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She sighed and dropped the book onto the desk in front of her. It wasn't worth finishing. Amanda promised herself this was the last time she would read a book because someone on forum suggested it and it had a pretty cover.
With a sigh, she batted the book so it slid along the surface of the desk and into the trash-can that sat beside it. A smile touched her lips. That was a great deal more fun then it ought to have been. She knew she was about it pick it out of the trash and put it into her satchel, it was a library book and she couldn't just throw it away, even if it was badly written. She sighed, stretched her arms above her head and leaned over to the trash-can to pull the book out. She wobbled a moment, then caught herself on the edge of the table. Amanda rolled her eyes. The heroine of the stupid book would have fallen on her face to prove she had a flaw. Such a bloody Mary-Sue.
But if you got past the poor characterization, florid writing, and plot without a plot and just accepted it as a trashy teen romance novel... It still was not worth the time it took to read it, in her opinion. There was still one gaping, screaming plothole. How could anyone ever choose to spend fifty years, in some cases more, enrolled in the hell on earth which is high school? She could write better, and she was still in high school!
Amanda blinked. That was it. She could write better.
Gripping the edge of the table in one hand and the book in the other, she hoisted herself back to a reasonable position, her barely long enough to be considered long dyed black hair flopping all over her face and shoulders.
Amanda stared at the iconic photograph on the cover, white hands holding a red apple, the best thing about the entire series.
She could write better.

The bookbag swung into view before the girl who carried it. She had covered it with so many patches and buttons that the original color was hidden. Most people would probably guess red, from the strap, but as it happened, the strap was the result of two red sharpies and one black one, and often bled onto Amanda's shoulder. To this day, she didn't understand the madness that possessed her to write her own name on the strap, and why she didn't think of the underwear of little boys who get beat up at camp before she'd inscribed "Amanda Boswick" onto it, and by proxy, onto many of her shirts.
It was just another reason to wear black. The only real reason not to was that it made her hair look shorter than it actually was; but, she often reminded herself, she should have thought of that before she'd dyed it to match her wardrobe. A few stubborn freckles had made a permanent residence on her nose, to her constant chagrin. Amanda wanted a good gothic pallor she couldn't quite acquire. She was a true vampire fan; you could tell because she hated every vampire series ever written and she could tell you why she did in great detail.
Of course, the fact that Amanda mainly dressed in black didn't really separate her from everyone else in her high school. The "ganstas" all had there own "crews", but they all seemed to have the same gang colors. Black and black. And big baggy black pants. And black bandanas. And black hats on backward. Of course, the jocks often wore school colors... black and white. The emo kids tried to make up with the amount of fabric in the gangsta's pants, by wearing pants that looked like they were made from the scraps left over from the gangsta pants. Which of course were the same color. Of course, this meant the fashionitas noticed that black was the new black, it was obviously in style, since everyone wore it. When high school let out, it was like a flood of darkness streaming into the afternoon sunlight.
And yet, Amanda still got called "goth chick". She couldn't understand it.

Amanda stared at the expanse of white paper before her. It was one thing to decide to write and quite another to actually do so. The paper stared at her accusingly.
She knew what she wanted to write about. She wanted to write about a vampire who looked about sixteen but was in his fifties, trying to pass himself off as in his early twenties so he wouldn't have to deal with being a teenager for all of eternity.
But how to start this?
The empty paper glowed like an empty snowfield, and she touched her pen to it and wrote the two words she was absolutely sure of

The vampire

And now the black ink stood along the pale blue lines, solitary on the white plain. She was sure she'd cross it out once she knew what she was doing, but she added:

stood alone, a single black figure in a field of snow.

Just like the word. But of course, the paper had those blue lines on it. Fields of snow didn't. Unless...

Moonlight streamed through the spires of the town, casting blue shadows on the snow.

What the hell kind of town had spires?

The clocktower, the steeples of the three churchs, the high dome of the city hall each drew blue silloettes on the ground before him.

