by Lana Melyan
“I can stay with you if you want,” Hanna said.
“No. Don’t worry, I’ll be okay,” said Eleanor.
“You don’t have to come tomorrow. You should get some rest,” said Riley.
“We don’t have time for that.” Eleanor’s face darkened. “See you in the morning. And don’t go anywhere without me.”
Eleanor stood on the dark porch for a moment after everyone left. Everything seemed different to her, new, but Amanda’s feelings pushed themselves forward. The memories began to swirl, warming her heart. She looked at the bench where her mother used to sit with her cup of coffee while Amanda played outside. She looked at the tree where her swing once hung, and at the place where the sandbox used to be, now occupied by her car.
The front door wasn’t locked. She stepped in, walked into the kitchen and turned on the light. The kitchen was clean and neat as always, but the unusual silence was unbearable. Eleanor ran her hand over the countertop and clenched her teeth. Only a couple of days ago Alec was here. They were having dinner and he was complimenting Melinda’s special, delicious raviolis. Did he know then? Did he know that he would have to kill? Of course he did. And Fray knew that he could do it, otherwise he wouldn’t have given him the dagger. She closed her eyes. In her mind, she promised Melinda that Alec would pay for what he’d done. She couldn’t kill Alec—he was a human—but she’d find a way to punish him.
When she was a little girl she liked to spend time in Melinda’s room, but now she couldn’t remember when she’d been there last. She pushed the door open. Nothing much had changed since her last visit. It was light and modern, except the chest. It was an old, hand-carved African chest, with a depiction of people working on the plantations on its sides and a palm tree on its lid. That mysterious chest always attracted little Amanda, but it was locked, which increased her childish curiosity and imagination even more. When begging Melinda to open it didn’t work, one day, during her absence, Amanda snuck into the room with a screwdriver, which ended with a few scratches around the keyhole and Melinda’s angry shouts.
That memory brought a smile to Eleanor’s face. She stroked the scratches on the old wood, then tried the lid. The chest opened. Melinda had been in a hurry and there was no need to hide its contents any more. Eleanor knelt before it. She eyed a big stock of candles, the small jars with some kind of powder, a wooden box with tied bundles of sage, and a big, old book––Melinda’s Grimoire. As she pulled it up, she saw another, smaller book lying under it, with a supple leather cover and two leather clasps like a journal. Eleanor picked it up, undid the buckles, and pulled aside the cover.
On the first page with big letters was written ELEANOR, and beneath it, with smaller letters, the seventh generation.
A cold shiver ran through Eleanor’s whole body, covering her arms with goosebumps. She opened the next page.
Today, May 17th 1997, Amanda Shane was born, daughter of Lindsey and Claire Shane, who represents the seventh generation of Eleanor’s bloodline . . .
Eleanor released a soft gasp. “She has been watching me my whole life.” She flipped a few pages.
I renew the protective enchantment around the house every month. But I can’t do as much outside since I can’t follow them everywhere . . .
Sometimes I can sense their presence and it alarms me, though I know that they need her too, and they are not going to harm her . . .
Some pages were a little bulky. She opened one of them and saw a photograph attached to the page. Baby Amanda smiled back with a toothless grin. There was another photo of a slightly older Amanda playing in the front yard with a kitten. The next picture was taken on her first day of school, with her young mom and dad watching her from a distance. She had never seen these pictures. They had probably been taken by Melinda herself.
Eleanor’s phone vibrated, and she saw Craig’s name on the screen.
“Hi. Where are you?” she asked.
“We’re in New York, and we have several hours until our next flight.”
“I just found Melinda’s journal, and I’m a bit . . .” Eleanor sank down on the bed. “She has been watching over me my whole life.”
“I’m sorry you have to find things out this way. I wish I was there with you.” Craig sighed. “Then I would do more than just tell you everything in my mind like I have for the last hundred and sixty-two years.”
