Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Chapter 2

CHELSEA

Chelsea floated in a dream world, adrift and alone on a lake of old forgotten memories. They were her own memories, but she experienced them as if they had happened to someone else, a stranger whose life was played on a cinema screen. She glimpsed Maggie on her eighth birthday, eyes ablaze in reflecting candles. In the background on her father's lap she saw herself, laughing and cheering with old glee.

Flash forward several years. It's the day they found their mother and father, attacked by vampires. But these ones weren't looking for recruits, just meat. Maggie was the only one Chelsea had left to cling to, a seventeen-year-old supporting her fifteen-year-old sister. Maggie's tears raced down her cheeks but she still held Chelsea tight against her body, shielding her eyes from the burning pyres. Her red dress, torn and soiled, could not hide her desperate beauty. Chelsea had always thought her sister gorgeous, but she had not seen her on that night, not really. Her third-person view offered her a unique perception on that night, a night she had tried to forget. Maggie's fiery gown, true to its nature, was blackening at the tips, but she took no notice of the impending danger, just tugged Chelsea impossibly closer to her.

Images flashed rapidly. Moving to the Gyrans' house, her mother's ancient relatives; the endless rules, the regulations. Home by nine pm, never a sound before seven am, no friends allowed (not that they were allowed to make any), no visiting without an adult, and the most important, never mention vampires.

One picture stood out: the day Geraldine Gyran discovered Chelsea reading with Hannah, the maid's daughter. They were discussing a novel about vampires, a subject of strange fascination for Hannah. Chelsea didn't even like to think of the creatures, but Hannah was the only one in the house who was her age, so she tried to go along with it. She didn't know how long Geraldine had been watching, but it was enough for the maid to be sent away and for Chelsea to receive the worst, as well as first, beating of her short life. Maggie had railed at the entire family when she pried the real cause of Chelsea's bruises from her.

A week later, Maggie too had left Chelsea alone, in a way not unlike her parents' method. One difference, however: these ones weren't looking for a quick meal. Maggie had been recruited, and the authorities thought it likely she had been double-bitten. Chelsea couldn't bear to think of her loving sister as a blood-thirsty, mindless leech.

A more recent event came to her awareness. It was Chelsea's first day at the training grounds. The day the Gyrans had finally agreed to let her have her own life.

She recalled the day she got her uniform, scratchy and heavy, but still bursting with pride. She saw the day she met Noah at the bar, the way he and Gemma got acquainted when they had to work together to carry her drunken body home that same night.

Finally, her last memory. Mr. Lorbretti and two young men finding her body in the closet. Her chest was pumping up and down like a hummingbird's wings. The man wearing the navy blue of a senior officer spoke to the principal while the junior man knelt at Chelsea's side. Her vision here, unlike the other, further-away memories, was foggy, but she could still see the consternation in the young man's eyes as he whispered, "Maggie?"

At that last memory, Chelsea sprang upright. Her eyes were shut, and try as she might she could not lever them open yet. Her other senses were in full working order, however.

She could tell, from the reverberations in the air, that she was in an empty room, probably wall-papered with steel plating. There was no one else currently in the room with her, but she could feel eyes watching. She tilted her head back as she inhaled the scents from the space.

The smells alone were almost enough to make her sight worthless. She could smell the metal resting against the walls and could tell that a family of six-no, seven- mice called a teensy hole in the brick wall home. She could smell the scents of three humans in the room next to hers. One female, two males. She wrinkled her nose. The woman's patchouli perfume was not to her liking, even as a monster.

Monster. That's all you are and ever will be.

Chelsea shook off her internal bully. She had to focus. For starters, as a calm, reasonable, human gesture, she would converse with the mortals and learn a bit. First she tried one more time to open her eyes. Nada.

Chelsea cleared her throat. "Hello," she croaked. She cleared her throat again. "Hello?" Her voice still rasped dreadfully, reminiscent of Mary Jenner's tones.

Her throat would not cooperate. But she had to sound normal. She couldn't sound like the vampire who changed her, she had to prove that she was different.

She had to prove she was still human.

Chelsea started coughing, hacking, desperate to clear her throat and sound like she used to. She could smell the blood that began dripping out her nose, stinging, silvery taste, but she kept trying, harder, more determined than ever.

A mocking, grating laugh, so like her new voice, filled the air. It drowned out Chelsea's disgusting noises with ease. It seemed to go on forever, bouncing off the walls and repeating on an endless loop. Finally, when Chelsea thought she would go mad, a voice emerged from the horrible sound.

"Stop trying, dear. Welcome to Vampire Prison. You're one of us."

And that's when the screaming began.