Half-Breed

Half-Breed
Chapter 1
Vincent

I was seven years old when I first saw him. My mother and father had only just found out he was coming and there wasn’t time to take us all to safety. They had known this day would come, though. They knew he would eventually find me.
I was in second grade at the time. Nothing to unusual about me was noticed at first. I got sunburn more easily than the other kids, I liked to bite people, and I thought myself a little better than all the other normal kids in my class. It wasn’t until a few more obvious differences started to surface did my teachers realize I wasn’t entirely human.
I was faster, stronger, and smarter than all of my other classmates. Heck, I was stronger and faster than my teachers, even. But, I wasn’t smarter. I didn’t know to keep my abilities hidden.
So, the teachers made a call. Not to my parents, they already knew what I was. But, to him. Vincent.
St. Vincent’s Academy for Boys was more than just any school. It was a hunter’s school. And every single one of those Satan boys hated vampires with a passion. And in their eyes, I was even worse than a vampire. I was a half-breed.
My father, Bartholomew Augustine Wilder, was a pure-blooded vampire. He was proud, strong, and handsome. But, more than all of that, he was kind. Rarely did one encounter a truly kind-hearted vampire, and my mother, the human Nancy Lee Harper, was one of the lucky few. They quickly fell deeply in love with one another, married, and produced me just a few years later. My father was quite intent on keeping my mother human. He didn’t want to do anything to endanger or change her and vampire hunters like the ones from St. Vincent’s were rampant. So, in his eyes, keeping her human was the only way to keep her safe. And my mother didn’t object for one moment.
And so, I was left a pathetic half-breed. Half vampire, half human. Never to truly fit in with either race.
But, when the boys from St. Vincent’s came, it became apparent that they viewed my mother as a contaminated individual; not suited for life on the perfect world they were trying to create. My parents hid me in the wall, behind a one-way mirror they had set up in case of emergency. That way, I would know when it was safe to come out. I stayed silent, hidden in my secret wall, as they burst through the door. They were led by a man named Aeron. Aeron was, to my seven-year-old mind, the picture of villainy. I was to young and naive to realize how truly evil he was.
Aeron was tall, almost seven feet in height, and pale-skinned. His hair was black as pitch and greased back severely into a small, taught ponytail. He had sharp, angular features that protruded sternly from his gaunt face. His shoulders were broad and strong, though his body was shrouded by a slick black trench coat. I could hear each step made by his heavy boots on our tile floor.
My mother had the strangest expression of fear upon her face. Her dark, auburn hair in ringlets to the small of her back, seemed so statuesque and perfect, like a master painter would paint on the head of an angel, while her body, so small and lithe, sat still on the floor, her legs pulled around close to her. More than anything else, I remembered her eyes. They had always been such happy things, lighting up at anything my father or I said to her, and joyously dancing when she laughed. But, that day was the only day I ever saw her eyes in horror. She clung fast to my father, who was kneeling next to her with his arms wrapped around her fragile body protectively. My father was similar in appearance. His hair was the same dark auburn, long and ringed in curls. His eyes were defiant, protective.
The boys moved into a line formation blocking the door, then transitioned into a semi-circle. Each one was about 16-ish, save Aeron, and clad in all black just like their leader. I was scared. I held my breath, not daring to do anything to let my presence be known. I wanted to quiet my heart, which was thudding loudly in my ears. Aeron looked from between my mother and my father twice, and then made a quick gesture with his hand. Four of the boys dropped off from the ends of their formation and began to search the house. My mother looked even more horrified now than she had moments ago.
“No…” she whispered.
An echoing “bang!” shook the room and I rapidly squeezed my eyes shut. My father screaming made me open my eyes out of curiosity. I gasped a little as to what I saw. The other side of my mirror was splattered with the thick, crimson blood of my mother. The smell drifted through the glass into my nose. It smelled absolutely delightful. But, upon realizing it was my mother’s, I shook off the thought. Aeron’s head turned in my direction, analyzing my mirror with his eyes that seemed to take in everything. I held my breath again. He took one step toward my mirror. My father looked up; his eyes cast an angry vermilion. Aeron took another step, and suddenly, my father lashed out at him, careful not to kill him… immediately.
Somehow or another, Aeron managed to escape the skirmish. I watched him limp out the door, a determined look of revenge in his eye, which now had a long, wire-thin cut running through it, from his forehead to his jaw on the right side. “You won’t be safe long, Wilder. I’ll come back for you. You and that wretched half-breed spawn of yours.”
I winced at the harshness in his deep voice. My father stood panting, wild with rage for a good solid ten minutes after Aeron left. I waited quietly, still not breathing. I could still feel my heart’s pulse through my fingertips. My father slowly came over to me and moved the mirror. He picked me up, holding me close to his chest, smoothing my hair gently. I held fast onto his shirt and cried softly, letting him sing me to sleep, standing in a pool of my mother’s blood.
My name is Sarah Black and this is my story.

