Book cover of “Heir to Darkness“ by Taylor Brooks

Heir to Darkness

  • Genre: Young Adult
  • Status: Completed
  • Language: English
  • Author: Taylor Brooks
What should you do if you realize you are a vampire? Weird thing? Sure! You even have a vampire mother and understand it only now, when life takes an unusual turn. Add to this being targeted by a hunter and having regular teenage problems. How do you handle all of these things if they are quickly spinning out control? Especially when your friend tu... 

Chapter 1

Wellington. An ordinary suburb of a metropolis where people work to live and live to work. This small town was the beginning of my extraordinary story. Every blooming tree and every green blade of grass plays an important role in it.

Opening the school door and looking at the dozens of students who came to sit out the classes, come back home, and continue wasting their lives on social media, a young man named Alistair (Al) saw a curly head trying to break through a crowd of people.

“Mike!” He shouted, hoping his voice would make its way through the noise of the school hallway. “I'm here!”

As he approached, Al saw a tiny curly boy with a backpack larger than his entire body. Suddenly, one of the students bumped into him, so Mike stumbled, and all the insides of his backpack fell out.

“Oh God… Look where you're going, midget!” The guy responsible for that “bumping accident” said aggressively. He didn't seem to notice Mike lying on the floor at all because he just ran on.

“Dude… How are you? Are you okay?” Alistair asked the poor guy still lying on the floor, while picking up his books and stuff.

“Yes…” Exhaling, he replied. “This is the third time this week, I’ll soon get used to falling down in the hallway because of people who don’t notice me while walking. Hey, by the way.”

Alistair helped him up, and they walked slowly towards the chemistry classroom.

“Alistair, look, it's May!” Mike exclaimed in a whisper.

Cold sweat ran down Al’s skin, and his heart started beating faster as he felt the adrenaline rush.

“What?! Oh, no, let's get out of here, please.”

The young man began to pull Mike’s arm in the opposite direction. He could not walk past her — as if an unknown force had not allowed him to do so.

“You’re in love!” Mike said with a smile on his face. At that moment, his eyes seemed to light up.

“No, not at all… I just don’t want to be near her, I feel very uncomfortable even thinking about her.” Al said, his cheeks blushing more and more scarlet.

“Of course, of course, but I still don’t believe you…” The bell interrupted the boy’s awkward speech, suggesting that friends make it to the class.

“Run!” Alistair exclaimed, hoping to end the not-so-pleasant conversation.

As soon as they reached the classroom, a terribly breathtaking figure came out of the corner and the boys stopped. It was Mr. Orwell, their chemistry teacher. Some say he used to be one of the nicest teachers in this school, but he changed since his wife disappeared. He turned gray, pale, and it seemed as if he didn't know what a smile or kindness were anymore. He would always be wearing a dark gray sweater, corduroy pants, and a black shirt with its collar looking out from under the sweater. Their eyes met. Those couple of seconds were the most distressing of all their short lives.

“Hurry to the class! You’re already late!” Pointing his finger at the door, the teacher yelled.

Without further ado, the boys ran to the classroom and took the empty seats in the last row.

“Pss, Alistair, have you done the homework?” Mike asked anxiously, looking very worried.

“About the chemical reaction of blood with different solutions? No, I've been reading books all weekend…” The young man answered with uncertainty.

“We’re dead… What are we going to do?” Curly asked cautiously.

“Mr. Kevlich, you are late for class, so come to the front and let’s have a small quiz, shall we.” The teacher cut in on the conversation.

Scared, Mike stepped into the center of the classroom and stopped at the teacher’s desk.

“Mister, tell me, please, what happens when you mix blood and chlorine?” Master Orwell asked in a disgusting, hoarse voice, looking at the frightened boy who was stupefied and silent.

“Blood boils and begins to dissolve due to the toxicity of chlorine.” Said a voice in Alistair’s head. It surprised him so much that he shuddered at the sudden thought.

“Blood boils and dissolves.” He whispered to his friend, Mike.

“Mr. Smith! If you are so smart, you can come up here, and I’ll quiz you instead.”

Barely audible giggling sounds were heard throughout the class, leaving Alistair embarrassed.

“I'm sorry.” Curly muttered to himself.

