Thea: A Vampire Story

by Steven Jenkins

  “Fine. I can get it myself. You can get it on the Internet anyway.”

  “No, you can’t,” I say, shaking my head. “That stuff is fake.”

  “Then I’ll get it from somewhere else.”

  This is madness! I feel like I’ve just stepped into the Twilight Zone. I clench my fists in anger, and then slam one down on the worktop. “Just stop it, Mum! You can’t do this! You’re going to get yourself hurt, and I don’t need this shit right now. I’ve already lost one daughter, and I don’t want to lose you as well. So enough of this bullshit!”

  “The pizza’s burning,” Thea says from the kitchen doorway, pointing over at the smoking oven.

  I race over to it and open the door. I grab the oven glove and pull out the baking tray with the black pizza on top. Placing it down by the sink, I notice that Mum is swilling that plate again, clearly concealing her tears from Thea.

  “What’s all the shouting about?” Thea asks. “You woke up Granddad.”

  Mum sniffs loudly and then races past Thea, disappearing out of the kitchen.

  “Is she all right?” Thea continues. “I think she was crying.”

  I lean against the worktop, feeling drained and shell-shocked. “She’s fine, Thea. She’s just upset about Granddad, that’s all. We both are.” It suddenly dawns on me that this is the most Thea’s said to me since Wednesday night.

  “Oh, right. Okay,” she says as if it’s no big deal. But she’s only thirteen, and she’s already lost a sister. Losing a grandfather she barely knows is hardly big news. “Can we go now?”

  I grin at her, thinking that that’s the smartest thing anyone has said all day. “Of course we can.” Should I ask her if we’re cool? No, I better not; I’ll only end up blowing it.

  Thea goes out into the hallway to get her jacket from the banister. I pop my head into the living room and see Mum sitting next to Dad. His eyes are shut. At least he’s sleeping again. She’s stroking his legs as they lie across her lap, her eyes still filled with tears. “Mum?” I whisper. “Are you going to be okay?”

  She nods, with a slight smile as if to say: I’m better now.

  “Thea and I are heading off,” I say. “Do you need anything before we go?”

  “No. You get off home now,” she replies, her tone snarky as she turns away from me, her eyes on Dad as he stirs beside her (no different after fifteen pints of cider). “Don’t worry about us—we’ll be just fine.”

  The guilt-trip usually works on me. But this isn’t a request to pick up some shopping from the town, or take her car to be valeted. We could both get into trouble.

  So this time, she’s on her own.

  And this time, I mean it too. I’ve got my own problems to deal with.

  “Okay then,” I reply, firmly. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

  She doesn’t respond.

  “Fine,” I say under my breath, making my way out.

  As I reach the front door, I stop in my tracks. She wasn’t serious. Was she? No, she’s just hurting. It’s just the stress talking. She’d never be that irresponsible.

  I leave Mum’s house and meet Thea by the car. She half-smiles at me when I open the door for her.

  A half-smile? That’s progress. A bar of chocolate and I’m golden.

  9

  Tuesday, 12th April, 2016.

  Thea is late for school for the second time this week. If she wasn’t so busy on that phone of hers she might be a little more organised.

  “It’s almost eight,” I remind her. “You’re going to miss your bus again.”

  Thea ignores my comment, continuing to speed-text someone. Who is it this time? Ellie? Beth? Faith maybe?

  A boy?

  No, she would’ve mentioned it to me.

  Like hell, she would!

  “Put your phone down,” I say, “or I’m flushing it down the toilet.”

  “God, Mum,” Thea replies, bitterly; eyes still locked on the screen, “will you get off my case.”

  “If you miss that bus you can walk to school this time. I’m not bloody driving you.”

  Chuckling, she finally looks up at me. “Yeah right. With all the lectures about safety, and you’re gonna make me walk on my own, among all the paedos and rapists?”

  “Don’t get smart with me.”

  Thea tuts loudly and gets up from the chair, leaving the phone on the table. “Fine. You win. I’m going.” She then makes her way out onto the hallway.

