I scooted after William. He reached the orange cones and ramped a sharp turn. I poured it on. I was gaining, which is impressive when you’re not a supernatural creature racing against one.
I was close enough. Lunging forward, I pushed William back to the cone barrier and the exposed railings.
In a flash, William was in my face. “Predictable, Abby. You want to spear me on the rails? Like in Highway to Hades, 1997?” William turned us around and pushed backwards. We barreled the cones and the exposed metal at incredible speed.
“This is going to hurt,” William said, “and I’m okay with that.”
We burst through the cones, my back heading for the exposed rails. I crossed one foot over the other, tripping myself. I landed hard on a slab of concrete. William hit the metal pole and impaled himself. Was he staked?
William laughed. “What are the odds of staking me through the heart in one try? About zero. Too easy,
Abigail Rath.”
He flew at me and grabbed me under the shoulders. On the way up, he sliced open my backpack with his long nails. We rose toward the Ferris wheel, toward the giant bat. “You lose,” he said, poised above the roller coaster. A set of cars thundered on the track below us.
I plucked a falling vial from my shredded bag out of the sky. “Guess again.” I threw the holy water and his hands flew up to wipe it out of his eyes.
He dropped me and I fell toward the roller coaster track.
My arms scrabbled. I didn’t want to die. Plummeting toward the track, I could see the ground underneath.
Whoosh! There was a rumble under me, and some screaming, and I found myself lying across two people. One set of arms clamped around me immediately. My right arm felt like it was full of glass. I had fallen into a roller coaster cart, and I wasn’t dead. What were the odds of me falling into a roller coaster cart scooting along at city traffic speeds? About a hundred percent. It hurt, but I knew how lucky I was.
I couldn’t move my right arm. My stomach, full of panic and adrenaline, roiled.
“Get off!” screamed a girl, her ponytail flapping behind her.
Like that was going to happen. I held on with my good hand, and her boyfriend grabbed me. I was glad the West Coaster was a nice, mild coaster, and it didn’t turn upside down.
We skidded to the end of the ride, and park security was waiting for me. Stunned, I moved off the cart, right into their hands.
“What happened?” an officer asked.
I’m sure he wanted to know where I’d come from. “I broke my arm.”
William flew in through the exit of the coaster. He grabbed a piece of corrugated metal from the wall and peeled off the sheet. The metal whipped and waved, and he threw it at the group of the security guards and me.
“Get down!” I yelled.
The metal sheet slapped two security guards to the ground, and twisted from the blow. I bent backwards, and the metal sailed over me. Dethroned or not, I was still the limbo queen.
My arm pulsed like flashing police lights. I ignored the pain, even though my stomach kept trying to bring it to my attention. I stumbled into the park. William, now in full blown Nosferatu Junior mode, flew out after me, scattering parkgoers in his wake.
“Why won’t you just die?”
Because I didn’t want to. Because Abigail Rath, monster hunter, was not going to die at the hands of a glittery hasbeen, spoiled brat vampire.
I weaved into the line for the Sea Dragon, the ship swing next to the Ferris wheel. Just beyond the line to ride, there was a silver box, padlocked, with thick black cables snaking out of it. I heard the attendant yell at me, but I didn’t care. I crawled under one of the guard chains and stood by the silver box.
William hit the box with incredible force. Blue electricity sparked from it, and I moved as far away as I could. Wouldbe riders scattered. William trembled and arced with power, smoke rolling off him. Finally, the power in the park died, the rides shorting out, the lights going off. Only the Ferris wheel was left to see by. Good old solar powered Ferris wheel.
Was William still standing? I heard a voice beside me. “Nice. Scars of Dracula, 1970. Good emulation of a lightning strike. But no go.”
Panic and the crowds cut off my exit. William had me. I hoped Vince had gotten away with Marty.
The Ferris wheel shifted from the bat, spun in a multicolored spiral, and became a pinwheel. Then it solidified into something like a giant cross, Gothic, mostly gold, with lots of LED blue and green shooting through it. William shouted, and began to smoke.
“Didn’t see that one coming,” said William. “Brides of Dracula, 1960. The windmill effect.” I stepped away from him. He fell to the ground and crumbled to powder.
I slumped to the concrete, my energy giving out. “Looks like the white knight came through.”
There wasn’t enough of William left to hear me.
Vince, wielding the silver bat and a holy water squirt gun, found me. “Abby? Are you okay?”
“No,” I shook my head. “How did you know about the cross? You haven’t seen Brides of Dracula.”
“Your dad told me the vampire in that one gets killed with a windmill that becomes a cross. Last year, on the first night of the new Ferris wheel, there was a pattern that was like a cross. When you hang out with monster hunters, you remember things like that. I got the operator to freeze it at the cross,” Vince said.
