Gailyn

"You're a vampire, Gryffith."

Finally he made a sound. It was like a grunt or a snort. Not sure which. He swung his arms aimlessly and then spoke with all the command of someone lost in a shoe store.

"I didn't kill Amanda. Gailyn did."

A shocking new twist to my investigation left me open-mouthed and gaping like an idiot in the library study room where this tall, unreasonably good looking (who actually was an idiot) vampire had just confirmed my suspicions: he did not have the basic mental facilities to understand the weight of my accusation.

And he had thrust me deeper into mystery. Who was Gailyn? Why had he killed Amanda? Was he a vampire too?

I swallowed my questions like cold soup and looked into Gryffith's placid eyes. There was only one question I really wanted an answer to.

"How do I kill one?"

He must not have gotten the point of the question because his nose wrinkled slightly and his eyebrows burrowed in thought, like a rabbit going deep into a magic hole.

"Permanently?" he asked.

"No, just for fourth period."

Again, sarcasm was lost on him.

"Easy. Stake to the heart."

"Seriously?" I asked.

"Yeah, but it doesn't last long. It's like just a monopolizer because after a few hours we're okay again."

"Monopolizer?  Do you mean an immobilizer?"

Gryffith just stared back blankly. Too fast. We needed to slow down. Light was fading in the study room and I knew we had little time to finish this conversation. But patience would be worth it.

"So, you are a vampire? And this Gailyn is too?"

"Well, like. Yeah."

Good. This was progress.

"And a good 'ole stake through the heart is not permanent?"

"Yeah, like I said. It's just a monopolizer."

"Okay, I follow you," I reassured. "So how do you permanently kill one?"

I could tell the answer was on the tip of his pale lips, but before it could spill off, the door to our study room burst open and Emma stumbled in. Pretty-in-pink Emma, with the perfect everything.

"Oh, sorry," she said, slightly embarrassed by her blunder.

I suddenly had the feeling that she spent most of her life feeling unjustifiably awkward or embarrassed. She probably thought she wasn't pretty even though she very clearly was. My feelings of faint dislike for her arose again. From one average girl to another, the only thing worse than a pretty girl who knows she's pretty is a pretty girl who pretends to think she isn't. Those are the kind of girls that stupid boy bands sing about. Like One Direction. Stupid boy bands.

Before I could give her a reproachful look, her gaze caught mine and her face lit up like a Bunsen Burner.

"Erin, I'm so glad I found you!" I could tell. "I've been a little lost." Not surprised. "Mr. Hun said I should join your group for the history project he assigned last week. I came here to study but I'm pretty turned-around." Fantastic.

Gryffith has done a 180 and his back was now facing me. His soul-piercing eyes were fixed on Emma like a hawk stares at a bunny before it sinks its talons in.

"Great, I was about to leave. Give me your number and I'll call you," I said, shoving a slip of paper at her and a pen that was probably out of ink.

She took it from me, seeming not to notice her about-to-be stalker.

"Who else is in the group?" she asked me, ignoring my pen and using her own pink pen that had a fluffy feather at the end to neatly print her number.

"My friend Zack - don't think you know him - Emily Thompson, and ... him," I pointed.

Gryffith had not moved his eyes and now his mouth was hanging open awkwardly.

"Oh, hello," said Emma, apparently noticing him for the first time.

Their eyes locked. A small sigh escaped Emma's pink lips. Gryffith blinked. I wanted to be sick.

If only she knew what this guy was. But no. All she needed to know was that he was drop-dead gorgeous. Most men assume girls only go for boys they can "save." This is not true. Girls do not try to save ugly boys. Girls will date good looking guys who don't have issues. The common theme: girls are just as shallow as guys are when it comes to appearance.

They exchanged names and another long glance before the sound of a stack of books I knocked off the study room table snapped them back to the real world.

"I'll call you," I told Emma.

"Okay," she said, handing back the paper and walking away.

I watched Gryffith watch her.

"She's not lunch, you know," I said, packing my things. "She's a person. She has feelings. She is legally allowed to not be killed by the undead. She has rights. I will report you if you touch her."

"I don't date girls," Gryffith said suddenly. "The last one I dated I ended up eating. It was really sad."