  “Where are you going now? Your bag is in here.”

  “I’m getting my coat,” I hear her voice shout down from the landing. “Is that okay with you?”

  I’ll be glad when she’s gone for the day. Need to sleep off this hangover. Shouldn’t have had that wine last night.

  Just as I’m about to take a sip of my orange juice, I notice Thea’s phone. It’s unattended. That’s a rare sight. Before I even have a moment to ponder the morals of snooping through Thea’s possessions, I’m grasping the phone in my left hand, reading her last few texts.

  Who the fuck is Jared?

  I scroll down to read a few more.

  A boyfriend?

  “That’s mine!” Thea says from the kitchen doorway. My heart jolts a little, nearly dropping the phone.

  Flustered, I hand it over to her, and she snatches it from me. “Are you seeing someone?” I ask her.

  Thea slips her jacket on, grabbing her school bag from the back of the chair, her face bright red with anger. “That’s got nothing to do with you. Those were private messages.”

  “How old is this boy?”

  “It’s none of your business!”

  “Of course it’s my business!” I snap. “I’m your mother for Christ’s sake!”

  “That doesn’t give you the right to go through my things. Did you do that with Ivy, too? Is that why she left with Callum?”

  My stomach twists when I hear Ivy’s name. “No. Your sister left with that junkie because I didn’t go through her things. Keeping out of her life is what got her killed. So shoot me if I’m not prepared to make the same mistake again.”

  Thea doesn’t answer; she just looks at me with Ivy’s venomous eyes. She slips the phone into her pocket, shakes her head, and then heads for the back door.

  “You stay away from that boy!” I warn her as she disappears outside. “I mean it! Or I’ll be down that school so—”

  The door slams hard, cutting me off mid-rant. I think about chasing after her. Instead I’m left staring at the back door.

  Just another day in the life of Sarah Wilkes.

  * * *

  Mum lets herself into the kitchen through the back door. Normally I hate going into work, but after this morning’s row with Thea, I’ll gladly take the distraction.

  “How are you holding up, Mum?” I ask her as she takes off her jacket.

  “Don’t worry about me,” she replies with a tone. “Your father’s the one who’s dying.”

  Out of view, I roll my eyes and put the remark to one side. I can do without her on my back as well. “Sorry,” I say, swallowing my pride like sandpaper. “How’s Dad doing?”

  Mum turns to me with a pitiful look. Lately, Mum’s eyes have been permanently bloodshot. “The doctor says that he should be in a hospice.”

  “Maybe they’re right. It can’t be good for him stuck on the couch all day.”

  “That’s where he wants to be. He hates being upstairs on his own, and he doesn’t want to die in some bloody hospice.”

  Slipping my cardigan on, I hear Thea stomping around in her bedroom, clearly making more noise than usual. Is she trying to annoy me? If she is, then it’s working. “Look, Mum, maybe you should stay at home. I’m sure my boss can find someone to cover the night shift.”

  Mum shakes her head, walks over to the kettle, and flicks the switch. “No, it’s fine. Uncle Roy is down for a few days. They said they’d call if there’s an emergency. And besides, I love spending time with Thea, even if it is only an hour or two before she goes to be
d.”

  I grab my handbag from the table and hook it over my shoulder. “Well, you’ve got your work cut out. She’s not talking to me again.”

  Taking out a mug from the cupboard, she sets it down on the worktop. “Oh, what’s happened now?” she asks, in a voice that suggests that whatever the problem is, I’m either overreacting, or that it would never happen on her watch.

  “Thea’s got a boyfriend, and she’s angry with me for checking her phone messages.”

  The kettle finishes boiling, and Mum pours herself a coffee. “You checked her phone? Well, what did you think would happen?”

  I don’t bother retorting; there’s no point. I open the kitchen door and poke my head into the hallway. “Thea!” I shout up to her. “Gran’s here, so I’m off to work. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  I wait for a response, but all I hear is more stomping around. That’s the best I’m going to get out of her this evening. Sighing, I scoop up my car keys from the table and head for the back door. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, Mum. Text me if you have any problems, or news about Dad.”

