Chapter Text
Damian liked camping.
He didn't get to do it often, but when he did, he enjoyed it a lot.
Whether it was with Ewen and Emile, or–
"Sy-on Boy!"
Yes, even with her, it was fun.
"What is it, Forger?"
Anya Forger was the bane of his existence, and most likely the weirdest girl at Eden College. She was short and skinny, probably weighed less than his dog. She was as dumb as a rock, and she spent at least half of her time at school asleep (and if Blackbell was to be believed, the same was true for outside of school). She had the appetite of a rock too—never ordering food at the school cafeteria. And most importantly, she was just straight-up weird.
"I found a cool bug!"
When Damian turned around, he saw Forger (with an obnoxiously large, pink sunhat that she was rarely seen without) standing a few steps away. Despite the heat—early September, uncomfortably warm—she wore jeans down to her ankles and a black dress with sleeves long enough to cover most of her hands. However, her right hand was poking out of the sleeve, proudly holding a fat, squirming, green caterpillar between her thumb and index finger.
Damian immediately took three steps backwards.
"Get that thing away from me!"
Forger's smile fell in an instant.
"You don't like him?"
"No?!"
"Aw, I was gonna share." She shrugged and tossed the caterpillar into her mouth. "Your loss!" She chewed it for several seconds with a smile, then swallowed. "Juicy."
Forger was—without a doubt—the weirdest girl at Eden College.
"Do you not have enough sunscreen on already?"
Forger ignored him, instead caking a fifth layer of SPF 150—I thought the limit was 100—sunscreen to her face and neck in preparation to get on a boat across Stella Lake.
Blackbell threw a bottle of sunscreen at him with a scoff. "Leave her alone, Desmond. Anya just doesn't wanna get tanned! You know how pale her skin is, she'll probably toast like a marshmallow in that sun."
"What Becky sa…" Forger cut herself off, looking up at the sky. "Huh."
What had been a clear sunny sky not thirty seconds ago was now starting to drizzle rain.
A chorus of groans rose from the previously excited students—hold one.
"Yay! Rain!"
"Yeah, yeah, lucky Forger. Big hat to protect her from the rain," Ewen grumbled.
Forger took her hat off and set it on his head. "You can have it! At least until the rain clears up. So it won't mess up your hairdo."
Emile was barely able to hold in his laughter at the sight of a wide pink hat perched on top of Ewen's hair.
Ewen, on the other hand, was stunned silent.
"…Thanks."
"Damn you, mosquitoes! Burn in hell!"
"That language is most inelegant, Connell!"
Connell didn't apologize to Henderson, instead looking at the mosquito bite on her arm with immense hatred as the class continued their hike.
Forger jogged forward to walk next to Connell. "You want help with that, Calliope?"
Connell's mumble of "my name is Connie…" was ignored.
"Anyways, Cathy, mosquitoes hate me. They won't dare bite you with Starlight Anya around!"
Condescending laughs left the mouths of their classmates.
"Uh huh." Connell sounded about as convinced as Damian felt.
And yet, for the rest of the hike, any time a mosquito got anywhere near Connell (or Forger, for that matter), Forger dispatched it with ruthless efficiency—usually, by eating it.
"Forger? More like… Froger," Emile joked.
"Yeah, well…" Forger crossed her arms stubbornly. "Bugs can't bite you if you bite first!"
"Forger?"
The girl in question was snoring loudly, slumped over a tree stump in the shade of another tree.
"Forger!"
She rolled over, dropping a few feet onto the ground, still asleep.
Damian sighed as he reached down to grab her by the shoulders and sit her up with her back against the stump.
"Hmm?" she let out a sleepy mumble as she rubbed her eyes. "Don't wake me up, it's past my bedtime…"
"It's not your bedtime, it's one thirty in the afternoon! Henderson's handing out sandwiches!"
"Not hungry. Don't want one…" She closed her eyes and rested her head on the stump. "Nighty night, Sy-on Boy…"
"I can literally hear your stomach rumbling!" Damian forced her to her feet. "You're coming with me to get some food, okay?" When Forger stumbled around sleepily, he added, "And why are you so tired?"
Forger blinked at him blearily. "Papa wouldn't let me bring my coffee."
"You're seven years old, Forger. Why do you drink coffee?"
"Cuz I'm tired? I need my coffee. Why don't you drink coffee? You night-sleepers are weird."