Amanda made a face. She was using the word "blue" alot, but "cobalt" and "azure" sounded way too florid. She was getting fed up with this stupid town. Back to the vampire.

He stood alone, his

Black, yes; definitely black. It had to be black.

his black hair trailing across his face in the wind. With a touch of irratation, he raised a gloved hand and fetched the hair back into his queue.

What? Since when did he have a queue? And what was wrong with the word "ponytail"? But still, it did sound like something someone with long hair would do if it was trailing in the wind, and if it was such a cold, snow night, of course he'd be wearing gloves. But they'd be leather. She added a carrot.

he raised a leather-gloved hand

And it would be black.

he raised a black leather-gloved hand

Now that just didn't make any sense. She stuck out the whole part about the glove and started again.

With a touch of irratation, he raised a hand clad in a black leather glove and fetched the hair back into his queue.

Great. Now Amanda had a vampire wearing black gloves with long black hair in a ponytail standing in the snow outside a town with a clock-tower, three churches, and a city hall with a high dome. What the hell was he doing there, exactly?

A vampire fed in one of two ways: either they seduced their prey or beat them into submission and feasted. But he was too hungry to court and too tired to fight.

As long as he's out in the cold, he should have a coat. A long coat. Trenchcoats are hot.

As he strode into the city, his long dark coat flared out behind him,

Amanda rubbed her neck and thought. She knew what needed to happen next. He needed to find a girl. And then he'd drink her blood. But he couldn't break into anyone's house. Vampires couldn't enter a house without permission. Everyone knew that. Everyone but that stupid author of that stupid book that got stupid people posting in her vampire fan forums who knew absolutely nothing at all about what a real vampire was.
Well, Amanda would show them! She'd write vampires who couldn't go out in sunlight, who couldn't cross running water, and, if at all possible, didn't brood about it.
And they'd still be hot, because Amanda liked hot vampires.
She looked around. It was awfully quiet.
She leaned towards her CD player. As she recalled, she'd left a mix in there while she was studying. She hit play.
The slightly whiny voice of whoever the lead singer of AFI was started on "Love like Winter" and Amanda skipped it. She wasn't sure why. It worked with the setting, but not with what was happening. She guessed it was just too energetic.
Cold synthesized echos started next. She skipped it. She recognized it as "Enjoy the Silence", and that was just too melancholy. She was sick to death of brooding vampires.
The first few bell-like notes of "Cities in Dust" by Siouxie and the Banshees played, and Amanda thought about it for a moment before skipping it. It was a fun song, and she'd probably play it while she was writing a different hunt, but this was a sexy hunt. It needed something different.
"Poison... you're my sweetest poison..." the CD purred. It wasn't Amanda's favorite song, but it was dark, and it was sexy, and she could work with it. And best of all, most of it was in German, so she wouldn't have to worry about inadvertently writing what she heard.
The pen slipped slightly beneath her fingers and her writing sped up, matched the tempo of the music, then past it. She forced herself to type faster, shedding typos like sweat and cursing her fingers for not working nearly as fast as her mind. The vampire slinked down the word processor, smirking. A throw-away girl popped up to feed him, and Amanda wasted no time on her description.

The entire image of the girl was like a round, ripe fruit. Her waist seemed to narrow only to differnciete her hips from her full, swelling-

Amanda realized what she wrote was a bit different then what she meant, and deleted it to start again. Yes, the girl would be curvy and swelling like a fruit, but there was only so much information one could give before it sounded pornographic. If Amanda didn't want to read it, she didn't want to have to deal with the fact she wrote it when she found people who did.

The entire image of the girl was like a round, ripe fruit, her sweet innocent face, large blue eyes and a mouth like a

No no no, lips-

lips red and full as a berry.

And that was quite enough of the girl. But she did need a name. She ran her pen along the paper at random, and stopped at the first letter describing her sweet, innocent face.
Now what names started with S? Sue came to mind. But that was bland. Susan? Suzanne? That was silly. But she was a throw away character. Well, now that Suzanne had a name, she might as well mention it. And then, Suzanne and the vampire were talking. And it was kinda hot, oddly enough

"Sir?" the girl called out, racing towards him. "Can you help me, I'm afriad I've lost my way, can you help me? I was looking for the

Amanda cast her eyes around her room, and her eyes fell on her bookbag, and the Sixouse and the Banshees patch.

