Bite Me

There were three things everybody knew about Elizabeth Walsh. First, that she always, and I mean always, had her hair in a perfect blowout. Second, that she was the daughter of the mayor, Thomas Walsh, and lived at home with her two beautiful parents and equally beautiful younger brother. And third, that on the fifteenth of November 2022, Elizabeth Walsh had been turned into a vampire.

No one knew exactly how it happened, only that Adam Sanders had spotted her the next day with red smudge around her mouth—Elizabeth only ever wore nude lipstick—and then a few days later Lily Reynolds, while spying on the neighbourhood on-goings from behind her favourite oak tree, had noticed the spindly-looking teen carrying shopping bags to her car with an unprecedented ease.

Still, these two occurrences were not enough to persuade the more sceptical amongst the village. That was until Jamie Brown brushed hands with her while passing over a book in the library, and felt the icy kiss of her skin. Following this, the ever-suspicious Jamie took it upon himself to steal a clove of garlic from his parents' kitchen and approach her with it crushed in his pocket. Within mere seconds of conversing, Elizabeth’s face puckered in disgust, and she fled to the nearest bathroom.

Well, that was all the proof Jamie needed, and he went around telling anyone who would listen about his new, undeniable discoveries. News spread very quickly, as news so often does, and before the day was through, everyone in Mountvale was convinced that Elizabeth Walsh was a member of the undead. Every single one of the town's 1347 residents (apart from her immediate family, who remained solidly out of the loop) waited with bated breath for her to launch her first attack. But days passed, and nothing happened. No dead bodies turned up, no trails of blood tarnished the gleaming streets and perfectly manicured lawns that made up the little town. On the 25th of November, there was the town’s first scare, when Tommy Malik’s pet bunny went missing. But the next day, he turned up on Tommy’s doorstep as good as new, and all the many fears were dissuaded.

‘She’s not a very good vampire, is she?’ said Alicia Bailey, sitting at a table in the school cafeteria, a bite of mushed-up pizza swirling around her open mouth. ‘I mean, no one’s been hurt, not even the animals.’

‘Maybe that’s not her intention,’ piped up little Mary-Anne, her small fingers drumming on the table. ‘Maybe she’s focusing on turning other people instead.’

‘Then why haven’t I been turned yet?’ complained Layla. ‘I’ve been standing outside her house every day looking absolutely delectable and she still hasn’t changed me!’

Mary-Anne gasped. ‘You want to be a vampire?’

‘Of course I do! You stay young and beautiful forever!’

‘We don’t know that that’s how it works! You’re just basing your assumptions on Twilight.’

‘Like you know better.’

‘Actually, I read Vampyre last year—you know, the original vampire book—and it said that—’

‘Oh bla, bla, bla. Everyone knows that book’s a load of bullshit.’

‘Bullshit?’ sputtered Mary-Anne.

‘It’s obvious Stephanie Meyer actually knows her stuff. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Cullens are based on real vampires she knew.’

Alicia promptly changed the conversation before it could progress any further, and the girls moved on to discussing their dresses for the Winter dance. Layla was barely listening, however. Her mind was still on Elizabeth. If only she would change her…

Layla hated being human. She hated aging, she hated spending hours every day doing her makeup and hair, she hated having to adhere to the whims of her bothersome parents and whiny classmates. One small bite and she would never have to suffer another ‘you’ve got to start thinking about your future’ lecture again, Layla was sure of it. In fact, amongst the vehement supernatural believers of Mountvale (of which there were many), Layla was potentially the most absolute.

When Layla was seven years old, before her ‘practical’ and ‘scientific’ parents could truly poison her mind against the world's wondrous workings, she’d snuck out of her house to find Agatha, the town's resident witch. To everyone’s surprise, the two of them had struck up an unlikely friendship. From that point on, Layla visited Agatha anytime she could. Time passed, and as Layla grew, Agatha began to see her potential. Before long, she was blowing the dust off her old grimoire and coaching Layla to follow in her witchy footsteps.

