Libby’s Post – I chose the zoo over the mall, I must be bored

Courtesy of FotoSleuth via Flickr

Courtesy of FotoSleuth via Flickr

On Wednesday we went out again. Brian picked me up this time, arriving in a shiny BMW sedan–a car far cooler than he ever was. The car was freezing when I got in and the cold leather shocked my bare thighs. I pulled my shorts down to protect what skin I could.

“Why is like Antarctica in here?” I asked trying to smooth the goose bumps on my arms.

“Oh, sorry,” he replied turning the AC setting from ‘wicked ice age’ to ‘a polar bear would probably still be comfortable’. “I guess I just run hot.”

We were on our way to the zoo. A place I hadn’t been since I was 12. It was Brian’s idea. He called me up yesterday and asked if I wanted to go.

My new vampire life oddly seeming more boring than my human one, I figured it was the zoo with Brian or another shopping trip to Nordys, alone.

I’ll be honest; things have been kind of sucky since I turned. I can’t tell anyone my secret, not my husband, my best friend Emme or even Zed at the Yoga Spot, who by the way, has been super psyched by my recent performance in class.

I also have to regularly suck on strangers’ necks and you all know how I feel about that. And I’ve been forced into this whole Lost Colony drama with Emme. And what do I think about history? BORING.

So that is how my days have been spent: a little yoga, some blood sucking, a trip to the mall, more blood sucking and then a visit to Emme’s house to hear her blabber on about that stupid colony. And I have to pretend to be interested. God, I am such a good friend.

Courtesy Chris Christner via Flickr

Courtesy Chris Christner via Flickr

Brian led me through the turnstile and stopped in front of the snack shop.

“Not more pizza,” I said, pretending to gag.

He grabbed my arm and yanked me inside. “No, even better. They have nachos, with that liquid cheese.”

Courtesy Gabriel Flores Romero via Flickr

Courtesy Gabriel Flores Romero via Flickr

A few minutes later we walked past the camels and into a section with all sorts of antelopey like things. Brian ate his nachos and I drank my cherry slushie.

“So, how have you been holding up?” he asked.

“Good.”

“Are you sure? Because last week I told you that you were marked for death.”

Courtesy Rob Bulmahn via Flickr

Courtesy Rob Bulmahn via Flickr

I stopped to read about one of the striped antelopey things. It was a Lesser Kudo. “Yep, I’m sure. Thanks for the warning though.”

“Libby,” he stood squarely in front of me, his eyes boring into mine, “I told you someone is trying to kill you and you aren’t the slightest bit concerned?”

“Uh, I am concerned,” my eyes focused on the tray of soggy tortilla chips, “but it’s not something I want you to worry about.”

“How, can I not worry? You’re my friend.” He kept talking but my mind wandered.

I wanted to tell him. Tell him everything I knew. Tell him this was all much bigger than he could imagine. But I didn’t want to put him danger. Erasmus was dead set on getting his way. It didn’t matter who died along the way.

“Libby, are you even listening?” Brian waved his nacho tray in the air and leaned his face close to mine.

“Um, sort of.”

“It’s all a joke, Libby. I made it up.”

My brow furrowed. “What do you mean a joke?”

“After I became a vampire I sort of found everyone who was involved that night and got back at them. Nothing terrible. Just some practical jokes.”

Courtesy Martin Pettitt via Flickr

Courtesy Martin Pettitt via Flickr

“And my practical joke was to tell me I’m going to be killed.”

He started toward the giraffes, talking under his breath. But I could still hear him. “It probably wasn’t the best idea. It’s just hard to freak out a vampire. You have to go a little bigger. I was going to tell you right then and there, as soon as you freaked out, but you never did. Then I waited for you to call and you never did. So, here we are.” His eyes got all puppy dog like.  “I’m sorry, Libby.”

“So you added my initials to that tree?”

“All of the trees.”

“All of the initials, on all the trees?”

He stopped and looked to the ground. “There is no burial ground back there. I made it all up.”

“Wow,” I tried not to laugh. “You must be even more bored than I am.”

“I do have a lot of time on my hands.”

He chucked the plastic nacho container in the trash. “So, you’re not mad at me?”

I handed him my empty slushie cup. “I don’t know about mad, but you’d better watch your back. I can be vindictive.” I stood back and tried to look sinister.

We went from one exhibit to the next, talking (quietly of course) about what he’d learned so far about being a vampire. I tried to stay focused on his stories, but one thought kept creeping back into my mind–Brian’s confession only changed one thing: my burial site.

**Why not start the series from the beginning? Click here to read about Libby’s first day as a vampire**

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Libby’s post: Waking up a Vampire

Hi everyone. My name is Libby and I just had to hijack this blog. Everyone is always talking about my friend Emme. Emme and the Lost Colony, Emme and her new locket, Emme and her strange visions. The usual author of this blog is even writing a book about her. Well, I have some interesting news and I just had to share it with you.

Okay, so you’re not going to believe me, but today I woke up a vampire. This is what happened:

My head pounded like a bad rap song and my neck ached like my neighbor’s craning spine after a day of eavesdropping. I reached for the ibuprofen that lived on my nightstand and fell to the ground. I nearly screamed. I wasn’t in bed; I was on the picnic table under our humongous oak tree. And I was hot. Like on fire. Even in the shade my skin was literally frying.

I ran for the door, trying not to vomit on my favorite Juicy Couture top. Sitting on the doorstep was a brown paper bag and a vial of pinkish liquid. Uh, okay, totally weird. I grabbed the vial and bag and slammed the door behind me. Morpheus, my cat, was on the counter rubbing his head against the can opener.

Oh my god… it was past four in the afternoon. I fed the cat and fell into the couch. It was Friday, right? I ran through the events of the previous night, trying to figure out how I’d gotten drunk enough to fall asleep outside.

My friend, Emme, had come over for dinner and we each had a couple of glasses of wine, totally normal, right? After she left, I painted my toenails a super cute bubble gum pink color. But I didn’t have anything else to drink, did I?

Then I went out back to check on Morpheus and everything went black. Like really black. Not a fuzzy black, where I sort of remember dancing in giant clown shoes on your coffee table, Hot Toddy in hand–it was an utter, void-filled, black.

I dumped the contents of the paper bag onto the couch. There were three more vials, all filled with a clear liquid, and a note. The penmanship was pretty good, but definitely male. The author said he was the one who changed me and now I had a mission. Ugh.  A mission? Seriously? Now that I was a vampire, couldn’t I just live in dark, gothy mansions and lurk around drinking blood? Yuck! The thought of drinking blood was (is) repulsive. But, according to the note, I’d already drank the stuff once and my next meal should be soon.

I flicked the note across the room and freed my blond hair from its ponytail. Evan wouldn’t be home until Thursday. My husband was on one of his weekly trips out of state, so I’d have a couple of days to embrace the new me.

What should I do first? Maybe check out my new fangs in the mirror? Or see if I can fly? Or even better, see if I can become a bat? I looked out the window at the flock of kids passing by. Maybe I should see about getting something to eat??