by Bill Blume
Gidion held up his phone with the picture, but Dad pushed it away. “Not now, I’m driving.” Traffic on the Powhite Parkway got heavy this time of day, leading up to rush hour.
“This is the guy.” Gidion stared at the picture of Wetherington standing next to a horse. He wore a pair of red-rimmed sunglasses. “He was driving the rental car, the one the assassin got into. I’m sure of it.”
“I thought you didn’t get a good look at him.”
Wetherington was twenty-four years old when he went missing. He had a wild mane of hair in the picture, even though the driver’s hair was cut short. The face of the driver, what was visible to Gidion the other night, hadn’t changed much. Someone must have turned him shortly after he disappeared, but it wasn’t the face that made him sure this was the guy.
“It’s the sunglasses. That’s the exact pair he wore.”
“He must be a shade.”
Gidion put the phone away. He’d read up on Wetherington later. “And just what is a shade?”
“A vampire whose eyes are extra-sensitive to light,” he said. “They wear sunglasses to compensate for it, even in the dark.”
“Grandpa never mentioned those.” Referring to Grandpa in the past tense was already getting more natural. He wondered how long it would take to stop feeling like each time he used the past tense that he was somehow turning his back on him.
“I’m not sure how much your grandpa knew about shades. In the old days, I don’t think they lasted very long. Elders who made them often killed them. Shades happen for several reasons. The vampire turning them might botch it somehow. Mainly happens if the one doing the deed isn’t a true elder yet or if they rush it.
“Having the option of sunglasses makes a difference, part of where their nickname comes from.” Dad got that distant look again. “I’ve seen it happen.”
Gidion couldn’t help but smile. The whole moment had a very Batman and Robin vibe to it. Ever since he’d learned Dad was a big bad vampire hunter, he’d wondered what it would be like to hunt with him.
“I’d definitely be Tim Drake, though. Wouldn’t want to be Damian.”
Dad glanced at him as if he’d started speaking in tongues.
“Batman and Robin?” Gidion shrugged assuming it would have been obvious.
Dad scowled. “Yes, I know who Tim Drake and Damian Wayne are, thank you very much. I might not buy comic books anymore, but I do keep up with my childhood heroes on Wikipedia and Comic Vine.”
“Just checking.”
“Yes, but we were talking about shades.”
“Sorry, Batman.” Gidion grinned.
The hint of a smile ruined Dad’s scowl. “So, we were talking about shades.”
“Yeah, botched conversions and sunglasses,” Gidion said. “Means if I get the glasses off, he’ll be at a disadvantage.”
Dad got this rumble in his throat, suggesting he didn’t agree with that. “That depends on the setting. In a pitch black room, the shade has the advantage. Never forget that. If this guy from Georgia has lasted for seven years despite being a shade, then he’s a survivor.”
“I don’t suppose we have any kind of game plan for tonight?”
Dad’s silence was all the answer Gidion needed. They weren’t going hunting or doing anything productive tonight.
“You know, we could pick up my car?”
The sidelong glance from Dad said plenty. He knew damn well why Gidion wanted his car back.
“Maybe tomorrow,” Dad said, then added, “if we get back into Grandpa’s house.”
Gidion wanted to scream. He’d never recognized just how much freedom he’d enjoyed during the past year. Heck, Dad didn’t watch his movements this much even when he was in elementary school.
He needed to hunt. Sitting and waiting wasn’t going to make this mess go away, but Dad refused to talk about it. He just wanted to wait until he’d spoken with his “contact” tomorrow night.
• • •
Aside from dinner, Gidion hid in the guest bedroom the entire time. He didn’t even bother saying “goodnight” when he decided to go to bed. Unless he had to speak to Dad, he didn’t plan to. That all changed at two in the morning.
His cell phone vibrated and started playing the James Bond theme, his phone’s default ringtone. He didn’t recognize the number, which had an 866 area code, but given the time, he decided to take a gamble and answered.