“No, you did not understand. Get up and let’s all hear what you have to say!” The teacher answered dissatisfied. “Mr. Kevlich, sit down, I give you an F. Come here, Alistair.” He continued in a very unpleasant tone.

There was laughter in the classroom again, and it embarrassed the rescuer even more.

But, despite everything, he got up and soon stood in front of the class.

“Blood reaction to potassium cyanide?” Orwell immediately started the interrogation.

“Blood coagulates and blood cells die.” As if automatically, the response escaped from his mouth.

“Blood and sodium chloride?” The teacher went on.

“Almost none, the blood just mixes with it.” Again, the student answered without thinking.

The interrogation lasted for another 10 minutes until a school accountant entered the classroom. She was a woman in her forties, with round glasses, black hair, and a worn-out cardigan.

“Mr. Orwell, let me make a little announcement for the class.” She said, taking her time.

“Of course, Mrs. Flynn, go ahead.” He allowed. “And you, Mr. Smith, take your place, and note that I expect no such shenanigans from you in the future.” In an unpleasant voice, he ordered the student to sit down.

Facing the class, Mrs. Flynn started reading from a piece of paper:

“Tomorrow, at half past eight, each student must bring personal identification documents to create lists for final exams. All clear?” She asked, looking around the class.

“Yes,” the students answered almost in unison.

“Hey there, are you all right?” Her gaze fell on Mike, who blushed as if he was angry or agitated.

“Yeah, ma’am, it's okay.” On the verge of crying for some reason, the schoolboy answered.

“That’s fine.” The accountant answered in a calm voice, turned around, and left the classroom.

All day at school, Alistair thought about this strangest lesson of his life. He didn't know the answers to these questions, but for some reason, he answered them all correctly, and Mike’s reaction to the usual request for an ID… It was very disturbing. Maybe he read too many books, and this information crawled unnoticed into his head and came out at the right time and in the right place? No, this has hardly happened since Alistair learned to read. It couldn’t be accidentally overheard conversations either because none of his friends discuss such weird topics. The young man decided to ask his mother about it as soon as he was home, thinking that perhaps she knew something.

As the classes were over, Alistair decided to wait for Mike out front. After a while and with three dozen people passing by, he felt a heavy wrinkled hand lay on his shoulder.

“Mr. Smith, you were well-prepared for today’s lesson…” The boy turned his head and saw a pale face with nearly invisible gray eyebrows. It was Mr. Orwell. “May I enquire why

Erythrocytes, platelets, leukocytes and reactions with them?

is the only topic you were ever prepared for during this term in my class?”

“I just read a lot of books about it, so I am well-versed in these topics, and I had some free time on the weekends, that’s why.” Alistair came up with a feasible explanation on the go.

The teacher glanced at him as if he suspected that something was wrong. But the salvation came just in time.

“Dude, what are you doing here?” There it was, a saving and rather squeaky voice. It was Mike.

“I'm sorry, sir, I have to run. Come on, buddy.” Smith finished the dialogue and left school, dragging his “savior.”

“What did this living corpse want from you?” Little Kevlich expressed interest. “You didn’t chat about the weather, of course.” He added with a grin.

“Not about the weather, unfortunately.” The “victim of interrogation” said in a gloomy voice and immediately continued. “Mr. Orwell asked me why I was so well-prepared for this lesson’s topic…”

“Yes, by the way, why did you lie to me and say that you were not studying?” Mike frowned.

“That’s the point… I didn’t lie. I haven’t studied it for real…” The young man justified himself almost in a whisper.

“Then how did it happen? Are you trying to trick me or something?” Mike frowned even more.

“The answers just popped out of my mouth… I don’t know how it happened… Maybe they were completely randomly generated and matched the answers perfectly or I read the textbook last night and forgot about it… I don’t know, that all… It scares me a bit.”

“Maybe it’s really just a coincidence and you shouldn't worry so much? What do you think, Ali?” Mike asked thoughtfully.

“Okay, if I just hit the target once, three, or four times… But how many questions did I answer correctly? Twenty? Thirty? This is definitely not a coincidence.” Alistair was confident and scared at the same time. “What about your reaction to the request for documents? It was off-putting for you, to put it mildly. Is there a problem with your ID, have you entered the country illegally?” Alistair asked seriously, adding a joke so that the atmosphere of the conversation was not too gloomy.

