by Sloan Archer
“You friend fought off the attacker?” I was confused as to where this was all leading. How any of this could be connected to Grams was questionable.
“He did indeed,” said Richard. “And I doubt anyone else would have stayed around to help me.”
“Why? He was armed?” I asked. “Your attacker?”
Richard shook his head. “Not at all, which is how we were ambushed.”
“So then how—”
“The attacker bit into his neck,” Maxine piped in. She’d obviously heard this story before.
I flinched. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought they hadn’t noticed. Could my great-grandparents be in the know about vampires? But how? And if they were, what a strange coincidence. I eased back into my chair.
“How do you mean?” I asked innocently. “He was a cannibal?”
“We know that you know,” Richard said.
“About?”
He gave me a look, like, really? “Vampires.”
“You . . . do?”
“I’m getting to it, Mercy,” Richard said.
“Okay,” I said, my head buzzing.
My long-lost great-grandparents could have shown up and said many things after being absent my whole life, but the last thing I expected was: We’ve given you a million dollars, your grandmother’s real name was Francine, your true last name is Nolan, your great-grandfather was a rum-runner, we are aware that vampires exist, and, oh, we know that you are aware that they exist, too.
I had a very bad feeling about it all. They wanted something. I could just feel it. I no longer bought Richard’s story about him wanting to get to know me because he was getting on in the years, though I hadn’t believed it much to begin with. I had no doubt that the Nolans could have found me a lot sooner, if they’d really wanted to. With the amount of money they had, they could have hired a legion of private investigators.
Their sudden arrival was just that: sudden. Way too sudden.
I didn’t dare say more. They obviously knew something about my association with vampires, but how much they actually knew I couldn’t be sure. They may have known that vampires were real, but that didn’t necessarily mean that they knew that Robert was a vampire. Or Elizabeth. Or Joseph. Or Jerry. Or Marlena . . . or any of the other vamps I knew. Unless they revealed what information they truly had, I was keeping my secrets to myself.
“The attacker had come up from behind, which is the main reason I hadn’t seen him,” Richard continued. “I began screaming as he latched on to my neck. Sampson, my friend from the neighborhood, acted quickly, or else I surely would have been drained. He stabbed my attacker right through the heart. I also got in a few stabs once I was free. We carried weapons with us, you see, because of the threat from rival bootleggers.”
“Did he die?” I asked. “The vampire?”
“He did eventually,” Richard said. “Understandably, Sampson and I panicked. Two boys, one thirteen and the other fourteen, attacked in the street by a vampire in the middle of the night? You couldn’t expect much else.”
Richard let that sink in while he took a sip of tea.
He set the cup down and said, “We ran into the speakeasy and began telling our story to anyone who’d listen. Everyone inside, of course, dismissed us as two youngsters telling tall tales, even if we were covered in blood. The owner, a malicious crime boss you did not want to antagonize, thought we were trying to cover our tracks because we’d either drank or sold his rum. Sampson and I were nearly killed.
“The only way we were able to save our hides was by taking the group out onto the street where the vampire had attacked.” Richard chuckled. “Of course, if you’ve ever seen a vampire die, you can see why this did not help our cause.”
“Because he’d already begun to decompose,” I commented.
“Exactly,” Richard said. “Had it not been for the fangs, I doubt anyone would have believed us. But there they were, glinting on the street.” He took another sip of tea and then gently set the cup down on the coaster. “I kept them.” He lifted his arms so that his cufflinks were showing. They weren’t opals after all, but fangs.
He’d kept them like trophies.
“The speakeasy boss was a big occult aficionado; so were a few of his wealthier male customers. He took Sampson and me into his office with the men, who were now revering us like two tribesmen who’d put down a lion that had been terrorizing the village. The office was ornamented with big game prizes: rhinos, elephants, zebras, and tigers. He even had a chimpanzee rug.” He was saying the part about the animals with admiration, while I was reflecting on how grotesque it was. My great-grandfather was not scoring any points.
“They told us to describe the attack and we did.” Richard smiled sheepishly. “Sampson and I may have embellished a little about our battle, but the core of the story was true: We’d killed a vampire where they had failed.”
“What do you mean, where they had failed?” I asked. “Did they know about the existence of vampires?”
Richard nodded. “They did. As I would come to learn, the men were chasers of the exotic.”
“Chasers? You mean . . . hunters?” I asked. “Vampire hunters?”
“Yes,” Richard said. “Vampire hunters, sure, and hunters of other dangerous creatures: cobras, crocodiles, polar bears, sharks, and hippos. But vampires were the ultimate score. It was the ultimate demonstration of masculinity to conquer a creature so lethal.”
Score? Conquer? Yikes.
Richard said, “Whether he saw some of himself in us or was merely intrigued by how we’d defeated the vampire, the crime boss asked us to work for him exclusively, running rum and errands for his business. Of course, when a mobster ‘asks’ you to work for him, it’s not really an invitation as much as a demand. Sampson and I couldn’t refuse.
