How to Stake a Vampire
Bedlam in Bethlehem Book III
Nicole Zoltack
Contents
Blurb
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Other Books By Nicole Zoltack
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright 2017 by Nicole Zoltack
Published in the United States of America
Publish Date: 2017
Cover Artist: Nicole Zoltack
Cover Art Copyright 2017
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher.
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used in a fictitious situation. Any resemblances to actual events, locations, organizations, incidents or persons – living or dead – are coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.
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Blurb
This story is a standalone. You do not have to read When Vamps Bite and When Wolves Howl to enjoy How to Stake a Vampire.
Meet Blake Damon before he became a vampire hunter. See him at his most vulnerable. See his failure… and see if he can triumph.
Dedication
To those who live in Bethlehem. This one’s for you.
Chapter One
My dad is my hero. I know a lot of kids say that, but seriously, mine is. He’s a firefighter. When everyone else runs away from danger, he’s the courageous one not hesitating. I swear, he doesn’t have a sense of fear or worry. He just plows ahead.
It’s just the two of us, my hero dad and me. He met my mom when they were both in their early twenties. Her apartment went up in flames. He carried her out. Real romance novel type stuff. They married two months later, something Mom hammered into me that I am never in a million bazillion years allowed to do.
I’m eight. I don’t want to think about getting married. I don’t even want to kiss a girl. Yuck.
Well, I wouldn’t mind kissing Mom on the cheek one more time. She died three months ago. Okay, three months and five days ago. I can’t stop counting the days, although I stopped announcing the number when Dad yelled at me after a week.
Last month was amazing. We got to bring in our parents so they could talk about their careers. Everyone loved that my dad’s a hero.
But today is even better than that.
Today, I get to go to Dad’s work.
The only problem? It’s five in the morning. I’m too excited to sleep. We aren’t leaving until eight. Three more hours. What am I supposed to do with myself?
TV’s out. Dad’ll hear and yell at me. I can read, I guess, but that would mean putting on the light. Dad might see and then yell at me. Yeah, I’m drawing a blank.
Maybe I do fall back asleep because the next thing I know, Dad’s shaking my shoulder. Burnt pancakes are on the table waiting for me. Normally, I would joke about it being a good thing that he can fight fires. Not today. I want today to be perfect.
I inhale my food and change into a yellow shirt and pants. It’s not quite a fireman’s outfit, but it’ll have to do.
“Did you forget something?” Dad asks as I shove a foot into my sneaker.
“Nope.”
“Let me smell your breath.”
I duck under his arm, race to the bathroom, and brush my teeth.
“Brush your hair too,” he calls.
Rolling my eyes, I comply. Dad and I go every six weeks to get our haircuts. My hair never really needs a hairbrush. It’s too short to move.
Finally, we’re out the door. We don’t live far from the station. It’s only a five-minute drive, and I talk nonstop the entire way. Before Dad even parks, I’m climbing out of the car and wave to some of Dad’s friends.
Dad grabs my arm. “Slow down,” he warns. “You have to be more careful. Never get out of a moving vehicle like that.”
“Sorry, Dad. I was just so excited.”
“I know. And it’s a good thing to be excited. But you must be smart too, okay?”
“One day, I’ll be smarter than you,” I boast.
Dad laughs and ruffles my un-ruffable hair. “I don’t doubt it.”
We walk into the fire department. Most of the other kids here are older than me. I wave to them, but they ignore me, talking about high school and girls. Gross.
The fire chief comes out and talks to us some. We’re allowed to climb inside a real fire truck! Dad even lets me put on his hat. Another firefighter lets us uncoil the rope. A much taller boy cuts in front of me, and I get passed over. Doesn’t matter to me. I’m just happy to be here.
Soon, it’s time for lunch, hot dogs, hamburgers, potato salad, basically picnic fare. It’s delicious, although they run out of ketchup. I do not like mustard. Ew.
We’re given a tour of the place, the chief talks some more, and we’re dismissed.
Dad walks me out to the parking lot. “Time to take you to Ms. Parker.”
I groan. “Dad, can’t I stay a little longer?”
He makes a point of turning to watch the line of cars leaving the lot. “Bring kiddo to work day is over. You know I have to work now.”
“But Ms. Parker smells.”
“Blake Flack, you know that isn’t nice.”
“You taught me to always tell the truth!” I protest.
By now, all the cars containing the other kids have left. I turn to Dad with my hands clasped and drop to my knees on the pavement.
“Please,” I beg.
“I don’t—”
“I never got to unroll the hose. Can I help to roll it back up?” I ask.
I try not to get my hopes up. Dad’s pretty strict. I think he feels like he has to be since Mom’s not around anymore.
“Please?” I add. “Pretty please?”
