Abigail Rath Versus Bloodsucking Fiends

by Catherine Schaff-Stump

  “No,” said Marty.

  I raised my eyebrows. “You know…”

  Coral winked at Marty. “Like you and Vince.”

  Marty turned reddish-purple and her ears glowed like Rudolph’s nose. “Okay,” she said. “But come back. We’re going to play truth or dare.”

  I could have shifted the whole hostage dynamic if I had decided to come clean with the slumber party about what was going on. My assumption was people would panic. These were people who were here in spite of anything they might have seen at school. They didn’t want to know about vampire reality. “See you in a mo’.” I grabbed my backpack and my duffle bag.

  I climbed the stairs to the landing and moved into the room on the right. The living room was the boring white of people who wanted to be fashionable and could manage a white room because they didn’t have kids or pets. It was not the wisest color for vampires. Wine could also be a problem in rooms like this.

  Of course, my backpack was filled with the usual accoutrements. There was no way I was going to a slumber party at a vampire’s house without my monster hunting stuff. I slid out my flashlight and my crucifix and I stealthed up the stairs. The carpet was the super plush kind Mr. Christopher had, once again pointing to a moneyed vampire family. Once the living room was secured, I crossed the landing again and made my way to the kitchen.

  The kitchen was as white and polite as the living room, a sure sign of lack of use. I glimpsed in the fridge. Fairly minimal. Probably enough food for a Renfield. No emergency blood supply. Then again, they couldn’t keep it up here. No sign of the housekeeper. I was being given run of the house. Someone was expecting me.

  I ran up the second flight of stairs, emerged into the hallway, and shined my flashlight down the gloomy hall. No windows up here. Marty was leaning against the wall. She must have snuck by me while I was checking out the kitchen. I started.

  “What are you doing up here?” I asked.

  “Coral sent me to get you. We’re having pizza. Aren’t you hungry?”

  What had Coral been thinking? “Not too much.”

  Marty stepped away from the wall. “You’re acting weird, Abby.”

  “This surprises you why?”

  “I mean more than usual. What’s going on?”

  The best defense is a good offense. “You snuck out. Coral didn’t send you.”

  “So what?” said Marty. “Something’s going on with you. What is it?”

  Now Marty had to develop backbone. “Just trying to find some time, you know, with my boyfriend.” Urgh.

  “Okay.” She walked toward the stairs. “Except you keep telling me, always, you aren’t interested in a boyfriend. Why now? Why Austin Von Trapp?”

  “Because I’m thirteen?” Not the best improv ever.

  “You would have told me about it, not dropped it on me tonight.”

  “I’m reserved,” I said.

  “You can’t shut up when you’re excited about something,” Marty said.

  “You know we went out.”

  “Vince told me it was a disaster.”

  “Abby,” said William. “Why don’t you just tell her?”

  I jumped. William was right behind us. Crap on a cracker.

  “Tell me what?” Marty said.

  “Where’s Ned?” I asked.

  “Come find out,” said William. He disappeared behind a door. We followed him in. No Ned. The door closed. I swallowed hard. Now Marty and I were both here, and William was thirsty. I took a deep breath. I needed to stay calm.

  William’s bedroom could have belonged to me, if I’d had more money to spend on collectibles. There were Fangoria posters, models from Universal movies on shelves close to the ceiling, and a cool alarm clock that was the head of the Wolfman. I bet it howled. Old Abby from two weeks ago might have been thinking about lifting the Wolfman after William was slain. Old Abby was an idiot. I couldn’t help myself. I gawked and William looked pleased. “Pretty cool, right?”

  I looked at the tickets displayed in a frame on the wall. “You’ve gone to all these?”

  “Sure,” said William. He was trying to maneuver between Marty and me. So not happening.

  One ticket caught my eye. “Premiere of The Blob? Nineteen fifty-eight. What was that like?”

  “Nineteen fifty-eight? Stupider. More hair cream.”

  Marty asked again. “Tell me what?”

  At this point, it was more dangerous to not tell Marty than to tell her. “Marty, I’m gonna make this concise.” One of our new vocabulary words from English class. It means to use no more information than necessary. Many people think it means short. “Coral and William are vampires.”