“I made a lot more money under the mobster’s employment, which both frightened and pleased my parents. As I grew older, and my boss began to trust me, I was treated less like an employee and more like a son. My own father had grown distant with me because of my crime affiliations, so I was closer to my boss than my own father, in a way.” Richard didn’t seem too unsettled by this, not being close with his father. Staying close to family was clearly not a priority for my great-grandfather, which explained a lot about how Grams was treated.
“When I turned eighteen, my boss inducted me into a hunting society he belonged to. It was a gentleman’s club, of sorts. It had been running for a very long time—since the days of George Washington. It was a worldwide organization, with members as far away as South Africa, Australia, Russia, and all over Europe . . .” He trailed off. “I assume you know what worldwide means. It was not only comprised of criminals, understand. There were many legitimate members in the group who were prominent public figures: politicians, business owners, and even a few moguls. We’d get together, drink, gamble, and discuss politics, etcetera. And, mainly, we’d discuss vampires.”
I wasn’t so sure that I wanted to hear the next bit.
“Though our views on politics varied, we were all in agreement on the subject of the undead. Vampires, as you are aware, are a danger to the human race. They do not provide any benefits to humanity whatsoever.”
I ground my fist into my thigh to keep myself calm, because I could feel my temper starting to flare. “What benefits could they provide?”
Richard waved a hand. “Oh, many. If they really wanted to advance humankind, they could take it upon themselves to take out the trash.” He sniffed. “They could go into ghettos and cleanse the projects, clean up our streets by draining the homeless, assassinate criminals in our prisons . . . They could purge the world of the lazy, the weak, and the stupid. It would be so fitting, wouldn’t it, if vampires ridded humanity of all those who aren’t contributing—leeched from the leeches? Think of how much more advanced civilization would be if vampires had spent centuries eradicating undesirables from our planet.”
“Right.” I couldn’t believe that I was actually related to
this hideous human being. No wonder Grams had decided to bail. I was beginning to think that she would have left home on her own volition, had they not thrown her out.
“But, no, vampires do no such thing. Vampires go to blood banks, don’t they? Which is a shame.” Richard sighed. “But the blood banks, ironically, were how Maxine and I found out that you’re a supporter of our cause. So at least they’ve been good for one thing.”
I asked, “Me? A supporter of . . . your . . . cause?”
Maxine leaned forward and winked like we were sharing a secret. “We have contacts on the inside.”
I was so lost. “The inside of what?” Were my great-grandparents off their rockers?
Richard folded his arms across his chest, annoyed by my inquiry, like he didn’t have the time or the desire to clarify. Details, details. Now here was a man on a mission, a man with something to say. “You gave your blood,” Richard said, “to eradicate vampirism. The serum?”
“The . . . serum?” I parroted.
“But what we can’t figure out is why the serum stopped being made,” said Maxine. “We were hoping you could shed some light on that for us.”
In a kneejerk response, I chanted, “No-no-no-no. That wasn’t . . . No. You guys have it wrong. I didn’t volunteer to make the serum,” I shook my head. “Hm-mmm, no. I had given my blood to . . . to somebody for an entirely different reason.” I did not clarify who that somebody was—a vampire—or that I’d given my blood in order to revert the love of my life back to immortality. “And then, unbeknownst to me, that somebody took my blood and made the serum with it.”
Translation: I am most certainly not on the same page as you two, you crazy-ass bigots. I’m not even in the same book—nay, library—as you two.
“Oh?” said Maxine. She exchanged a look with her husband that was difficult to decipher. It was surprise, maybe, mixed with aggravation. I was willing to bet their so-called source on the inside was going to get an earful.
“Is that why you’ve come here?” I asked, starting to piece it all together. “You think I hate vampires like you do?”
Richard straightened. In a terse don’t be silly voice he said, “We don’t hate vampires, Mercy, any more than we hate poisonous spiders or mosquitos. We simply recognize their threat and do not feel that they are a benefit to humanity.” Po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe.
“Okay,” I said, still no closer to figuring out how this related to Grams. “So you came here because you thought I recognized the supposed threat vampires pose on humans? Is that why you gave me the million dollars, because you want me to join your cause?”
Maxine simpered indulgently. “No, darling, we gave you the money because you are our great-granddaughter and we’ve missed you.”
Mm-hmm. Right.
“We’d also hoped,” Richard said, now simpering like Maxine, “that you’d be willing to give us some of your blood.”
There they were, Great-Grandmother and Great-Grandfather Nolan, grinning at me like two hungry piranhas. I did not like it one bit.
“Why would you want my blood?” I asked. “What would you do with it?”
“Haven’t we made that evident?” Maxine said with over-the-top cheerfulness. “We want to remake the serum.”
Uh, what? “Why?”
Richard clicked his tongue. “Why isn’t important, Mercy. What is important is your willingness to help us. That isn’t very much to ask, is it? A bit of your blood in exchange for one million dollars?”
“So there it is.” I stared at them coldly. “You were hoping to bribe me. Isn’t that nice?”
“Pardon me,” Maxine said, reaching her tiny hand into her dress pocket to extract a cell phone. Had I not been so pissed off, I might have snickered. It was funny to me, seeing somebody so old and posh sending a text message so furiously. It was a sight rarely seen, the elderly on smartphones.