The man calling talked with a practiced, professional manner. “This is Southeast Security calling for Gidion Keep.”
Gidion rubbed the sleepies from his eyes. This guy on the phone was far too chipper for two in the morning.
“This is he.”
“Sorry to wake you, sir. I’m calling in regards to the alarm system at 8520 Staples Mill Road, Milligan’s Funeral Home. We’ve received an activation from the hallway motion and the garage door. Would you like us to dispatch at this time?”
Gidion needed a few seconds to register what the security guy had said. The instant he did, he jerked straight up and out of the bed. Ever since Gidion started hunting, Grandpa had placed him on the keyholder list with the alarm company. They’d probably already tried Grandpa’s home number.
“How long ago?” Gidion snatched up some jeans and dug around in the suitcase on the floor for one of his t-shirts with the red bat on it.
“We received both activations just three minutes ago. We attempted to call the premises, but there was no answer. Would you like us to dispatch police?”
“No!” Gidion stopped what he was doing and took a deep breath. “No, that won’t be necessary. Thank you.”
“And the cancellation code?”
Gidion blanked for a split second. Holy crap! What was the damn code word?
“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asked, trying to stall long enough to remember the code word. The last thing they needed was police going on this.
“I just need the cancellation code, sir.”
He snapped his fingers. “Templar.”
“Thank you. Is there anything else I can do to assist you this evening?”
A cup of coffee would have been great, but he decided not to be a smart ass given what he did ask. “Yes, please call me before anyone else if you receive any additional activations between now and sunrise, I mean—uh, make it until eight a.m.”
“Including the premises?” If the guy on the phone thought that was an odd request, he didn’t let on. He typed at his keyboard, hopefully adding in the request.
“Yes, please.”
As soon as he hung up, Gidion dressed and went into the hallway. He almost tripped on Page, who was curled up on the floor outside the door to the guest room. He cursed, and then hoped Dad hadn’t heard him. He needed a second to orient himself, still not used to the layout of Ms. Aldgate’s house.
He went straight to the den. Dad had opted to sleep on the couch while they stayed here. Gidion heard him doing his best “Darth Vader” imitation. There was a reason Gidion slept with his door closed when Dad was home.
“Dad,” Gidion whispered, not wanting to wake Ms. Aldgate while he did this. Of course, if he’d had his car, he wouldn’t have bothered waking Dad. He’d have just hopped in the Little Hearse and gone to the funeral home alone.
Waking Dad required nudging him on the shoulder. Gidion feared Dad might panic given how dark it was, jerk awake, and attack him. Instead, Dad stopped snoring and opened one of his eyes, which slowly turned to fix on the fool crazy enough to wake him.
“Gidion Antony Keep, there had better be a horde of vampires outside this house.”
“No, but there might be some in the funeral home.”
That got Dad’s attention. More importantly, it got him upright for Gidion to tell him about the call from the alarm company.
“You should have gotten me while they were still on the phone.” Dad’s protest didn’t have much teeth to it, because he was already slipping on his pants. “No fire alarm, right? Just the intrusion sensors?”
&
nbsp; Gidion nodded. “Yeah. Why?”
“Because if I was the vampires,” Dad said as he pulled on his tennis shoes, “I’d burn that funeral home to the ground to take the cremator out of the equation.”
Gidion had to admit that would be a smart move. “To be fair, vampires aren’t exactly fond of fire. You know? That whole being extra-flammable thing and all that.” He added in a nice little poof effect with his hands.
They both jumped as they heard Ms. Aldgate curse from the hallway. “Seriously, dog?”
Page ran from the hallway into the den, leaving little doubt she’d tripped their hostess.
Ms. Aldgate followed a few steps behind the dog. She was wearing a thick, dark grey robe that looked like it was made out of the same material used for towels.
Page ran to the far side of the coffee table to hide.
“Sorry,” Dad said, “she does that. She is a protection dog.”
