3. EXPLANATIONS

I just sat there for a time, trying to decide if he was being serious or playing a cruel joke. I looked into his eyes to try to find a glint of humor hidden deep in them. I found none.

“W-What are you t-trying to s-say?” I stammered. I refused to believe him.

“I’m trying to say,” said Ryan, “that all the stuff that’s been happening to you—all the tiredness, the repulsion to food, the strength, and now, the purging—it’s all happening because you’re going through a change—a change into a Vampire.”

I just stared at him in horror. How did he know all that stuff was happening to me? Except for the strength, that is. It’s not as if I had gotten super-strength or anything.

“What do you mean, ‘the strength?’”

“Remember earlier this morning with the banana? You barely had to flex you’re fingers to pulverize it. You’re gaining strength rapidly. A banana is nothing, though—in comparison. Soon you’ll be able to destroy anything you touch.”

I looked at him skeptically.

“Anything,” he repeated.

“Okay…” I began, trying to absorb all of what he was telling me. I could not. “Okay, no. Seriously Ryan. This is NOT funny. Why are you doing this? Do you think I’m an idiot? Do you think I’m going to fall for this stuff?! How could you try to make me believe something like this?! I mean, come on. Vampires?! You know they don’t exist. I know they don’t exist. So why are you doing this?” I took a deep breath. “You’re so cruel! I’m, like, dying, and you have the nerve to come in my house and tell me I’m becoming a Vampire! What kind of cruel, sick, morbid person are you?!” I was hysterical and crying by now. “Just LEAVE!” I unfolded the covers and scrambled out of the bed. I bolted for the door.

“Emma, please,” Ryan pleaded. “Please lie down. You’re weak.” But I wasn’t listening. I turned around to face him one last time.

“I’m going to tell my dad everything that’s been happening. And you can’t stop me! Just get out and STAY OUT!” I pointed toward the window. Then I turned my back on him and twisted the doorknob. I flung the door open. However, I didn’t have time to make it more than one step out the door before a strong arm snatched my waist.

“LET ME GO!” I demanded. I squirmed in his iron grip. But he only held on tighter, with both arms now. I struggled against his grip, attempting to get away from him. He refused to let go.

“Emma. Please. STOP,” he growled.

“You must. Be. Silent.” He pulled me against his body and removed his left hand from my waist. I tried to make my escape, but before I could make any progress, his left leg projected up, knocking my knees out from under me. He quickly scooped me up and cradled me in his right arm as his left hand pressed itself against my mouth. I heard my stifled shrieks all around me.

He walked back into my room and pushed me onto my bed, so I lied flat. He continued silencing my screams. I still squirmed and yelled. But I was losing strength. And as I was growing weaker, he was growing irritated.

Still keeping his hand over my mouth, he pushed me harder into the bed. He sat on my legs to hold me still and leaned forward to put his right forearm across my chest, just below my neck. He leaned in closer to my face. I felt myself growing exhausted, but I didn’t want to give up yet. I wiggled fiercely once more and cursed him loudly through his clenched hand.

That was when he lost it. He opened his mouth, baring his teeth at me and hissed. He actually hissed at me. I didn’t believe my eyes or ears. He continued hissing at me until I finally stopped moving and was silent, with wide eyes. He was first to break the silence.

“Emma,” he began. “YOU HAVE. TO TRUST ME. Will you please just listen to me? I swear on my life that everything I’m about to tell you, and have told you already, is one-hundred percent TRUE. I will never lie to you.”

I just stared at him. He still had his hand over my mouth.

“Will you stay calm and quiet so I can explain everything to you?” he asked.

I nodded.

Finally, he removed his hand from my mouth and I gasped. He waited, to make sure I wasn’t going to try anything funny.

“I promise,” I whispered.

He carefully climbed off me and stood next to the bed, while I stayed there, smashed into it. I stared up at the ceiling, a hard, cold look on my face.

“You’d better pay attention,” he said, icily.

I sat up and crossed my legs, glaring at him where he was standing next to my bed.

I suddenly heard the front door slam downstairs. I turned my head toward my bedroom door.

“You’re dad was outside shoveling snow for the past fifteen minutes,” Ryan explained. I breathed a sigh of relief. Now that I thought about it, I had no idea how I would have explained what happened to my dad if he had overheard. I turned my head to face Ryan again, still glaring.

“For two nights now you’ve experienced ‘night terrors’ have you not?” Ryan began.

I nodded.