Tinderbox Inn, but I don't think I'm on the right street anymore." The pale man shook his head.
"I apologise, my good woman; but I cannot help you. I only crossed the gates into this city a moment ago myself."
"I'm terribly sorry, I thought you attended the University..."
"No, actually. I completed my schooling quite some time ago."
"Really?" Suzanne gasped. "I'd never have guessed it. You don't look a day over eighteen." The vampire smiled to himself. He knew perfectly well how old he looked. He looked sixteen. And he had looked sixteen

Amanda stopped to think. How old was she going to make him, he had to be pretty old, definitely over fifty. That just made him an old man in a boy's body, which was creepy for a romance. Everyone would think about how old he would be as a human, even him. This was her hero, and she needed him to be past mourning grandchildren he would never have. He needed to be old enough that human age no longer applied. But not too long, it always annoyed Amanda when the lives of vampires were measured in millennia rather than centuries. By that long, having watched civilizations rise and fall around them, she found it hard to believe anyone would not kill themselves out of boredom by their fifteenth century. Around two hundred. She checked how many pages were in the notebook she was writing in.

he had looked sixteen for nearly one hundred and fourty-four years. He still remembered his birthday, but only feasted on the day he died.
"But if you are a traveller, then where is your pack?" she asked. She began to speak quickly, extraplating various stories before he could answer. "Were you set upon by bandits, who took all you had? Or are you the youngest son, set out alone with nothing to seek your fortune? Or-"

But he wouldn't hide that he was a vampire. Yes, it made sense, but it always happened. It would be nice to see something different for once.
It would be worth cutting the game short to shut her up. Perhaps the truth might even stun her to silence.

"Oh," he said idly, with a smile. "I'm a vampire. I've come into a town expressely to find still-warm blood."
"What?" she gasped, taking a step back. "Are you mad?"
"Perhaps. But that won't change the matter of my species." he smiled, revealing his fangs. The girl stared at him, quivering like a leaf.
"I could run."
"And I could catch you."
"I could scream."
"I could silence you."
"I could find people and tell them what you are!" she screamed, backing away, but unable to remove her eyes from his face. He scoffed.
"And who would believe you, in this enlightened age?"

Amanda chuckled evilly to herself. That was something completely different.
Not that she was exactly sure what "this enlightened age" was. Could be the twentieth century, could be the eighteenth. Could be steampunk. Steampunk was cool. Steampunk vampires.
She squirreled that idea away for later.

He turned away from her, his coat flaring in the wind behind him. The girl swallowed her fear and rushed forward.
But wait!" Suzanne begged, clutching the edge of his sleeve. "Who are you? What is you name?" The dark haired man smiled, his brows and lips making mirrored curves.
"My name?" he repeated.

Amanda pursed her lips and tapped her pencil to the paper. He did need a name. She really couldn't go any further without giving the vampire a name. Even Suzanne had a name. Always saying "he" and "the vampire" was getting kind of repetitive. She read over his description again, and her eyes widened at what she had inadvertently written.
The vampire was Lugh.
She sighed, there was really nothing that could be done for it now. She might as well be silly and amuse herself with this. It was the only thing that could come of it at this point.

"My name?" he repeated. "My name is Lucifer."
"Lucifer..." she breathed. "Like the demon. I might have guessed."

This was odd. She was starting to like Suzanne. If she lived any longer, she'd need a hair color.

He raised a hand to her dark hair and let a few stands catch on his gloves-

Amanda decided she needed to decide if this was a love story or not, and she needed to decide it now, before the characters made a decision without consulting her.

Lucifer smiled faintly, his lips pressed together in such a way that while he did not reveal his fangs, Suzanne couldn't help but to watch for them.
'Come to my home and meet my brothers."

