Gidion's Blood

by Bill Blume

  Even though he could see through to the other side, most of the tunnel was a maw of shadows. He raised his hand trying to look into it, but that accomplished nothing.

  He pulled out his phone for the light. The phone only required one hand, but the sword in his right was meant for two. That left him unprepared for the vampire that lunged out of the tunnel.

  The taller and much bigger vampire grabbed Gidion by the front of his jacket and flung him into the tunnel. Gidion lost his phone. The faint glow of the display gave him just enough light to see the vampire rush at him. Gidion swung his sword as the phone went dark and missed. The vampire grabbed him by the right arm, preventing him from a second attempt.

  A fist smashed into the right side of Gidion’s face, catching him on the temple.

  The world blinked. One second he was on his feet with his sword in hand, and the next he found himself on his knees and the sword lost. The assault changed his position enough to let him see the silhouette of his attacker against the near end of the tunnel, illuminated by the light from the nearby house.

  The vampire’s leg came at him, the toe end of his boot aimed at Gidion’s chest. Gidion twisted his upper body just enough to avoid the full brunt of the kick and grabbed onto the leg. The vampire hadn’t expected that. The moment’s confusion gave Gidion the opening he needed. He grabbed the bastard by the balls and squeezed hard. He grinned as he heard Grandpa’s voice in his head. No such thing as fighting dirty. Either fight to win or don’t bother walking out the damn door at night.

  The crotch grab gave Gidion just enough advantage to knock the vampire to the floor of the tunnel. The vampire scrambled to his feet, but that gave Gidion the time he needed to arm himself. He pulled his box cutter from his pocket instead of going for his swords. He held it so that his body hid the weapon from his opponent. He retreated from the vampire, who swung at him. Frustrated by his misses, the vampire lunged. Gidion expected that, letting the vampire take him down to the floor of the tunnel. He held onto his box cutter, determined not to lose it in the fall. Pain shot through the entire left back side of his body, but he avoided cracking his head against the concrete. The vampire looked ready to fix that. He pinned Gidion to the ground between his legs.

  The vampire pulled back to punch him out cold. Gidion struck faster. He sliced across the vampire’s throat with the box cutter. He knew he’d hit the mark, too. Blood spilled from the cut onto Gidion’s chest. The vampire gasped and gagged as he fell back and grabbed at his throat. Gidion drew the wakizashi from his back and slit open the vampire’s stomach.

  That sent the vampire stumbling into retreat. His hands shook in confusion, the need to defend himself conflicting with the fear of losing all his blood. Gidion never gave him a chance to decide which need mattered most. He sliced off the vampire’s head, which required three separate swings of the wakizashi, partly from his exhaustion and from the thickness of the vampire’s neck.

  He scrambled across the floor of the tunnel, finding his phone and then using the light from it to recover Dad’s sword, which had slid over to the edge of the tunnel floor. Doing that took far too long. His entire body worked against him, shaking from adrenaline and fear. He didn’t know how long he had before someone might find him. What if the police were already in the area? His dark clothing would mask the stains from the vampire’s blood but not the stench of it.

  His brain raced through every detail of what had happened in the park, struggling against panic to piece together how utterly screwed he was and what options remained.

  The tunnel had been a trap.

  The vampires wanted him to come this way. That meant they’d probably gone to the lot where Dad parked. The delay gave them all the time they needed to get away, too.

  Gidion searched through the headless vampire’s pockets, lifting his wallet and a cheap flip phone. Apparently, the thick-necked bastard’s cell phone plan hadn’t made it into the current decade.

  The far side of the tunnel brought him out on the side of Woolridge where he’d parked. Each raindrop landing on the right side of his swollen face stung. What had started as a numb sensation bloomed into the endless, throbbing pain of a thousand tiny daggers. He didn’t bother touching his face to confirm whether blood ran down his cheek and along the edge of his jaw.

  He stumbled along the path at a half-run and then climbed the hill to his right. The wooden structure he’d seen when he parked his car came into view. The relief that he’d correctly guessed where he was gave him the strength to break into a full run to his car. As soon as he was past the wooden headstock, he spotted the Little Hearse. He tossed the swords onto the floor of the back seat, then climbed into the front and locked the doors.

  Still no police. If the cops had gone to the other lot, he would see their headlights, even if they didn’t turn on their mounted blue and red light bars.

  He drove straight across Woolridge to the entrance of the other parking lot. His headlights gave him more than enough light to see the bad news. No Mustang. Only Dad’s empty car remained. Gidion scrambled out of the car to retrieve Andrea’s phone from the trunk.

  Dammit! He’d hoped they might take Dad’s car, too, but they must have had a driver nearby in another car waiting to pick them up.

  He left Dad’s car there. No other choice. He’d come back later with Ms. Aldgate to pick it up. For now, he was done. He rocked forward and back in his seat as he drove away from the park. He decided against going directly to Ms. Aldgate’s house. He didn’t want to risk being followed, and he needed to pull himself together. The pain from the right side of his face didn’t compare with the ice in his chest.

  Grandpa dead.