Night sleepers? The hell does she mean by that?
"The weirdos who sleep at night. Papa doesn't sleep at night—I don't think he sleeps at all, actually—anyway… if it weren't for stupid school, I'd never be asleep at night. Daytime's much better for sleeping."
Damian rolled his eyes. "You're crazy. C'mon, let's get sandwiches. There's peanut butter and jelly."
With that, he finally had her attention.
Damian woke up with a start. Glancing around the tent, he quickly realized that Ewen and Emile were both fast asleep.
What did I–
A shrill yelp echoed through the woods, a repeat of the sound that had, without a doubt, woken him.
What the heck?
A third yelp followed but was cut short.
Something's out there.
According to his watch, it was two in the morning.
Against his better judgment, Damian grabbed a flashlight and put his shoes on.
Keeping the flashlight dark out of a fear of alerting whatever was out there, the seven-year-old ran in the direction of the noises. His footsteps repeatedly crunched against the leaves in the dark; a rhythm matched by the thud of his own heartbeat.
He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw them.
Two green orbs, glowing in the dark at about knee level, stared directly at him.
Damian wasn't a wildlife expert—far from it.
He had no idea what creature of the night he was looking at.
All he knew was that the stench that hit his nose was definitely the smell of blood, and that he was in danger.
The eyes widened in what was unmistakably fear, panic, shock, or some combination of the three.
With a shaking hand, Damian raised the flashlight and turned it on.
He would never forget the sight it illuminated.
A young girl on her knees, frozen in panic; probably even younger than Damian.
Her teeth were sunk deep into the neck of a young deer about as big as she was.
She was covered from head to toe in blood. Her hands were red, her clothes were red, and even the color of her hair was unrecognizable under the blood.
Her mouth opened in surprise, the limp deer in her jaw falling over.
A long, thin pair of fangs, descending from between her canines and incisors, glinted in the light.
Unsteadily, the monster demon beast creature animal thing got to its feet. Damian reflexively took a step backwards.
"S–Stay back!" He moved the light up to point at its face.
It flinched from the light once again burning its eyes and took a step backwards, covering its emerald eyes with its arm. The black sleeve of a too-large dress drooped once it got past the demon’s hand.
Damian knew that dress.
I'm dreaming. This has to be a nightmare. That's the only explanation. There is no reason for Anya to be out in the woods devouring a baby deer at two in the morning.
He pinched his arm.
It hurt.
No, no, no, no, no.
"W–What have you done with Anya?!"
"I–I'm not–" The thing sobbed in a perfect imitation of Anya's voice. "Go away, Sy-on."
"Don't call me that! Only she gets to call me that!"
"Oh…" The monster’s voice took on a defeated tone. "Okay."
"I'm going to get the teacher! Don't you dare move! I'm– I'm getting my friend bac–"
The emerald eyes narrowed instantly, and before Damian could finish his sentence, his wrists were pinned to the forest floor by the animal, his flashlight knocked several feet away.
"Don't. Please, don't." 'Anya' begged in a quiet voice.
I'm dead. This is how I die. Being eaten alive by Anya's doppelganger.
It tilted its head in confusion. "What's a doppelganger?"
"You look just like her, but you're not her!"
"I am Anya–"
"No! Anya isn't some monster!"
In the dim light, Damian saw the beast flinch as if struck across the face, and tears—oh so alike Anya's tears—started falling from its eyes.
"I'm… I'm not a monster…"
"You're going to eat me!"
"No?" it asked, in a tone of genuine confusion. "That's what the deer was for."
That's… the most Anya thing I've ever heard.
"Exactly!"
Are you a figment of my imagination? Because I don't think I said that out loud.
"You didn't, stupid Sy-on! Remember the dance last year?"
Damian froze.
"How did you know about my dog and the pond, anyway? What, did you read my mind or something?"
"…Yes, I can read people's minds," Anya finished his memory in the present, letting go of his wrists. "Because I'm– I'm a vampire. Please don't tell anyone, or– they'll probably kill me."
Damian sat up, more bewildered than he had ever been before.
"You're a vampire."
Anya nodded.
Anya Forger is a mind reading vampire.
"Yes."
"You're eating that deer because–"
"I was hungry?" Anya asked as if he were the one being unreasonable.
"Why a deer?"
"Rats make me sick, squirrels are hard to catch, and birds barely have any blood in them."
