(fiction) Misfits of Magic | It’s a Scorcher – Part 2

>>> READ PART 1 <<<

The teenaged vampire sitting across from Gale sat hunched in the chaise lounge chair, her entire body pressed against the back cushion like an amorous dog if amorous dogs liked to press against seat cushions. Her knees were high against her cheekbones, with only the top of her nose and eyes skulking from behind the gangly protuberances. A vampire Kilroy, her despondent eyes stared at nothing in general, yet somehow found it all lacking and unworthy of her attention.

He suppressed a sigh; this was his first real client and he couldn’t afford pickiness. Ever since he had opened the Supernatural Psychology Agency, or S.P.A., he struggled to find clients. There wasn’t much demand for a human psychologist specializing in treatment of  supernaturals. As far as he knew, he was the first. And only. Ever since the Reemergence, the humans had stayed on their side of the Border and the supernaturals had stayed on theirs. Mostly. Except for hungry vampires.

Gale took a moment to look at his client. She appeared seventeen, not seventy-two. Vampires aged only one year for every fifty, so they kept their youth a little longer than the average human. If the human was cryogenically frozen or, you know, not human.

Her hair was as dark as the insides of his eyelids, a deceptive darkness that didn’t have the decency to have an edge so it was hard to know where her hair ended. Her cheeks, what little peeked above her knees were flushed and red, a sure sign that she had fed just before coming to Gale’s clinic. Even so, he had his spray bottle of holy water in his lap. At least he thought it was the holy water. He kept his cat spritzer on the same shelf. Either way, if the vampire jumped up on the countertops, he had a weapon to shoo her off. If she wanted to eat him, he had only a fifty percent chance of warding her off.

“So, ah, Cynthia,” he started. “Do you know why your parents asked you to come here tonight?”

“Bmch mnfh hthm mph.”

“You’re talking into your knees,” said Gale.

Cynthia sighed, an elaborate teenaged gesture that expressed her utter contempt and aggravation that Gale hadn’t understood her and that she needed to repeat herself. She lowered her knees, “Because,” she repeated as she managed to imply an eye roll without actually doing it, “they hate me.”

(this has been a preview of the story hosted on my author site, http://www.ronsparks.com – you can read the full story there)


No comments yet... Be the first to leave a reply!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: