Excusing herself, Serenity walked over and welcomed the girl with a playful cheek pinch and hug. “That was what I promised, right? No flicking paint at the boys this time though, okay? Promise? It’s not respectful and they’re only trying to learn, just like you.”
The girl’s mouth twisted up in a guilty grin. “Yes, Ms. Dawson. I promise.”
It was hard to tear myself away from Serenity, knowing I’d bungled her first impression, but we went off to start our different classes in separate corners of the spacious hall. My mom was an expert at crafting puppets out of all sorts of textiles and recycled materials, and some of the younger kids flocked to that. I’d always been gifted at charcoal sketching and that attracted a few of the older teens, especially when I busted out some of my old work—sketches of dragons and other beasts from my favorite video games—as examples.
But about two thirds of the kids of all ages crowded round to learn painting techniques from my mate. I watched from afar, drawn again and again by her laugh. Each time I looked up, she was covered in yet more paint. It dotted her fingertips, her painter’s overalls. She’d even streaked some over her nose, probably with her animated hand gestures as she encouraged the kids to let loose, to paint anything that came to mind—purple cats or fruit with wings, which got them all giggling.
I sat enraptured, forgetting where I was until one of my kids shoved his sketchbook under my nose with a loud, “Hellooo.” Even as I offered him pointers, my eyes drifted Serenity’s way, unwilling to look at anything else after they’d seen real beauty.
How was I going to convince her that—
A scream rang out from beyond the hall’s doors, where the kitchen was. I rushed toward it, my vamp blood making me twice as fast as anyone around me. Serenity, my mom and that hulking shifter followed, along with a gaggle of scared-looking kids.
“Stay back, get back to your seats,” Serenity warned the kids who tried to chase after us.
“Help! Help!” A teen girl, who must’ve been the one to scream, raced down the hall from the kitchen toward us.
I passed her, thumped open the double doors, and stifled acurse. Cold horror doused my head, dulling the sudden, hungry constriction of my stomach.
There, convulsing on the faded tiling of the kitchen floor, spatters of blood circling his body as he writhed and foamed at the mouth, was one of the older boys.
I stood frozen, sickened at the sight. I enjoyed blood.
But not like this.
Serenity
Istood aghast at the sight before me. Poor Rico, a nice teen boy who had been coming to the shelter for a while now, was writhing on the ground among thick smudges of blood, foam billowing from his mouth.
The bloody stink of iron in the air flashed horrific memories through my mind, of Billy, who’d been about the same age as Rico, sprawled out in his own blood in the feeding den. My neck turned cold and clammy as images from the past flooded me.
I forced myself back into the present. Billy was gone. Rico was here and he needed help. Luckily Sebastian was able to move where my own feet felt cemented to the ground.
He shook off his frozen, horrified look and dropped to his knees beside the boy. As Sebastian leaned in closer, his fangs peeked out from his lips and his slacks slid on the steadily spreading pools of blood. I almost slipped back into the past again, but fought against it.
Sebastian rolled Rico to his side to stop the choking and clear his airways, calling out, “Mom! Call 911!”
Rico’s convulsing turned to twitching, then his body went slack, not moving at all.
Oh no! I managed to stumble forward to do something—I wasn’t sure what—but thank God for Sebastian. He started doing CPR. His chest compressions were steady and precise, his rescue breaths for the boy were gentle yet determined. It was like he was a paramedic not a news reporter. I had to admit, despite him being a vamp, he couldn’t be showing more care.
As he was compressing Rico’s chest, Sebastian looked up at me, glancing at my hands. Oh, they were shaking.
He spoke in a flustered but soft tone. “Serenity, are you okay?” I didn’t answer. “Maybe you could get the kids back into the main room. Try to keep them calm and away from the doors. Sound good?”
Kids were beginning to crowd round, trying to see what was going on. Sebastian was right. The less obstacles for the paramedics, the better. And the kids shouldn’t see this. I took a deep breath. “Yes, of course.” I turned to Franco. “Help me get these kids out of here.”
Franco spread his tree-trunk arms wide, firmly but politely telling the kids to go back to the activity room. Helped by the hulking Franco, I managed to clear the pathway to the kitchen, hoping the ambulance would turn up fast. My legs felt shaky too, and I was slightly dizzy, but I gritted my teeth and put on as calm a façade as I could.
The paramedics arrived shortly after, bustling in with their lime green jackets, giving calm confident directions to each other as they took over from Sebastian, stabilizing Rico and lifting him onto a stretcher. They carried him away with brisk strides. One of them paused to thank Sebastian for his help, and his modest and caring answer surprised me. “Don’t mention it. Just please make sure the poor boy will be okay.”
With Rico and the paramedics gone, my composure melted. I felt my eyes glazing over and I collapsed into a chair. Beatrice satdown next to me and clasped my hand gently, saying, “I think it’s best we cancel classes for today. I’ll see the kids get calmed down and settled. Why don’t you go home and try to relax? It’s been a horrible shock for everyone.”
“Yes, please do that, Serenity.” Sebastian knelt down beside me, looking into my eyes as he spoke, clearly concerned about my distress. “Get some rest. You handled that very well, by the way. Thank you so much.” He was either an Oscar-worthy actor, or he was being sincere and also had my best interests at heart.
I still didn’t trust him and his fangs one inch though.
“Thanks.” I turned to Beatrice. “Please call or text me with any updates on Rico, okay? No matter what time.”
