Ever Dark Academy, Vol. 1

1. Chosen

CHOSEN

“V ampires are real,” the beautiful young man said. He was smiling and serene. His purple eyes were mesmerizing. Even over the crappy, convenience store television set with the occasional loss of signal and fuzziness, he made the viewer want to hear everything he had to say, and believe it, too. “And tonight we’re going to start to answer your questions about them, and even tell you how you might become one.”

A female newscaster interrupted the segment stating, “As many of you already know, that is Julian Harrow, son of the famous explorers and television personalities, Jack and Joanna Harrow, who, until recently, were dead .”

She glanced down at her notes, as if she wanted to confirm that part was true, though it had been stated time and time again by other reporters, confirmed by scientists, and affirmed by almost every country on earth. Vampires and people coming back from the dead were real and it just got stranger after that.

“But, most importantly, Julian Harrow is the Vampire Prince,” she said, her voice lifting at the word Vampire . “He is the one and only fledgling of Vampire King Daemon whose school for aspiring Vampires is opening tomorrow. Or, as it is always night in the Ever Dark, where the school is located, we should say it will be opening tomorrow night .”

She paused and smiled at the audience as if to see if they all got her little joke.

“Julian and his best friend--an Eyros Bloodline Vampire--Christian Thorne are recording a series of videos that will be shared with the public,” she said, showing just a trace of traditional media’s disdain for Youtube content creators. But considering the sleek and glamorous video of Julian Harrow she’d just shown no one could truly deny that the series didn’t look incredibly professional. “They are documenting their own and the Harrows’ journeys to becoming Vampires. Our understanding is that another segment will be aired--”

Grayson Duke changed the channel on the television to another of the nightly news programs. He wanted to see the weather. Rain streaked the glass door of the convenience store, making the outside street lights blur and causing passersby to hunch over as the rain pelted their heads. But every program it seemed was focused on the opening of Ever Dark Academy. Grayson grimaced. The last thing he wanted to do was think about Vampires or, more accurately, was to have anyone else thinking about Vampires and their gifts .

I wonder if they consider them curses, too, Grayson thought sourly.

Ever since the existence of preternatural beings had been confirmed, that was all anyone and everyone wanted to talk about. And, worryingly, it had opened some minds to the possibility of other things being real, too. And Grayson really didn’t want that.

It made Grayson nervous, because before it had become common knowledge that the paranormal was real, mistakes he made with his own gift were easily explained away. A trick of the light. Something in a person’s eye. A freak occurrence. But now people were willing to believe and that led to all sorts of problems.

Before he could change the channel again he had to set down the remote as a customer had come up to the till wanting to be rung up.

As Grayson scanned the barcodes on the man’s purchases--a gallon of milk, Slim Jims, Cheetos, and a package of Trojan ribbed condoms, which Grayson thought were just wishful thinking--another newscaster spoke up.

This time it was a man with a plastic smile and unmoving hair, who said, “Only 100 people from all around the world were chosen to attend this first class of Ever Dark Academy after a rigorous vetting process.”

“Is it true, Karl, that the students were all interviewed by Eyros Bloodline Vampires? You know, the ones that can read minds?” His bubbly blonde co-anchor asked.

She was all wide-eyed as if this was new to her. But Grayson was certain that every reporter around the world could repeat the names of the Vampire Bloodlines–there were 11–and what their powers were–each one was different and they ranged from reading minds to bringing back the dead–without missing a beat. But it appeared that these newscasters were pretending to be their own audience. Though, again, Grayson wondered if anyone with access to a television or the internet was unaware of the Vampires and what they could do now. But perhaps hearing about them on their local nightly news made their existence less impossible.

“That is true, Candi! The Immortal Eyros himself did the final sweep of their minds!” Karl answered her with a megawatt smile in return. “But that was just one part of the vetting process, which I’m told was extraordinarily rigorous.”

“Can you imagine letting someone in your head like that?” the male customer asked as Grayson stuffed the man’s purchases into a paper bag. “I mean, fuck yeah, eternity, but fuck no, knowing about my private thoughts.”

The male customer’s face was heavily lined with exhaustion and hard living. Grayson wondered though if he truly had any secrets that a Vampire would care about, let alone be shocked by. In his 24 years of life, Grayson had found that most people were intensely boring.

