Xoe: or Vampires, and Werewolves, and Demons, oh my! (Xoe Meyers Young Adult Fantasy/Horror Series) Read online

  Xoe

  Vampires and Werewolves and Demons, Oh My!

  Sara C. Roethle

  Vulture’s Eye Publications Sierra Vista, Arizona

  Xoe: or Vampires, and Werewolves, and Demons, Oh My!

  The first book in the Xoe Meyers Fantasy/Horror Series Copyright ©2009 by Sara C. Roethle

  First Printing: October 3, 2009

  Second Printing: April 30, 2011

  Young Adult Fantasy/Horror

  ISBN 978-0-615-31738-0

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this work in any form without permission in writing from the publisher, except for brief passages in connection with a review.

  Published by Vulture’s Eye Publications

  Cover Photo and Design by Nathaniel Goldstock

  Vulture’s Eye Publications

  www.vultureseyepublications.com

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To Wayne—you my huckleberry.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Special thanks to Susan D. Kalior, for tutoring me in the ins and outs of book writing, and listening as I asked the same questions repeatedly, as well as proofreading my book over, and over, and over . . . Thanks to Heather Hampton, for her editing expertise and unfaltering friendship. Thanks to Esther Perez, for informing everyone and their mother about the existence of my book. And last, but not least, thanks to my dad, for all of his support, be it moral, or financial.

  Chapter One

  Another year at Shelby Heights High School in not-so-sunny Shelby, Oregon . . . oh joy. Shelby isn’t exactly small, but it’s definitely not a city. Since I’m not exactly a “people-person,” the size is one of the few things I like about Shelby. That, and the woods that surround it. Tall pine trees are never out of reach. I’ve always been outdoorsy. My dad took off shortly after I was conceived and my mom raised me on camping trips and hiking. My name’s Alexondra Meyers, I know, pretty horrible. Mercifully, the few friends I have call me Xoe.

  But I digress, back to the matter at hand . . . junior year. I was not a fan of high school, or the teenage experience in general. I didn’t consider myself antisocial, though most of my fellow students did. I just didn’t like to waste my time with pretense. Why bother being nice to someone I secretly dislike? I’d rather have a few real friends than a bunch of fake ones.

  I trudged towards the towering, gray brick monstrosity that was Shelby High. Where there wasn’t sidewalk or asphalt, the ground was covered with lush, green grass. Shelby is always green and moist, which is nice, except for the mold and mildew that tend to grow if you’re not careful. One time my mom got a new car windshield that wasn’t sealed properly. Within weeks the insides of her windows had grown algae.

  I forced my sneakered feet to continue forward towards the school, focusing on the sound of my footfalls, one foot in front of the other. As I approached the dreaded double-doors, my best friend Lucy joined me. We usually walked to school together, but Lucy always got to school early on the first day. She liked to “prepare” her locker and map out all of her classes beforehand; she’s a bit of an over achiever, to put it mildly.

  Lucy and I pushed through the double doors. I held onto the door I had entered long enough for a girl with a mass of brown curls to grab it and keep it open for herself; see, not antisocial. As we walked farther into the hallway to get out of the way of the doors, I glanced down at the top of Lucy’s dark-haired head. Lucy and I are pretty much total opposites when it comes to appearance. I’m a giant compared to her. Well, not really, but her petite 5’1” frame makes my willowy 5’8” seem excessive. Her long, dark, glossy hair is in complete contrast to my shaggy, shoulder-length blonde mop. Lucy’s skin is deep olive all year round, whereas mine is pale, and at times, a little pasty, what my mom kindly referred to as porcelain. Did I say that I’m a little jealous of Lucy? Ah well, I love her anyhow.

  Lucy was wearing dark wash jeans with a pale blue button-up blouse. The tips of conservative brown shoes peeked out from the bottom of her jeans. Lucy’s sense of style errs on the side of caution. Her pin-straight hair was parted down the middle to cascade nearly to her waist, framing her fine-boned, delicate face, void of make-up.