Dad sighs, but he’s fighting back a grin. “All right. Fine. But you can’t stay for too much longer, okay?”
“Okay!”
I race over and help. Daryl is a friend of Dad’s who comes over for dinner sometimes with his wife Ruby. He asks if I want to help wash one of the other trucks. I open my mouth to say yes and then hold a finger.
Dad’s talking to the chief. As fast as my legs can churn, I run over and wait for them to pause before cutting in.
“Dad, can I help wash a truck with Daryl?” I ask, hoping that by asking for permission first, he’ll say yes.
The fire chief grunts. “You should show your elders respect, son,” he says.
I gulp. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Dad, can I—may I help wash a truck with Mr. Jameson?”
The chief nods with approval.
Dad nods too.
With a whoop, I return to Daryl. We laugh and have more fun than washing the truck actually is. Dad comes over too, and we get into a huge water fight. I’m polishing the steering wheel when a blaring alarm sounds.
There’s a fire.
Chapter Two
For a moment, I stand here, my rag still resting on the wheel, paralyzed. I don’t feel fear exactly. It’s more a sense of wonder. I know what will happen. The firefighters will pile in. They’ll tear through the streets. They’ll assess the situation. Save anyone who needs to be saved. Kill the fire.
They’l
l all be heroes.
Right now, I want to be a hero too.
Before anyone can climb into the truck, I steal away to the back. They might not need this truck depending on the degree of difficulty of the fire. Dad likes to talk about the different fires, what causes them, how hot they burn, stuff like that. Bones typically don’t burn. Teeth definitely don’t.
Yeah, it’s a weird topic of discussion over dinner, especially when you’re eating white corn that suddenly looks like teeth.
I’m amazed when firefighters do climb in. The driver is already pulling away when my dad calls out my name.
Gulping, hoping he isn’t going to be too angry with me, I duck out from the back.
His dark eyes widen with relief and then alarm. “Blake, why are you here? Rick, turn back around.”
“Don’t!” I yell. “People need you. Every second counts with a fire. You always say that.”
“But—” Dad starts.
I shake my head. “I’ll stay in the truck,” I promise.
I mean it. I won’t dare get in their way. I would hate myself forever if I kept them from saving someone.
Dad nods curtly. Lines dig deep around his lips like they always do when he’s thinking about Mom. Why is he thinking about her?
Maybe he’s thinking about dying.
I’m eight. I don’t think about dying a lot. Yes, I think about my mom, but I remember her from when she was alive, not what came after.
Maybe it’s stupid. Yeah, it probably is. But I kinda think of life as a celebration. We make mistakes, we fall, we fail, but we try, we win, we try again.
Death is when the celebration ends. It’s sad, but it’s only temporary. When you die, you meet up with your family again. Maybe there’s another celebration after death.
I have to believe that. It’s the only way I’ve been able to smile and laugh since Mom.
The sirens are so loud I want to cover my ears. I don’t, of course. The firefighters are talking about what they know about the fire, but I can’t concentrate on their words.
Rick is driving so fast that the trees are a blur. My eyes can’t focus on them. Great. Maybe I need glasses.
Or maybe I’m just frightened.
Dad seems on edge. Funny. I never thought he would be frightened on a fire run.
Maybe he isn’t normally.
Maybe he is this time because I’m here.
I flinch and rub my arms, suddenly cold. I wish I didn’t tag along. I don’t want to be a distraction.
The scent of the fire reaches me before I can see the nasty black smoke rising skyward. I cough, my chest tight. I can’t imagine how the firefighters must feel.
Then we pull in front of the fire. We’re one of the first trucks here.
Immediately, firefighters pull out. They put on most of their gear at the station. Whatever else they needed, they grabbed on the ride over. Armed in their heroic attire, they race around in an organized fashion. The hose is unwound and plugged in. The ladder is extended. More trucks arrive.
I don’t watch them work. Mesmerized, awed, dismayed, I watch as the orange and yellow flames greedily lick the air. Despite the firefighters’ best efforts, the flames climb higher and higher.
“Stay in here,” a firefighter says, the last one to leave the truck.
I nod without turning toward him. A bunch of firefighters bursts into the building. The fire isn’t shrinking at all.
Through the windows, I watch the firefighters, including my dad, race upstairs. Windows are open. People are screaming. It’s a big house, huge, four-stories.
No one else seems to notice another face, a furry one, downstairs. I watch, horrified, as part of the ceiling collapses in the room. The dog’s face disappears.
No!
Chapter Three
Before I can blink, before I can think, before I can take a breath, I race inside the burning building. Smoke assaults me, but it’s the intense heat that forces me back a step. My lungs feel tight, and I already feel like I can’t breathe. My breathing is shallow as if I can’t take a deep breath.
