Gidion's Blood

by Bill Blume

  “I don’t suppose that means she’s done with us.” Gidion wished that were true. Lord, he wanted this business done. He’d convinced himself Grandpa’s death was all his fault. The idea that it might not be sounded inviting, but it didn’t make him feel any better, probably because he didn’t believe it.

  Going by the look on Dad’s face, he didn’t buy into that theory either. “They abandoned the rental within a mile of our house. They aren’t finished with us, not yet.” He picked up the picture of Grandpa and Grandma on the bedside table. “I really would have liked to have gotten that picture of them in Paris.”

  Gidion thought about what Ms. Aldgate said, that there was something about Grandma that Dad hadn’t shared. He decided to go for it.

  “Why didn’t you and Grandpa ever talk about Grandma?”

  Dad glanced out the window and the fading light that promised sunset in an hour or less.

  “We should go.”

  Even though Dad started to leave the room, Gidion crossed his arms and stood his ground by the closet. “Dad, what happened to Grandma?”

  The look in Dad’s eyes pled for Gidion to let this one go, but he wasn’t going to.

  “She killed herself.” Dad’s body shivered. He grabbed the frame to the bedroom door to steady himself. His voice caught as he struggled to say more. “Before I was born, even before they married, a coven abducted your Grandma. They held her captive for more than a week and kept feeding her vampire blood. They weren’t trying to turn her. They wanted to get her addicted to their blood like one of their feeders. I don’t know why they chose her. Your Grandpa never said, but he rescued her. Damage was done, though.” Dad leaned his head against the door frame and closed his eyes. “She never really got past the withdrawals. She would cut herself and drink some of her own blood to take the edge off.”

  Dad kicked the door. It slammed against the wall and then shuddered to a halt on the rebound. “I was only twelve, had just walked home from school. Found her on the floor of the bathroom. Blood was everywhere. I don’t know if she did it on purpose or if it was an accident—maybe cut herself too deeply while trying to get a taste of her blood.”

  Gidion had often seen Dad distracted, staring off at things he couldn’t guess. The older Gidion got and the more he learned about his dad’s days as a hunter, the more he wondered where Dad went in those moments. Looking at the picture of Grandma and Grandpa in his dad’s hand, Gidion could reconstruct Dad’s memory of her body in the bathroom. He’d taken enough heads and shed enough blood to know how it spilled, spread, and stained.

  The house had been dark for Gidion when he found Grandpa. He never got a good look, and his imagination kept trying to fill in the blanks. Watching Dad stare through three decades into that blood-covered bathroom, he realized he’d always be trying to decipher every line of light and shadow of Grandpa’s body for what had been there.

  Dad slid the picture of Grandpa and Grandma into his jacket’s inner pocket as he walked back into the den. Gidion found him walking the perimeter. He paused in front of one of Grandpa’s katanas and lifted it from the cradle. He blew the thin layer of dust off the wooden saya. He gripped the hilt, wrapped in a dark green silk binding, and pulled the blade from its scabbard. The way he held the blade so close to his face, Dad looked like he was trying to catch the scent of the metal. Then he angled it to stare down its length at the wave of the fuller.

  “That was Grandpa’s favorite,” Gidion said. He’d only gotten to hold it once, when Grandpa started his training. He made it clear that Gidion wouldn’t get to use this one. Never mind that it was too long to conceal, but he said it came with a history.

  “He ever tell you its name?” Dad asked as he twisted the blade to get a better look at its edge.

  “Grandpa said naming a sword was a sissy thing to do.”

  Dad laughed before sliding the sword back into its scabbard. “In his defense, he didn’t name it. This one came with a name, Shi no Yoru. Means ‘Night of Death.’”

  “Any of these others have names?”

  Dad smiled. “No, naming swords is for sissies.” There was no missing the hint of Grandpa’s rough voice in the way Dad said that, and it was tough to tell if it was on purpose or just genetics rearing its head.