“Those weren’t nightmares. The pain, the screams—everything—was real.”

My head swam with the awful memories of the past two nights—the fiery pain, the acid burning its way through my veins, the flailing of my arms and legs while a strong, cold body restrained me. A strong, cold body.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” I asked him, despite myself. All the twisted, illogical pieces suddenly fit into place. “You were there. You restrained me,” I realized with a shock.

“Yes,” he replied, seeming relieved that he didn’t need to announce this little fact himself. “Do you remember the first night at all?” The tension that had erupted between us suddenly evaporated.

“No, not well. All day yesterday, it felt like a dream—one I couldn’t remember, as hard as I tried. Last night when it was happening, I remembered that it had happened the night before, though. But I still thought it was just a dream. And then I couldn’t remember what had happened in the morning—only that something had happened.”

“Yes. It’s designed that way. So you won’t remember the pain, and”—He paused. “So you won’t remember your creator,” he said with sadness in his eyes and voice.

“I remember now though,” I said. Because I did remember. All the illusive details that had escaped me time and time again in the past two days. I remembered it all in his presence. “Why is that?”

“I’m not sure,” he said. He sounded and looked like he was thinking hard. “You shouldn’t remember—even now. Although, maybe you remember because I’m here with you. And because you’re transformation is not yet complete.” My transformation.

“So I’m really turning into a—a Vampire?” I asked with horror.

“I told you it was all true, didn’t I?” Ryan said.

“I think I still didn’t believe you, though,” I admitted. “I’m not sure if I even believe you now.” A look of pain crossed his face.

“You have to try,” he simply said. Then he turned around and started pacing, concentrating once again on whatever he was concentrating on before I’d interrupted his thought process.

Finally, he stopped and turned toward me again. His eyes bore into mine—searching. His look of concentration vanished as I stared right back into his. His features softened. We were both stock-still, looking into each other’s eyes for a minute before he suddenly tore his gaze away from mine.

“UH!” he was suddenly furiously frustrated. “It can’t happen like this!” he said—more to himself than to me. He sighed heavily.

“Okay Emma, here’s the deal,” he began, then crawled onto my bed and sat cross-legged, directly across from me.

“I have to tell you the mechanics of it, the rules, and then I have to leave you. The creator and the created can’t come into too much contact with each other.”

“Rules?” I asked.

“Yes,” replied Ryan.“There are a few basic rules you need to know about if you’ll ever make it in our world.”

“What are they?” I asked anxiously.

He shot me a look of exasperation and raised his eyebrows. obviously signifying that he was getting to that part.

“As I was saying, there are rules—the first of which being that humans cannot know about us. They haven’t a clue what’s going on in our world, and they CAN’T know.”

“Why?” I asked. “What’s going on in”—I hesitated. “What can’t they know about? Why?”

“They can’t know because they’d try to interfere. And what they’d be interfering with is a war.”

“A war?” I asked, curious, and a little scared. “What kind of war?”

“The continuous War for Dominance between Vampire and Caduto Angelo.”

“So,” he continued before I had the chance to ask another question, “That’s pretty much the golden rule—don’t tell humans. So try to hide the side-effects of transformation from your dad as best you can. If he gets suspicious, lie, make up a story—do something. And do not tell your friends either. But I sense that won’t be a problem.”

“Why do you think that won’t be a problem?” I asked, challenging him. “I could go yap all of this to my friends right now.”

“It won’t be a problem,” he repeated, frowning.

“Why?” I challenged again. I was irritated that he seemed to think he knew everything about me.

“Because I sense that you don’t trust your friends—or anybody for that matter—as has been proven quite bluntly in the last fifteen minutes—quite as much as you make it seem you do.”

I cringed. He was dead on.

“As for your dad, I’ll be around in case something goes wrong, but I don’t think anything will.”
By now I was more than a little scared and nervous about this whole thing, but I had to ask. “What would happen if someone found out?” I asked timidly, thinking of one person in particular.

“Don’t worry about your dad,” Ryan said. “If it comes to that”— he paused. “Well, we’ll worry about it then. But, again, I’m pretty positive that it won’t come to that,” he reassured me.

“The second main rule is the reason why I have to leave now,” Ryan began. Then he stood up and walked across the room to stand by the window.

“We can’t be together. At all.”

My heart sank. I hoped the disappointment didn’t show on my face.