Half-Breed
Chapter 2
Blood and Water

Nearly ten years later, and that night was still engraved in my mind as clearly as it had the night it happened. My father and I lived together, moving whenever we got wind that Aeron was near. It was scary, constantly being on the run. You were never sure who you could trust and who would turn you in. I learned that to keep from wondering about someone, you simply didn’t tell them.
I dyed my hair black when I was 13. I haven’t let it go back to brown since. Every morning, I straighten it as much as you possibly can and ring my eerie aquamarine eyes in dark eyeliner. My usual outfit consists of nothing more than very dark blue jeans, my Tokio Hotel t-shirt, and a black Aiden jacket. My favorite sneakers are some black Converse shoes that haven’t left my feet since I got them at age 12.
I was 17 years old when I attended Williamsburg High. I was in my junior year, and to anyone who followed me around for any longer than five minutes, it was apparent that I wasn’t popular. Things for me remained pretty consistent, though. I guess that was a plus. I could always count on consistency.
I looked out my bedroom window, watching the sun rise and waiting for my bus to school. My father had just gone to “bed” and I had woken up hours ago. I could thrive off of very little sleep thanks to my mixed blood. I sighed and rolled up my sleeve, gazing at my pale skin in the pinkish glow of the sunlight. I glanced over at my clock. The time read 5:15am. I had a few hours before my bus came. I looked around cautiously. My father wouldn’t approve of what I was going to do next.
I took a black knife from my back pocket and pushed the blade against my exposed wrist. I checked my surroundings again and slowly cut my wrist, watching the red liquid rise from my skin. I cut right below it and held my wrist up to the light. It didn’t even hurt anymore. I had been doing this for ages. Somehow, the pain brought me satisfaction. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to hurt as bad anymore.
I suddenly realized that my blood was pouring down my arm. I quickly licked my arm clean of blood and lowered it to become parallel to the ground. The blood quickly quit flowing and I savored the taste that still existed in my mouth. The warm, salty-sweet taste filled my taste buds. I watched my arm quickly heal the wounds back up, an attribute given to my by my vampire blood. I sighed and pulled the sleeve of my Aiden jacket back down. I raised my aqua eyes to the window and continued to wait for the bus.

The bus arrived at about 7:35am. I boarded and moved my way to the back. I sighed when I saw the boy who was in my usual seat. “Jamison, up.” I snapped.
Mick Jamison was the king of all jocks. He played baseball, football, soccer, basketball, and lacrosse. He had a new cheerleader wrapped around his arm every week. His hair was a honey blond, curly. He was muscular, tan, and blue-eyed. Every girl in Williamsburg was in love with him. Except for me.
Somehow, no matter what school my father requires me to attend; I seem to earn a reputation as a witch or a Satan worshipper. Generally, I can get whatever I want because people are usually afraid I will put a curse on them.
“You can’t do anything to get me up, Black.” Jamison snorted, cuddling the blond cheerleader around his arm closer to him. He prided himself on being immune to my “spells”.
“Jamison. I’m not going to beg you. You know I always sit here.” I kept my face unnaturally cool and icy. As was my voice, which was also very quiet.
“You don’t have to. Just sit somewhere else.” His girlfriend giggled from his side.
“Jamison, give me my seat.” I slid my hand into my pocket and began fingering my knife.
“No.” he said defiantly.
I pulled out my knife, opened the blade and licked off the blood still on the edge from where I cut myself earlier. “Have it your way.”
I started to move somewhere else, but a worried look crossed his face and he moved, “Fine, Black. Have your stupid seat.”
I refrained from smirking and took my seat in the back. No sooner had I sat down, had Mick’s friend migrated far away from the emo chick in the back.