“Really?” Ms. Aldgate targeted Page with an “evil eye.” “I’m not clear how she’s supposed to protect me from a vampire when she can’t even figure out to move before my feet hit her.”
Dad and Gidion exchanged a look. Apparently, neither of them had a good reply to that. Simply agreeing with her seemed wiser. For Gidion’s part, he’d never seen Ms. Aldgate with her hair tousled in that many directions. A powerful urge to live until dawn told him not to voice his observation about the hair.
“So, just why am I tripping over your dog at two in the morning?” she asked.
Dad answered as he slipped on his bright green Henrico Police sweatshirt. “Alarm company just called about a possible break-in at the funeral home.”
“And you’re going?”
Gidion took a step away from Dad, because he knew that look. Kids getting that expression from her ended up with an F.
“If it’s the vampire who came after my father, there’s no telling what she’s doing. It wouldn’t be difficult for her to plant something she’s hoping police will find.”
Ms. Aldgate didn’t voice her objection, but she didn’t need to.
“Did you ever get the box cutter I’d suggested back in the fall?” Gidion asked her.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Dad put a hand out to stop him from going anywhere.
“Making sure we go in there armed.” He tossed in an exaggerated shrug for good measure. “You planning to just take them out with a karate chop or the Vulcan nerve pinch?”
“You are not going.”
Gidion launched into his protest with Dad’s counter-protest overlapping him.
“Hey!” Ms. Aldgate’s shout sent both of them into silence. Benefits of being a teacher, no doubt. “Aric, how many vampires have you killed in the past—oh, say—five years?”
“I hunted for more years—”
“A number.” Oh, daaaaaaamn! Ms. Aldgate was taking Dad to school.
“None, but—”
“Gidion?” she asked without taking her eyes off of Dad.
He took an extra step away from Dad as he answered. “More than twenty.”
She crossed her arms.
• • •
Five minutes later, Dad started his car as Gidion buckled himself into the passenger seat.
“Don’t. Gloat.”
Gidion grinned. He was going vampire hunting with Dad.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Dad might have caved in front of Ms. Aldgate, but he made it clear that this was going to be his show and that Gidion was just along for the ride.
Gidion pulled out his iPhone to plug it in. “Can I pick the music?”
“Not a chance in Hell.” Once they came to a stop at a traffic light just before the 288 interchange, Dad plugged in his phone. “I’ve got a playlist for this.”
Gidion leaned over for a look at Dad’s phone as he pulled up the playlist with the innocuous title of “Gone Fishing.”
Just as the light changed, the first song started.
“George Michael? Really, Dad?”
“I thought you liked this one,” he said as they took the ramp onto Route 288, which they had all to themselves at this hour.
“Yeah, but we’re getting ready to kick some vampire ass. If you’re gonna play George Michael, at least make it something fast like ‘Freedom.’ You don’t play ‘Older.’”
Dad grunted. “Well, I like the irony of the title, so get over it.”
To Dad’s credit, at least the next song on the list was Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust.” Around the time they were taking the ramp from I-64 onto Parham Road, Dad decided to set some ground rules while Michael Hutchence and Jimmy Barnes were belting out “Good Times.”
“You stay behind me the whole way in there.”
“Really?” Gidion pulled out the box cutter he’d borrowed from Ms. Aldgate. She’d followed his advice from when the vampires were trying to kill her and bought a nice silver one with a blue grip. “I’m the one who’s armed here.”
“I call your puny blade and raise you a katana.” Dad pointed with his thumb towards the back of the car. “I’ve always kept a bag of weapons in the trunk. I retired from the hunt; doesn’t mean I’m not prepared.”
Gidion looked forward to seeing what kind of vampire extermination equipment Dad was packing. He was also curious to see where he was keeping it. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen the inside of Dad’s trunk, and he’d never noticed a bag in there big enough to carry a sword.