“There’s too strong a connection—emotionally and physically—between the creator and the created. It’s not safe for either of us if we spend time together.” Then I think he did see the disappointment on my face because he added, “At least for the first few months.”

“How many months?” I interrupted. It was all I could do to keep the tone of regret out of my voice—but I think he heard it all the same because he looked at me sternly, but with a hint of compassion tinting his features.

“Two,” he said. “I’ve already broken the most important rule.”

“But it doesn’t make sense. How else would I have found out these rules if you hadn’t told me? How are you not supposed to talk to me if I need to know these rules?” I asked, confused.

“That’s all I’m supposed to be doing. But, I shouldn’t be doing it yet. Normally, the creator comes on the fourth, and last day of transformation to tell the created what is happening to them and to give them instructions on what to do next. I had to come now, though.”

“Why?” I interrupted.

“You don’t understand, Emma. This shouldn’t be happening yet. You shouldn’t be experiencing side-effects for another couple of weeks. But it is, and I couldn’t just sit around and wait for you to reveal everything. I had to intervene. Even so, I’ve stayed much longer than necessary, been around you much more than I should. That first day, at the teahouse, I shouldn’t have been there. You shouldn’t have seen me. You weren’t supposed to see me. That made the connection stronger already—seeing me on the first day of your transformation. That’s why the creator comes on the last day—less of a connection. But I had to see you. I knew you came to the teahouse everyday and I had to see if you were all right. You see, you’re my first.”

I glanced down, blushing.

Ryan sighed. “You’re the first person I’ve changed. Or tried to, at least.”

“What do you mean, ‘tried to’? I’m a Vampire, aren’t I?”

“Not fully. What I meant is, I’m doing it all wrong. I’ve already broken one of the cardinal rules. You’ve already become too attached.” He sighed. “I’m a horrible creator.”

“No you’re not,” I couldn’t think of what else to say. I couldn’t stand the anguished look on his face—the self-pity in his eyes. I had to comfort him.

I made an attempt to get out of bed, but he looked at me strangely and muttered, “Stay.”

If I hadn’t known better I would’ve said the look on his face was a split between longing (a longing to be comforted) and timidness (he seemed afraid, somehow, of what would happen if we got too close again).

I was still confused about this last rule. “What do you mean this isn’t supposed to be happening yet? I’m changing. I had to know the rules. How else would I have known to hide what’s happening? Not to tell anybody?”

“That’s just it! That’s why I had to intervene. What’s happening isn’t supposed to be happening.”

“But”— I interrupted. He put a finger up to silence me.

“It’s not supposed to be happening yet. Everything you’re experiencing—loss of appetite, strength,” he paused. “Purging. It’s all supposed to happen weeks after you’ve completed your transformation. You’re not even technically a full Vampire and you’re showing the characteristics of a newborn.”

“Why?” I asked, not sure I wanted to hear the answer.

“I haven’t a clue!” Ryan exclaimed, seeming frustrated, but thoughtful at the same time. You have two more nights of your transformation to go, but at this rate, I’m terrified you won’t make it past tonight.”

Okay. This wonderful tidbit of information was not needed.

Ryan seemed to be talking to himself now as he muttered reasons for what was happening.

“Maybe I gave her too much venom the first night. Maybe it’s just her genetic makeup. Perhaps she’s not meant to be one of us. NO! There are no specifics about it. There are no ‘ifs, ands, or buts’. UGH!”

I raised my hand a little bit as if wanting a teacher to call on me to give my answer. I had an idea.

“Um,” I began timidly, not waiting for him to ‘call’ on me. “Well, the thing is, I mean, the transformation’s already started. It can’t be reversed, right? So just do what you’re supposed to do, and let whatever happens happen. It’s not your fault—what’s happening to me.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Ryan agreed, then sighed.

“I will not let you die, though,” he said sternly, determination blazing fiercely in his eyes.

And then, ironically enough, Ryan suddenly gasped and hunched over grasping his chest.

Oh my god. What was happening to him?!

Ryan groaned in agony, stumbling towards the bed. And me.

“Danger!” he spat. “Must. Save. Created.”

He gripped my shoulder with his left hand, his right pressed into the bed beside me. Our faces were dangerously close. This can’t be helping the whole “no contact” thing, I thought dryly.

“Your enemy has been created,” he whispered desperately into my face.

“W-What?” was all I managed before he collapsed on the bed, partly on top of me.

“Caduto. Angelo,” he choked. “Enemy.” He panted, out of breath. I stared in horror.

