Son of Blood

by Craig Jones

  ‘Thanks, Sinead,’ he said, letting out a deep breath. ‘Are you heading to school?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I said I’d meet the lads here, so if you want to wait and say hi to them, too?’

  ‘No, I’ll go. I’ll talk to you soon.’

  She turned and walked away. If Christian had not already been so keen to explore his human side, she would have dismissed Owen’s request without hesitation, but her old group of friends already knew about her and the town’s ‘guest’ from the island, and if it could quell her uneasiness about them ‘telling’ on her, then Owen’s offer was at least worth considering.

  Owen was watching Sinead walk away, still grinding his teeth, when Frank and David joined him. They all bumped fists and Frank aimed an index finger at Sinead’s retreating form.

  ‘She go for it?’

  ‘Yeah. She will. You’d have been proud of me, boys.’

  ‘Are you both sure about this?’ asked David nervously, tugging at the strands of long hair that strayed over his eyes.

  ‘You’re either in this with us, or you get out,’ Owen shot back. ‘And if you get out, you’d better keep your mouth shut.’ He jabbed his own finger into his friend’s forehead, making David take a few steps back and causing Frank to erupt with nervous laughter.

  ‘I’m in, I’m in,’ said David. ‘Take it easy, will you? What if she’d heard you?’ He waved his hand in the direction of Sinead. ‘How would you have explained that?’

  ‘I’ll be explaining everything soon enough,’ said Owen, ‘to Sinead, to the freak, and the rest of this insignificant town along with them.’ His ranting received more than a few strange looks from other school-bound children. ‘And, boys, you’re both coming along for the ride.’

  20

  Martin and Christian advanced through the town, the boy more animated than ever before while on the way to one of what he considered to be many pointless town meetings. The night was free of clouds, dozens, hundreds, millions of stars breaking up the endless and eternal blackness of the sky. Although the heavens were an inspiring sight, the lack of insulation meant that the heat of the day had escaped rapidly and those members of the community still on the streets were wrapped up against the bitterness of the cold that pinched at their skin. Few had the time or inclination to notice the father and son as they crossed from the beach to the municipal building.

  ‘And you’re sure about this?’ prodded Christian. ‘If you feel I have to be at the meeting, then I will come, but…’

  ‘But there are places you would rather be. Yes, I understand that, and yes, I am sure.’ Martin paused and took a breath. ‘But you promise me that you will be careful and that you will not do anything stupid?’

  ‘You can trust me, Father.’

  ‘I know so. But I worry. I suppose to worry is a role I shall never be able to leave behind.’

  ‘Thank you. I will just be with Sinead. Nothing will happen that would cause you concern.’

  Martin stopped and looked up at the clock mounted high near the church spire. Its hands sat at a quarter to eight. He had plenty of time before the meeting; normally Christian would drag his heels and they would often be late, but tonight the boy was ready before Martin and had actively encouraged his father to be quick.

  ‘Let’s sit for a few minutes,’ Martin said quietly.

  Christian looked up at the clock too, and despite inwardly groaning, he nodded and followed his father to one of the many benches that lined Skerries’ main street.

  ‘I heard that,’ said Martin with a smile.

  ‘You did?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘I tried my best to hide it.’

  I know, thought Martin.

  ‘But how?’

  ‘You heard that?’ asked Martin, taking a seat.

  Christian cocked his head.

  ‘Uh, yes, I think I did.’

  ‘Good. Your powers continue to develop. This is why we need to talk.’ Martin patted the wooden slats of the bench next to him and Christian sat down, his questioning gaze now fully replaced with an almost blank, perplexed look.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Son, you said yourself that nothing will happen to cause concern, but do you understand what could happen?’

  ‘Father, I will never harm a human.’

  ‘No, that is not what I mean. Do you understand what it is that could harm you?’