“I’ll give you your money back, if that’s what you want,” I said. “But I’m sorry, I can’t give you my blood. I don’t share your beliefs about vampires.” And pretty much everything else they thought about humans . . . and even animals, for that matter.
I didn’t hassle with trying to change their minds. I could have told them that I knew some really great vampires and even loved quite a few of them, but I didn’t. When people were as delusional and hate-filled as these two . . . Well, they were simply beyond reason.
Maxine nodded at Richard and then they stood.
Even though Mr. and Mrs. Nolan were insane hatemongers, I felt kind of bad, being so snappish with them. They were still family—the only family I had left. Maybe we could find a way to get along, like those families with completely opposite worldviews. At holidays we could have a list of things we didn’t discuss. For some families it was religion or politics; for ours it would be vampires.
I chased after Maxine and Richard like an ankle-biting Chihuahua as they strode for the door. Richard was moving much faster than he had out by the car, and I realized that he was a lot nimbler than I’d previously believed.
“You two don’t have to leave,” I smiled. “I wasn’t throwing you out, only declining your, uh, offer to take my blood.”
“I’m afraid we must be going,” Maxine said. Richard helped her with her coat.
I stood there awkwardly, not sure if I should hug them goodbye, try to make plans for a future visit, or ask them if they wanted me to cut them a check for their million dollars.
“It was great to finally meet you,” I lied as I opened the door for them.
Richard and Maxine said nothing, their gazes fixed over my shoulder. I turned around and my mouth dropped open. Standing outside was a scowling man. He had to be at last seven feet tall.
He was holding a syringe filled with yellowish liquid.
“We’re so sorry about this, Mercy,” said Maxine from behind.
And then came the sting in my arm.
10
My head was throbbing and I felt dizzy. Somewhere in the distance the radio was playing some awful heavy metal tune with lots and lots of guttural screaming. The air was a repellent potpourri of pot smoke, cheap aftershave, and rotten fast food wrappers.
I attempted to sit up, and that’s when I realized that I was bound, my legs and arms tied with what felt like ropes. I couldn’t tell exactly what was restraining me, since there was a hood over my face. I had no idea how long I’d been out, but I didn’t think that it had been that long. The cloth of the hood was transparent enough that I could see that it was still daylight. I was positioned on my side with lots of space to worm-wiggle around on the floor, so I didn’t think I was in my great-grandparents’ vehicle. The mountainous thug must have put me in a van.
We were definitely on the move. I was certain of that because I could feel smooth, rhythmic bumping through the floor below. Where we were headed, I could only speculate, but we appeared to be travelling to our destination on pavement.
I did a swift mental scan of my body. I was relieved to note that I was still fully clothed. I didn’t feel like I had been hurt or violated, thank goodness, except for the shot I’d taken in the bicep.
I didn’t scream or cry because I knew that it wouldn’t get me anywhere—not that I could be heard over the heavy metal, anyway. More depressingly, I’d been around enough homicidal maniacs recently that a kidnapping so tame had barely raised my pulse. After one has witnessed the awful physical damage vampires could inflict with their bare hands, humans just didn’t seem as fierce by comparison. My outlook would probably change mighty fast, though, if my stinky driver friend pulled a gun on me, which I didn’t believe he’d do. If my great-grandparents had wanted me dead, they would have offed me back at the house. They needed my blood first.
It was the after part that concerned me.
Well, that escalated quickly, I thought, thinking of the scene by the front door.
Call me crazy, but usually when a person declines an offer, the next logical step is not to drug and kidnap that person in hopes of forcing them
into agreement. Who does that? Richard and Maxine could have implored me to reconsider, maybe. They also could have tried to get to know me longer than, say, fifteen minutes before they sprang all the serum madness on me (though I wouldn’t have gone along with their insane cause even after fifteen years).
Family or not, I decided that I loathed my great-grandparents. If they turned around and brought me home at that precise moment, I still didn’t think I could tolerate holidays around the table with them. I’d lived my whole life without having them in it and I’d been just fine.
And I was going to keep their million dollars.
Assholes.
I heard the unmistakable sound of a blinker clicking, and then we slowed. The floor underneath bumped as the van turned onto rougher terrain. It sounded like gravel. My trepidation increased with each minute we drove on and with each rocky thump that came from beneath. The further we were off the main road translated into the further we were away from civilization. Though San Francisco proper was a metropolis, one only needed to drive an hour outside of the city to be in the countryside. Having no definite idea how long I’d been out, we could have been as far north as Napa or as far south as Salinas, two areas with lots and lots of open space to stash a hostage.
Finally we stopped, as did the ear-splitting shrieks from the radio. I could deal with the rank aftershave and funky fast food smells, but that racket blaring from the speakers was doing my head in.
From the front of the van came the electronic crackle of a walkie-talkie. “Is she up?” asked the distinctly warbled voice of Maxine.
The thug groaned, as if he’d been taking a nice Sunday drive and was suddenly reminded of the kidnapping duties he’d long forgotten. His mammoth hand gripped the top of my dome and he gave it a rough shake. “Hey, you awake?” he asked with boredom. “Hey?”