“It’s okay,” said Eleanor quietly. “It’s only for a few days. And don’t worry,” she said in a more cheerful tone, “you're the only one who can tell me the stories I really want to hear.”
“How about a date? When I come back we can have a date. In the garden, on our bench, at the place where everything started.”
Eleanor took a deep breath. “I don’t think we’ll be able to, Craig.”
“Why? Because of the bodies? It’s his house now. I’m sure he’ll want to get rid of them before the police find out.”
“That’s the thing. He did. He burned it down.” Eleanor heard Craig’s heavy breathing. “Is the lodge still . . .”
“No,” muttered Craig. “It burned decades ago. All these years I thought it was an
accident.”
She knew what it meant to him. All this time she’d been away, those pieces of their past were all he had. They helped him get through his pain, to hold onto this life during those years of waiting.
“Craig, I know it upsets you, and right now things are not how you expected them to be, but it’s impossible to plan things a century ahead and expect them to work.”
“I know. Those memories––they kept me moving, they were all I had then,” said Craig, his voice slightly unsteady. “It’s time to make new ones.”
After Eleanor hung up, she sat looking at the phone for a long while. She could still hear Craig’s sad voice, echoing the pain he had suffered. Eleanor put the journal back in the chest, went upstairs to her room and, without turning on the light, lay down on the bed. The last events of her old life and the first moments of her new one were full of loss and grief. She had tried to be strong all day and push the thoughts away. Now that she was alone, she let it sink in, and the moment she did, it engulfed her. The sorrow surged through her chest, and she let out deep, suffocating sobs.
7
Ruben sat in the armchair reading the morning newspaper.
“Anything about the fire?” Riley asked, sitting across from him on the couch.
“They think it was an accident. That it was a bunch of hikers intruding on private property,” said Ruben. He folded the paper and threw it on the coffee table.
“These places seem so dull,” said Ned, looking at the list of locations where they knew Fray had hidden coffins.
“That’s what Samson kept saying,” said Ruben. “It wouldn’t take long to check them, now that we have our powers back.”
“And now that we don’t have to babysit anymore,” added Riley.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” said Hanna, coming out from the kitchen. She held an empty box of chocolate cookies in her hand. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means we are finally free.” Riley picked up the newspaper from the coffee table. “And we can finally act.”
“You make it sound like it was Eleanor’s fault,” said Hanna sharply.
Riley threw the newspaper back and stood up. “No. I remember whose fault it is, Hanna, and I can’t wait to crush his vampire nest.”
“And we are right there with you,” said Eleanor, walking in.
They all turned their heads. Hanna’s jaw dropped as she looked at her. Eleanor’s outfit had dramatically changed. It was absolutely dissimilar to Amanda’s. She wore tight black pants with a wide brown belt, black satin shirt, and dark brown boots. Her long brown hair was curled and looked exactly like Eleanor’s. Golden coins of her Hunter bracelet shone around her wrist.
“Sorry I’m a bit late. I had to do some shopping,” she said, moving forward.
“Shouldn’t you be at school?” chuckled Rub
en, looking at her from top to toe.
“No,” she said without breaking a smile. “But you should.”
“Been there. I drove Kimberly. I couldn’t convince her to stay at home.”
“So she’s there alone. It’s not safe.”
“What? Now we have to babysit Kimberly?” barked Riley.
“Excuse me?” Hanna jumped up from her spot on the armrest of Ned’s chair. “We are the ones who put her in danger. It’s not her fault the bloodsuckers are here.”
Ned grabbed Hanna’s hand and pulled her back.
“No,” said Eleanor, “it’s mine.” She dropped on the couch. “How much did you find out?”
Ned nodded toward the sheet of paper. She picked it up and scanned the list.
“You're joking, right?” She gazed at Riley.
“We’ve seen them carrying coffins into the gas station, the crypt, and the warehouse. The rest are just suggestions.”
“Riley,” she sneered, “a gas station?”
“It belongs to him.”
“Fray? He couldn’t be that obvious.”