Brothers? Amanda thought. Lucifer can't have brothers! Her lips pressed together as she reread what she wrote. This was getting far too harem manga for her taste. She could just guess where the plot was going. He'd bring her to his lair and meet brother after brother, each more beautiful than the last and each ready to swear his love for Suzanne. This was ridiculous.
Amanda tapped her eraser on the edge of the paper and crossed out the last paragraph with a large dark X. This was not going to be some pubescent fantasy about creatures of the night seducing young women. There were plenty of those. Brothers. Honestly.
And, if Lucifier was Lugh, which he obviously was, who would his brothers be? Nick and Jonas?
She covered her eyes with her hand. That was exactly who his brothers would be. She could see the three of them now, lounging around some dark castle draped in velvet, and she couldn't unsee them. Even if she burned the notebook now and never wrote again, she would know that Lucifer the vampire was really Lugh and he had two "brothers", who were really Nick and Jonas, and that they lounged around some velvet-draped castle seducing young women. And the Nick vampire wore a big baggy shirt that he never buttoned all the way so you could see his collarbones. And the Jonas vampire wore buckley boots. No. He wore boots and pants with buckles, that went all the way up his legs like Edward Scissorhands. And sometimes no shirt. Amanda blushed.
She wrote down their names. Nick. Jonas. She scribbled idily after the Nick. Nicholas. Nicki. Nikola. Nikola. She liked Nikola. It sounded like a crazy vampire. He needed something else, though. To make him just a little creepier? A scar? No, that was overdone. A glass eye? No, that was obviously lifted from that weird Christmas special she watched on BBC America a few years ago.
Creepy blond kid. Creepy blond assassin. Creepy blond vampire? Amanda sighed and ruffled her hair and started writing down Nikola's description. She was going to hell anyway, she could cross Nick and that Teatime guy to make a vampire and still not be any worse off. Besides, Nick kinda looked like he was already crossed with that guy. It went with the crazy.
Besides, this was just more of doing something better than the creators she was fed up with. David Borenoaus did not have the "face of an angel", this guy had "the face of an angel"! Even if it did make him more than a little Armond-y. And the one from the book, not the one from the movie. She had nothing against the actor, he simply was nothing like the book at all. Give him the cliché scar. Over the eye, down to the corner of his mouth. And he's have mismatched eyes. One would be beautiful and blue, all light and sparkly; but the one under the scar... that would be... all white. As white as his skin. Oooh, that was good.

The second vampire giggled madly, clinging to the wall like a drunk, his pale gold curls falling into his eyes. But if only they covered his face. It was not that he was an unattractive man, far from it; his face was like an angel or

No, no not THAT phrase! So overused, and for that matter, when Amanda got to the part about his shirt falling off, she wasn't going to use the phrase "alabaster chest".

One of his eyes was the most beautiful blue, dazzling as the sky on the summer day, and the other was a pale, blank white. As white as his skin. His form seemed thin and wasted, and as he clung to the wall, his head

Carrot; his grinning head...

his grinning head lolling on his shoulders like

Wait, what the hell do heads loll like? She was getting too into the taste of the words. It was getting pretty florid. If she wasn't careful, she'd use the word "azure" again. She struck out the "like" and ended the sentence.

It seemed he had stolen his clothing from a man twice his size

That sounded a little too much like L from Death Note. Amanda shrugged. This was for her own amusement anyway.

Dark folds of fabric pooled from his snowy shoulders and

Don't you dare say "alabaster chest". In fact, drop the snowy.

pale shoulders and bared his chest.

Carrot. He's not Fabio.

his thin and sickly chest.
And yet, it was none of this that marred his beauty. It was the tight grin that seemed to extend up to the scar rather than the scar coming down to meet it. He was like a ruined doll, a burned painting; beauty distoried and rent to mere madness.

