wasn’t; the chair’s wooden arms were bothering me. Come to think of it, the chair wasn’t that comfortable, either. Maybe I should complain to hotel management.

 
      
 
Or maybe I should just calm down,
I thought. Even better, maybe I should get myself an apartment somewhere and decorate it with my
own
chairs.

 
      
 
It was a thought, but something I would think about later.