How to Cure a Vampire Bite without Losing Your Mind
Chapter 4

Ivery quickly found out that there was only one bribe in the world to whichStupid would respond, and that was a kiss. Yes, it was very much Romeo andJuliet in a weirdly twisted kind of way, and that was goddamn irritating.

Absolutelynot, I said.

Thenhe refused to tell me.

Whywas it so important?

Itwas unwise for a man to reveal such valuable information for nothing. (If youcan’t hear my exasperated sighs from across the universe, you should put thisdown and pick up a less salty book.)

Atfirst I was baffled, but then I remembered that he was probably an unwittingtime-traveler, most likely from inside the mine. Kisses would actually mean alot to him…I thought about paying someone to off him a blowjob, but I had aninkling that he wouldn’t react very well. And that was a thing that got methinking. If I could perhaps dupe one of the other girls into doing this, Icould ferret out what I wanted.

Imade my not-so-unobvious attempt. . .it didn’t work.

Hewanted his kiss from me, not from my lackey. He was telling me, not her. The ‘her,’ was, of course, Michelle, who had then been takenaway and hidden somewhere by Raechel (who had flat-out said she would rather,and I quote, “lick a thousand banana slugs, or, if necessary, jerk off fiftybull elephants.” We reckoned the ratio to be equal in displeasure). Or perhaps Michellewas still in the room. I can’t be too sure. I do know she had a thing for nakedpeople, but that’s all I can really remember about her as a person. She wasn’tvery impressive as a student, and when she eventually graduated to field work,she was killed inside two weeks. That bit wasn’t because of her stupidity, butbecause of her bravery, throwing herself onto a grenade to protect her team. Iwas genuinely sad to hear she had died.

Atany rate, the rigidity of Stupid’s obstinacy (look, a new word for the week,kids!) on the subject we discovered in about two hours. Raechel hadn’t beenpleased that morning to wake up to an accidental nudist sleeping next to mybed, but she was fair game for helping me solve this riddle (see the aboveexception). I should point out, at this juncture, that she was irritatedbecause he was on the floor, and not actually in my bed. Otherwise, she wasn’t really miffed.

“Why must you be so difficult?” I was continuallygroaning (in all the wrong ways). “It’s your name, it’s as simple as that!”

“A name is a man’s livelihood!” Stupid protested. “Hedoesn’t just give it up for nothing!”

“I’ll tell you what man doesn’t do,” I said. “Aman doesn’t randomly show up naked in a Senior girls’ dorm room; that’s what aman doesn’t do.”

Raechel,who had been sitting with us for the whole of this argument nodded. “She has apoint, you know.”

Stupidwas suddenly eyeing me warily. “I have not seen it.”

“Notthat, you twit!” I yelped.

“This is overwhelming on every conceivable level!” heshouted. “You primitive peoples have the poorest grammar I have ever had themisfortune to hear, your metaphors aren’t reallymetaphors, and the your use of words would make even the best scholars feeldaft!”

Raechellooked at me hopelessly. “I mean, that’s kind of a back-handed compliment,” shesaid. “At least we’ve progressed vocabulistically.” I buried my head in myhands.

“Right. Okay.” I rubbed my eyes, an idea forming in myoverly worked brain. “Rae, do we have anything? Anything at all? The Scarlet Letter, perhaps? That’s nothis timeline, but he should be able to understand it.” I was referring, ofcourse, to Nathaniel Hawthorne; perhaps he would better understand it than us,as I was about fifty-five percent sure he was lying about not being able toread. God forbid our newfound idiot friend be aware of this.

“A scarlet letter?” he repeated. “Do you hold theintangible in your pocket, strange sorceress?”

“Shut up,” I groaned.

Raechel was rubbing her temples. “I loaned it out. AndThomas wanted to borrow King Lear, so we can’t even get him to do homework forus if it comes up.”

“What is all this—”

I cut him off by plastering my hand over his mouth. “Justreplace something, and hurry,” I urged Raechel. “He won’t stay quiet for verylong.”

Stupid pushed my hand away as Raechel darted out of theroom. “Explain this to me,” he demanded.

Isent him a glare. “We’re supposed to be getting a vernacular you might justpossibly understand.” Where she was going I wasn’t sure. . . .

“I replace it difficult to comprehend native savagery,” heshot back at me.