I got off the bus as soon as it got to the school and headed off to my locker. I put my things for my first two classes in my Nightmare Before Christmas messenger bag and closed my locker.
“Kid, give me my money!”
I turned to see where the voice came from. I made a low growl in my throat. I hated bullies. One of my sore points was people taking advantage of others. I watched in silence as some big girl bullied some freshman girl into giving up the money she had brought to pay for lunch charges. I knew that girl. She had been told she couldn’t get any more lunches until she paid off the lunch bill. I’m willing to bet she didn’t weigh more than 80lbs. anyway. I silently vowed to her I would get that bully back for her or my name wasn’t Sarah Black.

Half-Breed
Chapter 3
Vengeance

At lunch, I remembered my promise to that freshman girl. That bully had left lunch early to go off toward the library. I caught that much with my heightened sense of hearing. Thank you, Dad. I slinked out of the cafeteria unnoticed and followed her down the hall. She started off walking slowly and leisurely, but heard my Converse sneakers squeaking against the tile flooring behind her and turned to see who it was. I ran into the entrance of the bathroom before she could see me. I listened for her footsteps to resume, but someone’s hands clasped firmly over my mouth. I tried to scream, but a familiar voice startled me, “What are you doing, Black?” Mick Jamison asked.
“None of your business.” I growled and pried his hand off my face.
“Whatever. Probably just going to kill some innocent kid who looked at you funny.” He grumbled, “Either that or you just like hanging out in the boys bathroom.”
I rolled me eyes and tried to go out into the hall. Mick grabbed my arm, “Mick! Get off!” I shouted with unusual ferocity.
“Sarah, I don’t trust you.” He frowned and forced me up against the wall.
I knew I couldn’t use my super-human strength on him. I wasn’t allowed to expose my father or myself as what we were. He leaned against my face and kissed my lips tenderly. His full, soft lips tenderly and cautiously formed to mine, and led them. I couldn’t help myself as I returned the kiss. It was soft, innocent. I can still remember the way he tasted. It was like coke-a-cola, still bubbly. I felt his hand go into by rear pocket on my jeans.
Mick drew back, “Sarah…” He held up the hand that had been in my jeans pocket just a few seconds ago, “Don’t do what I think you are going to do with this knife.” He held up my pocket knife. “I believe you are a good girl at heart, Sarah Black. But, I’m letting you make your own decision.”
I wasn’t going to buy his act for one second. The look in his eyes was one of longing, one of tenderness and I almost wondered for a second if this was what Mick was truly like. But, I couldn’t let my judgment be clouded. Especially now. And, he had chosen to incriminate himself, providing me with the perfect cover. I took my knife back. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
Mick sighed and went back about his business. I threw him a crooked smile, and went back in the hall after my prey. I chased her silently until I found her at her locker. Alone. I smiled, it was almost to perfect. Now was my moment of truth. I took a deep breath and held it.
I flicked my knife open and crept up behind her, careful not to make a sound. I took one step, then a second, then a third… I bit my bottom lip and let out my breath. I was only inches behind her and my breath moved her hair just a little. I moved my hand back in striking position as she slowly turned around. No sooner had her eyes met mine, than she was lying on the ground bleeding heavily from her now slit throat. I looked at the knife in my hand, the blade glinting red from her blood. She hadn’t even had time to scream. I tossed the knife next to her body and brushed a lock of brown hair out of her face. I gave a quick smirk, knowing who would take the blame for the murder. You see, half-breed vampires don’t leave fingerprints. And the only other person to have ever touched my knife was Mick Jamison. I couldn’t possibly get caught. Mick’s fingerprints were all over the murder weapon and mine weren’t. My smirk vanished and I walked back to my locker.