  “I’d guessed about Coral.”

  I blinked. Well, she wasn’t blind, was she? “Well, Coral is troubled, but probably okay. William, on the other hand, is bad like yesterday’s boy band.”

  William frowned. “That’s not cool.”

  “You are not cool, William. Where’s Ned?”

  “In trouble. So are you, really. You aren’t leaving here alive.”

  Marty backed up to the door. The doorknob rattled, and I heard the door open. “We’re leaving, Austin Von Trapp.”

  “Yeah. They’re leaving. Marty and our classmates are going to leave here, and then all of us members of the community will have a conversation.”

  “Abby, that’s not what I meant,” Marty whispered. “I meant all of us.”

  I painted on a smile I hoped communicated assurance. She didn’t have to know about the fluttering in my stomach. “I can handle a pipsqueak vampire like William.”

  “No one’s going anywhere.”

  “Sure they are, Willie.” Maybe I shouldn’t poke at the vampire with a sharp stick, but I just couldn’t help myself. “You’re going to let them go. You’ve still got Ned. That’s enough to make me do what you say. No reason to drag all these other folks into our parents’ private vendetta. Not that your mom is really your mom.”

  William’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “You know, it’s not like once you’re dead, you can have kids.”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure I do. You’re going to give me a sad-eyed master vampire bonding speech, but it’s not like real parents, right?”

  “He’s a tool?” said Marty.

  “Like a wrench,” I said. “But I give you my word, William, that if you let the slumber party leave, I’ll stay.”

  William rubbed his chin. “I don’t know. I was always kind of wanting a vampire harem like the head vampire always has in the films.”

  Suddenly I too doubted the wholesomeness of old horror films on the young. The young-appearing. “That’s my deal. Take it or leave it.”

  “You’re in no position to deal.”

  “You know I am. I may be one monster hunter, but you’ve let me keep my gear because in your mind I am no threat. Mistake. I can set your collectibles on fire in a matter of seconds.”

  “You wouldn’t—”

  “Destroy such priceless, irreplaceable paraphernalia? Usually you’d be right. However, since I’m not shallow, there are some things more important to me than your ticket collection. You have thirty seconds to choose.”

  We stared each other down, me doing my best to appear like I was on the edge of desperation. Not too far of a stretch.

  With a careless shrug, the action of dismissal from boys from any time, he said, “All right. They can go.”

  We needed to act on that before Larissa, the head vampire, realized what was happening. “Marty, go downstairs. I’ll be right there.”

  Marty started down the stairs. William grabbed my arm. I dropped my duffle bag. “No, Abby. You stay with me.”

  “Let me go!”

  He grabbed my hair and wrapped it around his fist and he bit me, his teeth piercing my neck. There’s supposed to be some narcotic effect, but it just hurt.

  “You…vampire!” I elbowed him in the stomach. Air wheeze
d out of William and he doubled over. I shot out the door and flowed down the stairs. Marty was facing down Housekeeper Renfield in the kitchen, who watched her, folding towels. Marty had a deer in the headlights kind of look.

  Blood trickled down my neck and itched like crazy. William was hot on my heels. I reached in my backpack and took out the XP-215, and arced a couple of streams of religious vengeance in William’s direction.

  “Grab her, Florence!”

  Florence, the Renfield, grabbed me around the waist with her powerful arms. Serving the undead can make you pretty tough. I kicked at her, but she was like a brickwall. Marty backed away.

  “Downstairs,” William said, using his echoey vampire voice. Marty opened the door just enough and slipped into the basement.

  William walked forward. I expect his nibble on my neck was what was making him look a little fangy. “You’re mine now,” said William.

  “What’s your problem, William? Coral would never do this because Larissa told her to.”

  “Coral is broken. I like being a vampire.”

  Great. He probably pulled the wings off fireflies when he was little. Now I was the firefly.

  I had one more idea. Chances were, Larissa had a plan. Vampires in charge were more obsessive than the usual ones. I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Larissa!”