  Gidion went straight towards the front door. Grandpa kept a katana with a blue wrapping on the handle and a matching, smaller wakizashi in a stand on a small table. The smaller sword was similar to the one the police had confiscated. He took both.

  “We all set?” Gidion asked.

  “You’re not going with me tonight.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  Dad shook his head. “I’m meeting someone for information. I don’t plan to hunt.”

  The way Dad didn’t meet his eyes to say that last part left Gidion unconvinced.

  “If the person you’re meeting isn’t a threat, then what’s the big deal?”

  “I never said they weren’t a threat.”

  “All the more reason to—”

  “Gidion!” Dad pulled the front door open. “That’s enough. Have you got your car keys?”

  He could list a dozen reasons why Dad shouldn’t go alone. Half of them made an argument for Gidion even going without him. When had he last hunted? Grandpa once admitted through gritted teeth that Dad was a better hunter in his prime than he ever was. That didn’t mean much when Dad had let his skills collect dust for more than a decade.

  Gidion held up his keys and jangled them. “Yes, I’ve got them.”

  “Good.” Dad placed Night of Death in his car and then walked with Gidion to the Little Hearse.

  They looked it over, inside and out, for any sign of a tracking device. “I don’t think it’s likely,” Dad said as he crouched for a better look at the undercarriage, “but the price on your head could afford an assassin a lot of toys. Better to play it safe.”

  After searching the Little Hearse for fifteen minutes, they decided they were as certain as they could get.

  “We go straight to Lillian’s,” Dad said.

  “Actually, I promised Andrea I’d stop by her place.”

  Dad looked close to launching a protest, but then smiled. “All right. Go see her, but get to Lillian’s right after that. Are we clear?”

  Gidion nodded.

  “And tell her I said, ‘Thanks.’”

  “For what?”

  Dad looked at him like he was an idiot. “For saving your ass the other night.”

  Gidion didn’t say anything, just nodded. The reminder that he’d nearly gotten himself killed by the assassin still stung.

  He sent a text to Andrea to let her know he was on the way. He stayed behind Dad most of the way. No matter what Dad said, Gidion knew that him going alone tonight was a mistake. Unfortunately, there was no way to follow him without Dad spotting him. He needed to fix that, or Dad might not make it back home.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The first time Gidion visited Andrea’s house, the single-story rancher and the front yard had been decorated for Halloween. Ever since then, the faded brick house looked obscenely plain by comparison.

  He knocked on the door, using the rather generic brass knocker. No sooner had he let go of the knocker than the door flung open and Andrea jumped out to grab him in a hug.

  Her words tumbled out too fast for him to even say a simple “Hi.”

  “Oh my God I’m so glad to see you I’ve been worried sick are you okay is your dad okay I’m so sorry about your grandpa is there anything I can do sorry I haven’t texted more but I didn’t want to drive you crazy or pester you I know this has got to be awful.”

  In spite of himself, Gidion laughed.

  That earned him a stern look and a slap on the shoulder, thankfully the left.

  “Ouch! What was that for?”

  “You’re laughing at me, Gidion Keep.” She stomped back a step with her hands on her hips.

  Andrea’s mother walked up behind her. “I suspect he’s just not used t
o dealing with people who speak in run-on sentences.”

  Andrea fixed a melodramatic glare on her mother. It was nice to see that his dad wasn’t the only parent who took a perverse pleasure in dishing out snark to their child in front of others.

  “How are you and your father holding up?” Ms. Templeton asked as she waved him into the house and closed the door behind him.

  “We’re okay.”

  The awkward silence that followed made it clear she’d interpreted his answer for the opposite of what he’d said. She was right.

  “Thanks for asking,” he said, more to end the awkwardness. He glanced at the inside of the house. He’d only been inside here a few times since he and Andrea had started studying together. The condition of the place often varied. Even though it was just Andrea and her mom living here, the place sometimes turned into a mess. Her mom worked as an accountant and did a lot of costume work for the community theaters. Sometimes they kept the den pristine. Other times, Andrea’s mom buried it in all manner of clothing supplies or tax documents. Paperwork had conquered the den this evening.