Once the body was found, school was essentially locked down. No one could get out, or in which I found amusing to my tastes. I almost laughed when the principal came in my classroom to tell us all that someone had been murdered inside the school building. It was perfect!! His face was chalky pale; the set of his jaw was a mixture of shock, abhorrence, confusion. My work had been completed successfully.
I felt my cell phone buzz in my pocket. I discreetly pulled it out to see who was texting me and my former glee vanished. Dad…

Sarah, what did you do?

I sighed and quickly texted back.

What is it that you think I did?

I waited a few seconds, then my pocket began buzzing again.

You know exactly what I think you did.

I didn’t look down as I returned the message.

We’ll talk as soon as they let us out of here.

No reply this time. I kept my mouth shut all through the day as they fingerprinted all of us at random. I held my breath. If they fingerprinted me before Mick, then they might see something was up with a girl who didn’t leave fingerprints. And I didn’t want to have to deal with another visit form St. Vincent’s. I swallowed the gum I had been munching on and shuddered. Thankfully, I was allowed to go and use the restroom after an hour or so. My heart sank in my chest at the sight I saw.
“Sarah!! You know it wasn’t me!! Help me!!”
I turned my back on Mick being led away by the police. I knew I could help. I knew that I could save him. And even now, I think I might have been developing feelings for him. But, was I the kind of person that would turn myself over to save this jock?
“Hey, sir? Can you wait for just a second?”

Half-Breed
Chapter 4
Sorrow's Sweet Perfume

The police officer holding onto Mick’s arm stopped and face me and for a second, Mick’s eyes looked hopeful for redemption.
“I just wanted to say goodbye.” I said with a good imitation of sorrow and strode over to Mick. “I’m sorry this had to happen to you, Mick. I truly believed you were a good boy.” I kissed his cheek and returned to my locker.

After they finally let us out of school, my dad came and picked me up. There was a strange aggravated expression on his face. “You wouldn’t believe what happened at school today!” I laughed as we drove home with the setting sun in front of us.
“Sarah, it is not acceptable for you to kill innocent people on school grounds!” He glared at me. He didn’t look at the road, he never had to.
“She wasn’t innocent, dad.” I breathed, “She was the biggest bully in the school and if I didn’t get rid of her, who knows how many kids would have suffered by her hand!”
“It wasn’t for you to decide!” he hissed through his teeth in a tone fiercer than any I had ever heard before. It was almost frightening. Almost.
“Too late now.” I muttered as he pulled in the driveway and I got out of the car.
Once we were inside, he locked the door behind us, “Sarah, I try my hardest to keep us hidden and I can’t do that with you killing students in the hallway.”
“Oh, because you did such a wonderful job last time!” I shouted sarcastically. “What have you ever done to make be trust you?”
“It wasn’t my fault that happened!” He said icily. “It was you, Sarah. You were showing off and got caught. Your mother is dead because of you!”
I was frozen stiff as a board with my backpack on my back. Mostly because what he had just said verified my own thoughts. I had always blamed myself for my mother’s death. If I hadn’t been showing off in class, then she would be alive right now. My words were quiet, as if stuck in my throat. “I-I didn’t know any better, dad. I was young, and you hadn’t told me to keep my gifts hidden. You can’t blame me…” I threw my backpack on the floor and walked up toward my room.
My dad caught me by the arm, “Sarah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I was just angry and it slipped. It wasn’t you, honest.”
His eyes were filled with such a deep sincerity; I came back down, though I still didn’t believe his apology. It was my fault. Why couldn’t he just go ahead and blame me? It would make things easier on him, and that was really all that mattered. I had nothing of value except for him. What could I do besides try to make him happy? I had nothing else worthwhile to do… well, except for my never ending quest to liberate the world of all these bullies like the ones at St. Vincent. They were power-hungry guys with guns. People like them didn’t deserve their power. And when I got older, I was going to destroy them for what they did to my mother. I knew that would make my dad happy.
“I do wish you would try harder to not get caught.” Dad smiled and sat down, “I know you liked our original last name better. How’s about this; if you will try to lay low, I’ll change our last name back to Wilder.”
The proposition was very tempting. I hated the last name “Black”, though it did suit my personality better. It reminded me of the character of Jacob Black from the Twilight saga. I never liked him. He was far to rash with his behaviors in my opinion. Actually, I didn’t really like any of the characters. I couldn’t truly relate to any of them, so I guess that sort of hurt more than helped. That book gave me something to add to my list of things I wanted, though. After reading that book, I wanted someone to love that would love me in return. Wishful thinking, but still a nice hope.
“Not right now, dad. There are still a few more things I need to take care of.” I said softly, trying not to make eye contact. I had to get Mick out. For some reason, I couldn’t bear to have him get life in prison for something I did. Not enough to make me go and confess, but still. I didn’t know if I would be able to do that laying low.
My dad’s voice was soft, faint. “Sarah, what things are you talking about?” I could tell that he was worried about me. What parent wouldn’t worry about me if I were their kid? Honestly, just in today alone, I had probably proven myself a certifiable nut case. Anyone who had spent a day reading my thoughts would have me admitted on the spot.
“I’m sorry dad, but I can’t tell you.” It pained me to keep secrets from him, but I had to. He wouldn’t let me out of the house if I shared.
“Sarah, do you want St. Vincent’s Academy back here for you?” he laid a hand on my arm tenderly and I felt a rare moment of warmth pass between us.
The moment was interrupted, however, when there was a knock at the door.