“Wh-Who?” I asked, terrified.

He gasped and winced one more time before muttering, “You’re brother.”

I just stared at him for a couple of minutes before I finally managed to summon my voice and ask. “W-What are you talking about?” I said, scared stiff.

He didn’t move. He was still on the bed and on me.

“Ryan,” I asked timidly, “Are you alright?”

He gasped.

“I’m fine. You’re not.”

“I feel fine,” I argued, confused.

He didn’t respond.

I couldn’t put it off any longer, now that I knew Ryan was okay. I had to ask.

“What did you mean about my brother?”

He rolled over and sat up on the bed cross-legged facing me again.

“There’s a lot I still need to explain to you,” he said.

Without making the conscious decision to do so, I leaned in closer. And he leaned back. His eyes widened infinitesimally.

“Sorry,” I murmured, looking down, embarrassed.

“Just keep in mind the rules,” he reminded me gently.“I can’t tell you anymore right now except for that the Caduto Angelo is your mortal enemy. And now, since he’s been created, you’ll have to leave to prepare for the fight soon.”
“What?” I exclaimed.

“What fight?!”

“I must go,” he announced. “You’ll find out more, later.” And he got off the bed and walked toward the window once again.

“When?” I asked, desperate for information.“When will I see you again?” I asked sorrowfully, but with a note of hysteria that I hoped he didn’t hear. He did.

As soon as I asked, he turned around, almost unwillingly. He looked me straight in the eyes. I thought he was going to give me a scolding on how we couldn’t be together again. But he didn’t. He shocked me by hesitantly getting closer instead of retreating further back, as he should have.

Just as I was sitting there, staring into his jade green eyes, looking pitiful, he turned on his heel, sprinted toward me in a couple strides, and grabbed me in his arms, pulling me off the bed. My feet were dangling below me. No floor. But I didn’t care. Because he was holding me.

The relief I felt was overwhelming. And it scared me. Why did I feel so strongly about this practical- stranger? Why did his embrace and very presence excite me, turn all my senses on high?

Of course, if I had told Ryan this, he’d have simply said, “It’s the connection between the creator and created.” But if this was the connection, why did I also get little butterflies in my stomach every time he looked at me? Why did my heart nearly burst out of my chest, my blood run hot through my veins and cheeks every time he touched me? Was that part of the connection too? I didn’t think so.

Just then, Ryan released me, pulling me out of my reverie. I plopped back onto the bed with a “huff”.

Ryan didn’t so much as look at me again as he turned around and strode back toward the window for the final time. I stared at his back, moisture budding in my eyes. When he got to the window, he reached out to grip it so he could crawl out. Then he froze.

I thought for one fleeting second that he might turn around again. I hoped he would.

He turned his body slightly towards me, but didn’t look at me. Butterflies erupted in my stomach once more.

Then he turned back around and crawled out my window and down the tree.

I watched Ryan leave, with a heavy heart. Then I just sat on my bed, thinking about everything he had said, especially what he had said about Sam. I was extremely worried about what he had said about Sam. My enemy? What did he mean; my own brother was my enemy? And what exactly was a caduto angelo? Ryan hadn’t exactly said much about it except that Vampires and caduto angelos were mortal enemies.

Then a thought came to me.

I stood up and walked over to my computer, which, thankfully, was already on. I pulled up the internet and went to a search engine. I typed in caduto angelo.

A link to an internet encyclopedia popped up. I clicked on it.

Caduto Angelo, or Angelo Caduto. Italian word meaning: Fallen Angel. Fallen Angels are angels that have been banished from heaven for committing one or more of the deadly sins, often pride or greed, or rebelling against God. They are deemed unfit to remain in Heaven and are therefore banished to Earth to live in exile.

Then it just ranted on about different know fallen angels and statues of them, etc., etc.

Well, at least I got something. Not that it was much help. How could my brother have been turned into a fallen angel? It made absolutely NO sense.

“Emma!” It was my dad calling me from downstairs.

I quickly clicked out of the internet and hopped up. I jogged over to my door and opened it.

“Yeah Dad?” I hollered.

“Why don’t you come down and have some supper!”

I sighed. I was not hungry. And I knew exactly why. But I went downstairs anyway.

“Hey kiddo,” said my dad. He had his back to me, standing in front of the stove.

“Hey dad.” I peaked over his shoulder to see what I was going to have to force down, and then have to puke back up later, whether I wanted to or not. My stomach curled when I saw what it was. Grilled cheese. Normally, I would’ve loved this. I loved grilled cheese. But now it just made me nauseous.