  Stirring her coffee, she starts to well up again. “Okay, Sarah.” She turns away from me to face the worktop. “Have a good shift,” she struggles to say.

  I feel like I’m stuck in limbo: one foot in the kitchen, and the other outside. Should I call in sick? Surely they’d understand what with Dad the way he is. They don’t know how I feel about him. In fact, I don’t have to mention Dad. Mum’s well-being is enough to warrant some work leave.

  The sound of Mum’s spoon hitting the inside of the mug increases.

  I don’t know what to do?

  But then a voice in my head tells me to go and leave her in peace. So I listen and I’m out the door, heading for the car.

  Roll on ten-hour shift.

  10

  I’m a half hour early for work. The break-room is empty so I make myself a coffee and pull out my phone. I haven’t been able to get Mum’s request out of my head. Was it such an unreasonable thing to ask? The man is dying. What other way is there to save him?

  I wish I’d paid more attention in school instead of daydreaming and chatting with Mark. Vampires always came up in history class. Every bloody term. I could have been an expert by now.

  I take a sip of coffee and start to surf the net, reading various articles and forums about vampire infection. Finally, I settle on my usual haunt for facts: Wikipedia. It claims that the speed someone turns all depends on the host. For some, the changes can start within a few hours. While for others, it could take days, even weeks. Strength and bone density improves; so does immunity to disease and healing capabilities, which slows the aging process dramatically. But these changes also cause vampire skin to be highly sensitive to sunlight, causing hibernation during the day. Oddly enough, scaling walls like spiders and enslaving their hosts using psychic powers didn’t come up at all. What a surprise!

  The blood cravings are apparently like any addiction: they can be controlled over time and with restraint. Some are worse than others, but all a vampire needs to survive is around two or three hundred millilitres of blood per day. It can be from human or animal, but always warm. Once the cravings are under control, vampires can quite easily blend in among ordinary people, making them almost impossible to spot.

  They make it sound so easy, but it won’t be—especially for an ex-alcoholic. Can someone like Dad really control himself?

  Putting the phone on the table, I sigh loudly; frustrated that Mum has even put this notion into my head.

  I take a sip of coffee, lean back on my chair, and then close my eyes. Bloody vampires.

  * * *

  “Where might someone get hold of vampire blood?” I ask Kate without double-checking that the break-room is deserted. Stupid, but I’ve got a lot on my mind at the moment.

  Kate nearly chokes on her grape juice, her eyes wide with shock. “Why the hell would you ask me something like that?”

  “Oh, it doesn’t matter,” I reply, taking a sip of tea. Maybe she thinks it was just a dumb joke. “I was just curious.”

  Kate shakes her head, clearly seeing through my bullshit. “Sarah, I’ve known you for a long time now, so I know when you’re hiding something. So go on—spit it out. Why would you want vampire blood?”

  I brace before answering. “It’s my mother. She said she wanted to infect my father with it.”

  “Really? Carol? Bloody hell,” Kate says, shaking her head in disbelief. “And I thought my parents were nuts.”

  “I think she’s finally lost it. She asked me if I could get it for her. I told her no.”

  “Shit. Does she even know what’ll happen to her if she gets caught?” Kate asks, taking another sip of her juice.

  “Yeah. She knows everything. But even when the bastard’s dying, he’s still got a hold over her. She told me that it’s worth the risk.”

  “So do you think she’d go through with it?” Kate asks. “Or is it just the grief talking?”

  “No, I think she’s very serious,” I reply with a confident nod. “She’s always serious when it comes to him. She’s capable of anything.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I pause for a moment, wondering whether or not I should tell her the truth about Mum. Trust has never been an issue with Kate—but family shame, that’s a very different beast.

  “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Kate continues, clearly sensing my reluctance. “I’ll mind my own business. It’ll be hard, but I think I can make an exception for you.”

