by A. P. Fuchs
“What happened? Are you okay? Is Mom okay?” Rose asked, peering over his shoulder and finding the house empty.
Her father pulled away. He didn’t have to say anything. His face said it all: her mother was dead.
Rose burst into tears and stood there with him in the front landing, her head on his shoulder. How? Why? What happened? “Were you . . . were you with her?”
Her dad sniffled. “No.”
“Where . . . where is she?”
He didn’t reply.
She shook as she cried. “Dad, where’s Mom?”
Finally, he said, “Downstairs.”
Rose’s heart sank. Did her dad come to this house and find her? Did she slip and fall? Did she . . . kill herself? Where were the people that owned the place? Was she having an affair? Is that who killed her?
Her father gave her a loving squeeze, then said, “Come here, Rose. I want to show you something.”
She pulled away and wiped the tears from her eyes. “What?”
He didn’t say anything, but instead took her by the hand and led her through the dark house, past the kitchen, downstairs to a family room and then to a closed door. When he opened it, Rose saw there was a light on in the basement.
“I don’t want to see this,” she said.
“I know, but it’ll be all right.”
“How could it be all right if Mom’s de—” She broke down again, shoulders jerking with each painful sob.
“Here, let me help you.” Her father put his arm around her shoulder and guided her down the basement steps. When they got to the bottom, they didn’t go further into the room.
Rose couldn’t believe what she saw: a cement-walled fortress, each wall lined with swords, knives, tools. A stand in the middle of the room held black one-piece outfits that looked to be made of plastic or metal. By the wall on the side was a table with something on it, a blanket draped over top. She squinted her eyes and knew the blanket was covering a body.
“What is this?” she asked.
“I don’t know where to begin.”
“Where’s Mom? Is that her?” She pointed to the table, then took a step toward it.
“Yes.”
Suddenly, a sharp thought hit her and a swell of anger bubbled within. She stepped even farther away from her father. “What, are you some kind of pyscho? Did you kill her?”
“Rose!” he shouted. Then his face went soft. His voice was gentle when he spoke again. “Of course not. I would never harm your mother. I know that by looking around this room, that could be what you’re thinking. Please know I had nothing to do with what happened.”
“Nothing?”
He glanced to the floor. “Not . . . nothing.” He met her eyes. “But I didn’t k-kill her.”
“Dad, I swear, if you so much as laid a finger on her, I’ll—” She didn’t know what she’d do. Call the cops, that’s for sure. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” She began dialing 9-1-1, but only managed the first two digits before her father snatched the phone out of her hand. The way he moved was like lightning.
“You can’t.”
“Give me that!” She reached over and he shoved her arm away.
“Listen to me!” he snapped.
The sound of his voice made her jump.
Softly, he said, “Please listen to me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your mother and I love you very much, Rose. We’d do anything for you. In fact, it’s because of you that we have this house.”
“This is—”
“Let me finish.”
“Oh, Dad . . .” she breathed.
“This house is ours. We kept it a secret from you for your own protection until you were old enough. Then we were going to tell you what this is.”
Was he crazy? Were her parents lunatics? Worse . . . murderers?
He beeped her cell phone off and put it in his own pocket. “Your mother and I,” he said, “we . . . how should I say this?” He sighed. “We kill vampires.”
She arched an eyebrow. You’re crazy.
“We have since before you were born. My father did it. So did his father. So did even his father. We are called ‘slayers,’ in that we slay vampires. I know I sound crazy, but just hear me out. They’re real and not just the things of stories. We did it to not only help other people, but also to try and make this city a safer place for you. All those late nights, those meetings with ‘clients,’ the times your mother and I had to run out of the house at a moment’s notice—it was all because of this.”
Rose’s mind was blank. She didn’t know what to think. How was she supposed to react to this? Her mom . . . . She glanced at the table by the wall of swords again.
“Your mother died tonight because she was out there doing what she thought was right. In a way, she died protecting you, even protecting me. I swear to you I’m telling the truth. I’ve never lied to you. The only thing I’ve kept secret is what your mother and I did when we weren’t working. Honest. We needed to wait until you were older, until you were mature enough to process all this.”
Rose took a deep breath. “I . . . I don’t know what to say. I’m having a hard time believing you.”
“I know.”
“You sound like you’re drunk and are trying to hide what really happened tonight.”
“I know.”
“Mom would never go along with whatever it is you’re saying. Mom hated even killing a spider never mind some fake monster.”
“I know.”
“Will you quit it? I’m trying to talk here.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be, Dad.” She needed to get out of here so she moved for the stairs.
He blocked her path. “Where are you going?”
“Away.”
“You can’t.”
“Don’t even try and keep me here.”
“I don’t want to, but I will. You have to understand this is a delicate matter.”
“You think?”