Layla bit her lip as her friends talked, her mind wandering to Agatha. Normally, she would have gone to her first thing for advice on the supernatural, but Layla knew Agatha wouldn’t understand her vampirish desires. How could she? She was old and liked it that way; in fact, the wrinkles kind of added to her spooky vibe. But Layla herself couldn’t think of anything worse than growing old. Back problems, urgh. Nose hairs, double urgh. Who in their right mind would choose to be a witch when they could be a vampire? Certainly not Layla.

But how to get Elizabeth to choose her? Without Agatha to give her advice, Layla felt adrift. She was sure she had already tried everything: coating her cheeks in blush to remind Elizabeth of the blood pumping in her veins, walking around in skimpy little outfits so Elizabeth would be unable to deny the smooth silkiness of her skin… And yet nothing had happened, Elizabeth had barely even spared her a glance the day before when Layla had passed her on the walk home from school. She had to try harder.

Layla gritted her teeth, her resolve hardening. She would have to break into Elizabeth’s house and confront her, convince Elizabeth that she would be better as an ally than a foe.

Layla rejoined her friend's conversation, a smile playing across her lips. That night was only going to end in one way, and Layla would settle for nothing less. By the time the clocks struck midnight, Layla Anderson would be dead.

*

The rest of the day passed quickly.

Layla slept in English; she stared out the window during Religious Studies. In Art, she painted an ‘abstract’ green circle and called it a day. Everything was building towards that final bell, the note of her freedom, the screech catapulting her into her future.

When it sounded, Layla bolted to her feet, running out the front doors along with the rest of the desperately overworked student body. Down one road she raced, then down another. Finally out of sight, she huddled in some bushes off the corner of the street and got to work.

First, Layla ripped the neck of her shirt, positioning it so it draped over her left shoulder, exposing the cream of her collarbone and throat. Then she pulled blush out of her school bag, brushing it over her cheeks until they shone a warm pink. Finally, she bit her lower lip so hard she tore the skin, the metallic tang of blood filling her mouth.

Layla smiled at her reflection in her phone’s camera. Perfect, she looked perfect.

Satisfied, Layla exited the bushes and started towards Elizabeth’s house.

It had been years since Layla had been over to Elizabeth’s. When she was younger, Elizabeth had been her closest friend, and she had spent every day of her 8th-grade summer running around her garden, splashing in the pool and attending movie marathons in her living room. But then Elizabeth’s parents had enrolled her in a different high school, the private one for chronic overachievers in the nearest town over, and the two of them had drifted apart as most friends eventually do.

Layla turned a corner and walked up to Elizabeth’s house, her heart lifting at the sight of it. Even though it had been years since she had last visited, Layla remembered the place well, and seeing it felt like greeting an old friend. She remembered the soft white lace curtains, the roses planted along the walkway in the front garden. But most importantly, Layla remembered the spare door key, placed under the ceramic frog out front. As long as it was still there…

Layla approached the house slowly, relieved to see the driveway was empty. Elizabeth was no doubt at one of her many extracurriculars; swimming or volleyball or ballet, her parents almost certainly still at work. Layla spotted the familiar frog and picked it up, the key cool against her sweaty palm. The moment of truth…

The key slipped easily into the lock and turned. Without so much as a backwards glance, Layla slunk into the house, the door falling shut behind her.

‘Whoa…’

Layla had forgotten just how big the house looked from the inside. The ceiling was towering, the spiral staircase spinning up until it disappeared from view. She trailed her fingers across the mahogany railing, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet as she made her way up to Elizabeth’s room.

Layla smiled to herself and pushed Elizabeth’s door open.

‘Oh,’ she muttered, somewhat disappointed. The room was… well, a normal room, albeit a very pink one. No dead bodies stacked in the corner, no blood bags sitting drained upon the desk. Instead, Layla was greeted with a plush four-poster bed and excessive chiffon, the smell of vanilla perfume flooding her nose.