“I thought he was mind-controlled.”
“Marty snapped out of it, so I figured something was up with William. I made for the control booth, and asked the guy to run that sequence. After being bit by William, he was happy to help.”
“How did you know it would work on William?”
“My bracelet did, right? And William is a sucker for a classic horror film. The belief thing must work both ways.”
“Good work, Vince. I could use some help now.” I planned to lay off vampire films for a little while.
There comes a time in every girl’s romantic life when they decide to move on. Last week’s boy isn’t this week’s boy. Even though, just two short weeks ago, Vince had rescued Marty with much derring-do, Marty had decided Vince was no longer the boy in her life. Now she saw the world of vampires as dark and mysterious, and she was crushing big time on Ned. And oh, let me tell you, Ned was avoiding Marty. He hardly ever worked the Saturday night shift any more, except when it was unavoidable.
In the meanwhile, Coral crushed on Vince. And Vince was hopelessly in love with Marty.
That’s right. Not me.
Now, Coral was asking me to help her with Vince, and Vince was asking me to help him with Marty, and Marty was asking me to help her with Ned, and Ned and I were just hiding from all of these crazy people.
At Kaplan Kone, I was grabbing a quiet moment. Everyone else was out at Pacific Park except Mom and me, neither of us enjoying our invalid status, she with her cane and eyepatch, and me with my cast. It was my hope while there were monsters in our lives, we would be done with the actual scary stuff. Mostly, I wanted to get my arm healed up before summer was over.
One of the perky girls in a Kaplan t-shirt called my number from the counter, and I went to get my marshmallow shake. Another hand reached for the shake, and we touched it at the same time. Neither of us let go.
He was a cool looking guy, his hair in small braids. “That’s mine,” he said. That was an accent from somewhere else, English, sort of. I guess us Rath women liked English accents. I’m sure that was one of things Mom liked about Dad.
“Sorry,” I said. “That’s mine.”
He held up his number and asked the perky girl, “Mine or hers?”
“It’s Abby’s. Yours is coming right up.”
“My mistake.” He walked away.
Okay. Being a teenager didn’t seem like it would be so bad. I would look out for him this fall.
Acknowledgements
February 23, 2020
Abigail Rath and Vince Cooper began their lives in a roleplaying game from the
early 1990s. Vince and Abby were the children of intrepid monster hunters. In the first short stories I wrote about them, Abby and Vince were a bit younger, but their chemistry was established early on: Abby, obsessed and manic, and Vince, supportive and long-suffering.
While I was working on another novel, I needed a break, so I turned to Abby for that break. She was voice-y and funny, and full of life. I was pretty sure I had stumbled onto a funny, and dare I say it, commercial book series, which I thought would be a lot of fun for kids. Armed, like Abby herself, with pluck and confidence, I began looking for a publisher.
Abby hit right at the time no one wanted to talk about publishing vampires ever again, even if only the first book was going to be about vampires. I want to write seven books about Abby and her friends, and so here we are again, living the dream of independent publishing. You can count on those seven books appearing over the next few years, with the second book appearing before the summer is out.
There are a few people to thank. The book is dedicated to Steve and Kurt Wilcken. Kurt, a cartoonist, will be drawing the covers for these books. Steve and Kurt are long time friends and members of the roleplaying campaign that created a lot of the characters you’ll meet in these books.
I’ve had a great deal of support from my writing friends. This draft was poured over by members of my Taos Toolbox class, who gave me lots of great feedback. Chris Cornell, George Galuschak and Chia Evers all contributed a great deal, as did the members of Eric’s workshop, who made sure Abby got grounded. Chia Evers is also responsible for editing the draft. Humorous science fiction and fantasy writer Jim Hines inspired me to write my own comedy, the result of which you see here. Finally, a special shout-out to Shannon Ryan, who believed in this entire project back when it was just the two of us at Paradise Icon.
My husband Bryon Stump continues to support my writing and publishing efforts in all of the best ways. I couldn’t do any of this without him. I am also indebted to his extensive horror movie and research collection, which made it possible to channel Abby Rath and her universe.
A final thank you to my publishing team: Kurt Wilcken for cover art, Michele Maakestad for layout of both interiors and covers, and Catrina Horsfield for the Mistraldol logo. You can find all of their work on the web.
About the Author
Cath Schaff-Stump writes speculative fiction for children and adults, everything from humor to horror. She is the author of the Klaereon Scroll series, the most recent of which is The Pawn of Isis. Abigail Rath Versus Bloodsucking Fiends is the first book in The Abigail Rath Versus series. Cath lives and works in Iowa with her husband. During the day, she teaches English at a community college. You can find her online at Facebook, Goodreads, Amazon, Twitter, and cathschaffstump.com.
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