“What I mean is your mother and I planned for this day. We had hoped to tell you together, and we even talked about it earlier this afternoon, but your mom wanted to hold off a bit until you were over Zach.”
The mere mention of his name pierced her heart. “Don’t go there with me.”
“I’m sorry. All I meant was we had wanted to tell you together, but we also talked about what we’d do if we couldn’t. The only thing we could come up with was when one of us passed due to this . . . job . . . we’d tell you right away, bring you here and let you come to terms with things.”
“You lie.”
“Come on, Rose, look around. Do you think I’m lying? Okay, sure, maybe you think I’m lying about the vampire part, but in terms of your mother and I being mercenaries, what do you think? Who else keeps a basement like this?”
“I don’t know, pyschos? Serial killers?”
“If you don’t believe me about the vampire part, fine. We’ll tackle that issue another time. But I’m telling you the truth.”
She shook her head. “Just let me go, Dad.”
“No.”
Without thinking, she shoved him in the chest, pushing him back a step. The moment her foot touched down on the first stair, her dad grabbed her from behind and pulled her deeper into the room.
“Stop! Let go of me!” she screamed.
He took her past the table, around a corner, and to a door that had a pair of chains across it in an X. With one hand, he clutched her close to his body; with the other he fished a key off a ring on his belt. He slid the key into the padlock keeping the chains together and unlocked it.
“Dad! Stop!” she shouted.
“Quiet. I’m giving you proof.”
The padlock came loose and the chains draped to the side like a pair of curtains. He then punched a code into the keypad above the door handle and a loud ka-thoom shook Rose’s insides. Her father opened the door with
a grunt and set her down inside. He threw on the lights.
“Look around,” he said.
The room was as big as a wine cellar, narrow, with what looked like silver coffins stacked three high and two deep on either side. There was another stack of two next to the wall across from them.
“What is this?” she asked.
“This is where we keep them, if they don’t disintegrate upon death. There are vampires in these coffins. We keep them contained here in case, through some miracle, they come back to life after we thought we disposed of them. In the old days, you could chop off their head and would be assured they would not regenerate. Seems some have increased in power as those contained here regenerated their heads after being decapitated.” He pulled a sword off the wall next to the door and proceeded to the first coffin.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Come here and watch.”
“I don’t . . . I don’t want to.”
“Fine, then stay there but don’t leave this room. You want proof that I’m not crazy? That I’m telling the truth? Fine. This is it.” He turned a switch that looked like a large butterfly nut on the side of the coffin. Another ka-thoom shook the room, then the lid on the coffin slid to the side, retreating inside the wall away from her father.
Her dad pointed the sword against what was within.
“No sudden movements,” he said, “but you can look.”
Rose glanced to the door. She couldn’t believe what was going on.
“Rose?” her dad said.
With a sigh, she went over beside him and looked in the coffin. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the body within. She couldn’t tell if it was male or female, but it lay there like a decomposing corpse, the skeleton beneath pushing up against its drooping skin. Its dark clothing was in tatters, a large silver spike of some kind protruding from its chest, roughly where its heart would be. The tip of her father’s sword was against where the spike met the flesh in a cakey mess of dried blood and rotten meat.
The skull was without eyes, only the sockets remaining, its hooded brow sharp and pronounced. Its mouth open, large sharp teeth lining it.
Rose put a hand to her mouth and also pressed the side of her index finger and thumb against her nose the smell was so bad.
“See?” her dad said. “I was telling the truth.”
18
Zach was in the crypt with his family. He sat alone, his back against his coffin, knees up, elbows upon them.
Mira had explained that what he saw were flashes from the woman’s life, prominent memories that she’d held dear.
It was the image of himself he saw in the montage that bothered him the most. He didn’t tell Mira that part, not really sure how to even bring it up.
“Those of whom we drink blood become a part of us in that way,” she had told him. “The secrets and memories that were revealed to you are now your own. It is how we gain wisdom and learn to utilize it to ensure our survival.”
Zach wasn’t completely sure his not mentioning the image of himself was a complete secret anyway. These people could read his mind and he’d thought about what he saw several times since returning to the crypt. He just wished he knew how to read his family’s minds and how to block them from reading his own.
One thing at a time, he thought. He’d already learned so much, and apparently his father was to teach him even more tomorrow night.
The image of that woman, though. He felt a connection to her in a way he hadn’t to anything else since he’d been reborn. The woman . . . he couldn’t help but feel he’d seen her before, and not only her, but others in the images that flashed through his mind afterward as well. The man whom he presumed was the woman’s husband, and the young lady who was as intriguing as she was beautiful. When he brought the image of the three of them to the fore of his mind, there was a warmth that permeated from the thought that swept through him, a sense of not only familiarity about them, but of belonging.