  Dad captured.

  And Gidion didn’t have the first damn clue how to find him.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Going back to Ms. Aldgate’s house was the smart play. Gidion knew that. He drove a circuitous route with that original intent, but after an hour of going in ever-smaller circles, he drove past Andrea’s house several times. Stopping to see her wasn’t an option, no matter how much he wanted to. He glanced at her cell phone resting in his passenger seat. Not being able to text her hurt more than the right side of his face. He’d promised to return it to her in the morning and give her a ride to school.

  He knew why he wanted to avoid Ms. Aldgate’s house: he’d failed. He thought about Pete. Even though Gidion had killed the vampire coven that had recruited his friend as a servant, he couldn’t keep Pete from killing himself. Even without knowing the circumstances of Pete’s death, Dad had warned him that you can’t save everyone. He couldn’t let himself accept that lesson, not when his dad was the one at risk.

  The vampires kidnapped Dad. He kept telling himself that, replaying what he’d seen, trying to make sense of why.

  Realizing he was already near his house, Gidion went there. Going home was the dumbest thing he could do. He knew that. The risk that the vampires were watching the house was huge, but after several days with it abandoned, he hoped they would have given up any hope of finding him or Dad here. He drove past his house at least five times before he stopped. He didn’t spot any unfamiliar cars. No one tried to follow him, and part of him wished they would. At least that would give him a chance to confront and question one of these vampires or track them to where Dad was being held.

  Their house sat on a corner lot, so Gidion parked on the side street instead of in the driveway. He figured that would improve his chances of going undetected here. He also went in by the back door and into the kitchen.

  They’d kept all the lights off. He felt, more than saw Mom’s wedding portrait to his right. He didn’t look, avoiding her smile out of guilt from failing to save Dad and from what he’d seen. Dad had kissed the shade, another redhead. Gidion choked on the irony and his anger.

  Keeping the house dark, he relied on his phone’s flashlight to navigate. This house had never felt so empty. Knowing Page wasn’t here to warn him with her insane barking the instant a vampire a
pproached the house added another layer of insecurity. That constant paranoia tingled through the back of his neck and forced him to search every shadowed nook and cranny of their tri-level with his wakizashi in hand. Even after he’d finished his search, he spent the next half hour sitting in the den and held onto his sword the entire time. Every few minutes, he caught the foreign scent of the vampire blood covering his clothes. The stench made him nauseous until he went “nose blind” again.

  He pulled out a change of clothes before he peeled off his rain and blood-soaked outfit. The dirty clothes went straight into the washer. Once inside the bathroom, he closed the door and turned on the light, giving him his first real look at himself since the park.

  The right side of his face had turned purple. A trail of dark red crust ran down from a cut near his temple, but at least he’d stopped bleeding. Grandpa had planned for this kind of problem. He knew a retired doctor, but until now, Gidion hadn’t needed the old doc’s help. He didn’t know who the doctor was or how to reach him. His ignorance reminded him of a snide remark Grandpa once made about operating the cremator, that it was a one-step process: just call Grandpa. Calling the doctor was supposed to be a “one-step process,” too. The same anger from that moment burned fresh in his chest, but the memory of Grandpa’s body on the floor of his house, his eyes open and empty, flipped the switch to guilt and fear.

  “Dammit, Grandpa.” He slammed a fist on the countertop of the sink. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Grandpa’s voice answered him, chastising him to get cleaned up and then put the brain God gave him to use.

  He turned the shower on as hot as he could stand it. The spray stung his cold flesh. More pain flared within his temple as he leaned into the water. Once that subsided, he savored the rediscovered joy of warmth. The rushing water drowned out everything except his own movements. He imagined little creaks and groans from the house every few seconds. He feared he’d open his eyes, blinking away a water-blurred view of the world, to find the assassin there. The weight of her threat forced him out of the shower too soon to melt away all of the ice in his bones.

  Now that he was something closer to room temperature, he found it easier to focus. A glance in the mirror after he dried off let him know he still looked like crap. He’d considered calling the police to report Dad missing, but he’d need to explain his bruises. Maybe a day or two would reduce the swelling enough to avoid suspicion from the police, but that might not be time Dad could afford.

  He turned the light off in the bathroom and let his eyes adjust to the dark. Even then, he stumbled across the hall to his bedroom.

  He went for comfort, slipping on black sweatpants and a bright blue Henrico County Police hoodie, the white outline of the police patch over his heart. Every so often, the 911 dispatchers placed an order for these, and Dad bought a matching sweatshirt in the same batch a few winters back. Gidion drowned in the medium when Dad first bought them—the sleeves drooped over his hands and forced him to push them up out of the way every time he needed to handle something. Dad told him he’d grow into the sweatshirt, and those same sleeves now hugged his biceps and shoulders.

  That line of thought almost overwhelmed him, so he pushed it aside. He pulled out his phone and opened the notepad app to enter what facts he had to work with. One detail gave him a small bit of hope: they’d taken Dad alive. If the vampires just wanted to kill him, they’d have done it in the park. They didn’t take him for a meal either. Gidion felt certain of that. That meant they needed something from him.