  “It’s fine,” I reply. “I don’t mind telling you. But keep it to yourself though.”

  “Of course,” she replies. “You can trust me. Mum’s the word.”

  Poor choice of words.

  “Before my father got sick, he was a nasty piece of work. He was an alcoholic. He used to beat my mother and me. Christ, he wasn’t that nice sober.”

  “Oh, that’s awful, Sarah. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

  “It’s fine. Not a lot of people know. Ivy knew, and Thea sort of knows, but I don’t tell her all the grizzly details. That’s why I’ve kept the girls away from him. I mean, he got clean before he got cancer, but I could never forgive him for what he put us through. I remember I was around Thea’s age, and he came home pissed up as usual, ranting about losing all his pay at the dog tracks. A sure thing according to that man—the same as every tip he had. I don’t even recall what triggered him to take his belt off and hit me with it. The prick had no problem using his fists, but he’d never used a belt before. So there I was, screaming for him to stop. Begging for him just to let me go to bed. I can still feel those massive welts throbbing in my mind. After about ten lashes, the bastard suddenly stopped dead. I remember thinking that he’d come to his senses, seen the error of his ways. But then his eyes closed and his body went limp. It was so weird. And there was Mum, standing behind him, grasping the poker with both hands.”

  “Oh my God. That’s terrible,” Kate says. “So what happened to your father?”

  “Sadly, very little. He had a concussion and a few stitches. But Mum wasn’t so lucky. Later that night she went up to bed and took an overdose of painkillers. Ended up in the hospital with him.”

  Kate’s jaw is hanging wide open in horror. I half wish I hadn’t let the cat out of the bag. But it’s too late now. Unfortunately, I don’t feel any better for sharing it. “That’s when he stopped drinking,” I continue. “After that, he went to AA, and Mum has spent the last twenty odd years keeping him healthy.”

  “Now I see what you mean with the vampire blood.”

  “Exactly. She’ll do anything for him.”

  Kate finishes the rest of her drink. “Do you think she’ll do something stupid when your father dies?”

  “Yes.”

  Kate gets up off her chair and heads over to the washbasin. “If you’re that worried,” she says, sitting back down, “then I might know someone who can get some.”

&n
bsp; “Really? What, genuine vampire blood?”

  “Keep your voice down,” Kate whispers, eyes racing to the slightly ajar break-room door. “You wanna get us thrown in jail?”

  I mouth a sorry and then lean over the table, my head low. “How much would it cost?”

  “I don’t know,” she replies, shrugging her shoulders. “I’m guessing it’s expensive. You’re probably looking around five grand. Maybe more.”

  “So who the hell do you get it from?” I ask, keeping my voice down. “A real vampire?”

  Kate chuckles. “No, of course not. The guy I get my weed from can get pretty much anything for the right price.”

  “How will I know if it’s fake or not?”

  Kate purses her lips. “I don’t know, Sarah. This isn’t exactly my field of expertise. Remember, I’m not a hundred percent he can even get it; all I can do is ask.”

  “Mum’s got the money. I know she’d pay anything.”

  “Yeah, I bet. But I don’t want to go to him unless you’re positive you want the stuff—because the dealer’s a right nasty prick.”

  I lean back in my chair, letting out a lungful of stressed-out air. I still think that Mum is crazy, but she’s bound to give up if she loses Dad. And I can’t bear losing anyone else.

  “I want some,” I tell her, with a sudden burst of confidence. “Definitely.”

  Kate shakes her head again. “I think you’re fucking bonkers, Sarah. But I’ll do it for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  What the hell am I doing? I think Mum and Thea have finally sent me over the edge.

  I take another sip of tea. “Do you think it’s true what they say—you know, about vampire slaves?”

  Kate laughs. “What are you talking about?”

  “That if you drink the blood then the vampire can find you wherever you are. And then you belong to them for life.”

  “Yes, it’s true,” she replies with a spooky voice and straight face—but I can see the smirk bursting to get out. “Vampires have psychic powers, and they also have no reflection in the mirror.”