The Big Bad II

by John G. Hartness

  That’s why we’re here, Amanda realized, panting as she dropped the wrecked teen.

  “What the hell?” he blustered, pushing his glasses back up on his nose.

  “You’re the reason the youth of today are like this in Crossroads!” Sarah dropped the broken body of the young hoodlum onto the ground. She didn’t look down as she stepped on his ribs, jabbing a clawed finger right under the portly man’s nose. “All the depravity, the deception, is your fault!” And then, proving that she really was better at rallies and knocking on doors than she was on the streets, Sarah actually picked up her handbag from the alley floor. “I know I have a petition in here somewhere,” she grumbled. True to form, Paul Worthington did what he usually did when faced with confrontation—he stammered something unintelligible and backed away. Unfortunately, his pudgy hand was able to get the door open.

  “Oh for God’s sake,” Amanda growled. Though she had yet to fully understand all her new abilities, it was easy to dart in front of Worthington, grab him by the shirt front, and yank him away. “You can’t leave yet, Paul,” she chuckled, and her tongue caught a stray drop of the thug’s blood when she wet her lower lip. “Not when we have so much to say about how you’ve been conducting yourself.”

  “What’s going on? Maxine!” he screamed to the door. If the proprietress heard, she didn’t come out, and it was hard for him to scream again with his tongue flopping in Sarah’s small hand. Amanda’s nostrils flared at the strong scent of blood as it flowed from his gurgling mouth, though she’d drunk enough from the greasers to last a while. “Come now, Worthington. You need to listen more. There are all sorts of things you’ve passed over through last year that we parents are concerned about. Let me detail them out for you,” she sneered.

  He only stayed conscious through the first three points of her speech. By the time she’d gotten to the fifth, his body was splattered across both walls of the alley.

  “Well, that didn’t go as expected, but at least it’s over.” Calmly, Amanda dropped the balding scalp, located her purse, and smoothed her dress, ruined as it was.

  “I’m so sorry, Amanda,” Sarah panted. “The whole change has just been so hard. I didn’t know we were going to have to...you know, tonight.” She paused. “You didn’t know, did you?”

  “No,” Amanda murmured, dabbing her mouth with a handkerchief. “I thought it was just another meeting, or for us to confront Worthington about his ridiculous agenda. I mean really, letting schools discuss Orwell and Arthur Miller. Everyone knows they’re communists!”

  “But you weren’t prepared to... I mean, it was so easy for you!”

  The housewife sighed at her friend’s helpless expression. What can I say? That I’ve been waiting for this forever? That every irritation, every frustration in my whole life has been buried deep down, just waiting to be let out?

  Thankfully, she didn’t have to say a thing. “You passed.” The words were barely audible and Amanda knew that they were just for her. She shivered and managed a shy smile. Him. The Patriarch of The Family, the reason she had renewed focus in her life. The real future of the world. The one whose blood had obliterated her weaknesses and made her into something better not even one week ago. “I wasn’t wrong to give you the blood.” The words caressed Amanda’s ears and reached a part of her that had been restless and frustrated for far too long. Seeing the blood spilled was best, but his words were almost as good.

  “I’m so sorry! I’ll do better next time,” Sarah wailed. Her cream skirt was saturated with blood and her blouse nearly translucent with gore, yet in The Patriarch’s presence she was suddenly playing the victim. “If only you’d told us what we were here for!”

  “It’ll be all right, Sarah,” Amanda murmured. After all, they’d grown up together, gone to school together. As frustrating as her friend could be, they had known each other forever.

  “Are you sure?” Sarah whispered, gray eyes filled with trepidation, as if she was just now questioning her life choice.

  Something—no, someone—pressed gently at the edges of Amanda’s mind. It was not a conscious thought per se, more of a feeling, an overwhelming urge that she couldn’t ignore. Her body, the beast under her skin, every hidden recess of her mind thrummed at the touch.

  Now.