Layla walked over to the bed and sat down, positioning her body so that she was a pile of white limbs. She tied up her hair, pinched her cheeks to ensure that colour bloomed there. Now for the waiting to begin.

Time passed slowly—first ten minutes, then half an hour, an hour—and Layla grew increasingly restless. God, who knew that becoming a vampire would be such a boring experience? Where was the fear, the screaming, the gore? Where was the thrill? All she had done so far was sit on a bed and pick dirt out from under her fingernails. Jesus, she wasn’t even scared. Sure, Elizabeth was a vampire, but as Mary-Anne had said, she certainly wasn’t a very good one. Layla couldn’t seem to think of her as anyone other than her fussy, spoilt childhood best friend.

Finally, after two hours of waiting, she heard the crunch of gravel as a car pulled into the driveway. Layla sat up straight. Voice drifted in through the open window, Elizabeth’s mother’s voice, her brother Thomas Junior’s… And there, that sickly sweet voice! Elizabeth was entering the house.

Layla heard a key turn in the lock; she felt the floor shake as Thomas Junior ran up the stairs to his room. It was time, it was time! Layla could have thrown up she was so excited. Finally, after what felt like years of waiting, all her dreams were going to come true!

Elizabeth’s soft footsteps sounded as she made her way up the stairs. The door handle turned…

‘Oh my god!’ Elizabeth gasped, eyes widening at the sight of Layla, sprawled across her bed like a waiting snack. ‘Layla! What are you doing here!’

Layla took in Elizabeth’s face: her smooth skin, the lustrous gold of her hair. Elizabeth did look an awful lot better than when Layla had spent her summer there. There was no way she was anything but a vampire. Sure, glow-ups existed, but none like that!

‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ said Layla.

‘Why?’

‘I want you to turn me.’

‘What?’ Elizabeth’s gaze flicked to the open door. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I know it may not seem like it, but I would be an amazing ally, I swear!’ Layla blurted out, unable to hold in her desperation any longer. ‘I’ll do whatever you want, hunt your enemies, pick up your dry cleaning, whatever. Just please, please, change me. I want to be young and beautiful forever, just like you.’

Elizabeth gaped at her. ‘Layla, are you feeling okay? I think you’re confused, I don’t know what—’

‘BITE ME!’

‘What?’

‘Please bite me!’

‘Layla, I don’t know what you think is going to happen here, but I don’t even like girls. I think you should—’

‘I’m not trying to make a move on you,’ Layla snapped. ‘I just want you to bite me.’

‘I don’t know what kinky stuff you’re implying, but I—’

‘It’s not like that! I just want you to change me. I want to be like you.’

‘Like me? What do you mean?’

‘A vampire!’ Layla exclaimed. ‘I want you to turn me into a vampire!’

For a moment, Elizabeth just stared at her, mouth agape. Then she burst into a fit of laughter. Her shoulders shook; tears filled her amber eyes. Elizabeth clutched the doorframe to keep herself upright as note after note of laughter tore through her slender frame.

Layla stared at her.

‘A vampire?’ Elizabeth spluttered, the words forced out between fits of giggles. ‘You think I’m a vampire?’

‘I know you are!’ insisted Layla. ‘Everyone knows!’

‘Everyone? And what makes you all so convinced I’m a vampire?’

‘Well, it’s obvious!’

‘Is that so? God, I knew you were superstitious, Layla, but this is another level.’

‘Don’t lie to me!’ shrieked Layla. ‘You look so much more beautiful, your skin’s so smooth all of a sudden. You’ve gotten stronger, and Adam Sanders saw you with blood around your mouth. Plus, Jamie said that you ran away from him when he wore garlic, and that your skin was like ice! I know what you are!’

‘Blood? Oh shit…’ Suddenly, Elizabeth’s cheeks turned red. Layla frowned. Could vampires blush? ‘Layla, I think you’re confused. I’m not a vampire.’

‘But… but…’

‘I’ve been… on a self-improvement journey lately, but not to the extent where I’ve become one of the undead!’