Once they reached Staples Mill Road, a few blocks from the funeral home, Dad pulled into the rear lot of a pharmacy.
“Let’s be quick about this.” Dad popped the trunk. Where he’d parked placed them close to a light in the rear lot, but not directly in its beam.
Gidion got out of the car with him. Except for a bottle of oil, jumper cables, and a tire pump, the trunk was empty. Dad reached inside for the back of the trunk. He pulled down the panel that went up against where the back seats were. Only, the panel wasn’t right up against the back seats. Instead, it hid a thin compartment containing a long, black bag.
“Had a friend in a woodworking class back in high school who showed me how to build that. Of course, he used this trick to hide drugs.” He paused as he unzipped the bag to fix Gidion with a stern look. “Not that I ever did.”
Gidion held up his hands as if to surrender. “I wasn’t gonna say a thing.”
“That’d be a first.”
Dad smiled as he pulled out his katana. The wooden scabbard wore a lot of scratches, but the blade that he removed from it was sharp and unmarred. The wrap on its hilt was blue and white.
“See anything you want to use?” Dad asked.
He also pulled out what looked like a pair of brass knuckles, but they had knife-sharp points sticking out the front. A lot of the items in his bag had to be custom-made, kind of like the hidden compartment. Gidion wondered how much this gear had cost Dad. He supposed the longer he hunted, the more he’d put his money towards refining his weaponry.
Gidion picked up a bag of black zip ties but put them back. “I’ll stick with the box cutter for the moment.”
“All right. Once we’re inside, no talking unless absolutely necessary. They’ll know we’re there. Their hearing is too sharp not to hear us, but that doesn’t mean we have to make it easy for them.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Don’t get an attitude with me.” He slid his katana back into its scabbard and tossed it into the back seat.
“It’s not attitude!”
“You rolled your eyes.” He shut the trunk and pointed for Gidion to get back in the car.
“Well, it’s not like this is my first day at the rodeo.”
“I know.” Dad climbed into the driver’s seat and shut the door, the overhead lamp going back out. “This is your first time working with me, though. That changes things a bit, for both of us.”
“Sure thing, Batman.”
“Shut it.” Dad didn’t smile at being called “Batman” this time. “I’m going to d
rive around the funeral home. You know it better than I do these days, so if you see anything suspicious or out of place, point it out.”
They pulled onto Staples Mill and went the few blocks down to the funeral home. The street lights helped, but not much. All the lights in the parking lot were off, which was normal after hours.
Pulling into the lot, Dad drove counter-clockwise around the building. The front looked as it should, with the door shut and no windows broken. Bushes, neatly trimmed, ran along the walls on the front and the right side. None of the plants were bent or otherwise disturbed.
“Not seeing anything?” Dad asked as they crept around the building.
“Nope.” The lack of cars parked in the front or side lots worried Gidion. He wondered if they might have parked in the back, but the lot was empty.
“Damn,” Dad muttered as the garage came into view. Light spilled out the open door.
As they pulled in front of the garage door, Dad slowed the car even more. Gidion leaned forward to look past Dad. He didn’t see anyone in there. Nothing looked disturbed either, not that he could tell from here. Part of him wondered about the garage door, if the assassin had placed another fanged smiley face over his paint job.
“Which sensors did the alarm company tell you were tripped?” Dad asked.
“The door from the garage to the hallway and the hallway motion detector.”
More than a half hour had passed since that call. He couldn’t imagine the assassin would have already given up waiting on them, not if this was a trap, but there was no car. Of course, he still hadn’t figured out what she could possibly want to get from the funeral home that she wouldn’t already know. Just going by where the rental had been abandoned so close to their home, she must have figured out where they lived.
They continued around the building. Gidion didn’t spot anything else out of the ordinary. The other side of the building was a covered area where they parked the hearses to load the caskets and mourners after the ceremonies. The double-doors were closed and didn’t look damaged in any way.
“Which sensor did they say tripped first?” Dad asked.