Surprising. I had not expected him to open up to me so bluntly.

"Well, that's awfully thoughtful of you. I appreciate your self-restraint."

He held the door open for me as we left the study room, which I thought was nice of him.

"Do you want to meet him?" Gryffith asked.

"Meet who?"

"Gailyn."

"Why would you want to introduce me to Gailyn?" I asked suspiciously. "You know I'm just going to try to kill him, right?"

Gryffith laughed dumbly.

"You don't know how to kill us yet. You don't know anything about us. I bet everything you know is wrong."

I doubted that everything I knew was wrong and I felt a slightly chided being called stupid by Gryffith of all people. So I deflected his accusation that I was in any way insufficient.

"You're not answering my question, Gryff. Why do you want me to meet Gailyn?"

Gryffith got serious for a minute - perhaps for the first time ever? (It was a short minute).

"If I help you learn about vampires, will you talk to me about Emma? Fact for fact?"

"I thought you said you weren't going to eat anyone," I challenged him, raising my eyebrows the way detectives do on CSI when they don't believe their witness.

"I just want to ... you know. Know her. From over here. Because I can't love her from up close."

For a moment, I was almost convinced he might have a real heart and actually care about this girl. (It was a short moment).

But my desire to know and destroy vampires was becoming a little consuming, so I stuck out my hand. Deal.

I may have thought striking a deal with a vampire was a good idea on Tuesday night, but Wednesday morning I knew it was. Even if my friend Zack didn't agree. I was surprised he even believed my vampire theory, but then again, he was a sci-fi freak.

"You're selling your soul to the devil, Erin. I'm saying it right now."

"Say what you want," I said, throwing my notes from math class at him in a wad.

"Ten bucks says this Gailyn character sinks his fangs into your neck like a chew-toy." He handed back my notes.

"Let my mom know, will you?"

"Fine. But I will not tell Chris if you end up missing band practice. He calls me about you enough as it is. Since when did I become your receptionist, anyway?"

"When you started taking messages for me," I answered, smoothing out my crumpled math homework.

So I was set to meet Gailyn Wednesday afternoon, right after school. If all went well, I would not miss band practice and Chris and my mom would never know I'd been messing with the underworld of Seattle.

It was raining. I could hear footsteps along the corridor. Brisk strides echoed across the tile floor of the vacant hallway. My cell phone clock told me they were early. 3:22.

Holding my breath, I prepared myself to look into the cold eyes of a killer. I could hear them rounding the corner.

"Oh, thank goodness it's you!"

Emma.

"I've been lost again!"

Poor timing. If the wolves showed up before I got the sheep out of the pasture, there would be a change of menu for sure.

"Not a great time, Emma. You should probably go." I said it briskly. She took it hard. I watched her face fall and told myself it was for her own good.

She turned to leave and I heaved a sigh. Time to wait.

About five minutes later, my appointment arrived. Cocky and cold-blooded.

He was just as good looking as Gryffith, but his face was sharp and his smile was slick and his hair stylist was probably dead. Unkempt locks framed his golden-boy face like icing gilds a cake.

Gryffith was in-toe, and he was not alone.

"Gryffith found a friend," said Gailyn in a more sickeningly smug tone than I could have ever imagined. "She was lost."

...To be continued.

Gryffith

Of two things I was certain. First, that Gryffith, or someone close to him, had murdered Amanda. And second, that if he didn't start showing up to our group sessions, I would be forced to let Mr. Hun know that he wasn't pulling his fair-share of the assignment. I hoped the second would never happen. I really needed an A. Or at least a B+.

Could I confront him? On either issue. It seemed unlikely. Gryffith was, lightly put, stupid as H-E-double-hockey-sticks. Often, I'd watch him stare idiotically at some pretty face in the cafeteria, drool hanging from his parched, pale lips. Part of me wanted to buy him some chapstick. Part of me wanted to smack him over the head with our history assignment. Part of me wanted to know more.

"Hey you," I called in what was clearly not as antagonistic and cool sounding a way as I was going for. Gryffith picked his head up, drawing his caramel eyes away from a freshmen still in her volleyball uniform.

"Um."

Not my most brilliant follow-up.