  ‘Well,’ Christian pondered, ‘I know the sun does not put me at risk as it does you, but in the books there are all sorts of things. Garlic, silver, holy water, crosses. But I know religious things do not harm you.’

  ‘Neither does silver,’ Martin interjected. ‘And garlic only stops me from stepping over a threshold. The old myth used to be that a vampire could only enter a house that he had been invited into, but that simply does not work. Now garlic in any threshold…it would stop my heart before I stepped through; not enough to kill me, but enough that I would know to retreat. The same goes for you. You have the heart of a vampire, Christian, and you must do everything to keep that heart safe.’

  Christian nodded, his hand automatically twitching to rest upon his sternum.

  ‘You have noticed your powers growing recently?’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  ‘And do you know why?’

  ‘I have guessed it is because I’m getting older,’ Christian said, sneaking a glimpse up at the clock. They both had five more minutes.

  ‘No. It is because of your heart. Your heart is the source of all of your powers. And this girl, this Sinead, she makes your heart grow stronger. And with it, your powers.’

  ‘Wow,’ said the boy. Her face was then dominating his thoughts, all as he considered the weight of that statement: she makes your heart grow stronger. He cleared his mind when he felt his father’s presence watching the thoughts as if from over his shoulder.

  ‘The only thing that can kill you is the destruction of your heart.’ Martin was solemn and gave no indication of the vision he had shared with the boy. ‘Please remember that. And sometimes a broken heart will hurt you just as much. Remember that, too.’

  ‘I will, Father.’

  They both rose to their feet, Christian again glancing up at the clock.

  ‘Have you listened to me?’

  ‘Yes, Father, I swear that I have.’

  ‘Then go. If you need me, shout. Not with your voice, but with your mind.’

  Christian was nearly halfway down the street when Martin finished speaking and he turned and waved to indicate that he understood. Martin watched him break into a run and then disappear around a corner and out of sight.

  Be safe, my son, he thought as he turned and walked towards Connor Mooney’s office.

  Mooney was waiting on the steps of the municipal building, smoking a cigar as Martin approached. His stomach hung over his belt like an overblown balloon, his bloated chin resembling that of a tropical frog. As he saw Martin approach he inhaled on the cigar and flicked it down into the drainage grid in the gutter.

  ‘Martin, Martin,’ he welcomed, his right hand extended. He grasped Martin’s hand tightly, shaking it with more than the usual enthusiasm as smoke spewed out of his mouth.

  ‘Good evening, Connor,’ Martin replied. ‘I hope you are well? You don’t usually meet me outside.’

  ‘Well, you are right. But I needed a quiet word. The rest of them, they don’t have the history that we have, so I hope you don’t mind me taking up a few of your minutes?’

  ‘My minutes are your minutes,’ Martin said respectfully.

  He would never say it out loud, not even to Christian, but Connor reminded him of the landowner who had taken him on when he was still in his teens. He was, of course, sure that the resemblance would have been much less had the two men been stood side by side, but to Martin they had merged, and at very different junctures in his life, both men had essentially played the same role, almost a surrogate, not a father, but something important.

 
; ‘Well, there are going to be some new houses built just the other side of the railway bridge. That means there’ll likely be some newcomers. It might mean a fair bit of your time will be taken up, well, just watching to start with. Just so we know we’ve extended our welcome to the right people. Are you with me?’

  ‘So far, yes. But why stand in the cold to tell me this when you are just going to say it again inside?’

  ‘Martin, you know me too well.’ Mooney paused, mentally building the blocks behind which his thoughts ducked. ‘When we’re inside, the approach that is taken concerning how far our welcome stretches will be questioned. I just need to know you will support me once the debate begins.’

  ‘Connor, you have been good to me over the years. And I have returned the favor. Do not expect things to change now.’

  ‘Good, good,’ Mooney cooed, reaching up to slap Martin on the shoulder. ‘I knew I could rely on you.’