  One look from William and a large hand smelling like Pine-Sol clamped over my mouth. Florence tilted my head to the side, and William took a loving look at my tender human flesh, which is so creepy in the movies. Believe me, it’s much creepier in real life. His mouth plunged.

  Then he was bodychecked. Larissa knocked him aside and he pounded into the linoleum. Coral’s head peeked through a crack in the basement door. One look from Larissa and she went back down.

  “What did I tell you?” Larissa studied me, but she was talking to William.

  “You said I could have her!”

  “I said after.”

  “No,” he said. “I want her to be mine, not his.”

  “William, if you want me to destroy you, just keep this up.”

  That was probably an underused parental threat. William shut up and sulked by the counter.

  She turned her attention to me. “Now, little girl, your father killed my sister. I’ve killed his wife. I want you to live, to remind your father of how he failed you.” She nodded at Florence, who removed her hand.

  “My father is going to save me!” I said.

  “Oh, he’ll be much too late for that,” she said. “Maybe you will kill your father for me?”

  I tried to wriggle out of Florence’s grip, but she squeezed tighter like an anaconda. William helped truss me up like a turkey with clothesline nylon, and then William disappeared downstairs. Florence flung me over her shoulder like a sack of laundry and they carried me to another part of the house. I did not make it easy on them at all, until Larissa slapped me a couple of times to keep me quiet. I didn’t pass out, but I was going to have a black eye and some awful bruises.

  I’d like to say I was defiant and I spit at them, but I was horrified. When they started tying me up, I started shouting. That’s when they stuffed my mouth with a tea towel and cinched open my jaw with another one. That really hurt. The nylon rope was too tight around my ankles.

  When we got to the room where they were stashing me, Larissa stood by while Florence cut the clothesline to bits. I spat out the dishtowel and coughed.

  “Ned,” said Larissa. “Dinner.”

  They closed and locked the door behind them.

  I looked around me. The room had been used for bad stuff. There were some scary stains on the carpet, and some broken furniture. An old exercise bike sat against one wall by a stack of dead bean bag chairs. A dim light made creepy shadows on the walls. I creaked upright and turned around. From behind a shabby couch, the arms of which looked like they had been shredded by long nails or claws came whimpering.

  I wasn’t in the room alone. Backing away from the couch, I shuddered and blinked away tears. I had to keep my head. I had to be ready for any opportunity.

  “Abby?” My name, somewhere half between a growl and a human voice. Red eyes glared at me over the top of the couch. Ned, ghoulish, suffering from more damage and the silver still inside of him. All his instincts would tell him my blood was the best way for him to take care of his damage. Ned launched himself at me. I screamed and waited for Ned to kill me.

  Instead, Ned pushed me away and I landed on the other side of the room. I hit the wall and fell on top of the exercise bike. My shoulders vibrated with pain. Ned looked away from me. He beat on the wall and growled. He wanted to eat me, but he was trying not to.

  I scooted toward the bean bags. It was funny how your mind plays tricks on you. Old Abby resurfaced for just a second, telling me how stupid I was for not having killed Ned. Yet, the only reason Ned was here was because he was trying to help my friends, and because Larissa was a much tougher vampire. If Ned hadn’t been looking after Coral, who knows what would have happened?

  I glanced back at Ned after a terrifying snarl. His eyes glowed red, like in a bad picture. I wasn’t going to think about savage vampire Ned. I found the zipper I was looking for on the bean bag cover. I tugged on the zipper, but I wasn’t getting enough side traction. Ned lurched across the room. I jerked the zipper open. Little plastic beads spilled onto the stained carpet. It had been a long time since a bean bag chair was stuffed with beans, but there were little beads and they needed counting.

  Ned got busy, and I cried, shaking in relief. I shook more beads out of the chair when it became obvious Ned wasn’t going to suck me dry. I moved away from him ever so carefully, although my body was rubbery and not cooperative. Ned snarled in frustration, but kept counting. I limped to the door.

  No way I was waiting for Ned to run out of beads. The lock wasn’t a deadbolt. I found Ned’s army jacket behind the couch and rifled through the pockets. Ancient wallet. Bingo. Learner’s permit.