Half-Breed
Chapter Five
Saints and Sinners

I gulped, understanding that by my own actions, I could have just brought St. Vincent’s forces down on us. Definitely not a good thing. My dad looked me in the eye, a strange, hopeless look painted over his face.
Don’t look at me like that!
I pursed my lips as there was a second knock. Dad didn’t go to get it, and neither did I. We sat as a moment of silent goodbyes passed between us. Somehow we both knew one of us wasn’t going to make it.
Not if I have anything to say about it.
There was a third knock, then a loud bang as the door was blown off its hinges. I felt my father’s strong arm hold me back as a man entered that made me angrier than I had ever been before. And trust me, I had gotten pretty angry.
“Aeron St. Vincent…” dad whispered.
The man at the door smiled an evil, Joker’s grin that pulled both corners of his mouth back to his ears in menacing mock-happiness. “I’m so glad you remember me, Bartholomew. It’s been so long! Then again, how could you forget me?”
“I wish I knew.” My father hissed at him.
“And is this the lovely Miss Sarah?” He walked over and put his hand on my chin, turning my head to inspect my face, only to have me snarl and snap at his hand, “Hm… feisty. Just like her mother.” He mused then strolled back over to the other men in his group and smiled, “Men, you remember the Wilders.” They all nodded and pulled back their mouths in smiles identical to Aeron’s. “Good. Kill them.”
I glared harshly at him, my father forcing me behind him, “Dad, I’m going to fight them.”
“No, you aren’t.” My father said sternly, “They are too strong for you.”
“And how do you know how strong I am?” I argued, glaring at him with ferocity he had probably never seen from me.
He didn’t answer, but pushed me into the back room and locked the door. I groaned loudly, knowing that while he was doing this for my own good, it was annoying as heck. I couldn’t break down the doors inside the house because they were reinforced with a steel/silver compound that I couldn’t break because humans couldn’t break steel and vampires were rendered weak by silver. That didn’t stop me from banging on them anyway.
“Let me out!” I shouted so loudly, that after the first few shouts, a tear rolled down my cheek. In case Aeron managed to get in within the next few seconds, I quickly wiped it off and decided to focus on trying to find a way out.
Unfortunately, my father is excellent at building traps. I was quite certain that he could best Jig Saw if he decided to. I felt the walls: He wouldn’t build something without at least one way out: it was very unlike him to do that. I felt around some boxes in the corner.
Yes! Jackpot!
Pulling the boxes away from the small doorway was easy enough, considering my strength, but fitting through the opening proved a challenge. I had clearly gained a few pounds since my father made this doorway. When I got to the end, I had to fight quickly to get out before the rain drowned me in its torrential flood. I ran back to the front of the house hoping, praying that maybe my dad would still be alive. Just maybe I could save him and prove that I was strong: I could do this.
But, with my feet ankle-deep in watery, brown, gooey mud, I realized that just like always, I was a fraction of a second too late.
I was just in time to watch my father’s head be ripped from his body by Aeron’s hands.