  Had Martin’s mind been fully focused on the conversation, he would have picked up on Mooney’s shiftiness, but Martin was reaching out across Skerries, trying to home in on his son, and his concentration only returned to the mayor’s words after he briefly infringed upon Christian’s current state of mind; contentment.

  ‘Come on,’ Mooney was saying. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

  21

  Christian did not feel nervous until Sinead broke their kiss and whispered softly in his ear.

  ‘We’d better go,’ she said.

  They had met in the darkness of the sports field just down the hill from the windmills. Sinead had felt no fear standing there alone waiting for Christian to arrive; there was nothing to fear in a town that had no crime. And when the person you were meeting was one of the reasons for the lack of criminal activity, then surely that induced even more confidence?

  They had not said a word when he first appeared out of the gloom, running across the hard turf, the frost taking hold already. They simply fell into a tight embrace that became a slow and gentle kiss. He felt like the world had stopped and allowed him to get off the dizzying ride, that his usual duties to the town meant nothing when he was with Sinead, that all he needed was her. She felt a warmth inside her like she had never experienced before, a closeness with someone that she previously believed would have been unimaginable.

  ‘Is this going to be okay?’ he whispered, keeping his voice low so she would not hear it quivering as he spoke.

  ‘Claire is my best friend and I told her about us. She is totally supportive. The boys want to apologize. If it doesn’t seem right, then you, Claire and I can leave straight away. I promise.’

  ‘If you are sure. Where are we meeting them?’

  ‘The windmill. I gave Claire the key earlier.’

  ‘Okay. Okay, let’s go then.’

  ‘In a second,’ she said, wrapping her arms around his neck once more.

  When they finally reached the windmill, Sinead led the way to the door. From the road they could hear loud laughing and voices. Christian stopped at the bent bar of the fence and tried to focus on what was being said inside, to decipher if they were mocking him or whether this was some despicable plot to gain revenge for the night on the beach. He closed his eyes and caught fragments of sentences, and he was only able to conclude that Frank, not Owen, had scored the decisive try in the most recent school rugby match. Christian stored away that piece of information, hoping it would give him a way into a conversation later in the evening.

  ‘Come on,’ Sinead called gently, and with a smile he joined her at the small door. She pushed it slowly inwards, immediately bringing silence to those inside. She stepped in and held the door open for Christian to follow. She noticed how little of the confidence she had seen in him was now on show, and that made her care for him all the more. He could be arrogant, he could be vicious, he could be anything he wanted to be, but all he that he was she liked, felt that she could…

  She brought her focus back to the windmill. Claire, Owen, Frank and David were all sat on the floor in a semi-circle facing the door. Claire was smiling demurely and she expected to see grins on the faces of the three boys, but all had their eyes to the floor, not a smile in sight. She ushered Christian inside and closed the door.

  ‘We need to keep the noise down,’ she said. ‘We could hear you from the road.’

  ‘Sorry, Sinead,’ said Frank, briefly glancing up.

  Christian looked both confused and afraid. Sinead gestured for him to come closer to her but he stayed by the door, one hand on the small handle. Sinead shrugged at Claire, who looked across at Owen.

  ‘You have something to say, don’t you?’ she said.

  Owen pushed himself to his feet, his head still down. He took a step towards Christian and with great trepidation extended his right arm.

  ‘We want to say sorry about the other night. Well, about more than that,’ he began, casting looks to his friends as he did so. When they caught his eye, they too got to their feet.

  ‘We’ve been behaving like children and you deserved to teach us a lesson the other night,’ he concluded, and he stepped forward to shake Christian’s hand. Frank and David followed suit. ‘I just hope we can put this behind us.’

  ‘I hope so, too,’ said Christian. His composure was struggling, but he did make sure his voice did not crack halfway through his sentence. Every muscle in his body had tensed to ensure his knees did not shake as he stood in front of his previous tormentors.