  As easy as blinking, she grabbed Sarah’s head and twisted. The movement easily removed the head thanks to her improved strength, loosening Sarah’s blonde hair, leaving it trailing over Amanda’s wrists. The shocked eyes blinked several times, more than a regular human’s would, and for a heartbeat, it looked like Sarah was going to spit out final, fretting last words. Her lip quivered and stilled as the gray eyes lost their light. “Typical. She never did want to see anything through,” Amanda muttered. She wrinkled her nose in disdain and tossed the head back into the alley. Decapitation was not only one of the few things that could kill a vampire, especially a new one, it was probably more painless than she deserved. They had been friends, after all.

  “Good,” he praised, though he made no move toward her. “You can work with and without being prompted.”

  “Those boys knew my son. You knew they did.” She wanted to shake with rage, though she wasn’t sure if it was because Robert had been involved with delinquents or because her failure as a parent had been pointed out to her.

  “I gave you the chance to deal with it before it became an issue.” He tilted his head and came towards her. Though she was still adapting to her improved senses, his sharply sculpted, calm face was easy to see in the dark. Keen green eyes watched her under tousled, sandy hair, and a small, amused smile danced across his full mouth. He could have been a knight, a pirate, a mystic, a king—the hero or villain in any number of stories. “Would you have preferred to wait until you met him in this sort of situation face to face?”

  “No, of course not,” she murmured. He knew best. After all, he was The Patriarch of The Family, a very select group of concerned citizens that were taking America back. Let the Minute Women of the USA have Houston; they’d eventually lose the war. After all, what good was fighting depravity and communism if you could still be obliterated off the face of the earth because you were pitifully human? The Family fixed those little issues and insured that only those best suited for the future were there to see it happen. If she played her cards right, her family would be some of the lucky ones.

  Amanda stepped toward The Patriarch like a shy little girl, lifted her face for his inspection. He cupped her chin and a smile brightened his perpetual stubble. “Good, you look human again. Does it feel different?”

  “Yes, not so tight.”

  “Remember that feeling. It will save you pain from being noticed. I had to kill my first two wives because of stupid mistakes like that.” He dropped his hand and turned to leave. “Come, there’s a change of clothes for you in my car.” She paused, unsure if the question was one to ask. His smile was patient. He could feel the curiosity in her, the desire to learn every bit of what made him successful, of what preserved his power. It flattered him, she could tell. There was so much she could tell now without exactly knowing how. It was beautiful. “I’ll send a clean-up crew after we get away. I have friends with the police. No one will trace this to you. I take care of my children, just as you do.”

  “Yes, sir. Of course.” Amanda stepped over Sarah’s body and followed The Patriarch to the waiting car. Tom and the children had begun to question the sudden phone calls, her new interest in politics, and the late night meetings. Of course, they probably thought she was having an affair. She laughed as she settled into the car seat. An affair could never be as good as this, she thought and tasted the stray remnants of blood at the edges of her mouth.

  ***

  It wasn’t that she hated her family or held any particular amount of venom towards her children and husband. It wasn’t that her children were getting older, her husband more obsessed with work. It wasn’t that her fami
ly took her for granted. No, it was more that they had broken the cardinal rule when dealing with Amanda Benton; they’d forgotten that they were hers. That breach of etiquette was nowhere more evident than the following evening. Avoiding the evening meal was becoming an all-too-familiar routine, and one Amanda was sure that June Cleaver never had to put up with.

  “Ma, I gotta go!” Robert growled, balling his black denim jacket in his fists. She wasn’t sure where he’d gotten the trashy thing.

  “You need to study. Don’t think I didn’t see your latest report card.” She ignored his narrowed dark eyes, just as she tried to ignore how his hair was getting too long. “You’ve already been held back twice, Robert. It’s time to grow up and take some responsibility.”

  He made a face and muttered something under his breath that she shouldn’t have been able to hear. “If you’d just let me quit school and go work at Dave’s garage you wouldn’t have to deal with me.” She froze. It was her worst fear—for him to leave home and her good influence and join up with those delinquents.