  Lucy’s almond-shaped brown eyes peered up into my wide green ones, waiting for my whining to begin. She’d had to deal with my complaining on the first day of school every year since 2nd grade. We’d become friends when my mom and I first moved to Shelby. Lucy’s family lives down the street from us. Alone and friendless, I went exploring in the woods behind my house, against my mom’s strict commands, and Lucy was doing the same. We both had a stubborn independent streak that constantly ordered us to disobey our parents. How could we not be friends?

  To add to my first-day misery, the sky above Shelby was an angry gray, promising rain. Black clouds rolled ominously in the distance. So what else was new? I hate the rain. I’m not like a girly-girl that’s afraid to get my hair wet or anything, but I’m at my happiest when I’m outdoors, and it’s not terribly pleasant to be outside when it’s raining. So, despite my pallid appearance, I much prefer the sun. I took a deep breath of ozone-scented air. Let the whining commence.

  “It’s not that bad,” said Lucy, taking in my grimace. “We have three classes together and you have two more with Allison. That leaves only one class to trudge through without us.”

  Allison was another on my short list of friends. We had met Allison during lunch last year. She was new to Shelby and sought out the sanest group in the cafeteria, that group being Lucy and me. I was skeptical at first, but Allison turned out to be pretty cool. She adds a little bit of girliness to our small group.

  “A small consolation at best,” I replied sullenly.

  Lucy’s eternally sunny attitude could be quite vexing at times. Though if she were a pessimist like me, the complaining would never cease. Lucy’s glass half full philosophy made my glass look darn near empty.

  Lucy frowned in response to my reply. “I’ll see you in French.”

  I managed a small smile, despite my misery. “See you then.”

  We parted ways as the first bell rang, and ran towards our respective classes to the sound of clanging lockers and hurried ‘see you laters.’

  Shelby High is old, and I mean old. I passed dingy walls with countless layers of peeling paint on them. The newest layer of paint was a pale yellow that was trying very hard to be cheery, but fell a little short. I went past rows of faded green lockers, then took a left into my classroom.

  My first class of the day was biology with Allison. In my opinion, it was simply too early in the morning for science. We had tables instead of desks for biology, making the room feel even more small and cramped than normal classrooms. The buzzing of the fluorescent lights mixed with the din of murmured voices made me feel instantly claustrophobic. The tables were set up to seat two people, with a little sink and electrical outlets in the middle. I saw Allison waving me over. She had already saved me a seat at her table in the back of the class.

  I like the back of the class. I don’t like feeling people’s eyes on the back of my head. Plus, teachers usually tend to call on people in the front of the class. It’s not that I don’t understand the questions; I just prefer not to answer them. Allison was more than willing to sit in the back of the class with me.

  Lucy was a whole other story. I always tried to lure her to the back, the Dark Side as far as she was concerned, but we ended up front and center ev
ery time, where she can be sure to be called on when she raises her hand to answer every question. But hey, she diverts the teacher’s attention from me, so I don’t complain too much.

  As I approached, Allison looked me up and down, ending with a look of distaste at my ratty old sneakers. “Xoe, we are going shopping this weekend, no arguments.”

  Smirking, I looked down at my dark blue, vintage Doors tee and holey jeans, then at her blue sundress with strappy dark brown sandals, artfully applied makeup, and perfectly styled, long, honey blonde hair. Unlike me, Allison embraces the blonde; she is the master of the hair flip. I’ve never felt like a “blonde,” but I’m too pale to pull off much of anything else, so I just try to ignore it.

  At 5’6” Allison almost reaches my height, though she has a few more curves than I do. She’s not pudgy, just not willowy like me. She was still staring at my outfit with a perfectly arched eyebrow raised. Maybe Allison had a point. Maybe.