Damian rubbed his head, sore from where he’d been knocked to the ground. "Can't you like… ask for blood donations? Your parents would probably–"
"I'm adopted, and they d–don't–" Anya breathed in sharply. "Don't know what I am."
Oh.
"No one does."
Damian got to his feet and picked up his flashlight, pointing it near Anya but not at her—quickly realizing how sensitive her eyes probably were.
"Well, uhm, they'll know if you come back to the campsite looking like this. You'd have to walk through the camp to get to the girls' showers. Come on, I'll sneak you into the boys'." He took her by the (very bloody) hand and started walking back to the campsite. “How were you planning to clean yourself off without anyone noticing?”
"I didn't have a plan. I was just– I was so hungry." She let out a soft sob. "I didn't care if people found me, I needed–" Anya hiccuped, "blood."
She was so hungry, she didn't think about the consequences…
"When's the last time you ate?"
"Well, it wasn't blood," Anya forced a small smile, "but I can eat normal food during a new moon!"
Damian stopped in his tracks. "You can eat one day a month?"
"Mhm."
"And other than that, just blood?"
"Mhm."
"What about, like, a super rare steak?"
"That juice isn't blood," Anya said as if it were the most obvious information ever.
Damian was halfway through getting offended when he did the math. "Wait, when was the new moon?"
"Three weeks ago."
"You haven't eaten in three weeks?"
“I had mosquitoes today, but other than that, nope." Anya popped the 'p'.
The wheels in Damian’s head spun. You drank human blood secondhand by eating mosquitoes that already bit someone– okay. That's somehow not the craziest thing I've heard tonight. "When was the last time you ate before three weeks ago?"
"Uh, the moon b–before that?"
Damian put a hand on each of Anya's shoulders.
"Are you seriously telling me you eat one day a month?"
"Well, no, I try to drink blood, but–"
"When's the last time you had any?! Mosquitoes don't count!"
"Uhm, about two months ago. Got lucky and killed a pigeon."
"You had one pigeon two months–gah!" Damian resisted the urge to scream his frustration into the darkness. "How are you not starving to death?!"
"I don't know." Anya looked at the ground in shame. "I really don't know."
Damian was spared having to respond as the two arrived at the boys' showerhouse.
"Go in and clean the blood off. I'll cover for you and make sure no one goes in. Alright?"
Anya smiled softly. “Thanks, Sy-on Boy.”
As it turns out, vampires looked a lot less terrifying when they weren't covered in blood (although a sopping wet Anya in sopping wet clothes was a sight of its own.)
Anya smiled at the thought. "I'm glad you think I don't look like a nightmare creature anymore."
Damian was silent for several seconds.
"Sy-on?"
"I'm sorry for calling you a monster."
Anya contemplated his words for several seconds as well.
"But I am."
"Wh–"
"I bit a person once. And that was before I knew if I was contagious or not."
Contagious?!
"You’re contagious?!"
"I don't think so. Is Becky a vampire?"
"Uh, I don't–wait, you bit Blackbell?!"
"I didn't mean to." Anya was crying again. "I was t–telling myself, n–no. Don't d–do it, Anya. You'll turn her. B–But–" She gasped for air. "I did. I couldn't look her in the face for months. I can barely remember it, I was so hungry, I just remember that I– I bit her while she was sleeping and–" Another sob. “She d–didn't t–turn. That's when I found out it's just another d–dumb rumor, like turning into a b–bat or sleeping in a coffin.”
Anya lost control and bit someone without knowing what could happen. She–
"S–Six months," Anya interrupted his thoughts, her voice less broken by tears than it had been before. "I'd gone six months without feeding before I attacked Becky. That's where I lose c–control, I think."
Six months?! Damian forced himself to steady his breath. "You didn't take enough blood to kill her, did you? That means you had some control."
"Sy-on?! I just– told you I– I'm a monster! I–"
"Yeah, after starving yourself for six months." Damian burst into laughter as the sheer ridiculousness of his situation dawned on him—affirming the humanity of a vampire outside a campground showerhouse in the dead of night. "I'd be a monster too, if I was starved for six months. We just gotta make sure that never happens."
"We?" Anya asked nervously. Hopefully, even.
"That's what friends do, right? Keep each other fed?"
Damian held his wrist up near Anya's mouth.
"Here. Midnight snack.”