  “Have the police found out anything?” Ms. Templeton asked.

  “Not really. We still don’t know who the lady was.”

  “Well, I’m glad you didn’t get hurt.”

  Gidion might have grown up without a mom, but he didn’t miss the undertone to Ms. Templeton’s words. Her entire posture was different from normal with her arms crossed and positioned so that she was almost between Gidion and Andrea. A step to her left and she would have blocked Andrea from his view. She didn’t know how much to trust him, and truth be told, the lady was smart to think that way. Andrea might have been killed, and he put her in that situation.

  None of them moved. Gidion couldn’t think of what to say to get out of this position.

  “Can Gidion stay for dinner?” Andrea asked.

  Whether the idea terrified him or her mother more was a tough call.

  “I can’t.” Gidion saw the tension melt from Ms. Templeton’s shoulders when he said that. “My dad wants me home as soon as possible. I probably shouldn’t stay more than a half hour.”

  Given that it was almost sunset, he expected Dad to have one of his “father fits” by the time he reached Ms. Aldgate’s house.

  “In that case,” Andrea reached around her mom to take Gidion by the hand and pulled him to the hallway and dragged him to her room.

  Andrea’s mom called after them. “The door stays open.”

  “Yes, Mother.” Andrea rolled her eyes. She didn’t close her door, but that didn’t stop her from pushing it to within an inch of the door frame.

  She smiled at him, but now that they were alone and in her room, Andrea’s eagerness vanished into a nervous wobble. He glanced around the room, because staring at her felt dangerous. The walls were painted lavender, at least the parts of the wall that weren’t hidden by furniture or movie posters, which included Hunger Games and Ladyhawke.

  He canted his head in the direction of the den. “I take it you didn’t tell her about…”

  “Oh, yeah, sure.” She slapped him on the shoulder, lighter this time as she kept her voice to a whisper. “You see, Mom, I’m dumping my loser boyfriend for that cute guy, the one who hunts vampires.”

  It took him a moment to realize what she’d just said. He fumbled for a reply, and what came out probably wasn’t his best choice. “So how have you been getting to school? I mean, I’m assuming you aren’t riding with Seth now.”

  No missing that mistake, not with laser beams shooting out of her eyes.

  “No, I’ve not been riding with He Who Shall Not Be Named.” She turned and then sat on the end of her bed. “I’ve been riding with my mom.”

  “Ah, yeah.” He looked for a place to sit. She had a desk, but the chair was occupied by a stack of books. He looked back at her, positioned in the center of the bed. That didn’t leave enough room for him. The look on her face held a challenge to it, but he wasn’t sure if that meant he needed to ask if he could sit or if she wanted him to suffer on his feet.

  “Well?” Her smirk put him even more off balance. She was toying with him. No question there.

  “Should I ask if it’s okay to sit?”

  Oh, great. She was peeved again, arms crossed and her face giving him the full-on Medusa glare.

  “What you should be doing is explaining what the heck happened the other night,” she said and then added, “without me needing to ask.”

  Gidion pointed to the edge of the bed. She scooted over for him. “I’ll answer what I can,” he said as he took his assigned seat, “but I can’t stay too long. The vampire who killed my Grandpa is also after me.”

  Andrea didn’t let him get away with a Cliff’s Notes version of his vampire hunting career. He checked the time on his phone a few times. As he told her how he’d finished off the Richmond Coven months ago by burning the house down with them inside, she moved another inch away from him.

  “Are you believing any of this?”

  “I’m not sure I want to.” She touched his shoulder, the one where he’d been cut by the assassin. The way she gingerly touched it made it clear she was thinking about that. He smiled at her, relieved she was willing to touch him.