  “Don’t you dare!”

  Robert paused, startled, as if he hadn’t expected her to make heads or tails of his mumbling. I gave my whole life to him, and this is how he treats me!

  “Dad doesn’t mind. He thinks I should be working,” he grumbled for the thousandth time.

  “Your father is tired of arguing with you. You’re better than that kind of life.”

  “Maybe he just gets that I’m never going to be a doctor like he is.” The boy’s eyes glittered and he got that smug, high-and-mighty look that had magically appeared on his face when he’d turned eighteen two years ago. With a roll of his eyes he slid around her. “Look, Ma, the guys need me. I’ll gag on your cooking later—”

  “Robert Andrew Benton, don’t you dare leave this house,” she hissed. “You think I don’t know that you’re going to hang out with your disgusting greaser friends? You think I can’t smell the smoke and beer on you? You think I don’t know what a community joy ride is?” Underneath her anger, some small well of helplessness bubbled up as he paused, startled, then kept right on walking. “Stop!”Her anger erupted so fast that her vision literally went red. The snarl reverberated along the picture-lined hall, louder and angrier than she’d intended. When Amanda looked down at her pointed finger, her nail had grown to a wicked claw.

  Her son froze halfway to the front door at her command. “W-what the hell!?”

  She quickly put her hand behind her back and reined in her sudden panic. No, not yet. “Watch your language,” she whispered, pleased that she sounded calmer.

  He gasped and shook, as if he’d been held against his will and suddenly released. His face held a strange expression as he looked her over closely. She cursed herself when she realized that she still saw the hall through a red filter. A deep breath returned the walls to their creamy white finish. “What’s going on?” he managed after a moment. “Are you all right?”

  “Your father may not know who you’ve been cruising with, but I do.” She held her head high. “Do you know some of those poor boys died last night, getting involved in things that weren’t their business? I’m not about to let you go down to that garage or get involved in some turf war, Raver,” she hissed. The boy’s sneer had jumped from his face to hers. Though he was a head taller than she, he looked small and deflated, and utterly shocked.

  “Mom, how did you...what the hell?” he asked, his coat hanging limp from one hand, his other buried in his hair, wrecking his attempt at a pompadour.

  “You’re no more of a hood than you are a scientist. Stop trying to be something you’re not, Robert, and just focus on growing up. I know what you’re up to. I have my ways,” she added softly and pointed to the kitchen. “I think you need to wash up for dinner.” When her son didn’t move, she tried again and added just a little push to her voice, to see what would happen. “Wash up for dinner, Robert.”

  He headed to the bathroom as if in a dream, leaving his jacket where it had fallen on the floor.

  ***

  It should have been a moment of triumph: the house clean, dinner ready, her little family around the table, just like on television. Unfortunately, television stars didn’t have to deal with the monsters that inhabited her household. At least Tom was home on time, though by the way he stared at the main course, he wished he was anywhere else. As an experiment, Amanda stared at the man she’d fallen in love with. His kind blue eyes had grown dimmer under his receding dark hair, and his face had started to show his age.

  She stared at the fine lines on his forehead and concentrated. Are you having an affair? Why do you never smile anymore? What’s going on with you? Let me in, Tom.

  Nothing. Not an inkling. The Patriarch had warned her that not all his powers would transfer, but she had hoped that his mind-reading abilities would be something she’d inherit. No matter. I’ll get things straightened out soon enough.

  “Mandy? Are you all right?” She came back to herself, though it was hard to hide her disgust at the nickname. It sounded so mundane compared to what she was now.

  She forced a smile. “Fine. How was work, darling?”

  “You know how it is. Never a loss for patients these days, which is good. More babies mean we’re coming back to ourselves as a country again.” He always had some pet theory about something, though he was never inclined to do much about it. Still, she wasn’t sure how to take his ramblings. When they’d first met, even when they first married, she’d been able to read him like a book. Now the book had been rewritten in some foreign language. “What about you? I didn’t get a chance to ask, did the women’s guild meeting at St. Paul’s go well last night?”

