But today? Today was different. The hatred directed at me wasn’t petty jealousy. It was a deep-rooted fear of things that go bump in the night. Only now, that bump had a face, mine.
I took a couple deep breaths. Wallowing was nice, but only for so long.
My book bag was slumped against the wall, and one of my textbooks peeked out. I pulled it out and looked over the cover. Living and Dying in a World of Wonder: An Introduction to Supernatural Beings. It was the book Andre had teased me about a few days ago.
I walked over to my bed and plopped down with the book. I opened it, scanned the table of contents, and flipped to the section on vampires. I passed over the first few sentences about vampires being an abomination and skimmed the rest of the passage.
The true horror of the vampiric condition is not the hapless victims whom the vampire kills, but those whom the vampire saves. This is because the origin of the vampire in the modern era began in 1321, somewhere near Bucharest, Romania.
A Spanish merchant by the name of Salvatore de Leon met and married a Romanian woman during one of his travels.
Near the turn of the fourteenth century they had a child by the name of Andre.
I started at the name. Was I reading Andre’s biography? Curious, I read on.
A few years later, the Plague swept through the Romanian village the family lived in at the time, infecting Salvatore’s wife. Salvatore prayed to God to save her, but salvation didn’t come and his wife died.
Perhaps vampires would not have existed if the Plague had not returned to the tiny Romanian village two decades later. However, that was not to be, and in 1321, Andre, Salvatore’s son, was exposed to the illness and slowly began to die.
Salvatore diligently prayed, but when prayer appeared to fail a second time, he cursed God and swore allegiance to the devil in return for the life of his son.
It is said that the next day, a traveling merchant visited the village. The merchant approached Salvatore, saying that he heard Salvatore’s cry the night before and could grant his wish upon one condition.
“I will give you what you most desire, the life of your son,” the merchant said, “in exchange for what you hold most dear.” Salvatore quickly agreed, believing the merchant was asking Salvatore’s earthly possessions as payment. But he had no sooner agreed than the merchant showed himself to be the devil, and Salvatore paid with his soul.
Andre, now a man, was wiser than his father. When the devil came for Andre, he told the devil that his immortal soul was safe; Salvatore could not sell any soul other than his own. But the devil was still trickier. “I am not going to take your soul. I am here to heal you, and I will give you something men have sold their souls to possess, for I am benevolent.” And he bestowed upon Andre the gift of immortality.
The gift, Andre soon found, was a thinly veiled curse, for he could only feast upon humans and awake at night. He was forbidden from entering hallowed ground. And while he had not forsaken his soul to the devil, the blood on Andre’s hands robbed him of forever entering heaven’s gates.
And so the curse of vampirism is passed to every new member, for time corrupts even the most innocent.
I stared at the page a few more seconds, disbelieving. I should’ve been worried about my own immortal soul, but instead I thought about Andre. I couldn’t reconcile this Andre, a victim of circumstance, with the Andre I knew—a vain, materialistic, and self-centered individual.
At least I got to the root of everyone’s anger. I was destined for evil, and yet, through some loophole, I was allowed to walk the esteemed halls of Peel Academy. It must kill all those self-righteous snobs that the school was responsible for awakening my vampirism.
Out of curiosity I flipped over to the section on sirens. I skimmed over the author’s boring commentary, until a section caught my attention.
The siren’s power is sexually derived. This can be dangerous if misused, as both men and women can fall completely under their control when this power is exerted. Abuse of power is common, and this is where modern stereotypes of sirens come from.
Less commonly known, these creatures are cursed with misfortune. The writings of Adeodatus follow seven generations of sirens, all of whom were victims of adultery, murder, incest, rape, espionage, treason, or suicide. His records indicate that none of these sirens lived past the age of thirty.
I closed the book and sighed. I really did have some cursed genes.
Leanne and Oliver came in a little while later, only to change and run off to a back-to-school mixer they were invited to.
I tried to not let it get to me that I was obviously not invited. But as I lay on my bed, reading a novel I brought from Los Angeles, I couldn’t help but feel antisocial. Back at home I had lots of friends and regularly had plans. Now I was avoided.