I clenched my fists. “Just, if you could, shut up untilshe comes back.”

“And should she stray?”

“Then she will die,” I snapped, “and you will go withher.” My eyes narrowed at him so he would get the point.

“You are egregious,” he declared. “Lords are not requiredto explain themselves to their inferiors; wenches have no call to demand suchconversation. Were you a servant in my house, you’d be lashed.”

“CEASE your incessant prattling!” I crowed,groaning when I realized I was starting to talk like him. “My god, you’re worsethan my brother Ben!”

His eyes lit up. “Brother?”

“Yes, brother. Also known as ‘frater’, also known as‘useless’, also known as a ‘pain in my—’”

“I’ve got one!” Raechel shouted. “I’ve got one! It was onhold for me downstairs in common room.”

“Oh, that’s where you went,” I quipped. “I thoughtperhaps you’d gone and hung yourself. Couldn’t blame you; I want to replacea cliff right now.”

“It would a mortal sin to do so,” he commented.

I smacked him with one of my books, the one about thegirl and her boyfriend who both die from cancer. “Shut up. What did you get,Rae?” As though to answer me, she let dropped the text in front of me. Stupidpicked it up and his brow furrowed.

“Words are like Greek to me; I have crossed thee withthis once.”

Ifelt like I was going to explode. Before I knew quite what I was doing, I hadpunched him. Stupid’s head snapped to the side and he fell back, his headsmacking the random pair of stilettos Michelle had left on the floor. Stupidgroaned, rolling to the side. He was in grave danger of rolling out of theblanket precariously wrapped around his middle. I panicked and pulled thecorners closer together, desperate not to see whatever lurked beneath thecloth. He lurched when he felt the blanket tighten.

“In the name of God!” he yelped. “Have thy wits run amokwith thy decorum?”

“My wits?!” I barked. “That’s rich coming from the boywho swears he can’t read!”

“You think literacy makes your station a superior one?”he snarled.

“It does, you entitled imbecile!”

Wewere both standing at this point, and I guess my insult was the straw thatbroke the camel’s back. He raised his hand, and it descended down onto my cheekwith such a force that I stumbled. For several seconds, the stinging sensationwas all I knew.

“You will not speak to me in such a way ever again, lowlybitch. Do you understand?”

Ilooked at Raechel briefly. She looked rather amused, likely because she knewwhat was about to happen to the poor thing. I looked back at Stupid.

“Did you just hit me?” I asked.

“Well now he’s gone and done it,” Raechel quipped fromthe side.

“Raechel, I think he’s just hit me.”

“Way to go,” she sniped at him.

“Hey, you,” I said, and he looked at me. I almostcouldn’t help the smile. He was slightly afraid, but seemed to be more confusedand bewildered than anything. “Did you just hit me?” I demanded.

Henodded.

Iswung my fist back and hit him again, harder than the first time. He stumbledback and caught himself on the door-jam. Lunging forward, he balled up hisfist, apparently intending to strike me again. I sidestepped and caught hisarm, twisting it behind his back. He went to his knees and I circled my fingersround his throat, tightening them as a means of warning.

“You’re pushing your luck, you impertinent peasant.” He growledat me, and if I hadn’t been so irritated I might have been concerned. Givenwhat I know now, it’s a miracle I wasn’t remotely terrified.

Aswe righted ourselves and he tightened his blanket like some sulking baboon, Inoticed something was missing in the atmosphere of the room. When I turned andsaw Raechel reading, I realized it was speech. There was actually existingquietude; I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I swear it felt like alittle slice of heaven. But Raechel was being quiet; the lack of comment from her I found to be worrying.

“Rae?”

She was quiet a moment longer and then read: “ ‘By theworld, I think my wife be honest and think she is not. I think that thou arejust and think that thou are not. I’ll have some proof!’” She closed the book andlooked up at us expectantly.

“Was that relevant to something?” I asked.

Raechel winked and leaned in to Stupid. “What does itmean?”

Ifelt my eyebrow twitch, and then the light-bulb blinked, or, as we say inLatin, I had a candle moment. Between the other ridiculous classes we had totake, who had time to study Shakespeare and to interpret his words? Who betterto help us than the boy from (roughly) the same period?

Stupidlooked between us, his eyes suspicious. “It is an expression of disbelief.”

Wefived.

“What is this?” he demanded.