  “Very nicely, thank you. We’ve been working on some ways to rein in the questionable element around town lately, drawing up a petition about the school board, that sort of thing.”

  “Well, it looks like you won’t have to be bothered about Worthington, at any rate. Poor guy, looks like he was run over by a car last night.”

  “How horrible!” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Robert watching her closely.

  “Yes, it was a bad night for our town. Some hoodlums who were trafficking stolen goods out of Dave’s garage turned up dead, as well. There’s whispering that it was a rival gang, but who knows, at this point. It’s a sad world we live in these days. Probably best you don’t hang around down there after school anymore, Robert. Looks like it’s turning into a bad element.”

  How someone could claim to be so well-informed but be so blissfully stupid was beyond her. She bit her lip and gasped at the sharp pain.

  “Honey, are you all right?” Tom frowned.

  “Just bit my lip,” she mumbled behind a hand. Get control of yourself! She took up the cutter for the pie on the table, gripping it hard. Slowly, the pain in her hand took her focus away from her mouth, and the fangs retracted back to their hiding places.

  “At any rate, it’s good that you’re taking an interest and giving yourself something to do,” Tom blathered on, though she didn’t miss the snort of derision at the other end of the table. She ignored it and went about setting dinner onto the waiting plates.

  “I’m just going to say it. What pulp novel did you get that grody shit out of?” Robert growled when she set a plate in front of her daughter, Ashley. The girl wisely kept her mouth shut, but looked horrified, anyway.

  “Language. It’s Betty Crocker’s Summer Salad Pie.” She cut an extra-large piece for her son. Not three years ago Tom would have leaped to her defense, but now she caught him giving Robert a weak shrug and smile, as if to say “Women, what can you do?” “Tuna and tomato-lemon Jello, pimento, a cheese shell. You like all of that,” she added.

  “Not together!” Robert countered as he wiggled his plate. The slice of dark gelatin pie topped with light pink tuna frosting quivered, nearly sending the tomato garnish rolling onto the table. “It
looks like some kind of torture food made to induce vomit.”

  “Rob,” Tom warned, though there was an edge of laughter in his voice. He regarded his own plate and took the smallest bite he could possibly get on his fork. When he chewed, he leaned his head back. For the first time that day, Amanda’s mouth watered. His bobbing Adam’s apple, the veins just barely visible...hunger finally raised its head after she’d forced herself through cooking. It was the reason for the cold meal; if she had tried anything with meat, she just knew she would have been sick all over the kitchen. Food had lost its appeal for her soon after her transformation. “It’s not bad, kids. A little inventive, but not bad,” her husband decreed, though her children took their sweet time digging in. Ashley, in particular, poked at the meal as if her mere presence at the table did her mother a favor. “Good day at school, Asha?”

  Amanda cringed. Why couldn’t her husband call anyone by their proper names?

  “Oh, yeah, Daddy, great! I did well on my English paper, and the chemistry test wasn’t as hard as I expected.”

  “Good for you, sweetheart,” Tom replied. She practically bloomed under her father’s attention; both children did, to some degree. Amanda’s grip on her fork trembled. She forced herself to take a sip of her water.

  “Can I go out with Andy tonight after dinner?” Ashley chirped. This time the rolling in Amanda’s stomach had nothing to do with food.

  “He’s really not suitable for you, darling,” she murmured.

  “He’s sweet, Mom! Plus he’s really good in school! Can we at least go to the sock hop next week?” Ashley pressed. Her pretty, girlish face screwed up in frustration and her dirty-blonde braid slapped against her back when she turned in her seat.

  “The scrawny kid you went to the movies with last week? He’s harmless, Ma,” Robert reasoned, though he still looked at her as if she was the result of some whispered Cold War experiment. “Besides, it’s the fifties. People don’t need to keep to station anymore. He’s so shy their dates are probably more fake-out than backseat bingo.” Ashley growled and kicked him under the table.