Sure, the beauty was destroyed. If you didn't think insane vampires were about the hottest thing since fire. And, in Amanda's opinion, that meant you were the crazy one.
Amanda noticed how much she was telling herself that she might as well write whatever came to her head, as she was already going to hell. And she noticed she was giggling about it.
This left Jonas as the third vampire. In her head, Jonas posed.
She couldn't twist "Jonas" into something vampiric enough. If she was going to be silly, she damned well was going to be silly. Jonas. Jonas Keleft. Keleft. Keleft the vampire, with unruly dark hair and dark eyes and oh-so silent demeanor. Oh, yeah. She could work with that. It fit. It fit perfectly.
She thought it too quick to unthink it, and it worked too well to not be written. Amanda bent over her notebook and started again.
So I've got three incredibly hot vampires living in a big castle together. Nothing wrong with this. This isn't cliché. No no no. Amanda scolded herself. I don't want to be ashamed of writing this. This is turning out like some pubescent girl's fantasy. I'm better than that! The authors are too busy thinking "that's so hot!" to apply any logic to it! She paused. The entire story fanned out before her. She hit return a few times and started the notes on a paragraph she'd need to finish later.

"None of you seem at all concerned that my daughter is missing!" screamed

Some town office, but not actually in charge. A magistrate? What, what was a magistrate? She decided to go with some high-ranking clerk. Susanne's father bloomed behind Amanda's eyes. A timid, thin man in a waistcoat, with small glasses balanced on the end of his nose. She paused. And a series of nervous expressions. A flash of headshots ran past her eyes, showing a middle aged man who she couldn't stop from having a small ponytail with a large bow on it; running through a series of expressions: agitation, terror, nervousness, tense, worried. There seemed to be a distinct theme here.
Amanda touched her lips thoughtfully. He came to her so quickly, he must be someone. But though she racked her mind, she couldn't figure out who this person was. Perhaps she'd actually made up a character for once.
The idea was heartening. She looked back at the screen.

the clerk, his lace cuffs flailing as he gesticulated like a madman.
"What part of this are you having trouble understanding?" The magistrate

There was that word again. She really needed to look it up. She couldn't just have a character be a magistrate because she liked the word.

Amanda stood with irritation, stormed to her computer and opened the browser without even sitting down. Before the first page had loaded, she had typed, "define magistrate" in the search bar.
The first result read:
Description of magistrate - American Heritage® Dictionary
NOUN: A civil officer with power to administer and enforce law, as: a. A local member of the judiciary having limited jurisdiction, especially in criminal cases. b. A minor official, such as a justice of the peace, having administrative and limited judicial authority.

Okay, so her father was a clerk having a power struggle with a magistrate. That could fill half a book on it's own. Great. It's not like she could change it now, anything else would just be a pathetic copy thereof. She didn't want this to be too long...
But at the same time, she couldn't leave this out anymore. It was true. The magistrate was trying to cover up girls going missing. But when his own clerk loses his daughter, it becomes this mighty power struggle-- barely touched upon these three hot as anything vampires keeping his daughter, and possibly other girls, trapped by their own lust?
That was good, but keep that logic poking holes in all this nonsense. Why in hell were three damn fine young vampires living in a castle together? Her mind ran through the piles of books and movies she had already saturated it with. Why did Dracula have three beautiful women in his castle? Because they were attractive and he wanted to keep something decorative around? So what if a lady vampire-- or a gay one-- did the same thing and turned Nikoli, Keleft, and Lucifier? Because they were so pretty? But where did that vampire go?
And what would those three do without them?
Amanda really wished she knew. She stared at the paper and sighed.
No one knew. The only hope anyone had of ever knowing was if she wrote down everything she knew about them. She knew Keleft was quiet and Nikoli laughed, and that Suzanne wasn't the first girl to be taken.
She sighed, sharpened her pencil, and copied everything she knew down before she forgot it.