  “Grandpa’s box.” The assassin had searched for that box. Maybe. Dad seemed convinced she’d looked for it. The past few days had left him too raw to think straight, but as he sat in the shadows and jotted down the details in his mind, he realized something else that should have been obvious.

  The assassin had shot Grandpa, but when it came time to kill Gidion, she’d taken a different approach. Hell, she tried to get him with a dart gun, and when that failed, she’d gone for a sword. What explained that? Murder by multiple personality disorder? He doubted it.

  Then there was the phone call to 911 that hadn’t come from Andrea and had saved his life.

  He also didn’t see the assassin among the vampires in the park.

  The woman he fought might not have killed Grandpa. For all he knew, she might have found Grandpa dead and was searching the house when Gidion walked in on her. How many players was he really dealing with? Grandpa’s killer could have been the one to call 911, or that might be yet another player in this mess. That might even explain the red, fanged smiley faces which seemed to tip the assassin’s hand when she had already found the funeral home.

  Then there was Dad’s contact, the shade in the park from earlier tonight. What if she’d been in Richmond all this time? She might have killed Grandpa, or maybe she’d been the one to call 911 to save Gidion’s ass. Only, why she would have helped him and then turned on Dad made no sense.

  The blow to his temple gave him a raging headache, making it harder to think.

  Then there was Dad’s theory, the one that suggested this might have more to do with Grandpa than with Gidion. Hell, this could be a perfect storm of all their past hunting fuck-ups drawing together at the same time.

  Then his phone vibrated as a message popped onto the screen.

  It was a text from Dad.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The text message appeared on the screen of Gidion’s phone with news that was far too good to be true.

  ‘I’m all right. Managed to get away.’

  A second text from Dad’s phone followed before he could respond.

  ‘Where are you? Are you okay?’

  Gidion stared at the messages, not sure how to respond. He wanted to believe it was Dad, but every instinct in him had jumped to DEFCON 1. The way the messages were typed out, with full words instead of abbreviated characters, definitely seemed like him. Except for Andrea, he didn’t know many people who worried about spelling out all the words in their texts.

  He growled, hoping to push back the headache that made thinking a hell of a challenge. How to respond to this message? Did he really believe this was Dad? No, but if it was, then Dad needed his help.

  He considered playing along, pretending he believed it was Dad, but he decided the vampires might not buy that.

  ‘How do I know this is you?’

  That question seemed a win-win. If it was Dad, then he could respond with something to prove it. Of course, if it was one of the vampires, then maybe Gidion could pretend to be fooled and trick them into meeting in a public place. Then he could follow them back to where they were holding Dad.

  After a moment of silence, the answer arrived. It wasn’t what he expected.

  ‘Your first NFL jersey was the Carolina Panthers.’

  For the first moment, he believed this might be Dad. He stood and headed for the kitchen to get his keys when a thought stopped him halfway down the stairs. Dad believed in double-verification. His laptop even required two passwords. What if Dad fed the vampires the first detail, a real one and then planned to give him something false on the second as a warning? That would be very Dad. Besides, why would Dad text when he could just as easily use a cell phone to call?

  Gidion knew the perfect question to send next. ‘Which player and number?’

  The reply arrived before he went down the stairs.

  ‘Number 13, Keep.’

  “Holy crap.”

  No way the vamps could have guessed that. Dad bought him that personalized jersey for Christmas back when he was in elementary school. Gidion had pestered him for months.

  Dad sent another text, knowing he’d proven himself.

  ‘Where are you? Are you safe?’

  ‘I’m safe. Are you?’ Gidion didn’t say where he was. If Dad got caught again, then the vampires might see the message. That and Dad would flip if he knew Gidion had risked coming to their house.

  ‘Safe for now. Got out, but can’t risk talking o
n the phone if the vampires try to track me.’

  Gidion smiled, imagining his dad going all Jason Bourne on the vampires to get free from the vamps. He wished he could have seen it. The need to stay quiet made sense, too. While a lot of the myths ventured way off from reality, all vampires possessed heightened senses, including exceptional hearing.

  Gidion sent his reply. ‘I’ll head your way. Where are you?’

  ‘Somewhere along the James River in the West End. Meet me on Cherokee Road, underneath the Willey Bridge.’

  Gidion still couldn’t fully shake his doubts. Dad kept asking where he was, which seemed a lot less important than Gidion getting there to help him. This felt too convenient, but maybe his luck was finally getting back on track.

  He turned into the kitchen when he reached the bottom of the stairs. He planned to leave by the back door, same as he’d arrived. Moonlight cut through the window.

  Just before he opened the door, he spotted an unopened, white envelope in the center of the table. He’d overlooked it when he came into the house, focused on making sure no one was hiding in here to ambush him.

  Someone wrote on the back of the envelope in a black marker. Dad didn’t leave this here. The messenger drew each letter and number like fine art.

  The note contained a phone number, an arrow, and three words that split his life in two.

  ‘Who is she?’

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Gidion stared at those three words. ‘Who is she?’