  ‘It’s like your father says, Sinead,’ Owen said. ‘We need to offer a welcome to strangers. To us, because we’ve been ignorant, you’re like a stranger. So if we take the mayor’s rule and apply it to ourselves, there’s no reason we can’t be friends.’

  Owen saw both Frank and David restrain their grins. He was mentally patting himself on the back for bringing Sinead’s father into the conversation when he saw a slightly bemused look creep over Christian’s face. That brought Owen’s concentration back on task and the look faded away.

  Christian felt, just for moment, that something was not right, but it passed so quickly that he wondered whether it was his own paranoia that was going to be the villain of this evening and not one of the boys stood in front of him.

  Sinead had been holding her breath for the whole exchange. She finally exhaled. Claire was at her side, holding one of her hands.

  ‘Looks like everything might be okay,’ she whispered.

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ Sinead replied, gently biting on her lower lip. ‘Let’s hope so.’

  An hour later, Sinead was pleased to note that she was far more tense than Christian. He had been quiet for much of the first thirty minutes, listening as the boys talked about school and their plans for the coming weekend. She was incredibly surprised by how much they tried to include Christian in their chat, offering to explain anything that was familiar and mundane to them but was exciting and new to their guest. Or their new friend, as they kept referring to him. She and Claire occasionally drifted off into their own personal conversation, catching up on the weeks that had been lost, but when Christian showed an interest, Sinead was impressed at how well her best friend worked to integrate him into the current topic.

  Not long after Sinead and Christian had arrived and completed the circle by taking their places on the floor, Owen had slipped into the other downstairs room and brought back a box full of lager cans. Frank and David followed Owen in helping themselves and Christian had happily accepted the one offered to him—Sinead was pleased to see that he sipped at his one while the rest of the boys gulped down three or four each. There had been no comment made about this although she had genuinely expected some fun to be made of the newcomer.

  Sinead checked her phone and, seeing it was after nine, decided to cut the night short while it was still comfortable for everyone. She tuned herself out from Claire’s complaints about Frank’s recent behavior and listened in to Owen regaling Christian about the school’s latest rugby victory.

  ‘We often have matches under the floodlight
s, you know, at night? Maybe you’d like to come and watch the next one? See how good we really are.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ Christian replied. ‘I’d like to see if Frank can win the match for the team again.’

  Owen’s mouth fell open while Frank beamed.

  ‘You know about that?’ asked Frank.

  ‘Yeah, well,’ Christian said, returning the grin, ‘it’s not like anyone’s going to stop you from…’

  He paused, unsure of his next words, glanced quickly at Sinead, and then remembered.

  ‘It’s not like anyone’s going to stop you from the five meter line, is it?’

  ‘No, man. You’re right.’ Frank glanced from side to side, gauging the opinions of David and Owen. David was covering his grin with his hand while Owen pulled himself together and managed a smile.

  ‘Yeah, about time you got a try this season,’ he half-snapped.

  ‘Christian,’ Sinead intervened. ‘Would you walk me home now?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ he said, getting to his feet. The three boys mirrored his actions.

  ‘I just want to say, you know, I’m glad all that stuff is behind us,’ said Owen, shaking Christian’s hand. ‘But next time you’ve got to try to drink a bit more.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ Christian responded, suddenly feeling deep in the spotlight. ‘It’s just…’

  ‘No, no. I wasn’t making fun. Sorry, dude. It’s just I feel bad that I’ve had most of your share.’

  Both Sinead and Christian’s tight shoulders relaxed.

  ‘We’ll see you soon,’ Sinead said with a gentle wave to Claire.

  ‘Thank you all,’ said Christian, bowing his head in a respectful nod.

  ‘No worries,’ Frank said. ‘See you soon.’

  They sat in silence for a few minutes, and then Owen went to the door and looked out of the windmill to make sure they had left. When he took his seat, he stared directly at Frank.

  ‘Suddenly got yourself a new best friend, have you?’ he snarled.