Were these people his family from time’s past? Was he their son? Did he just kill his own mother? The human one?
He stood as Wil came up to him.
“So, how was it?” Wil asked.
“Unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.”
Wil smiled. “You’ve just been reborn and suffer memory loss. Everything is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before.”
Zach smirked. “I suppose, but I do have a question.”
“Shoot.”
“If you guys are my family, then who was I with before I came here?”
“Ah. You mean your Surrogates.”
“Surrogates?” He didn’t know the word.
“Yeah, surrogates. They’re substitutes, if you will. I had some at one point, too, so did Cassie. Our mother and father gave us up for adoption when we were born. You see, if your parents were pure-blood vampires, you yourself would be born one, too. But if your parents aren’t, meaning they didn’t descend directly from the first vampires, then their offspring are born human despite their being undead.”
“Huh?”
“Okay, to simplify: Mother and Father weren’t always vampires. They were born human and were eventually bitten so turned into vampires. With me so far?”
“Yeah.”
“As a result, the vampirism isn’t the dominant thing in their genes so when they had kids, the dominant side usually is what was born, in our case, humans.”
“So why not just turn the baby into a vampire and raise it as one?”
“Because the vampire gene is recessive, it has to mature before it can be—what’s the word? Activated?—for turning. Usually around the time kids are in their teens. That’s what Mother says, anyway.”
“So other humans raised us until—”
“Until Mother came for us and brought us home.”
It made sense, but was a hard thing to swallow. Not only was Zach meeting this strange new family, he was now being told he had another one out there as well.
“Have you . . . gone back to your other family?” he asked Wil.
“Once, but I didn’t let them see me. Mother said it would be too upsetting and could cause problems for us.”
“Like . . . ?”
“The family could have slayer connections and we could be found out pretty quick. It’d be really easy to put two and two together.”
“What about changing your old family into vampires?”
“Father said that every time a slayer has been turned—assuming your old family were slayers—it always ends in bloodshed. Our blood. Turning a slayer, he said, was like a human angering one bee outside of its hive. It goes back in and gets an entire swarm of them to come after you. It’s just too dangerous.” Wil glanced back at Mira, Rain and Cassie, who were sitting around talking on Mira’s coffin in the middle of the room. “I wouldn’t want to die. Not again. The things I can do now, the life I lead, there are very few restrictions and I’m more powerful now than I ever was in my previous life.”
“And if they weren’t slayers?”
“Can’t risk it.”
Zach thought he was being too paranoid. He furrowed his brow. “Do you remember your previous life?”
“Now I do. It took a while but it eventually came to me. Different memories from different blood triggered my own memories until, eventually, everything became clear.”
“And you don’t miss them, your family?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“The change adjusted my outlook on everything, as I’m sure you’ve already noticed for yourself.”
He was right. Ever since the beginning Zach had a fairly easy time believing what he was told and shown. Something within confirmed all that was revealed to him as fact and even as part of the life he now led. There was also this sense of immersion in the vampire world, as if he was just one drop in a pond, intermixed and mingled with all the other drops. He was one, and they were one, and he was one with them.
“I have so much
to learn,” Zach said almost in afterthought.
“Father will help you with that. He’s the oldest of us and knows more than anyone of us combined.”
“How long have you been a vampire?”
“Forty-two years.”
Forty-two years? Zach thought. He only looks twenty-something.
“Mother turned me when I was twenty-one. Time stands still once you’ve been turned. For most of us, anyway. Sometimes the old life has trouble letting go and you continue to age for a short period before finally stopping.”
“You mean I’ll be this way . . . forever?”
“Pretty much.”
Zach let the idea soak in. Yet a part of him also felt cheated out of a full life despite what he got in return. He had barely begun living before becoming one of them, was only human for a short time. It would have been nice to live a longer life even if that meant being a lesser being for a larger period of time. And after the images he saw once drinking that woman’s blood, being human didn’t seem too bad either.
19
Over the next few days, Rose divided her time between the home she grew up in and the home her parents had used for their nocturnal activities. Her father had taken time off work, even so far as passing any home deals in the works onto others he knew in the business.
“Family comes first,” he said.
Rose was given time off school to grieve, which she did plenty of. Yesterday afternoon was spent in her room, crying into her pillow for at least an hour straight before getting herself together enough to take a shower.
As for her mother’s funeral, her father informed her that due to her unique death, slayers had procedures in place for such an occurrence, their people stationed in various city jobs to handle the required paperwork for a slayer’s passing. Certain reports had to be forged and signed off on. Insurance policies needed to come into play, questions needed to be answered. Rose was amazed at the operation, but if everything her father had been telling her over the last few days was true, then her mother’s memory would be safe, both on paper and in the hearts of those she knew.
The funeral was coming up in three days and preparations were already underway in terms of internment for the body.