  “My Grandpa had to show me.” She never saw the assassin that night. He’d chased her out the back of the house.

  “Explains a lot, though. You really are like Batman.”

  Gidion laughed. “Wish I had his bank account and half of his gadgets.”

  “Well, you’ve at least got me.”

  “Actually, that’s another reason I came here. I need your help.”

  She pulled back again as he said that. Ouch. He deserved it, too. The main reason he’d come here was because of this, and she probably sensed it. “I need to borrow your phone.”

  That part of the conversation didn’t go smoothly, not at all. As he explained why he needed it and what he planned to do, he worried she’d refuse to help him. She pulled her phone out and stared at it.

  “When I heard those gunshots from your grandfather’s house, I wanted to drive away like you’d told me to.”

  “You should have.” He smiled as he said that, thinking about Dad’s request to thank her for calling the police.

  “If I had, I’d never have forgiven myself.” She reached for his hand and gripped it. “I was scared I’d be leaving you to get killed. I don’t think that’s something I could live with.”

  Gidion thought about when they’d been sitting on the park table that night. That same desire to kiss her was back. He didn’t ignore it this time.

  This wasn’t his first kiss or hers, but he felt his body shake as he tilted her face to look him in the eyes. She looked just as scared, like a wild animal that knows it’s crawled into a trap. Their lips met, timid at first, but as their kiss lingered, they grew more confident. They fit together just right, and if her mom hadn’t been there, he wondered how much longer they might have stayed that way.

  He smiled at her as he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “You do realize you saved me that night, right?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Calling the police,” he said. “My dad even told me to thank you for him, because if they hadn’t shown, that assassin would have killed me.”

  She leaned back, and her stare left little doubt she was still confused. “I didn’t call the police. I was close to doing it, but then I heard the sirens and saw them pull up.”

  “But they came straight to the house.” That made no sense. Thanks to his dad, he knew enough about how police responded on those kinds of things to know there was no way they’d have been going lights and sirens for someone just saying they’d heard gunshots in the area. They needed to know someone was being targeted by the gunshots. “Did you tell them which house to go into when they got there?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t say anything until a cop came up to the car and asked me why I was there.”

 
; Gidion’s phone vibrated with a text from his dad. “I need to go.”

  She placed her phone in his hand. “I better get this back.”

  A few minutes later, she walked him out to his car as a light rain started. Gidion fought the urge to kiss her the way they had in her room. He kept this kiss short, despite the hunger he could feel from her lips.

  “Sorry.” He looked up and down the street—the few parked cars all looked unoccupied, but that didn’t mean much. “It’s just not safe for us to linger outside. I’ll email you later, okay?”

  “You better. Don’t get hurt tonight.”

  He kissed her again, another quick one.

  His windshield wipers squeaked as he drove for Ms. Aldgate’s house. Half of his ride there, he thought about that kiss in Andrea’s bedroom, but the rest of the time, he kept asking himself the same question.

  If Andrea wasn’t the one who called the police, then who did and why?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The light rain turned into something much heavier and unpleasant by the time Gidion pulled onto Ms. Aldgate’s street. He was relieved to find Dad’s car still there. He parked behind the blue Corolla.

  He didn’t go inside right away, and when he eventually approached the front door, he spotted Page’s head sticking through the curtains to watch him.

  He knocked five times, the first two knocks slow and the last three close together. Dad had insisted on that as a pass code of sorts. Four fast knocks by themselves would have indicated he was in trouble.

  Dad pulled the door open and looked past Gidion. He’d already pulled out his sword. If he didn’t have a hand on the hilt and the other on the door, Dad probably would have pulled him inside.

  “I did the knock right.”

  Dad didn’t look at him, focused on the front yard and the street. Gidion already knew all too well that the only thing moving was rainwater flowing into the gutters.

  “You were out there a long time,” Dad said as he locked the door.

  Before Gidion answered, he caught the scent of what could only be dinner.