  I wedged it into the door, just like Ned had showed me on the roof of the Galleria, impossible to do at first, with adrenaline and nerves. Eventually it worked. The door opened.

  No one was guarding the door. Why would they need to? I should have been incapacitated. I locked the door behind Ned. He’d be busy with those beads for quite a while. I moved down the hall, trying to make as little noise as possible. I radiated pain from my shoulders, my legs, and my head. I headed back to the kitchen.

  I grabbed a chef’s knife from a butcher block and stashed myself in a hall closet. I wouldn’t think about Ned counting beads, or what might be going on in the basement. I wouldn’t think about Mr. Christopher dying slowly of rowan poisoning, or my mom in the hospital, machines keeping her alive.

  Time to take action. I grabbed another chef’s knife from a drawer and headed into the basement. I wasn’t going all ninja or anything. I would use the two knives as a cross if I had to.

  I opened the door to the basement and caught the tail end of Larissa’s sentence. “—your daughter is already one of us.”

  “Then there’s nothing to keep me from killing you.”

  Dad? I took the stairs one at a time, waiting to be discovered after each step. When I reached the bottom, I peered around the corner. Larissa’s back was to me. No slumber party girls, no Coral, no Marty. Florence lay in a corner, slumped against the wall. Face off, Dad and Vince on one side, Larissa on the other. Dad looked a little worse for wear, but Vince looked pretty fresh.

  Vince saw me, but he exercised a pretty good poker face. I crept forward.

  By the time she smelled me, it was too late. Larissa whirled, and I rammed the two crossed knife blades into her chest.

  She hissed.

  This was the point where Dad would have shot her with his crossbow. However, I had made that impossible. Instead, his expert aim drove a stake right through her heart, and he followed up with a mallet. Larissa fell on top of me, me still holding the makeshift cross, her body pinning my arms.

  I
n the movies, sometimes, vampires age and powder instantly. Larissa smoked. I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see this close up. There was heat, not flames, but the kind of heat that you get when you get too close to the fireplace. I pushed, and bits of her came off.

  “Abby!” Dad pulled what was left of her off me, and then I was enfolded in the smell of his hunting coat, Old Spice and wool. Safe. I was safe.

  “Mr. Rath,” said Vince.

  Dad pulled away. He dabbed at his eyes with a Kleenex that Vince handed him.

  “Um...Ned’s gonna need some blood,” I squeaked to Vince. My jaw didn’t work right. “He’s counting out a bean bag upstairs, but that won’t hold him.”

  Dad pulled me in again. I couldn’t breathe, and I was worried about Florence in the corner. “Dad.” My voice was muffled, so I know he didn’t hear me. “Dad. It’s gonna be okay.” I would freak out later, but right now I comforted my dad.

  Dad had been waylaid by William while Larissa was taking care of Ned, but he was not hurt enough to keep him from finding Vince at Mr. Christopher’s. The two of them had come here to find me.

  Now I watched, detached, as Vince tied up Florence. She would be arrested by the police, probably on kidnapping charges. The slumber party witnesses would see to that. Coral and Marty had gotten my classmates away, at least that’s what Coral told me when she came back to help Dad clean up. She found some blood for Ned, and after drinking three pints, Ned fell asleep.

  Me? Once Coral gave the all clear, Marty came back, and she wouldn’t leave my side. Vince helped my dad, but he kept stopping over to make sure we were both okay. I knew I looked pretty rough, and I did hurt. I was wearing one of the tops Coral had helped me buy at the mall and it had melting Larissa all over it. “I didn’t like it anyway,” said Coral, as she lent me a shirt. When everything was more or less in hand, Dad sent me to the Coopers, and I slept an entire day.

  The next afternoon, in bed at the Coopers, after I’d been band-aided and aspercremed and given some chicken soup, I finally realized the difference between a monster and not a monster. Monsters don’t have to be bloody or terrible or even supernatural. They don’t have to be scary, come with fangs or claws, or fly, or turn into mists. What made a monster was if they did bad things to other people. Everyone else was not a monster.