  “Sure Allison, whatever you say.” I was keeping the sneakers no matter what clothes she tried to put me in. They were my tried and true favorites, perfectly broken in and shaped to my feet. They had started life a solid black, but had faded to what I considered a rather pleasant gray. Allison took one last look at me, pity in her blue eyes, then turned towards the front of the class.

  A throat cleared, bringing my attention to the front of the classroom where Mrs. Sanders was waiting. Mrs. Sanders taught biology and microbiology at Shelby Heights. She was a short, dare I say dumpy kind of woman with a horribly monotonous voice. She stared at me in mock exasperation until I slumped dejectedly into my hard plastic chair.

  Mrs. Sanders went on to drone for an hour about her syllabus and all that other nonsense while constantly straightening her lumpy pink cardigan. I drew on the cover of my notebook and tried to ignore her. By the time class was near its end, my notebook was covered with a mish-mash of nonsensical doodles. I shoved my books back into my old green backpack that I use every year, throwing my pencil in haphazardly on top. I watched the clock, counting away the final seconds of class.

  Finally the bell rang and it was off to my next two hours of torture: French and World History. Even though I’d be with Lucy, I knew time would creep by at an alarmingly slow rate. I’m horrible at French; the pronunciation is simply beyond me, and World History is, well, World History. When I entered my French class, Lucy was already sitting front and center. Her new navy blue backpack was sitting in the seat next to her, waiting for me to take its place. After what seemed like days of words I didn’t understand, followed by a lengthy discussion on “the cradle of civilization,” it was finally time for lunch—my brief reprieve from the monotony.

  The cafeteria is one of the few spacious areas in Shelby High. The brightly lit fluorescents are diffused by the copious amount of natural light that pours in from several large single-pane windows mounted in two of the walls. My little group always claimed the same table at the beginning of each year. It was in a corner, so we only had to deal with two other tables near us, rather than four. We were also stationed directly below one of the aforementioned windows. Said window looked out over the courtyard area of Shelby High, which is basically just a large square of grass with several picnic tables stationed in the center. On rare sunny days we would eat outside.

  Occasionally other acquaintances would sit with us, but most of the time it was just us three, and that was the way we liked it. Well, at least I liked it. Allison and Lucy are slightly more social than I am.

  Lucy and I waited at our usual table with our bagged lunches while Allison bought hers. Allison’s willingness to eat school lunches made me seriously question her sanity. Let’s just say they weren’t always identifiable as food products. Her justification was that she didn’t do lunchboxes.

  Bored, I scanned the lunch line for Allison, but was interrupted by the rude stare of a guy near the end of the line. He stood watching me with an empty tray in his hands. His short, near-black hair was styled to perfection. His pale blue eyes, emphasized by a deep tan, stared intensely at me. His hulking 6’3” frame strained against a plain white tee-shirt, topped by a simple black leather jacket. As I observed him he continued to stare, pursing his full lips that I imagined would be stuck in a perpetual pout. Besides the lips, the rest of his face was the epitome of masculinity: high, sculpted cheek bones, defined jaw-line, and a strong nose.

  His heavy gaze sent a chill up my spine. What a creep. His husky-like eyes left me to land on Lucy, who he stared at just as intensely. I looked away with a scowl to finish scanning the lunch line for Allison. She had already paid and was walking towards our table.

  “Oh come on,” Allison said as she approached and noticed my scowl, “your day could not have been that bad.”

  Turning my scowl into a grin, I taunted, “Don’t worry Al, it’ll get better, we have gym next.”

  Allison’s mocking smile faded. She whipped her hair over her shoulder and sat down with her lunch tray. “Gee, Xoe, thanks for reminding me, and don’t call me Al,”

  Gym was the bane of Allison’s existence, as was my and Lucy’s habit of calling her Al. She wasn’t into sports of any kind. Though seemingly the traditional girly girl, she was one of the toughest people I had ever met. Don’t judge a book by its cover and all that.

  I actually liked gym. I’m decent at sports, and gym doesn’t require hours of boring teaching. I have trouble sitting still for too long.

