How To Not Eat Thy Neighbor

Chapter 7

I doubt I need to explain my nights and wake ups anymore. You probably know it by heart at this point. The way home with Eliza last night was quieter, you know how it goes. We both pretended the conversation beforehand didn't happen. It wasn't the same uncomfortable silence, though. More so that there was nothing left for us to say. We'd spent all our words earlier.

It almost went without saying it would be a very long time before she had to walk with me again. I didn't exactly mind it, but I'd know I'd miss her. It wasn't like I wouldn't see her, but she lived in the opposite direction from me. It wouldn't exactly be logical for her to walk with me even if she wanted to.

Michael showed up at his usual late time. Eliza would've skinned him alive for that had she been there.

The cicadas buzzed in the humid air. I could hear him stomping on lantern flies before I'd opened the door. It was hot enough he wore a tank top, an unusual garment for him. His arms and back were frequently covered.

I didn't blame him for the change. You'd guess the heat went away after dark, but it never did. Not in my experience, at least. I myself wore thinner fabric.

He waved an arm, motioning me to go ahead of him as I walked out.

"Ricky's first." As much as I loved my walk with Eliza, his sense of humor would always win. Until last night I was unaware Eliza was even capable of humor. Or emotions.

"How was last night?" I ask. He's nearly stoic.

"How was yours?" I take it as a sign to not bring up his unexplained absences for the rest of eternity. The speed in which he returned that question astounded me. "Or should I say, how was your mini date?" He laughs.

There's the man I know and love.

"I wouldn't call it a date by any means. We did make progress, though. She ended up showing the smallest tad of emotion."

He falls flat again. I won't pester him for his own sake, though.

"I'd say two lesbians having a near night on the town minus the town constitutes as a date, does it not?" He jokingly raises a brow.

Now that, is a phrase I'm taken aback by.

"She likes girls?" I ask, surprised.

He rolls his eyes. "You're serious?" He chuckles. "She has the word girls tattooed in medieval font on her leg. And as much as it's a stereotype, when was the last time you saw a straight person dressed like that?"

"God, I hate when you're right." I mentally facepalm at my stupidity.

"Plus, we both know your type is what the kids these days call "big tiddy goth girl" or whatever it is. Never really understood the hype with it, but we both know I'm into guys."

As much as the humor remains the same, I can't shake something feeling off about him. I've given up on ignoring it. I just won't actively pursue it. If trouble finds me, trouble finds me. And by that I mean I sure hope it will.

By the time my thoughts start compounding, I've got a lesson to teach on ethical mind control and speed magic.

Throughout my lesson, Eliza smiles a brand new world record of twice. From that alone I now can tell she doesn't despise my entire existence and I won't die by sticking around.

Michael leaves halfway through. I don't see him return until the very end, since he's the one responsible for me. Eliza gives me an "I know what's happening don't you dare ask questions" look on my way out.

One critical detail; I'm walking with a perfect view of his back.

For one, his arms have intricate tattoos on them. I have no clue what they represent, but I'd go to whoever did them in a heartbeat.

That's not the issue.

It's the lines.

The patches of lighter and darker skin. The white bumps on his other arm. His back, which had several. Scar tissue.

I had some myself from stupid things I did as a teenager. These weren't the ones you got from being a stupid teenager.

They looked like knife marks.

Luckily, I'd learned from the lessons I taught. You didn't simply hurt a vampire.

No, you had to plan it. You had to know exactly what you were doing, or you would've ended up facing the wrath of someone three times your own strength.

Some were old. And some, like the one I'd noticed when Michael's shirt shifted just the smallest bit, were open, bleeding, wounds. Ones that his incredibly quick system hadn't managed to heal yet.

So I did what I did best. Disregarding every rule anyone had put in place for my safety.

I asked the question. And before you ask. No, I never regretted it.

"I ask this politely." I inhale. "What on earth caused you to have an open back wound!?"

He half growls. "You wanted to stay out of my business, right?" He asks, obviously angry.

"I would've if your business didn't involve you suddenly gaining open wounds. You never said your business would hurt you." I shout back.

"I told you to stay out of this, Ricky. I told you it wasn't safe. But if you're hellbent on knowing why I end up like this, I'll give a damn answer. Eliza told you all about it, didn't she? The century of solitude? Don't answer it, we both know it." He's practically fuming. "My relationships from before nearly got me killed once. I thought I'd ended it. But it's back. And this time, I have something to lose. Something to lose that I will never lose." He stops.

"There's a man out for you. Out to hurt me. He's trying to settle a nonexistent debt. If you hear his name, run."

"And what's his name? If you don't mind me asking."

"Cedar Ashgrove. The very man who turned me." He stops. His eyes are flaming red. "You need to go with Eliza tonight. It's too dangerous. Actually, you'll be with her for the next week. I'll handle myself."

And with his final remarks, he vanished into the inky  black of the night.