“Now we just have to teach him to read,” said Raechel,coming down off her high.

“Oh hell,” I sighed.

“I’m not teaching him,” she replied promptly.

“Well I’m not,” I fired.

“Yes, you are.” Only Raechel could have said these thingsand gotten away with it.

“Fine, but if somebody dies—”

“Don’t be dramatic,” she quipped. “If I were you I’d takeadvantage of the weekend.” And she stood as if to leave.

“Where are you going?” I needled.

She looked over at Stupid. “I am going to go replaceMitchell.”

“Clothes?” I guessed. He was her brother, and roughly thesame size as Stupid. He wouldn’t notice clothes missing from his closet.

“Yes. Have fun. I’ll be back—well, God only knows when.”

I couldn’t help the urge to growl. “I hate you untillunch,” I called after her.

“Okay,” she called back.

Iturned to Stupid, surprised that he had managed silence. He was rubbing theback of his head thoughtfully, and then alternatively his cheekbone, massagingthe places I’d struck.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Unbelievable,” he murmured. “Incredible.”

Really? I’d have to be a little bit more inventive, then,in my coercion. Force clearly only had so much of an effect.

Suddenly he looked up. “Have you a chamberpot?”

“No, of course not,” I said. “We’re savages; we just shitoutside.” When he stared at me, perplexed, I sighed. “Not the kind to whichyou’re accustomed. Come with me.” I opened the door a crack, peeking out intothe hall. No one was in sight, so I turned to Stupid. “It’s the door rightacross from ours. We’ll have to make a dash for it.”

Once inside the bathroomI closed the door softly and turned to my very quizzical cohort.

“What is that?” he asked, pointing.

I looked. “That’s the toilet. For you, it’s the chamberpot.”

He looked at it, puzzled. “How does it function?”

Ireached over and pushed the lever. He watched, transfixed, as the water swirledand then cascaded down the pipes. It would have been hilarious if he weren’t soannoying.

“When you’ve finished,” I continued, drawing hisattention, “you turn on the faucet,” I pulled the handle to me, “use the soap,”I pointed, “wash your hands, and then turn off the water.” I pushed thehandle back and the stream of water stopped. “It’s simple; got it?” He nodded.“I’ll be sitting in the hall. Knock on the door when you’ve finished. We don’twant people to know you’re here.”

“Why the secrecy?”

I sighed. “I have an idea of how to help – er, you, but I need to confirm it. Just workwith me on this.” I actually had no idea what to make of this, and I hadabsolutely no idea what I was going to replace out, but no way was I going to let him know that.

He looked confused, but nodded.

“Knock when you’re done.”

Twenty minutes laterthere was a sharp rap from inside the door. ‘Finally!’ I glanced about the halland then cracked it open. Stupid held up one of Michelle’s many lipsticks.

“What the deuce is this?” he asked.

I snatched it from his hand. “Nothing you will ever beneeding, I hope. It’s not your colour. What took you so long?”

“I was enthralled…the cupboard….”

“What did you – ”

Voices on the stairs interrupted me; Stupid paled just alittle bit. I grabbed the lipstick and chucked it into the bathroom. In thesame breath I snatched the corners of the blanket still wrapped around Stupid’swaist and hauled him back into the bedroom, slamming the door behind us.

“What the devil—?!” he exclaimed.

I clapped my hand over his mouth. “Shush!”

Footstepspassed through the hall, accompanied by the voices of the other girls on thefloor. It seemed like hours before they died away, but I suppose it might havebeen only a few minutes. I’d forgotten how many chatterboxes were in my hall;it wasn’t surprising though. Silent hallways inhabited by thinkers tend to lullus into a false sense of security. When the noise pollution once again becomesapparent we’re easily stunned. I turned back to the boy whose mouth was firmlyplanted beneath my hand. He looked up at me, his gaze curious and questioning.After another moment of silence, I let him go.

“I’m supposed to teach you to read,” I said, more tomyself, thinking aloud, than to the young man in front of me. There wasn’tenough outside pressure for teaching to become even a remote possibility. Ithought for another few moments, weighing the options and the circumstances. Ifinally came to a conclusion with a very forceful purpose. “Stay here,” Iordered. “I’ll be right back.”

“And should others come?”

“Hide. I don’t care where, just hide. I’ll be back in amoment. Don’t. Go. Anywhere.”