Their secrets were about cheating on their partners, having the “wrong” kind of kink or talking behind their friends’ backs. He didn’t look down upon them for living lives that really wouldn’t cause a Vampire to lift an eyebrow. After all, he had the opposite problem. He had real secrets that he was pretty damned sure would keenly interest the immortals and humans as well. He would never allow his mind to be read if he could help it.

Guess no academy for me, he thought mirthlessly.

Yet Grayson found himself asking, “But if you really had a chance to live forever would you turn it down just because someone wants to look in your head one time?”

The man, who had a toothpick in his mouth, switched it from one side to the other before answering, “They’re never going to choose people like us to join their immortal, perfect life, are they?”

Without waiting for Grayson to answer, he picked up his purchases and left. The bell over the door to the convenience store rang loud and clear to mark his passage.

Like us? Grayson thought as he closed the till’s drawer again.

He and the man probably shared some things in common. They were both poor, lived in a dangerous part of the city, likely both worked a dead end job, and wondered if their futures were going to be any different than their presents. While some might believe there was always a brighter tomorrow, Grayson knew that sometimes you just had to pray that your life didn’t get worse . But that was where the similarity in their lives likely ended. He and the customer were nothing alike.

Grayson scrubbed his hands through his thick, dark brown hair that was long on the top and shaved on the sides. It was the easier hairstyle for him to maintain without having to spend precious dollars at the barbershop or beg a friend of a friend to trim it.

He saw a reflection of himself in the little mirror that Tandy had glued to the top of the register to check that she didn’t have lipstick on her teeth. He looked pale and his angular face appeared drawn. His skin was a little too tight over his high cheekbones and around his square jaw. His light gray eyes were shadowed. He was already exhausted and it was only 10:30 pm. His shift wouldn’t end until 6 am the next morning when Tandy relieved him.

He grabbed a Coke from the mini-fridge under the counter and popped it open, taking a deep swallow of the sweet, carbonated beverage. He had to stay awake. He’d not been sleeping well since the Vampires had outed themselves several months before.

He didn’t think they were emissaries of Satan or demons in disguise or anything like that, which was causing some people to go out hunting them–unsuccessfully, of course–with crosses and wooden stakes. He’d just been having dreams . His memories of them were hazy at best, but they woke him up leaving him feeling breathless, exhilarated and terrified at the same time.

The cobwebs of them left him not sure what was real and what was not when he made his way down the stairs from his small rat-hole apartment above the convenience store to start his shift. Manny had let him rent it incredibly cheap as a perk of working the late shift. The shop had been robbed a few times and no one wanted to work there after that. Now that the Vampires had shown up no one really wanted to work after dark. But Grayson wasn’t afraid of being on his own. The gift that had made his life Hell also kept him safe now.

Now that I can mostly control it, he thought.

His attention went back to the television. The newscasters were still talking about the Vampires and their school.

“I suppose if you’re interviewing people that you’re going to spend all of eternity with you have to be a little choosie!” Candi laughed too brightly.

“Right you are, Candi! But more than that, there are ten very different Vampire Bloodlines that will be required to find their fledglings among the students,” Karl answered just as brightly. “The eleventh, of course, is Daemon’s Bloodline, but Julian will be his only fledgling.”

“So the Vampires can’t just pick someone off the street and turn them?” Candi asked. She really did make these canned lines almost seem natural.

“They used to, but as part of the Blood Pact between humans and Vampires, it has been agreed that only students at the academy are eligible to be turned into Vampires,” Karl reminded her and the audience. “So they need to have a large selection of different types of candidates, I assume.”

“So will everyone at the academy be chosen to be turned?” Candi asked, shuffling the papers in front of her.

“No, not everyone. Though the candidates are referred to as students and the academy is a school of sorts, the truth is that while they will be learning about Vampires, of course, they will really continue being tested,” Karl explained.

“Tested? But what are the Vampires looking for exactly? Is there something similar about the candidates?” Candi asked.

“Not that I could tell, but our audience should make its own determination,” Karl said, turning fully back to the camera. “As you know from our own Bryce Williams’ interviews with several of these students, they share little in common!”

A segment of one of those interviews flashed across the screen. The first student was an elderly Japanese man. The white hair on his head was thinning so that some of his scalp could be seen through the fine strands. His skin had the papery appearance that many elderly people got. But his dark eyes were alight with intelligence and life. He was dressed neatly in all black, hands folded almost primly in his lap. He smiled at the interviewer, one Bryce Williams, with benevolence and patience.