Amanda scribbled passionately into her notebook. She was really on to something there, the new girl was about to find out the horrible truth about Nikola. And she wouldn't be so understanding as Suzanne, either, she'd panic and scream and call him a monster. Maybe she would try to kill him. Maybe she would kill him. That would drive Lucifer and Kelft to such straights, Nikola was their brother. So focused on her writing, Amanda didn't notice the people standing around her until one of them spoke.
"Hey. 'Manda." came a cool voice from about two feet above where she sat.
"Hey, god!" repeated a voice from a lower point but a higher tone. Amanda looked up, then automatically clutched the notebook to her chest. It was one thing to write about boys from your class. Talking to them was another. Doing both at once, oh, that was just dangerous.
Also, they probably had a reason for talking to her. And the "Hey god" suggested they hadn't come over to ask her what the the assignment from third period was.
"...yes?" she asked with as much confidence as she could fake. Nick and Jonas glanced quickly at each other.
"Did you just answer to 'god'?" Jonas asked.
"...no?" she asked nervously. The boys glanced at each other, and suddenly Amanda was terrified. She had never thought of them as a gang, just three boys who didn't like hanging out with the rest of the class. If she had been wrong about that, then basing characters off of them was a very stupid idea.
The boys looked down at her, and she looked up at them. Wind whistled through the leaves of the tree she had been sitting under, and only now, not distracted by her writing, she noticed that the bricks of the planter were cutting into her legs. There was very little comfortable about this situation. And she never realized quite how tall Jonas was until he dropped closer to her, his eyes darting back and forth across the school's courtyard as he spoke.
"So, you're into chests?" Nick asked. Amanda blinked.
"Pardon?"
"There's some things that you wrote..."
"Oh, yes." she answered quickly. s**t. "About those..."
"Jonas, back off." Lugh laughed. "She thinks you're going to kill her."
"Bite her neck, like?" Nick laughed. Amanda tried to edge backward surreptitiously.
"Can you tell me who Sansa is?" Jonas asked seriously.
"Uh... well..." Amanda flustered, clutching the notebook. She wasn't used to people coming up and talking to her, and she had the feeling most people
"Jonas thinks it's someone in the school." Nick explained.
"Nick, shut up." Jonas scolded with that muffled manner only embarrassed teenage boys get.
"I think it's a little disturbing, personally." Nick commented idly, dropping to the planter beside her. "I mean, in a way, you're kinda fantasizing about us sucking-"
"Actually, there hasn't been much sucking at all." Lugh cut in. "I've really been waiting for it."
"I- I- um," she stuttered, glancing at Nick. Nick smirked at her. She leaned away from him slightly. He raised an eyebrow.
"So I am that scary?"
"Duh." his friends chorused.
"How... how did you guys find out about this?" she asked.
"Dude, you posted it on your blog." Nick smirked.
"But... but no one reads my blog!" Amanda protested.
"Or so you thought." Lugh replied. He gestured to his friends who stood on either side of him. "May I introduce to you the three biggest fans of the writing of Amanda Boswick."
"How did you even find it?" Amanda asked. Nick and Lugh smiled and turned slowly to Jonas. He glanced back at them and frowned slightly.
"Oh, like you've never googled your name." he muttered.
"Yeah, but we don't get linked to the Disney Channel when we do." Nick smirked.
"Hence my only Googling my last name." Jonas answered sharply.
"Y'know, you kind look like-" Lugh started.
"Dude, shut up." Jonas snapped, turning sharply towards him. Lugh raised his eyebrows and smirked at Amanda.
"Are they always like this?" she asked. He either scoffed with a rather large smile or laughed and was ashamed by it.

The months passed in the way they only can in high school. The small group of friends didn't really notice the difference, being caught up in what they were doing.
They called them "Hell's Quartet", a rather good play on what they used to call them and the fact there were now four of them. Still, they didn't say it to their faces. The girl that now hung out with them seemed to fit perfectly in that silly lineup slow-motion walking down the halls together, the long black skirts she tended to wear flaring out like their long hair and coats.
They were never really sure which one she was dating. But they were sure she was dating one of them.
The vampire jokes persisted.
Amanda kept writing, but not about Susanne, Keleft, Nikola, and Lucifer. But she did keep a record of their adventures over late-night roleplaying chats.