Gidion's Blood

by Bill Blume

  The two of them went into the funeral home’s garage with both their parents’ blessings. Dad even suggested it. He must have known Gidion was well past his limits.

  Andrea sat with him on the hood of one of the hearses. The stench of pipe tobacco lingered in the garage stronger than the odor of gas or oil. Gidion clung to Andrea, trying to bury his nose in her hair, hoping the smell of her shampoo might push away everything else.

  She kissed him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He shook his head, not wanting to fall apart on her, not yet. He knew worse things were waiting in the days ahead, but he wasn’t able to say that. Just thinking about it was too much. Her silent support, the way she held him, stitched him back together.

  Dad sold the funeral home that afternoon. The lawyer handling the transaction said they’d taken care of the paperwork in record time. Almost all of the money was going into a trust for Gidion. He’d explained it to the lawyer by simply saying, “College isn’t cheap.”

  The rest of the money went to Ms. Aldgate. She’d offered to take Gidion into her home, and Dad didn’t want her to struggle financially with the added burden. He’d said it better than that, but Gidion knew that’s what it amounted to.

  By the time Andrea left with her mother, it was well after sunset. Plenty of people were still filing through the funeral home, but Gidion knew he wasn’t up for going back in the room with Grandpa’s casket and all the frowns, handshakes, and hugs.

  He went out to Dad’s car. Only after he reached the car did he remember that Dad had locked it. Except, when he looked through the window, he saw it wasn’t. Out of habit, Gidion reached into his front jacket pocket for the box cutter that wasn’t there. Dad made him leave it at home. Gidion turned in a tight circle, looking for anyone or anything that was out of place. A group of mourners were gathered outside and chatting. If someone wanted to attack him now, they’d do it with an audience. He didn’t think that was likely.

  Turning back to the car, Gidion saw the light from a nearby street lamp hitting off of something metallic resting on the backseat. He opened the car door and climbed inside.

  The light reflected off a four-inch deep metal box that was more than a foot long and nine inches wide. The box didn’t have any details to it save for a small Templar cross engraved into the top.

  A post-it note with some familiar handwriting on it was attached to the outside of the box.

  Copied what I needed. You can have it back.

  —Blood

  He wondered if Blood had taken it from Grandpa’s home or if she’d found it in Mom’s mansion. Odds favored he’d never know.

  The lock on the top was broken. He opened it and found several photographs, almost all of them black and white, but the picture on top was the one that made Dad smile and cry when Gidion took it to him. It was the one of Grandpa with Grandma in Paris. The photograph was taken at night with the Eiffel Tower all lit up like some giant, metal Christmas tree. The carefree smile on Grandpa’s face looked so foreign compared to the man he’d known that Gidion almost didn’t recognize him.

  The real find was a small journal bound in brown, weathered leather. At first, Gidion assumed it was Grandpa’s, which seemed very unlike him. Only a few lines into it, he realized this was Grandma’s. Maybe it would offer some answers about how Grandpa became a hunter and if there were others out there. Why else would Grandpa have hidden it?

  Dad read it in his last days, and a few times it made him laugh.

  Dad looked awful. His body lost weight, and the way his eyes had sunk in and his muscles shrunk, he resembled Grandpa more than ever. Dad explained it was the vampire blood feeding on him, because he had no way to feed himself. The first cup of coffee with toast he tried to eat sent him running to the bathroom to vomit. In a desperate experiment, they bought steaks and cooked Dad’s rare. When that failed to stay down, Dad told them they needed to stop. All they were doing was costing him more blood and that meant he had less time. He was past the point of human food and not far enough along for blood.

  Watching him fade made Gidion realize why Dad hadn’t been able to kill Mom all those years ago. If a vampire had offered to give Dad the third feeding he needed, Gidion might have strapped his father to a bed to make it happen.

  Dad lasted longer than they’d expected, but six days after Gidion had rescued him, the purging began. Nothing but blood came up. It was all his body had left, and in the absence of his third feeding, the human side of his body was rejecting the filth that invaded it. His immune system wasn’t going to save him, though. That was the thing sure to kill him if he waited.

  Dad made the call to Blood. Then he said his goodbyes.

  Before Dad left, he slipped off his Gatchaman wristband.

  “It did bring us luck,” Dad said.

  Gidion stared at it, hesitant to take it, because the longer he resisted, the longer Dad had to stay. “I didn’t think you believed in luck.”

  “I’ve never needed it.” He hugged Gidion for the last time, standing in the doorway of Ms. Aldgate’s house the same as the night he’d left for the park. “Got all I needed when you were born on a Friday the 13th.”

  Dad placed the wristband in Gidion’s hand after that.

  The last Gidion saw of his father was as he drove away from Ms. Aldgate’s house in his blue Corolla.

  Epilogue

  As much as Gidion fought against it, life settled into a routine within just a few weeks. He wore his one constant reminder on his left wrist. The only time he ever took off the wristband was to shower or bathe.

  Ms. Aldgate had agreed to look after him, but they soon realized they were really looking after each other. By virtue of making sure one of them ate, the other did as well. The same proved true for school, sleep, and most anything mundane that life demanded.

  Gidion’s first few dates with Andrea helped him, too. They agreed that the night they’d shared after Proper Pie shouldn’t count as their first.

  They celebrated their first month anniversary on a Saturday night in March. He took her to Bottom’s Up Pizza downtown. Since the weather was unseasonably warm, they strolled along the Canal Walk. He showed her where he’d once saved Ms. Aldgate from a vampire.

