Dance The Dance Of Death

Kale Hedway is not your average high-school student. For starters, he possesses otherworldly good looks, is capable of charming any girl in any language, and is failing most of his classes.

Also, he is a vampire.

Kale has been alone ever since he can remember, and he disguises his emptiness by attending Reussman Academy, a school founded by vampires, for vampires.
When a strange but beautiful girl shows up at Reussman Academy, Kale is hooked on the idea of not having to be alone anymore.

But this girl isn't at all what Kale had expected.

After one spin and a fateful chance encounter, Kale is taking all of the wrong twists and turns. But can he escape the mess that is his eternal life?


1. Chapter One

I’d be lying if I said my life wasn’t hard.

My life was a continuous struggle. And it wasn’t just because I was a failing student with multiple disagreements between me and the entire population of the Earth, or disagreements between me and my bloodlust, for that matter.

My life was hard because I, Kale Hedway, was a vampire.

I sauntered through the hallways of Reussman Academy, my canvas backpack thumping against my shoulder blades with every step. Girls turned to look at me, their irises glowing red, and boys turned to scowl at me, fangs puncturing their lower lips. I didn’t care. This behaviour was normal.

Normal for a vampire school, that is.                                                    

Reussman Academy is a school founded in 1401 by vampires, for vampires. Here we don’t have to worry about blending in, drinking blood discreetly from opaque bottles, or restraining ourselves from draining a human of blood. But, there is a downside to all this; because we are fifty times stronger than your average high school student, the bullies are fifty times’ worse.

“Kale!” someone yelled. “Kale, turn around, you goddamn emo!” Laughter hit my ears, burning like cinders.

“How are you going to fight me today? Stun me with your poetry?” the same voice hissed.

And we’re still on this. I was born in London in the 1300’s. I met Fledge Harris in the 1500’s, hanging around Indiana. We had a disagreement then, which had incidentally occurred in my accidental stealing of his human girlfriend, and ever since, Fledge has been out to get me. Fledge is ironically short for ‘fledgling’, as we all believe he has tons of things to learn before he becomes a fully-fledged vampire. But he will never learn, on account of the fact that he is as dumb as a concrete slab.

But hey, so what if I like to write poetry? I’m not into scooping human girls, going clubbing, or robbing people. I prefer coffee stores late into the night, guitar playing, and reading poetry. Ever since that fateful day in 1951 when Fledge found my poetry collection, he’s had it out for me.

He’s also convinced I’m an emo.

“Fuck off,” I called back, holding my middle finger up high. I could hold off a massive fight for another day. There was a load of wolf-whistles, and the noise in the hallway subsequently died down as I made my way to homeroom. I was liked by girls, but I didn’t like them back. I’m not homosexual, but vampire girls hold no interest to me. They’re bitchy and clingy. To top it off, they’re immortal, so they’ll be nagging at you to tuck your shirt in until the end of time. No thank you.

I pushed open the heavy mahogany door and took in the scene ahead of me with suddenly alert eyes.

Around ten students were crouched in front of a girl.

Said students were salivating, their irises a haunting red, their long, elegant, blood-stained fingers reaching out for the girl’s jugular.

Said girl was sitting stiffly in a chair, her hands tied to the arms, her legs tied together, like a mermaid’s. Her waist-length brown hair was matted to her head with blood and sweat, and she wore a short sky-blue dress.

The human public school’s uniform.

“Shit!” I cursed, rushing over. I pushed the students out of my way, ignoring the hisses and the stinging pain of their venom on my skin. I ripped off the rope binding her wrists, and quickly tore the rope around her legs in half. Red marks dotted her porcelain skin. A black, swirling tattoo decorated her flesh. The girl groaned, and her eyelashes fluttered weakly, drawing my eyes away from the tattoo.

“Get…out,” she murmured, her eyelids becoming slow and heavy. “Vam…” her head lolled onto her shoulder.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” I snarled, slapping her pale cheek lightly three times. No movement. “Oh, my God.” I added more force to the slaps until the right side of her face was a burning scarlet. “Don’t die!”

Hands wrapped around my biceps, neck, and legs. Everywhere stung. And then I realised that they were biting me.

I jabbed my elbow backwards sharply, causing one of the students, a boy with gelled blond hair, to fall weakly to his knees. Reaching backwards, I grabbed someone’s hand and swung their entire body forwards, their legs hitting the ground with a sound like bricks on concrete. It was a raven-haired girl, and she screamed, her crimson eyes glowing. I spun round to shake off the remaining students, and turned to face them. There were eight left. I smiled. I could take them, easy.

I pulled two sharp knives from my blazer pockets and held them at my sides, feeling the muscles in my forearm grow taut. A girl lashed out at me, her fingernails blazing with venom, itching to scratch my skin. I ducked, stepped back, and in one harsh motion, sawed off her ultra-long, poisonous manicure. The girl screeched, but raced back towards me. I let the knife fly from my hand and through her chest. Seven to go. It got quicker after that.

After a series of backflips, desks hurled through the air, fountains of black blood, and screeches that sounded more like a chainsaw revving up, dead vampires lay scattered across the floor. I ran a hand through my sweaty hair, which was as dishevelled as it always had been.

Just as I prepared myself to pick up the human girl and set her free, a beautiful, long-haired blonde woman appeared in front of me, her eyes appearing translucent silver in the light. I was enchanted. She was perfect, and looked weirdly familiar. She placed her hand on my cheekbone and smiled, before bringing her hand back and knocking me out cold with enough force to scatter my thoughts.

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