“If that’s the case…” Mike lowered his head. “We have known each other for six months so I’ll understand if you don’t want to be my friend anymore after I tell you…”

“What? Are you a cyborg killer or a secret dominant for an hourly wage?” Al was fooling around again.

“I'm dead serious, just swear to keep it a secret, please.” Mike hid his face even more.

“I swear! Tell me already, just get it over with.” Alistair smiled, though curiosity and fear burned inside him in the anticipation of what he was about to discover.

Mike stopped, turned to his friend and said: “All my documents have photos before the transition…”

“Transition? What does it mean?” Al was surprised.

“I… I was not always Mike…” Looking at his friend, he shed a tear. “A year ago, I was Maya… My name was Maya Junior Kevlich.” He wiped the tears from his face.

“Stop, Mike, wait, were you really a girl?” Alistair hasn’t got it yet.

“So. I’ll understand if you wouldn’t want to see or be friends with me ever again…” It seemed that the boy started weeping even more.

“No, how can you even say it!? It’s great that you understand who you really are, despite your physiological characteristics. This is really normal… And I support you. And I will always support you in everything you do.” The friend comforted him.

“Thank you, I’ll never forget that. Thank you!” Junior muttered, almost crying.

After this conversation, they hugged tightly and went home. They lived in neighboring districts, so they could walk together for a while.

Alistair’s house looked like a mini castle, inhabited by the not-so-rich king and queen. It was white, with three floors and eight bedrooms, and behind the house, there was a garden where his mother always read, rested, or worked. Their house was built by Alistair’s father, William Smith. The boy seemed to know everything about his father, although he had never seen him… He died in a series of mysterious events before the birth of his son, leaving his wife, Mary, a pregnant widow.

“Mom, I’m home!” Ali exclaimed, crossing the threshold of his house.

“Hello, son, take off your shoes and come to the kitchen, lunch is already on the table.” The answer was coming from somewhere on the right side of the house.

Taking off his coat, the young man felt something strange on his neck, it burned and caused discomfort.

Alistair went into the kitchen, kissed his mother, and sat down at the table.

“Mom, please have a look, something’s wrong with my neck. It burns…” Al said.

“One second, son.” The mother put down the pan and came up to her son. “It’s just a sunburn. Apply burn ointment, and it will soon get better.” She finished calmly.

“Sunburn in mid-February?!” The boy was indignantly surprised.

“Yes, it happens, it’s normal.”

“This has never happened to me before! One more strange thing for the day, though… Looking back, I will soon stop marveling at miracles…” And Alistair went on to tell his mom about what happened at the chemistry lesson.

“What do you mean…?” Mary was trying to find out more. For a second, her face gave out the nervousness she felt.

“Mom, maybe you told me about the reactions of various substances with blood?”

“No, I’m sure I didn’t.” The woman denied.

“Maybe we have a book about it…?” Calmly, the son continued to ask his mother.

“No, definitely not… I remember every book almost by heart, and even more so I would not forget such a topic.” The mother answered.

“Well, now it’s not only weird, it’s scary.”

“Today in Mr. Orwell’s class, I was to answer his questions in front of everybody, and I did great although I hadn’t prepared at all…” Looking at his mother, Al saw anxiety: she seemed to be staring at a blank space in front of her. It was as if Mary was remembering something terrible and unpleasant.

“Mom…?”Alistair called.

“Yes, son, I’m listening to you, please continue.” The widow came to her senses.

“I did not prepare for the lesson at all, but I was able to answer each question correctly! It frightens me, because it seemed to me that the words just flew out of my mouth uncontrollably.”

“Alistair, I’ve just recalled how you read a book on blood once when you were in the first grade… I wouldn’t think you understood any of it, but here you are! So, there’s nothing much strange here, I guess.” In a peculiar tone, as if hiding her real emotions, Ali’s mother tried to calm him down. “Take your food and run to your room, I bought you some new books, you can go ahead and read them.

“Thank you, mom, I’ll do that.” Alistair said, distrustful of his mother’s words.

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