“Of course not. It’s not under his name. There are nine coffins there and we have to check them. He keeps changing their locations, knowing we can’t follow him everywhere.” Riley sighed. “We don’t know what’s in them. During those years, we lost him several times. In the beginning of the nineteenth century, your bloodline was in danger of dying out. First, one of your grandsons refused to get married. Then your great-granddaughter’s…”
“Stop.” Eleanor shook her hands. “Could you do it backward? You make me feel . . .”
“Old?” Riley shrugged. “In our case, it’s an honor and privilege.”
“Still.”
“Fine. Your great-great-great-grandmother’s seven-year-old daughter died of leukemia. Her fifteen-year-old cousin drowned—”
“On your watch,” Hanna cut in.
“It wasn’t my fault,” thundered Riley. “The boy jumped from a seven-foot high dock and crushed his skull against a stone.”
“Guys,” Ruben rolled his eyes, “it doesn’t matter now.”
“What’s going on?” asked Eleanor, moving her narrowed eyes from Hanna to Riley and back. “Why are you all edgy?”
“Riley ate her last chocolate cookie,” Ruben said.
“The point is,” continued Riley, annoyed, “keeping a closer eye on your ancestors became more important.”
“What are we doing now? What’s the plan?” asked Eleanor.
“Ruben, Ned, and I are going to that gas station. You and Hanna might want to check Alec’s house. Obviously he isn’t there, but maybe you could fish something out from his parents. Something that would help us find him.”
“Two girls asking about a boy. Bad idea.” Eleanor waved her hand dismissively. “Hanna will go with Ned and I’ll come with you.”
“Me?” Ned poked his forefinger into his chest. “What do you expect me to do? I’m sure his parents know what his friends look like. Besides, what am I going to ask? I don’t know him or anything about him.”
“That’s what Hanna’s for.” Eleanor stood up. “Riley, you didn’t drink the last coffee, did you?” she smirked. “You don’t want me to get cranky.”
Passing Ruben, she shot him a glance and incline her head toward the kitchen. Ruben followed her.
“What’s going on?” she asked him, pouring herself a coffee. “They’re acting like pissed off teenagers.”
Ruben stepped closer and leaned on the countertop. “It’s the powers. The energy is kicking in.”
“Really? That’s the reaction?” She leaned on the countertop next to him. “You and Ned seem okay.”
“Yeah. It’s because I’ve been kicking the punching bag in the cellar the whole night. And Ned—” He chortled. “First he and Hanna went to the bedroom, but after a moment they realized this wasn’t the castle and the earthquake they created might bring down the whole house. So Ned spent some time climbing up and down the trees in the backyard, calling it training.”
Eleanor released a short laugh.
Ruben looked at her sideways. “And you? Eleanor, how are you doing?”
She used her finger to wipe off the drop of coffee sliding down her cup. “I’m fine,” she said, keeping her eyes on the spot. “No side effects.”
“Are you sure?” Ruben’s eyes moved from Eleanor’s boots up to her chest, taking in her unbuttoned shirt-collar. He beamed.
“This is my new fighting outfit. What? You don’t like it?” She ran her hand down her waist.
She looked up when she heard a click. Riley stood in the doorway with his cellphone in his hand.
“Did you just take a picture of us?” asked Eleanor, squinting.
“Yeah. It’s a Snapchat for Craig. I think he needs to hurry.” He smiled broadly. “Let’s go.”
Ruben turned to Hanna as they walked out. “Could you pick up Kimberly? We might be late.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll get to the school as soon as we’re done,” said Hanna.
Hanna stood in the hallway, listening. The moment the car was gone, she dashed to Ned and punched him in the chest with both hands. He flew back and flopped onto the carpet.
“Are you crazy?” he growled, lifting his head.
She landed on top of him. “We are alone,” she whispered with a seductive smile.
“Then why are you whispering?” Ned grinned. “Let it all out.”
