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Eric Yorkie, The Van Helsing of Forks

Vampires have come to Forks, and only one person can possibly stop them. That would be me. I am Eric Yorkie, the Van Helsing of Forks. The True Adventures of a Vampire Hunter. A Twilight AU JokesonJane made this awesome banner

I don't own Twilight.

4. Chapter 4 Where Secrets Are Revelaed

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The most important thing to remember when hunting vampires is this: don't let them know you know what they are. They will immediately go on the offensive. You're much better off picking when to force a confrontation and eradication than letting them decide. -From The Diary of a Vampire Hunter by Eric Yorkie


Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. That's all I can think. Cullen knows. Edward Cullen knows. He knows I know. Now I know that he knows that I know.

I am sure of it. I am running down the school corridor for my life because a vampire knows I have his number.

It's been sunny the last couple of days, and the Cullens haven't been around−camping is the official explanation, but I know what BS that is. Hunting is a more likely explanation−the hunting of humans' variety. Despite the setback at First Beach, I am determined to keep my course: to expose the Cullens for what they are before the people of Forks start showing up dead, or even worse, undead.

I was all set to go over Mike's on Monday, but he suddenly decided to ask Jessica out to dinner. I'm wondering if he's been hypnotized by Edward to stay away from Bella; maybe Edward doesn't want the competition. I finally get over there on Tuesday to check out Starcraft II. Even Ben is there, since the girls had all decided to go to Port Angeles to go dress-shopping. I'd heard Bella was even going, though why she would want a dress, I don't know. If she's not going to the Sadie Hawkins dance, perhaps she wants one for a vampire wedding or something. Bella dressed like Morticia Addams could be pretty hot. Emmett with a shaved head would make a pretty good Uncle Fester. Jasper could be Lurch; they both have that bouncing, ebullient personality.

Anyway, Starcraft is everything the guys said it would be, and I'm doing pretty well on it until the lava smokes me. It really is a very cool game. It makes me wonder if I should change the focus of the game I'm developing into something like Vampires In Space.

This morning, I'm sitting in the parking lot with Tyler, who is still driving that piece-of-shit van. We've renamed it the Rattletrap, because a) it is now more of a deathtrap than ever, and b) since the accident it rattles like bobble-head in a hurricane. As we are talking over game strategies, Rosalie's red convertible comes squealing into the parking lot. Four−just four−of the Cullens get out. Rosalie looks so good coming out of that car, the visuals are enough to give me wanking material for days. Really, I can replay it in slo-mo in my head−the way she slides those long legs out of the car, the way she tosses her hair or bends over slightly to close the car door. It's just too much temptation−like waving a bottle of Jack Daniels at an AA meeting or a centerfold at an Eagle Scout troop.

We are still sitting there when Edward shows up in his Volvo, and Bella's in his car. He opens the car door for her, and she gets out, all blushing and self-conscious, sneaking glances at us while we all watch with our jaws scraping the ground.

"Is that Bella getting out of Edward Cullen's car?" Tyler asks, sotto voce.

"Yeah," Mike grumbles dejectedly. "I can't believe it."

"Me, neither," Tyler says bitterly. "I was sure he was gay."

Mike looks at Tyler over his shoulder. "What do you care? Gonna ask him for a date?"

"Nah, man." Tyler smirks. "Your father wants his phone number." This prompts a round of badly done kung-fu fighting between Mike and Tyler. They try to involve me but my heart just isn't in it, so I push off and head toward the school.

Bella is wearing Edward's jacket, I'm sure of it, because two minutes later Jessica waylays them on the way to class, gives Bella her real jacket, and Bella gives Edward the one she was wearing. I don't know what the hell is going on, but Bella is all blushing and goofy with this dreamy look in her eyes, and I'm sure that she is now completely under a vampire spell. A teenage vampire spell.

God, could there be anything more dangerous to adolescent girls than a teenage vampire? Poor Bella, he's probably already boinked her six ways from Sunday. I swear I can see her limping a little bit, like she's so sore she can hardly walk. The poor girl, she really needs to be rescued from him.

I'm watching this exchange from across the schoolyard when Bella turns away to head for class. All of a sudden Cullen stops like he's been hit by a freight train. He pivots on his heel and stares in my direction. He looks at me curiously, tilting his head a little like he's listening to something or like a dog will when you do something unexpected.

Those damn vampire eyes capture me from across the courtyard, and I am pretty much stuck in my shoes like they're nailed down. I'm mesmerized by those yellow irises surrounded by his freakishly pale skin and that square Captain America jaw. It's so obvious he's undead now that I know what it is I'm truly seeing. I stare at him, dumbfounded, with an expression that would make Jason Stackhouse look like a rocket scientist, and it's only the sound of my books hitting the ground as they slide out of my hand that breaks the spell.

I snap out of it, startled by the thud of my books, and bend down to pick them up. I glance back up at Cullen, and his expression slides from neutral curiosity to focused concentration. He's looking at me with those feral eyes as if he wants to pin me down like a biology frog and dissect me.