Chapter 6
Remorse

Of all the things my father was, cruel was never one of them. He was the kindest soul I had ever laid eyes on, and my dearest friend. How could he so suddenly and easily be gone? It didn’t seem right. And it wasn’t.
Aeron faced the window, soaked up to his elbows in black blood, an evil, villainous smile on his face. His eyes locked with mine, and I sent him a look that read as vengeance. I saw him bark orders to his men, and I ran off. I would avenge my father, but there were other things I had to do first.

The first thing on my list brought me straight to the local police station. And don’t you dare think for a minute that I was there to call the cops on Vincent’s. No, that would be sending them all on a suicide mission, which is probably exactly what I was doing. I opened the door, and one of the policemen smiled, “Hello, miss, can I help you?” he said cordially.
“Yes.” I smiled mischievously, “Can you tell me where the security cameras are?”
The man raised an eyebrow, “There is one there and another one in the back, why do yo-“
I cut him off abruptly by running up the wall and tearing down the camera, then pouncing on the officer, slamming his head against the floor hard enough to knock him out. “Thanks.” I smiled, then walked into the back.
No one was at the station other than the officer I had just dispatched, and it didn’t take much effort for me to tear down the other camera. I walked down to where they hold the people they capture, only seeing three. Two average-sized men, one with a beard, both of whom were of little interest to me, and Mick Jamison.
Mick looked up when he heard my impatient footsteps. A look of wonder and shock crossed his face, “Whe- I mean, Ho- How did you-?” he shook his head, ridding his mind of questions. “It’s good to see you, Sarah.”
I snorted a bit of a laugh, “Just shut up and follow me. I’ve gotten you a bit of a pardon.”
Mick made a face suggesting that he didn’t believe me, but just shrugged, “I’m kinda cuffed here, you know.”
I blinked, not remembering that he couldn’t just pull them off effortlessly as I could. I turned on my heel to face him, taking the chain in my fist and grinding it to dust, “Better?” I said irritably, his eyes wide in bewilderment.
He quickly got up and raced to follow me out, since I was walking much faster than he. “Sarah?” he called after me, in a brisk jog alongside me, “How did you do that? I mean, you broke me out, then you… dissolved those cuffs like it was a sugar cube or something… That’s not exactly… you know, normal?”
“It is for me.” I shrugged, “You may have noticed that ‘normal’ doesn’t apply to me.
Mick shrugged, “You’ve got me there, but I still need to know, Sarah.” He ran in front of me, trying to block my path in what I knew to be a futile attempt.
“It’s just something I was born with, Mick.” I said, “Like how you were born to play football, I was born to break kids out of jail and turn steel handcuffs into powder.”
Mick made a face, “Cut it with the funny business, Sarah.” He said sternly, “You can trust me.”
I sighed, and against my better judgment, I told him the whole story, from my memory of my mother’s death to watching Aeron’s face as he killed my father, and even about my plan to chase down Aeron and kill him for what he did to my family. And as I told him, Mick’s belief that I had any semblance of normality faded from his thoughts and face.
“Now, I broke you out because I didn’t want you going to jail for what I did. Believe it or not, I do feel guilt sometimes.” I said simply and walked away, leaving him several paces behind me as he stood frozen with shock and disbelief.
He ran up alongside me, “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious. No pun intended, of course.” I sighed, becoming altogether bored with him.
“I’m still following.” He said matter-of-factly.
“I know.” I sighed, “I never thought my attempts would ever serve me, though I still had to try. You know you’re probably not going to live through the night, correct?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Good. Then we’re all on the same page.”