The Dash-All Chronicles: Preaching to the Choir


My sister smiled at me, a toothy grin that showed relief and building excitement, as she stepped closer, hands at the bite, examining it.

“It’s not too deep,” she said, nodding. “He didn’t want to kill you, then.”

She turned around and stalked up to a low bookcase, rummaging around a stack of papers before she brought out a sheet with scribbling all over it; the drawings and words weren’t placed in neat rows, but appeared jumbled on the  page. She placed it on the table by the window, in the brightest sunlight, and crooked her neck to read it rather than turn it around to accommodate her. I watched, warily.

“What is that?” I finally broke the silence.

It took another few seconds before she raised her gaze to mine.

“Sebastian,” she said.

My eyes widened and she left the table to approach me again, looking at me with sudden patience. I had expected curiosity, I had expected glee – because she had been mumbling about the uprooting of good things ever since her dark phase began and this bite on my neck was surely the exclamation point after that prophecy – but patience. No, I had not expected that.

“You saw him?” she wondered.

“You… know him?” I retorted, suddenly hopeful that perhaps there was an explanation for all this that didn’t involve supernatural beings.

She smiled again, amused, as though I should know these things already and shouldn’t be asking her stupid, silly questions.

“What the hell is going on?” I exclaimed.

“So now you want to listen?” she wondered, sudden bitterness on her face.

I was surprised at it, even though I knew I really shouldn’t have been.

“I know I haven’t…” I trailed off. “… Been supportive,” I finished. “But can you blame me, honestly? You’ve sounded insane whenever you’ve started talking about that… stuff.”

“Vampires.”

“Yeah, that. We thought you’d joined a cult devoted to blood-sucking and worshipping at the altar of Dracula.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Well…”

“If I’d be worshipping at the altar of anyone it’d be Van Helsing. Or Buffy – I think I’d rather have a peppy female vampire slayer than some stuffy old scrooge of a vampire hunter as my idol.”

“Sure, of course, makes sense.”

“You’ve been bitten by a vampire.”

“Yes, I caught that.”

“So the sarcasm might be dropped?”

“Won’t pick it up again.” At her raised eyebrows I suddenly felt completely deflated. “I’m sorry,” I said earnestly. “It’s just a lot to take in right now. Buffy on top of it all?”

She smiled then, and it helped put me at ease. She was my sister, my blood, and she wasn’t calling to have me committed: it was a good start.

“How do you know about Seth?” I asked.

“You spoke to him?”

“Well, he spoke to me. In a sort of… weird, in-my-head, totally invading way. I mean, he was talking, but it was like his voice was in my head…”

She nodded as though she understood and when she moved back up to the table and the all-fascinating piece of paper I suddenly realized something.

“You want to kill him?”

She grabbed the paper, then her coat and waited in the doorway for me to follow her lead. I’d never seen her quite so brisk or in control of the situation before and I suddenly had a sinking feeling in the middle of my stomach, because clearly my sister was a woman on a mission and her lack of response to my question only seemed to provide the ominous answer to it.

 

 

 

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~ by mescribe on December 1, 2011.

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