I kneel and gather my books, but I keep my eyes on him. I know what you are, I think. Vampire.

Understanding blossoms in his eyes.

Holyshit on a stick, somehow he heard that. My heart jumps in my throat. His eyes narrow, and his eyebrows draw down−not a good sign. Mr. He takes a step toward me.

That's enough for me.I've just managed to piss off a vampire. Way to go, Yorkie. Suddenly it occurs to me that maybe my current strategy has not been the best. The only person that knows the Cullens are vampires is me. They get rid of me, and they're all golden.

"Eric!" Cullen calls to me, but I take off like a bat out of hell and enter the first building door I can. I look behind me and catch a glimpse of him heading this way just as the door closes. He's coming after me! Holy fucking fangs, Batman!

I start running down the hall, now emptying as people get into their first class, and turn down the nearest corridor available. I take a couple of other turns, trying to lose him, when I hear the bell announcing first class. I'm alone in the hall when I hear footsteps coming this way. Crap, oh crap, oh crap. This is a dead-end corridor. Besides the locked back door to the gym, there's only a janitor's closet in this hall. Into the closet I go.

My heart is pounding so loud, I'm sure he can hear it through the walls. I'm standing in the middle of a small closet with perhaps the dirtiest utility sink I have ever seen and a sordid collection of the foulest smelling mops and brooms ever to call themselves janitorial supplies. Jesus, it's no wonder our school never looks clean; how could it when they use this shit to clean it with? But I hear the thwap thwap of leather shoes approaching, and I know how trapped rats feel.

This is it. God, I'm going to die, aren't I? I'm thinking it sucks; damn, I haven't even ever gotten laid. The closest I've come is feeling up Jessica Stanley in a closet at Mike's fourteenth birthday party. Seven minutes of heaven should not be the only sex I get before actually going to heaven. It's just so freaking unfair.

I'm holding my breath. The footsteps get closer and closer until they stop right outside the door. I grab a mop; it's the only defensive weapon I can see. My knuckles get white with the grip I have on the thing. I wait, ready to spring, as the door slowly opens.

"HA!" I yell, jumping from my place and spearing the mop into the face of my attacker. "You won't eat me without a fight, you spawn of Satan!"

Mr. Sidarski, the school custodian, throws his hands up in the air with a strangled cry as I mistakenly shove the mop in his face.

"Arrrrgggghh," he yells, stepping backwards as I stumble out of the closet, trying to stop my forward momentum that I was going to use for attack purposes. Mr. Sidarski, who is as round as he is tall, steps aside and grabs convulsively at his chest as I stumble onto the floor.

"Jesus, kid, what are you doing?" he gasps when he can catch his breath.

"I thought you were someone else," I say lamely, rising from my sprawl.

"Christ, you kids are gonna give me a heart attack." He snatches the mop out of my hand. "And leave my stuff alone!"

I stand there, my heart still pounding and wondering where Edward Cullen has gone. "I-I'm sorry."

"Go on," Mr. Sidarski growls. "You've had your fun. Get to class."

"Um, yeah. Good idea," I take off for history, leaving him muttering about lack of respect and days until retirement. Hey, if he really had been a vampire, I'd have gotten him good.

I stop by the office to get a late slip and finally slide behind my desk. Emmett's in this class, but he completely ignores me; apparently, Edward hasn't told him yet that I have discovered their dirty secret. It's just a matter of time though, before the whole coven hears I know the horror they have been hiding.

I'm fucked. I know I am. Seven vampires versus me. I'm wracking my brain trying to think of some way to survive this week. Come on, Yorkie. Work, brain, work.

As Mr. Devin winds up class, I pick through my books and notes, still in shambles from when I dropped them when Forks' own undead Casanova was chasing me. I'm one of the last students to leave class, and I walk out dejectedly because I have no plan for what to do next.

"Eric…" I hear a malevolent, sibilant hiss as I leave the classroom. Voldemort should sound so evil.

"Wha-a-a!" I yell, nearly jumping out of my skin and turning in one swift move. Edward is leaning against the lockers, apparently waiting for me like a lion at a zebra's watering hole.

"Oh, God," I say, backing up. "What do you want?"

He holds out my English homework. "I just wanted to give you this. You dropped it in the courtyard." He has the most sincere smile on his face, and that's how I know he's up to something because he has never smiled at anybody for anything. Well, not before Bella came, anyway.

I'm afraid to look him in the eyes. He might dazzle me or something, and I don't know what he's doing for lunch, but I don't want to be on the menu.

I sidle towards him, one small step at a time, until I can snatch my homework out of his hand. "Um, thanks," I mutter.

"Sure, Eric. Anytime."

Oh, he's a clever one−you bet. Actually being nice to someone, like that's gonna get him somewhere. I take off down the hall but glance over my shoulder before I turn the corner. He's watching me, and he's still smiling. Creepy.