My eyes water, and I can’t see clearly. The roar of the fire, the creaking of the house, the shouts of the firefighters all fade away. A faint ringing replaces the chaos of noises.
I turn immediately to the left and enter a large room. A family room maybe. Flames have kissed half of the furniture, and I can hardly walk. The fire is spreading.
A faint yelp pierces through the ringing. That ceiling beam has trapped the dog beneath a table. The tablecloth is up in flames too. The dog whines, too scared to move.
Now’s my moment, my chance to be a hero.
I dart, dash, and jump my way across the small fires toward him. One of my feet catches on fire, and I stomp it out immediately. I’m so frightened that I stand still.
The dog whimpers. His fright is greater than mine. Without me, he has no chance.
I have to save him.
Dimly, I’m aware of firefighters leaving the house. More blasts of water rock against the house. Another part of the ceiling falls.
It’s now or never, do or die.
I run around another fire and jump. Awkwardly, I land on top of the dog. He jumps onto my back, and I climb out from beneath the burning table.
More of the second story falls, too large of a burning piece for me to cross the room. I dart to the next room over, the dining room. Next is the kitchen. The smoke here is so thick that I can hardly see. My fingers fumble for the walls to steady myself, and I grip a railing.
Another set of stairs.
The dog barks and settles on my shoulders. A small dog. I’m not even sure of the breed.
We climb upstairs. At the top, I halt.
There are burning bodies piled in the room in front of me. The fire is licking and devouring its way up the people’s legs. It’s a terrifying, devastating sight.
I can’t look away.
The fire creeps up to their waists. Two men. A woman. Their faces reveal that they’re dead already as if they’re paralyzed ignorance of the fire wasn’t enough.
It’s their necks though that make me even more frightened than the fire, than the sight of dead bodies.
Their necks are covered in blood. Nowhere else. Only their necks.
The dog whines and jumps down, racing over to the people. His owners. His dead owners.
Although I don’t want to go near them, I do. I grab the dog despite him clawing me. The wounds sting as much as the fire, but I don’t really cry out.
Or maybe I do because I hear my name.
“Blake! Get out of here!”
Holding the dog in a death grip against my chest, I dash back out to the hallway. Dad’s the only firefighter in sight.
But he’s not the only one in the hallway.
Standing behind him is a dark, foggy form that gives way to a clear image of a devil.
He’s tall with glowing red eyes, but it’s his mouth that has me frightened most of all.
His lips, his teeth, his chin are all covered with blood.
“Dad, look out!” I shriek.
But I’m too late.
Chapter Four
The devil is already on Dad before he can react to my warning. He rips off Dad’s helmet and lowers his head. He—is he biting Dad? Those people?
Immediately, I drop the dog. I don’t care about saving him anymore. I just want my dad.
With a crazy scream that burns my throat more than the smoke, I launch myself at them.
But it’s like I’m moving in slow motion.
The devil steps back from Dad. Dad crumples to the ground. Tears stream down my face. I scream his name. The devil stares down at me. I reach for Dad.
The devil smacks me so hard in the stomach that I slam against the wall. Dazed, confused, more angry than frightened, I stagger to my feet.
The devil is back to feeding on Dad. I stare forward, but the devil stops and stares at me.
“Want me to suck you dry next?” he slurs through blo
odstained teeth.
I gulp. It’s not easy to look away from him, but I manage. Dad—his face has the same lifeless quality as the other people.
Here, in this spot, the fire isn’t nearby. Because of where the devil threw me, he and Dad lie between me and the stairs.
I can’t help Dad. I can’t even help the—
The dog slams his head into my ankle.
I can save the dog at least.
So, I scoop him up and climb onto the windowsill. There are bushes below.
This is gonna hurt.
After one last look behind me, I jump.
Chapter Five
I have to be treated for cuts and bruises, smoke inhalation, and slight burns. The bushes I fell onto had prickly thorns that tore into me.
The doctors heal my body.
No one can heal my soul.
The doctors want me to rest some before they’ll discharge me. I’m not sure who they’ll discharge me to.
Dad is dead.
Killed by a devil.
No. Not a devil. Vampires drink people’s blood.
But do vampires like fire? I thought they didn’t. Not that I’m a vampire expert. I only know what I’ve seen on TV and in movies. Dad used to always laugh at vampire movies. He thought they were ridiculous.
Werewolves, he thought, were just as absurd.
So, we would watch the movies and laugh at them as if they were parodies.
Can vampires really be, well, real?
Why the fire? Did the vampire start it? To cover up the people he drained of blood? I don’t remember a lot after I landed in the bushes. One thing I do remember. The firefighters talked about how incredibly hot the fire was.
As if someone wanted to hide something.
As if someone wanted to hide bodies.
How to Stake a Vampire (Bedlam in Bethlehem Book 3) Page 1