Green Eyes of Immortality

Patrick O'Connor.
A mature vampire who is going it alone, forming his own Vampire House - albeit with the backing of the Vampire Council - and returning to High School.
It has been a long time since Patrick has interacted with humans, let alone gone to school, and he is eager to see how things have changed.
But will he find anyone "worthy" of joining him in immortality?


3. Chapter 2: First Thirst

First Thirst

I found my way to the classroom, the whole experience fascinating me. Modern schools are a lot to different to those of 1745, making this an incredibly…new, experience.

Whilst everyone else went to their seats, I stood, receiving interesting looks from my fellow students.

It took a moment, and then the teacher walked towards me – a young man, about thirty, maximum, with crisp clothes, neat, short hair and a pair of glasses – a pile of books in hand. “You’re Patrick?”

“Yes, sir, but I prefer to be called Paddy,” I replied, resisting the urge to hold out my hand. Living as part of the Council – a very aristocratic and upper-class lifestyle – had shaped me into a real gentleman.

The teacher nodded. “Not really helping the Irish stereotype, are you?” He paused, and smiled. A warm smile. A nice smile…ehem…sorry. “These are your books. Exercise book, textbook, homework book, and this one…” He picked up the book on top. “It’s what I call a ‘tip-book’. It ought to help you with anything you don’t understand.”

I smiled back. “Thank you, sir.” He gestured to an empty seat, and I went to it, noticing that my “neighbour” was a cute boy. In fact, he looked a bit like Danté, with bright blue eyes and black hair. Danté, however, has a scar under one eye, and the most wonderfully pale skin ever, as well as a perfect goatee beard…sorry. I’m going off on a tangent. More on Danté later.

It felt strange sitting down in the classroom with all these humans, all of them at least 268 years younger than me.

“You said Paddy, right,” my neighbour asked as I sorted my books and equipment.

I gave a firm nod, my social skills – amongst humans at least – having had little chance to improve since Raphael invited me into the immortal fold. I was usually draining them of their crimson blood…and how I enjoyed it.

But now I was here, in this school, I was thankful I had overcome the “newborn” thirst.

“So…whereabouts in Ireland are you from?” my classmate asked, fixing me with a curious look.

“Dublin,” I replied, smiling. “Guessing you’re from around here, though.”

“Totally.” My classmate nodded at me and then gestured towards the board, where the teacher – Mr. Donnell as my neighbour informed me – had just finished writing a series of mathematical questions on the whiteboard.

I hate to say it, but most of them seemed rather easy. Almost exactly like the ones I had answered in my – relatively short – education all those years ago.

I soon had all the answers written down – I must say, the memory of a vampire is amazing, as I remembered the answers as well as the questions.

My neighbour clearly noticed that I had finished, and nudged me in the ribs. “Psst. Can I copy you?”

I held back a sigh and nodded. How could I resist? I had a soft spot for Danté look-alikes. And this one…

My throat tightened suddenly, all moisture suddenly vanishing, and I knew that my thirst had suddenly kicked in. It was one of two things – considering I had fed before coming to school – and both of them seemed…rather interestingly placed.

It was either thinking about Danté had created a rather sexual thirst, or…or this boy was “destined” to join me in immortality.

But…as my lover, or not?

“Are…are you okay?” he asked. “You look suddenly pale and…your eyes are…”

I knew what he meant and averted my gaze, sticking my hand in the air.

“Yes, Mr. Stereotype?” Mr. Donnell asked, sighing.

“I’m feeling kind of sick,” I croaked, my thirst constricting my voice. “May I go and get a drink?”

He nodded, hardly seeming to give a damn, and I rushed from the room, taking my bag with me.

When I said, “get a drink”, I was most certainly not referring to water from the water fountain.

I was referring to, of course…blood.

All I had to do was find somewhere private to drink from one of the blood-bags in my rucksack.

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