Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, here is the opening passage from my first novel...
Mirella
The changes came swift over Sommerfield about six months ago; people started going missing in droves, leaving local law enforcement baffled as to what was going on. No trace whatsoever of these people; no bodies. Thanks in part to what’s going on around here, the streets are almost always barren now. The fear in the air here is so thick that I practically suffocate on it every time I leave my apartment.
For me, things began to pick up both personally and professionally for me about a year and a half ago, about a week before Halloween. It was almost nine, and I was waiting for the bus, thankful to be out of my late-night European History class, while at the same time dreading the ridiculous amount of homework that my instructor Steven Hargrove had levelled upon me for the weekend. It was also one of those rare nights that I was just too disinterested and too aggravated to fully concentrate on the class. Why would I want to stay around and listen to the whispers from the others about how I’m some kind of freak? Anyways, why sit and listen about the past when the future seems so much less uncertain?
The campus that night was surprisingly dark; even surreal, like something right out of A Nightmare on Elm Street. Fog rolled into the campus, weaving its way around light posts that cast a pale yellow light before cutting off abruptly a few feet away from me.
Sommerfield was surprisingly cold that autumn, cold enough that I was almost certain the snow would fall any day. I sat alone at the bus stop bundled up excessively like that little kid from A Christmas Story -- you know, the one that couldn’t put his arms down? I looked like I belonged in Alaska, my Godhead-riddled iPod lost in one of the seemingly hundreds of pockets on this burgundy parka of mine.
Even with all of the disappearances happening in this town, I didn’t fear for my safety for a second, and it has nothing to do with my indifference towards things. It was because I knew the unspeakable truth, and the only fear that I felt was for how out-of-control the situation was becoming. I mean, sure, I could always step forward and tell the police what was going on, but if I told them they’d have me committed in a heartbeat, and in the end, that would help nobody. Besides, I could barely believe it myself when I found out the truth, so why should I expect anyone else to buy into it?
It didn’t take long for me to sense another presence in the parking lot. Another presence that was less than human. It was a different kind of aura than a patrolling security guard, who I hadn’t seen in almost forty-five minutes. I pulled the ear bud headphones out of my ears and stood to greet my new “friend”, squinting in the darkness in the hopes of seeing just who it was.
The glass of the bus station shattered behind me, and I felt two strong arms clasped around my waist. I was pulled back so fast that I had no time to brace for anything. His buddy across the parking lot charged at lightning speed. I brought up both feet and planted a firm dropkick to his chest as I fell backwards to the concrete, struggling to break from the grip. I managed to scramble to my feet, pulling my serrated blade out of the inside sleeve of my jacket, shrugging off my parka and throwing it down to the ground. Too bulky, too constricting. I assumed my best fighting stance.
The duo charged at me, hoping that their speed would be enough to throw me off. I managed to duck it, hitting them with a jumping double kick. I stumbled on the way down, landing awkwardly, hand-first, on the shattered glass. “Fuck,” I murmured. I could feel the warm blood seeping through my glove. They could smell the first drop of blood, their pupils dilating in pleasure, mouths contorting in a sadistic, feral snarl. They charged again. I ducked one and pierced the other through the heart with the blade. He let out a piercing howl before collapsing to dust on the concrete.
In the distance, coming down the hill of the campus, I could see two more sprinting, almost shadow-like, coming towards me and Ned the security guard. The one I was currently fighting with tried to trip me up, but I planted a good, firm kick to his nose. I heard it crunch on impact.
I turned in time to be hit by some random student, sending us down and sliding along the concrete, his chubby body straddling mine, crimson eyes glowing in satisfaction, his fingers digging hard into my shoulders. My blade fell out of my hand and skittered along the concrete, of course landing just out of my reach. The other two tried to swarm me, but he turned his head back, snarling, growling. I knew what that meant; he was telling them that they could have what was left of me when he was finished. I refused to acknowledge the chill that crawled through my spine.
He turned his attention back to me, leaning his head back in the moonlight, fangs emerging from yellowed teeth. He came in to bite me quick, but I put my forearm to his throat and attempted to hold him at bay. The other vampires were howling, screeching. I could smell a heavy, metallic scent in the air; I wondered if they had turned on one another.
The adrenaline was coursing through me. More than my life was at stake here; the salvation of the town was as well. No matter what was happening at this given moment, there was no way that failure was an option.
Saliva dripping from his fangs, he loomed forward a little more, trying hard to sink his teeth into my neck. This entire situation felt like it was going on forever, but I know in reality it was only a matter of seconds, minutes. His breath was so rancid I was convinced it would knock me unconscious. He pushed forward harder, as did I, but I was fully aware of the bitch of a reality: things were looking pretty grim for me. With each passing minute, my chances of making it home were slipping through my fingers. What was I thinking? These guys are way stronger than I am. Vampires generally are.
A deafening crack echoed through the sky, followed by piercing howls that abruptly stopped. I opened my eyes in time to see a steel toed boot hit my assailant in the face, knocking him off of me. On his feet in seconds like a scalded cat, he let out one last hiss before disappearing with the other surviving vampire. I breathed a shallow sigh of relief as the familiar face of my good friend and colleague Caterina Brooks stood over me, her trademark portable crossbow in hand, an amused smirk on her face. She offered me her hand.
“You are so lucky that I decided to stay late tonight and do that project for Muriel’s class,” she informed me matter-of-factly as she helped me to my feet.
“Jesus,” I breathed, turning to the bus station and allowing myself to shiver at all the broken glass. “I really owe you huge, you know that?”
“Just get in the car,” she said to me. “I’ll take you back to headquarters and you can fill out the paperwork.” I nodded. Thanking my lucky stars that Caterina had in fact stayed late, I slowly made my way to her silver Toyota, sliding into the passenger’s side and resting my head against the seat. Caterina was collecting the arrows she had fired. Rule number six; never leave a trace of yourself behind. Unfortunately, I had learned that one that hard way.
When she gathered her arrows up, she made her way back to the car, and we drove off as the bus pulled into the loop. What a bitch.