  Allison turned to Lucy. “So, me and Xoe are going shopping this weekend. You in?”

  Lucy turned a speculative glare to me. “Xoe? Shopping? My how the times have changed.”

  I pursed my lips into an exaggerated pout. “I need new socks.”

  Lucy laughed. “Ah, the truth comes out.” Then turning back to Allison added, “I’ll come. I need a new toothbrush.”

  Allison crossed her arms and glared back and forth between us. “You’re both updating your wardrobes if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes at me, then asked Allison how her classes were so far. As Allison went on about her day, I scanned the cafeteria for the creepy staring guy. I spotted him sitting with Max, a J.V. soccer player, and yep, still staring.

  “Who’s the hunk?” Allison chimed in, following my gaze.

  “That creep has been staring over here since we sat down,” I grumbled.

  Ignoring my comment, Allison began to stand.

  Oh no she didn’t, I knew just what her intent was. “No way Al, don’t even think about it,” I protested.

  Allison gave me a mischievous smile and hustled away from our table before I could catch her arm, waltzing right up to creepy staring guy. She sat down on the other side of his table, facing him and Max.

  I shook my head and turned back to Lucy. We exchanged looks of resignation.

  I sighed loudly. “And so it begins.”

  Lucy began to reply, then quickly turned her gaze down to the tabletop. I turned partially around to see what had interrupted Lucy. Allison was walking towards us, leading creepy guy by the hand. They came to stand at the head of our table.

  Allison twined her arm through creepy guy’s, which remained limp. “Girls, this is Dan. He’s new here.” Allison nodded in Lucy’s direction. “That’s Lucy,” then nodded to me, “and that lovely example of radiant good cheer is Xoe.”

  Allison released Dan’s arm to retake her seat next to Lucy, leaving only one option for Dan. He sat next to me with a quizzical look, like he didn’t know what I was. I quickly looked away and found my gaze wandering back to Max, who was now sitting alone, looking confused. He stood and walked straight out of the cafeteria like a sleepwalker. Apparently Dan wasn’t the only weird one.

  When I turned back to Dan, his gaze had drifted to Lucy. The look he gave her was far different from the confused one he had given me. He looked at Lucy like she was a piece of meat. I expected Lucy to be squirming under the pressure of Dan’s gaze, but instead she looked back at him with a coy smile. I’d never seen Luc
y flirt before, and I didn’t see why she had chosen now to start. Dan didn’t really seem her type, though I didn’t actually know what her type was. Lucy, like me, didn’t date a lot.

  Allison, on the other hand, flirted up dates on a regular basis. She seemed to have no problem talking to guys. She was born to flirt, and flirt she did.

  Before I knew what had happened, Allison’s flirting magic had involved Dan in our shopping plans for the weekend, which had been altered to movie plans . . . gre--at. I would have rather gone shopping, and that was saying a lot. Dan did not make a good first impression on me.

  As I spaced out from the conversation, Allison continued to quiz Dan on where he was from and any other inane fact she could think of. I felt uncomfortable sitting next to Dan. I could feel waves of creepiness emanating from him. Ok, so maybe “waves of creepiness,” was a little dramatic, but there was something very strange about him. He made my skin crawl. I struggled not to rub the goose bumps that had erupted on my arms.

  I watched him have a seemingly normal conversation with Lucy and Allison, while I tried to pinpoint what had me on edge. Just listening to him talk, he seemed perfectly normal, but his face shattered the illusion. His gaze never left Lucy, even when he was answering one of Allison’s questions. It was like he was trying to memorize every small detail of her face. It was downright unnerving.

  The bell rang, startling me. Standing, I rudely ignored Dan as I said bye to Lucy. I grabbed Allison, who was entering Dan’s phone number into her cell, and hurried her out of the cafeteria. I could feel the electric pressure of Dan’s eyes on us the entire way.

  “Isn’t he gorgeous?” Allison swooned once we were clear from Dan’s gaze.

  “Who?” I questioned, lost in thought.