I stumble through the next few classes, barely able to think.

When lunchtime comes, I'm one of the first people in line. My best bet for protection right now is the cover of other people. As long as there are witnesses, I should be safe from outright attack. It's not like Edward would kill a whole classroom of kids just for one meal, right?

I snag our usual table. Across the cafeteria, I can see Edward and his "siblings" come in. As one big pasty-faced group, they go through the lunch line, getting their 'play' food. Edward grabs the table he was sitting at with Bella before, and the rest of them drift to their usual spot. Bella joins Edward. I shake my head, thinking, Girl, you are well on your way to having vampire babies, no doubt. Or vampire eggs, or something equally repulsive.

The rest of the crew joins me, and it's the usual combination of gossip from the ladies, plans for the weekend and horsing around. I try to join in, but I'm just not feeling it.

"Geez, Yorkie, what did you do to the Cullens?" Lauren asks, picking through her salad.

I stiffen immediately. "Why?"

She chews and swallows. "They've been looking over here at you like you're dinner."

Oh, truer words were never spoken. I glance over my shoulder, and while Edward and Bella are wrapped up in their own little world, the rest of the Cullens are all staring right at me. Alice gives me a shy little wave while Jasper cocks an eyebrow with a slight nod, and Emmett just has a big shit-eating grin. Yeah, and I'm the shit. I groan and put my head on the table.

Remarkably, I manage to avoid the Cullens the rest of the day, and I make it home alive in the afternoon. When I boot up my computer, there's another email message for me from Vampire Hunters, Inc. They want to know just how much I am willing to offer for them to make a trip up here. Somehow, this operation is sounding less and less reliable. I offer them two hundred dollars, my total net worth, and hit 'send'.

Meanwhile, it is time to go for the nuclear option. There is one thing that holds off vampires, regardless of type: the cross. I need a crucifix, preferably silver. However, where to get one is a problem. My mother does Shinto, and my dad is a lapsed Protestant. It's not like I've got Jesus hanging on the walls.

I'm sure there are stores in Seattle or on the internet that have the kind of thing I have in mind. Problem is, I need it now. Until I get a handle on this thing, my own safety is paramount and poor Bella is unknowingly falling prey to who knows what kind of ugly machinations and undead sex.

My sister, Jennifer, throws open the door to my bedroom. Of course, knocking on it first would be a foreign concept to her. "Hey, Eric," she says. Just by the fact that she's calling me Eric, instead of twerp or dickface or a thousand other derogatory terms, tells me she wants a favor.

"What do you want?" I ask suspiciously.

She comes in and sits on my bed. She looks a lot like my mother, petite and dainty, but don't let that fool you. Her language could blister paint off walls. Her hair is the coolest thing about her. It's all spiky with red and blue streaks. She's wearing at least three shirts and a skirt and leggings and tights, enough clothes to outfit a handful of the homeless. "I'm supposed to meet Heather and Michele tomorrow. I need you to meet Danny's bus in the afternoon."

Thursday is when my mother volunteers at the library, so she can't do it. My brother Danny goes to a special needs school in Bogachiel. They drop him off over on Route 101, and he needs someone to walk him home. I suppose I could do it, as long as I am still alive. "What's in it for me?" I ask.

"God, Eric," she spits out. "Can't you ever just do me a favor?"

I look at her skeptically. "The last time I wanted a ride over Mike's house you charged me ten bucks. A taxi would have been cheaper."

"Alright, alright. Next time you need a ride, you got credit."

I have her on the run now. She must be desperate. "Next two times," I argue craftily.

"No way," she protests.

"Okay," I say, turning back to the computer. "I suppose Heather and Michele can have fun without you."

I don't hear anything from behind me while she thinks it over. "You suck; you know that, don't you?"

"Maybe, but in a good way," I say evenly. As differentiated from a bad way which would be sucking blood.

"Deal," she says reluctantly. I watch her and her assorted clothing leave the room.

It hits me then, of course. She has a crucifix. She was Madonna for Halloween last year−early Madonna, like a virgin Madonna. I remember she had this huge crucifix necklace. I scramble to my feet.

"Jen!" I yell down the stairs, but she has already left. Out the front window, I can see her car backing down the driveway and she's off.

Surely she'd give up a piece of jewelry for the life of her brother? Probably not, but I don't let that stop me. She has a huge bunch of necklaces hanging off the clothes rack in her room. She'll never even notice that it's missing.

I sneak it back to my room. It's about five inches long, and although it might be silver-colored, judging by its weight in my hand it's not metal. The figure on it is pretty cheesy; it makes me think of Monty Python, but it should do the trick. I slip it around my neck and under my tee shirt. When I check in the mirror to see if it's visible, I realize it makes it look like I have some spiky chest deformity. But it better give me the protection I need.

Because I am going to need a lot of protection, and not the kind you find in a Trojan box.