Hanna parked the car opposite Alec’s house. Behind the neatly trimmed, low fence bushes, a BMW was parked on the left side of the porch.
“What do I say?” asked Ned.
“Just ask if Alec’s home. I’ll take over from there.”
“What if he’s home?”
“Then I’ll stick this stake right up his ass,” grumbled Hanna.
She looked up and down the street. A woman with two plastic bags in her hands came out from the house next to Alec’s, heading for the trash can.
“Wait,” she said as Ned reached for the door handle. “We don’t need witnesses.”
They watched the woman until she returned to the house. Then they got out of the car and walked up to the front door. Ned knocked. After waiting for about a minute, he knocked again. They waited for another minute, and when nobody opened the door, Hanna peered through the patterned glass.
“The car is here, someone has to be home,” said Ned.
“Someone is,” muttered Hanna. She tried the door. It was unlocked, as she suspected.
“Do you smell that?” asked Ned the moment they stepped inside.
“Yes,” said Hanna grimly.
They crossed the threshold and stopped under the wide arch leading to the living room. There, on the polished oak floor, lay Mrs. Stafford, her face pale and her neck covered with blood. A pair of legs stuck out from behind the couch. Hanna drew closer. Mr. Stafford lay on his side between the couch and the coffee table. His mouth was slightly open, and there was puddle of blood around his head, already thickened. It was formed not just from two small holes on his neck, but also from the cut on his temple.
“It happened recently. The smell isn’t that strong yet,” said Hanna.
Ned walked around the couch and moved toward the kitchen. “They’re dead because they knew,” he said, stopping in the kitchen doorway. “Look.”
On the kitchen floor lay a dead vampire with a stake in his heart.
“They fought back,” said Hanna, astonished. “They actually had a stake in their house, and they fought back.”
“You think the vampires killed Alec, too?”
“No, I don’t think so. Fray trusted Alec. I’m sure he’s with them now. But let’s check, just in case. You go upstairs.”
Hanna checked the first floor, then went to the basement. The light from the hallway fell on the stairs. It illuminated a piece of flooring covered with cigarette butts and the corner of a pool table with empty bottles on it.
The same sickening smell stopped her right in the doorway
. She muffled the scent, burying her nose in her sleeve, then slowly moved forward.
At the end of the room something or, evidently, someone lay on the couch. Keeping her eyes on it, Hanna stepped to the table and pulled the chain of the lamp hanging above. As light filled the room, Hanna gasped.
That someone was Nicole Price. Her blond hair was messed up, and her bluish face frozen in horror. What did they do to her? Did they torture her? The thought stopped Hanna’s breath.
“What the hell were you doing here?” she yelled desperately. But then she remembered the party and Nicole’s new boyfriend, the one who had looked suspicious to her. Alec had introduced them.
“Hanna,” Ned called from the top of the stairs. “What is it?” He ran down and stopped next to her, his nose wrinkling. “Who is this? Did you know her?”
Hanna nodded. “She’s from school.”
“You think she knew something, too?”
“No. They probably used her to watch us.” An unwitting deep breath of the putrid air choked her. “Did you find something?” she asked, coughing.
“No. He isn’t here.”
She threw one last glance at the thin, lifeless body, then said, “We have to go,” and hurried away.
8
The gas station was about a forty minute drive from Green Hill. Sitting in the back seat, Eleanor didn’t say a single word while they drove through the town. She was looking at the streets, at its houses, at its shops and cafes, and as she saw a woman pushing a stroller before her, Eleanor’s thoughts drifted away.
She was a mother once. Maybe a mother who never got a chance to hold her child. A mother who had to watch her daughter grow up from a distance and who died right before her daughter’s wedding. But a mother nonetheless, full of love toward that girl, her flesh and blood.
And she would never be a mother again. It was long, long ago for others. But not for her. To her it was like she had fallen asleep, and when she woke up, she was right where she left it. The past eighteen years of her life were like one thin, young branch on a big tree.