I sat down at his table with a glower to match his.

"Hey listen, I really need an A on this assignment. Would be super helpful if you ... You know. Pitched in. Or, you know, something. Seriously."

His placid eyes flickered emptily and turned away again, those pale lips sucking milk through the straw in his carton. Milk is gross. It comes from cows. Chocolate milk is better. It comes from chocolate.

"I'm not kidding, man," I pleaded, raising my voice slightly to see if it would have any effect. It did. He stopped slurping and went for his tater-tots.

"Speak to me!"

"Not great with history," he said finally, with rolling tones to match the depth of an Olympic swimming pool and the obvious wit of a Ryan Lochte interview. "Like to forget the past."

"And I'd like to forget this conversation but I can't till we've had one. Are you going to help out or what?"

I waited for him to finish chewing. It took a while. Like maybe he had a fourth stomach. Like a cow. . . Chocolate milk. . .

"Yeah, sure."

"You will? You will help?" I nearly cried in relief. Grabbing my bags quickly, I stood up. "Library tonight. 5 o'clock."

He nodded his head of thick, wavy brown curls and returned to his meal.

Strange having a conversation with someone you think is a murderer. Especially about homework. Would he murder me? Would he be really bad at footnoting?

I was half-way through these thoughts when I found myself colliding into a very soft, very pink object that screamed shrilly and threw her books into the air. Completely unnecessary.

Tears. Immediately. Not sobbing tears but like, annoying ones.

"I am so sorry," she quickly and quietly assured me as I helped her pick up her books. "I'm new and I don't know the halls that well."

"Whatever," I assured her back. No. Stop crying, I silently begged through a clenched jaw.

"Emma," she said, hand extended.

"Erin."

Her hand was soft and small. No dumb jewelry. One good feature, at least.

"Thanks for helping with my books," she said. "I really appreciate it."

"Not at all," I said, starting to walk away.

"Oh wait! Um, do you know where this classroom is?" She pointed to a schedule. I cringed.

"I'm going there now. You can come with me."

"Thank you so much," she said effusively. Maybe it was to prevent her from talking, which I could tell she was about to do by the way she opened her mouth hesitantly and took a stalled but decisive breath, but whatever the reason, I said it.

"Did you hear about the girl that got killed last week?" Emma looked a little taken aback.

"Our age. Went to school here. Captain of the cheer squad. They say it was an animal attack." I watched her register this information and continued. "Her name was Amanda and she had just started seeing this boy from another school. He was a little creepy. His shoes were a little too polished last prom, if you know what I mean."

"How... How do you know how polished his shoes were if he's from another school? You wouldn't have been at the same prom."

Pretty and not totally stupid.

"I'm in a band," I said, dismissing her question. "It's kind of a thing."

"Cool."

I lifted my chin a little. "Yeah, it is."

So maybe this Emma chic wasn't bad.

Gryffith, however, was. I was still certain. Even if his unassuming demeanor at lunch did betray a naivety too great to be capable of murder.

He was late, of course. Waltzed into the library 5:30, no books. No bag.

"Sorry. Couldn't find the building."

Ignoring the fact that he clearly had never stepped foot inside the school library, I challenged him about his books. He shrugged his shoulders. His notes? Didn't have any. Was he planning to help? Could I rephrase the question?

"How did you do it?" I finally managed to shout.

I thought he looked puzzled. More than his usual vacancy, at least.

"How did you manage to kill someone when you can't make it to school with your shirt tucked in?"

There. It was out there.

"I know what you are," I continued when he said nothing. "I've seen you stare at people like they're food. You're the first one to the cafeteria after the bell but your classroom is at the opposite end of the school! No human is that fast. Or that strong. I've watched you break pens like they were pencils. And I know you don't sleep because your house light is always on, even at 2 in the morning when I come home from my shift at the bowling alley. . . Trying to save money for college. Don't judge me."

Still, he said nothing. He just stared at me. Or through me. Or maybe he was looking at the wall. I couldn't really tell.

"You're a vampire, Gryffith."

Finally he made a sound. It was like a grunt or a snort. Not sure which. He swung his arms aimlessly and then spoke.

"I didn't kill Amanda. Galyn did."

...to be continued.