Teens Writing for Teens, issue 6

Chapter 1

It was a cold, windy day in London, crisper than it should have been in December, and lighter than it should have been in the late afternoon. The streets of Belgravia were empty, save for a couple climbing out of a carriage, followed by a butler carrying a dozen gifts.

From the warm drawing room of his house, Emil Aleric scowled.

He hated happy families.

Taking a sip of Earl Grey, the fourteen-year-old boy looked down at the table in front of him. One, two, three newspapers lay strewn across the mahogany table. The first newspaper was flipped to the obituaries, where a small paragraph about a girl named Daphne Bell could be found. It was only a few lines, something about her family and “may He bless her immortal soul”, or some such rubbish.

She had been the first to die.

Three days after going missing, she’d apparently fallen from the top floor of a wealthy building. Her body was spread across the ground, bashed up and bloody, with glass protruding from her body at the oddest angle.

The funny thing was, all the windows on that street were perfectly intact.

The next newspaper had an entire article about Abigail Miller’s death. Like Daphne, she’d disappeared three days before her body was found. This time, she’d been found in a park, her body perfectly encased in ice.

By the third newspaper, the disappearances had made the front page. Mary Stoddart had been found in front of her vanity, cut open by pieces of her own mirror and bleeding profusely. A girl named Danielle Banks had gone missing as well.

That newspaper was two days old.

A few feet away from him, his mother paced across the floor.

“It’s not safe for you here,” she said, for the third time that morning. “I have to contact the Scotland Yard. They’ll know what to do.”

Emil restrained from pointing out how unhelpful the Yard had been last time she’d needed them. “All the victims are girls, mother,” he said. “I’m safe.”

His mother came to a halt. “That means nothing!” she exclaimed. “In eighteen-seventy-five, all the victims of the disappearances were girls. All except—“

“I don’t want to talk about what happened seven years ago!” cut in Emil. “I’m fine now, aren’t I? So it doesn’t matter.”

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“Potassium cyanide isn’t that…” Laura began
“yep”
“And sulfuric acid… 15 Mole is…”
“Yep”
“Chloriform? Seriously Ally?”
“Yep.”
“Ok… the gum confuses me, what’s…?”
“To chew.”
“oh… and its not..”
“Nope not poisoned just gum”
“Oh ok… Thanks.” She said taking a stick

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"Shut up, Corwin," said Emil.
Corwin laughed.

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"Fuck you," said Emil.
"Back at you," said the Hatter.

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Lora Anders never thought that she would kill anyone, but when a guard poses a threat to both her and the kingdom, she does the one thing she can think of: takes his life. Now everyone thinks that she is a traitor, and in Nyadith, treason is a crime punishable by death.

Only when she goes before the royal council on her judgment day, Lora receives a sentence that is worse than death. She is to compete in the King's Tournament, an event that takes place every four years.

Twenty three men from around the country will come to the palace, not to ask for her hand in marriage, but to present her head to the king, in order to earn the title of champion. When Lora's older brother, Krispin, enters himself into the competition to prove to his subjects that he will make a great king after his father, she knows that there is no way she will make it out of the competition alive.

But just when she is losing hope, Lora befriends a young guard who is intent on helping her escape even if it means that he will die in the process.

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I opened my eyes. I expected to see the golden gates of heaven or something, but all I saw was my room – and Carlos sitting on the end of my bed. He was staring at me intently.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “I’m supposed to be dead.”

“You are, technically,” he replied. His voice was empty, cold. It frightened me. “But you will be 100% dead if you don’t drink within –” he checked his watch, “the next eleven hours.”

“Well, that’s easy, then.” I grinned and jumped out of bed with an ease that was unexpected. “Hang on, what’s going on? This shouldn’t be happening.”

Carlos smiled wryly. “You’re in the process of becoming a vampire.”

I spun round and stared at him. “What? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m a vampire. I bit you and –”

“You’re a vampire? As in, a blood sucking, evil vampire?”

“Well, I’m not evil, but yes, I’m a blood sucking vampire.” He smiled weakly. “And you will be soon, if you drink some blood within the next eleven hours.”

“And where the hell am I supposed to find some blood.” I looked around my room. “Oh look, there isn’t any.” I rolled my eyes and sat at my desk.

“There was – loads of yours after you decided to blast your brains out, but I cleaned it all up and changed your sheets and that.”

It was only then that I noticed that my bed had been changed and everything smelled fresh – like it had just been cleaned. But then, I could smell something else. The smell of blood. My mouth started watering.

“You’re smelling blood, aren’t you?” Carlos asked. “Do you want some?”

“Yes.” I replied. I licked my lips and stood up.

“It’s a good thing I went and got some…” He stood up and pulled a bag of blood out of his backpack – the sort that you’d you get in hospital. He handed it to me and I tore it open with my teeth before squeezing the thick, deep red liquid into my mouth. As it trickled down my throat and all over my chin, I felt stronger than I had ever felt before – like I could do anything.

“How are you feeling?” Carlos asked.

“Strong.” I replied, grinning. “Like I could do anything.”

“That’s good. How are your senses?”

“My senses?”

“Yes, your senses. When you’re a vampire, everything is heightened, especially your emotions and your senses.”

“Oh.”

I strained my eyes and ears, but it was easier than I thought. Everything was a lot clearer. I could see every speck of dust on my surfaces and I could hear the cars outside as clearly as if I was standing next to them, even though my room was all the way up in the loft.

“They seem to be working.”

“Good.”

“Is that all?”

“No. Because everything is heightened, you need to be careful.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll find out yourself one day.” He checked his watch again. “I have to go.” He came over and clapped me on the shoulder. “Drink again within twenty four hours and be careful.”

And with that, he climbed out of the window with the ease of a monkey and I was left to wonder what the hell he had been talking about.

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