“So Mr. Goda, I have to admit that you are not the typical person I would expect the Vampires would choose as a potential fledgling,” Bryce stated with an uncertain smile on his Ken-doll like face.

Grayson guessed that Mr. Goda could have easily taken offense at this statement on multiple levels and multiple ways.

But Mr. Goda smiled warmly and answered, “I wondered to myself if they would take someone of my advanced years. After all, when we see Vampires in the media, they are always young and beautiful. I am none of those things.”

Grayson had to agree with Mr. Goda. Not about his looks, but about his age. Eiji looked to be in his 80s. Though now that real Vampires were presenting themselves for interviews, there was far more variety in age, race and body type than he had assumed there would be. He admitted he had believed that they would all be Eastern European in appearance with pale faces and sharp teeth. There were plenty of people that fit that stereotype, but far more that didn’t. In fact, there were Vampires from every country on the planet. They were everywhere or so it seemed. Or so it was feared

“You’re quite handsome, Mr. Goda,” Bryce told him kindly.

“Eiji, please. I am beyond such vanity now, I hope,” Eiji Goda said with a quiet chuckle.

“Eiji, and please call me Bryce. Now what made you want to become a Vampire?” Bryce asked, putting on a serious expression as if he could pick emotions out of a closet and try them on for size.

Eiji cocked his head to the side in an almost birdlike manner. He seemed so frail that Grayson worried his neck would snap from the movement. He sincerely hoped that whatever testing was done in the academy that it didn’t require physical exertion because it looked like a weak wind might be able to carry him away with it.

“Ah, I see what you mean. In some ways, I imagine that people look at me–having had a full and satisfying life–and hope that I would be content to go into the next one,” Eiji suggested, even as it was clear that he did not agree with that viewpoint. “Wanting immortality at my age might seem greedy .”

Bryce put on a concerned expression. “I think that since most of us will never get the opportunity to become immortal that we look to our elders to accept that we move on from this life. I think there is, well, panic now at the thought of death, even though we’ve been assured there is something beyond it, because there is a choice where there seemingly wasn’t before. To see that someone, as you yourself described, after having a long, satisfying life still wants to become a Vampire… well, I think it makes people more nervous about their own mortality.”

Eiji nodded, also looking serious, but then a small, almost impish smile, played over his wizened face as he said, “I cannot speak for others, only myself, but I can say that my 82 years on this planet have not been enough by half. If I was content to pass on, I would not have applied to the academy and the Vampires would not have accepted me. So do not look to me as an example of those who would find contentment in another life, but one that will fight with all he has to stay in this one.”

Bryce smiled back. “So you’re saying that you’re an example for those in their golden years who don’t want to fade away?”

“Exactly. And I would argue, Bryce, that young people are the least able to know if they wish to live forever,” Eiji smiled kindly as he said it. “Remember that old adage: youth is wasted on the young.”

The segment ended and it went back to Karl and Candi.

“What an interesting fellow!” Candi exclaimed. “Are all the students like him?”

“Eighty-two years old and a successful businessman out of Tokyo? No, but I do have to say that each candidate is quite impressive. Let’s watch another interview of an Ever Dark Academy student,” Karl enthused.

The screen changed to show the Ken-doll like Bryce sitting opposite a plump, smiling Indian woman who looked to be in her early thirties. Her smile was wide, but there was a wariness in her brown eyes as she regarded Bryce, but Grayson couldn’t decide whether it was personal to the reporter or if she was just naturally cautious. Dressed in a black pants suit with a bright red scarf, she looked like a highly successful professional.

“Now, your name is Amara Biswas, correct?” Bryce asked. “I should say Dr. Biswas?”

“Yes, it is such a pleasure to speak with you Bryce,” Amara answered in a British-accented voice, which was precise, but warm. “My parents and I have watched your program for many years.”

“Thank you so much. I’m thrilled to have you on. Now.” Bryce regarded her with bright eyes. “From what our producers found out about you, is that you’re a medical doctor?”

“Yes, an oncologist.” There was the slightest pause before she gave her speciality. “But I no longer see patients. I am doing research for Dewar Pharmaceuticals.” Then she gave a lopsided smile as she quickly amended, “Well, I was until I was accepted into the academy. We are, as you know, required to give up our former lives when we become a candidate.”

“So you aren’t trying to get some Vampire blood for Dewar?” Bryce waggled his eyebrows at her.