“Uh, dad,” I began hesitantly. I didn’t want to have to keep explaining to him why I didn’t want to eat. But I didn’t have to right away. He wasn’t listening.

“Em, could you get a couple plates out?”

I went over to the cabinet. I thought about whether or not I should only get one. I decided to get two out. I figured that I’d try to eat a little grilled cheese, then admit that I really wasn’t feeling good; maybe eat a nibble or two, just to help with the charade.

I handed the two plates to my dad and he plopped one grilled cheese on each. He handed me one.

We walked over to the table and sat down. My dad, of course, started digging in to his sandwich, while I just sat, repulsed.

I tore off a small bit and took a nibble of it. Ugh. Bad idea. I felt then and there that I was going to throw up. And I knew that if I did, I would have to do it in the bathroom. I couldn’t risk getting sick anywhere near my dad. Because I knew I would be throwing up much more than food and stomach acid.

“Dad,” I began.

“Huh?”

“I don’t really feel too good. Do you think I could pass on this?” I nodded toward the food.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. More than you’ll ever know.

“I just don’t feel so hot. Is it okay if I go lie down for a bit?”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever helps, sweetheart. Do you need to go to the doctor?”

A cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck. The doctor. What if he insisted I go to the doctor? What would they say? Under no circumstances could I see the doctor, have my temperature taken, blood drawn, or anything of that nature done. I had no idea what they might find if I did. However, I knew it wouldn’t be good.

“No,” I said immediately. “I’ll be fine. I just need to lie down.”

“Okay kiddo. Feel better.”
I got up, leaving my plate and uneaten sandwich on the table. I tried to hide my urgency as I left the kitchen and started going up the stairs. I didn’t want to make my dad suspicious.

When I got to the top of the stairs, however, I sprinted to the bathroom, flung myself at the toilet and, for the second time that day, purged myself of blood and food. Joy.

As I sat there puking up probably about another sixth of the blood in my body, I wondered how much could be left. From the way the first two purges had gone already, I was not looking forward to losing the rest. But, this was the price I had to pay. And I’d pay it. Mostly because I didn’t exactly have a choice.

At that, I thought back to my conversation with Ryan—how I’d said to just let things happen the way they happened because there was nothing we could do about it. I’d felt confident then that it was the right decision, and I still felt confident now. But I still wondered. What if I did die? Ryan assured me he wouldn’t let it happen, but what could he do if he wasn’t around when it was happening? What if I was dying right now? He wouldn’t even be able to make an attempt to save me. And what would he do if he was here? The transformation isn’t exactly reversible.

I suddenly felt very scared for my life. I didn’t want to die—not yet.

Then, despite the fact that I was throwing up blood, and despite the fact that I was turning into a Vampire—both of which should’ve been the most scariest things in my life right then—I felt something that topped both of them. Something that scared me, for some reason, even more than the fact that I was losing my humanity. What if Ryan wasn’t with me when I died? All of a sudden, I wanted so badly for him to be there with me. I thought about how I would feel if I died and never saw his face again. If I was dying, what I wanted most in the whole world was for Ryan to be there with me when it happened. I knew it was an irrational wish, but true all the same. It scared me that I should want him so much, after knowing him so little. But maybe this desire was part of the connection. The creator is there when his Vampire is being created, so it would be only right for him to be there when she dies.

I was done with the second purge now. I got up and flushed the toilet, then went over to the sink to wash my mouth out. After I did that, I stumbled out of the bathroom and into my room. I ran over to my bed and threw myself on it. I couldn’t help think, still, about Ryan and how much I missed him—especially now. So, for the next forty minutes, I cried my eyes out. I cried because I was turning into a Vampire, and because it was all happening so fast. I cried because I didn’t know what to tell my friends or my dad; because I wouldn’t be able to keep up the human façade much longer. I cried because my own brother was becoming something I didn’t understand, and that something was my enemy. Then, thinking about Sam, I cried because I missed him, and because I would probably never have another peaceful moment with him. I cried because my mom would never know the horrible things that were happening to me. And lastly, I cried because I missed Ryan with an irrational, longing desperation. I wanted him to hold me, to tell me it was going to be alright, and to tell me I wasn’t going to die and wouldn’t lose my friends, my dad, or my brother. And I cried, because the fact that I needed Ryan and wanted him so badly scared the hell out of me.