  Not surprisingly, downtown was packed with people. They stopped inside Fountain Bookstore where Andrea splurged. They took her haul with them to a café a block up Cary Street where they drank café mochas. They sat next to one of the front windows and spent the next hour engaged in some serious people-watching as they sipped their drinks.

  “Check out that lady.” Andrea laughed as she pointed to a woman dressed in an obscenely short dress and even more absurdly high heels trying to cross the cobblestone street and doing a poor job of it. A less intoxicated friend in more sensible footwear helped her stay upright.

  “How many points if she lands on her butt?” Andrea asked.

  Gidion adopted a thoughtful pose, finger tapping his chin. “I’d call it a twenty-five pointer. Fifty if she takes her friend down, too.”

  No points were to be had, though. The ladies made it to the far side of the street without a tumble.

  Andrea nestled against Gidion. He wrapped his arm across her shoulders. She pointed out the window at their next target. “Look at this guy. That dude is waaaaay too serious.”

  Gidion didn’t laugh with her, having spotted the man before she did. He walked too smoothly to be human. His hungry blue eyes slid over each person on the street and connected through the window with Gidion’s. That gaze left no doubt that the vampire recognized him as a fellow predator. His lips parted in a smile that kept his fangs hidden. Gidion glared at the vampire until he disappeared down the street in search of easier prey.

  Blood had asked if he could stop hunting. She hadn’t believed him when he said he could. Seeing that vampire walk by made his fingers flex to grip a weapon he no longer had, and in that moment, he knew Blood had been right.

  Acknowledgements

  Writing isn’t
a lonely art. At least, it isn’t if you write for publication.

  Joining James River Writers many years ago made a big difference in my writing and my life. I’ve met my best friends through JRW, fellow writers who push me to improve my craft and keep faith in it. I can’t properly thank all the people within JRW I should, but I’d be remiss not to highlight Katharine Herndon and Kristi Tuck Austin. I’ve worked closely with both of them within JRW during the time I wrote this book. Like any best friends do, we keep each other sane enough to get stuff done, limit the bloodshed when possible, and occasionally help hide the bodies when necessary. I often think of Kristi as Gidion’s godmother.

  I need to thank Phil Hilliker for his beta reading on this book. He kept me honest with Gidion’s second novel, saving me from myself in quite a few places. We’ve become fast friends during the past year, yet another friendship born from JRW.

  Eveline Chao, a woman I’ve never met, provided an entertaining and useful resource in crafting the dialogue for Blood, the assassin pursuing Gidion. I’m grateful to my co-worker Elisabeth Moore, who also provided some insight into Blood’s dialogue, for directing me to Eveline’s book. Niubi! has proven an unexpectedly useful resource for this book and other projects.

  Thanks to Piper J. Drake who provided some last-minute help translating the name of Grandpa’s sword.

  Kelly Justice, owner of Fountain Bookstore in Richmond, turned into a great supporter for my first book Gidion’s Hunt. Her unwavering faith in that first book encouraged me to work that much harder to make the second book in this series the best novel it could be.

  I also want to thank Matthew Plourde and Mike Boucher. Not only did they give me my start with Gidion at Fable Press, but their input in the early stages of writing Gidion’s Blood made this a much better book.

  The Gidion Keep, Vampire Hunter series has found a new home with Diversion Books. I can’t thank my new editor Laura Duane enough for that. Working with the team at Diversion on this book, which includes Chris Mahon, Sarah Masterson Hally, and Beth Brown, has been a treat.

  Writing a book always requires a sacrifice. For me, that sacrifice is the time I could spend with my wife and our children, time I can never make up. Sheri, Regan, and Liam have always supported me in my writing, but this book turned out to be the biggest challenge I’ve ever faced as a writer. Whenever I needed to take time to myself to get this book written, they never questioned it. At times, they even pushed me to get it done. If in reading this book you’ve wondered why a man would dedicate such a dark tale about Gidion’s family to his loved ones, just know there was never a question the three of them deserved it. I couldn’t have finished Gidion’s Blood without them.

  More from Bill Blume

  Gidion's Hunt (Gidion Keep, Vampire Hunter - Book One)

  For Gidion Keep, hunting vampires is easy—it’s high school that might kill him.

  Hunting vampires is a Keep family tradition. Dad quit the business over a decade ago when Mom was killed, so Grandpa has been teaching Gidion—in secret—to take up the hunt. As Gidion closes in on the local coven, however, he discovers their evil plans to kill off a student and a teacher.

  To complicate matters, the vampires know they're being hunted and they're determined to kill Gidion and everyone he's protecting, no matter what it takes. For Gidion, the odds are immense and his first test as a vampire hunter may be his last, but he will have help: one of his best friends might be the key to finding the vampires’ lair and finishing them once and for all...if he can be trusted.

  GIDION'S HUNT delivers a fast-paced thriller with a young hero whose deadliest weapon isn't a wooden stake but his wits and a lot of luck.

  The Deadlands: And Other Stories

  Grab your passport for a journey to the Deadlands and its collection of world-changing stories.

  Meet a young man with the power to destroy the world. Then walk among the living darkness of Purgatory Alley with a boy who was born without a shadow. Sneak into a cemetery with a twelve-year-old girl who gets paid to raise the dead. Chase terrorists in a steampunk future. Join a young hunter as he searches for a pair of vampires. Discover the lost secrets of Camelot beneath the waters of Loch Ness. And join a pair of dragons who police all manner of mythical creatures in London.

  Drawing on Bill Blume's inexhaustible wit and polished worldbuilding skill, these twelve tales of the fantastic will take you to the edge of imagination.

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