Amara looked alarmed. “No, indeed not. Even if I am chosen and turned, I will not be allowed to return to Dewar. That is not allowed.”

“So you’re giving up all of your research on solving the problem of cancer for a chance to be immortal?” Bryce asked, and there was a touch of judgment in that.

“No, I think of it as allowing me to conduct research at a far higher level for a far longer time,” she corrected him stiffly. “Being a Vampire will allow me to do more for humanity without having… well, without having some of our frailties.”

“As a scientist, was it harder for you to believe in the existence of Vampires than say a less educated guy like me?” Bryce asked self-depreciatingly.

“On the contrary, I think it was easier because the Vampires provided proof of what they were,” she answered and there was a scientist’s gleam in her eye. “In that moment, when proof was given, the whole world opened up like a flower. The possibilities, Bryce… oh, the possibilities.”

Bryce gave her an almost conspiratorial look as he asked, “I’ve asked the other students this that I’ve had the honor of interviewing so I hope you don’t mind me asking you.”

“What is the question?” Those intelligent brown eyes focused on the reporter.

“What Bloodline are you hoping to get chosen by?” Bryce asked, scooting forward to the edge of his seat.

Suspicion left her eyes and Amara laughed throatily. “Oh! That is a good question. But surely you know that it is best if I do not answer.”

“Best?” Bryce gave her a quizzical look.

“While I may think I have a preference now , I have not met Vampires from each Bloodline so I truthfully could not say what Bloodline I’d want,” she answered. “But, even if I did know, I would keep it to myself in order to increase the possibility of my being chosen by any of the Bloodlines. My goal is to become a Vampire to serve humankind.”

“But surely a doctor such as yourself would be intrigued by being a Kaly Bloodline Vampire and be able to raise the dead! Or–”

“A Wyvern Bloodline Vampire who can teleport around the world in moments? Or a Syrin Bloodline Vampire who can use song to heal? Or a Weryn Bloodline Vampire who can shift into an animal form?” Amara shook her head. “They are all incredible. How could anyone be disappointed with any one of those gifts?”

Bryce gave her a bashful look. “When you put it like that, doctor, I think I see your point.”

The screen went back to Karl and Candi in the studio.

“Well, she is impressive, too! What an interesting bunch they all are,” Candi said.

“Indeed. We only got to speak to half a dozen of the students. The identity of the rest has been kept secret from the general public,” Karl explained.

“So for those of us Harry Potter fans is there a train involved in getting to the academy?” Candi wheedled. “The school is in the Ever Dark, which is an alternate or pocket dimension--no human seems quite sure--that can be accessed via hidden gateways. So how are students going to arrive?”

“My understanding is that they will receive written instructions. A literal invitation or golden ticket as it were, which will tell them where to go and when exactly to get there,” Karl answered. “We haven’t seen the invitations. That’s all hush-hush, but I’m sure we’ll learn more soon.”

The bell over the door rang and Grayson turned to see who it was. He let out a slight sigh as he caught sight of Sam. Sam was homeless with a severe drinking problem. Grayson often had bought him food and a blanket. Normally though when Sam came in on his own it was because he had enough money to buy booze.

But it’s cold and wet tonight. It’s too late to get into a shelter, not that he’d go, so can I really deny him this small comfort? Grayson thought. Maybe I can convince him to just bed down in the back room out of the rain.

“Sam, hey,” Grayson said. “Need a dry, warm spot to get out of the rain?”

“G-Grayson,” Sam’s words were already slurred and the reek of alcohol surrounded him like a miasma already. “Just got to get something to drink to warm me on the inside.”

Grayson grimaced again as the homeless man tottered towards the back case where the cheap beer and rot-gut whisky was.

“What about some water and a little food instead?” Grayson called after him. “You can stay my whole shift… if you don’t drink.”

Sam waved him off and kept shuffling towards the cooler. “Just need a drink. No worries.”

Grayson was about to make another offer when the bell jangled more harshly than usual as something burst through the door. He turned his head in annoyance as the figure--a man in a trenchcoat, half keeling over--stumbled into the store. At first, Grayson thought it was another drunk person as they staggered over to him. But that thought fled as soon as they leaned heavily on the counter and bright, red droplets of blood dripped onto the counter before Grayson.

The man looked up with wide, frightened eyes, and begged, “Help me! You’ve got to help me! They’re trying to kill me!”