Layla opened her mouth, no words coming out.

‘You see…’ Elizabeth continued. ‘The smooth skin stuff can be explained by… well… urgh, I wasn’t going to tell anyone this, but my parents have been sending me to a private dermatologist. We can’t all have naturally perfect skin, you know. And the reason my hands were cold in the library is because I ice my face every morning. I’d done it right before going to study.’

‘But…’

‘And when I ran away from him, it wasn’t because of garlic or anything. It was because… If you tell anyone this, I will kill you, vampire or not. But basically, I’ve had a crush on Jamie forever, and I just got nervous talking to him. I ran off to the bathroom to throw up. God, I can’t believe the only boy I’ve ever liked thinks I’m a fucking vampire!’

‘But what about how strong you’ve gotten?’ spluttered Layla. ‘What about the blood around your mouth?’

‘The ‘blood’ was red lipstick. I was trying it out, thinking I might… Well, that I might impress Jamie. God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this. And as for the strength, I’ve always been strong! You know this! I do sports like every night of the week.’

‘So you’re… you’re not…’

‘Of course I’m not a fucking vampire!’

‘Oh.’ Layla slowly opened and then closed her mouth.

‘Now, if you wouldn’t mind, can you please get the hell out of my room?’

‘Yeah—uh—yeah. Sorry.’

Elizabeth ushered Layla out of the room.

‘I really am sorry,’ said Layla. ‘I didn’t mean to like… break in and everything.’

Elizabeth sighed, her face ever so slightly softening. ‘It’s okay. You always had an overactive imagination.’

‘Isn’t it a little funny, though, that this is the first time we’ve seen each other since middle school?’

At that, Elizabeth actually grinned, revealing rows of smooth, square teeth, not a fang in sight. ‘Alright, it’s a little funny.’

‘Maybe we could hang out sometime? Catch up?’

Elizabeth snorted. ‘Maybe. But let’s take one thing at a time, okay?’

‘Yeah, okay.’

The two girls left the room and walked silently down the stairs. Layla stole glances over at Elizabeth as they went. Up close, the girl was so obviously not a vampire that it made Layla feel even more like an idiot than she’d previously thought possible. Layla could see the veins under Elizabeth’s arms, could hear her rough, uneven breaths. She smelled of vanilla perfume, not blood, and was probably one of the most harmless-looking people Layla had ever come across. How could Layla have possibly been so stupid?

At the bottom of the stairs, Elizabeth turned to face her. ‘Well… bye then.’

‘Bye.’

Just as Layla was about to open the door, resigned to her humiliation, a voice sounded behind her. ‘Layla? Is that you?’

Layla turned to see Kennedy Walsh, Elizabeth’s mother and wife of the mayor. Only Kennedy Walsh didn’t look like Kennedy Walsh. At least not the Kennedy Walsh Layla remembered.

Instead of ageing skin turned cakey by makeup, her whole face looked smooth as polished stone. Where veins had once popped up all over her hands, now there wasn’t so much as a blemish in sight. Kennedy smiled, the most beautiful smile Layla had ever seen, and took a step closer to the two girls. Were her teeth always that pointy?

‘I thought it was you! My god, it’s been years.’

Kennedy stepped forward to hug her and Layla fell clumsily into her embrace. The arms that closed around her were like steel, and at the points where they touched Layla’s skin, goosebumps erupted in response to their icy surfaces.

Kennedy pulled back, and as their faces passed each other, her breath washed over Layla. Layla’s nose wrinkled in response. The smell emitting from Kennedy didn’t remind Layla of baked goods or chocolate or even a secret cigarette, none of the smells you’d expect coming from a small town mayor's wife. There was something almost metallic to it, something that reminded Layla distinctly of…

Blood.

Holy fuck, thought Layla, staring up into Kennedy’s smiling face. I’ve harassed the wrong family member.

Kennedy Walsh was a vampire, and she wasn’t looking at Layla like she’d be her first accomplice, but instead her next victim.