Young Blood: The Nightbreed Saga: Book 1

by Phillip Tomasso²

  # # #

  Madison sat in the back seat of Fawdray’s rental car. She strapped on her seatbelt and stared at the back of her cousin’s heads, catching Seamus looking at her in the rear-view mirror as they pulled out of DiPonzio’s, making a right onto Spencerport Road, and an immediate left at the light.

  “Where are we going?” There were no restaurants this way.

  “You’re not really hungry, are you, Madison?”

  She didn’t respond. “I think you should let me out right here,” she said, and pulled out her cell phone.

  “Are you planning to call your father?”

  “Who are you?” Madison said.

  Richelle spun around in the front seat. “We are who we claimed to be. We are your second cousins.”

  “I’ve never heard my mother mention either of you. And then you show up for her wake, not even her funeral? I didn’t call you with news of her death. I didn’t even know you existed. I thought I was it, the last in her family. She always made it sound that way,” Madison said.

  “We weren’t coming to the states for your mother’s wake. That was just a coincidence, if you believe in that sort of thing,” Richelle said.

  “Coincidence? If you weren’t coming for the wake, then why are you here? Why now?”

  “You know why,” Seamus said.

  She saw him looking at her in the mirror.

  The road led between the church and a small plaza on the right. Beyond was a town park, Gates Memorial. They drove past the parking lots on the left and parked at the end of the road.

  “Let’s take a walk,” Seamus said.

  Madison still had her phone in her hand. She was ready to dial 911. She knew she should. Every red flag was raised inside her brain. She knew she was in some kind of danger. She could feel it like an insatiable itch under her skin. Getting out of the car, she put away her phone. “A walk where?”

  “There’s a small pond just ahead.”

  “Seamus loves water,” Richelle said.

  Madison and Richelle were in heels. They walked along a gravel path, each step placed carefully to keep from wobbling and snapping a heel, or cracking an ankle.

  The moon reflected off a placid pond.

  The three stood side-by-side along the edge, with Madison in the middle.

  Madison wanted answers. She wanted to run. This was her family. She had no reason to believe their claims, but she did. “You said you were coming to the states anyway. Why?”

  “To see you,” Seamus said. “We heard about the attack.”

  “You heard about the attack? My mother called you?”

  Richelle shook her head. “She didn’t. She made it clear when her mother died that she wanted nothing to do with us, with anyone in the family.”

  “If she didn’t call you, then how would you know anything had happened to me?” Madison stared at the water. Seamus picked up a few stones, shook them in his hand, and then skipped one across the pond. The water rippled, and the stone made a plop before it disappeared below the surface.

  “We have ways of learning information,” Richelle said.

  “That sounds creepy. You know what? I think I’m out of here. I appreciate you coming to the wake for my mother, but I’m beginning to understand why she severed ties with her family. The two of you are freaky,” Madison said, she waved a dismissive hand in the air and walked away, back toward the car.

  “You’re a vampire now, Madison. You can walk away if you want. What you really need to do is stay and listen. We’re your best bet for surviving this. You must have a million questions about the changes your body is undergoing, and we may be the only people in the world you can trust with answers,” Seamus said. His voice was deep, confident, demanding.

  It stopped Madison.

  She turned back toward them. “I can’t smell either of you,” she said.

  “We’re not vampires,” Richelle said. They exchanged a knowing look.

  “Then why can’t I smell your blood?”

  “Another time,” Seamus said. He reached into his suit coat and extracted a large object. “We’re not here to talk about us. We are here to talk about you.”

  “What’s that?” Madison said. It looked like a giant knife inside a sheath. “I want to know how you knew I was attacked, that I was a vampire.”

  “Do you believe in coincidences, Madison?” Richelle said.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t. Nothing is coincidental,” Seamus said.

  “I have no clue what you’re talking about,” Madison said. There was no way to walk away. Not now.

  “Let’s have a seat on the picnic table,” Seamus said. It was under a large tree. Branches extended out over the pond. It was a perfect place to park for the day and just fish.

  Richelle sat on the table, Madison on the bench. Seamus stood by the water. The object was in one hand by his side, and it was clearly a long knife inside a case, while he tossed stone after stone into the pond.

  “The Fawdray’s have an interesting bloodline,” Seamus said. “It extends back to Biblical times. Are you religious, Madison?”

  “You mean do I go to church?”

  “I mean, do you believe in God?”

  “I’ve never given it much thought.”

  “Do you know anything of the Bible?”

  “You mean like the flood and the Ten Commandments?” Madison said. She felt uncomfortable. Her mother never took her to church; they never discussed God, the Devil, Heaven, or Hell.

  “Have you ever heard the story of the Last Supper?” Seamus said.

  Madison bit on her upper lip and shook her head. “I mean, no, not really.”

  “It’s an interesting story,” Richelle said. “Jesus, the Son of God, knew that in the morning he was going to be captured, beaten, and eventually crucified for crimes he did not commit.”

  “Jesus had twelve disciples. They were men who’d given up their lives, their families, and followed him. All of them were distraught and angry when Jesus told to them his fate,” Seamus said.

  “They got even more upset when Jesus told them that one of the men at the table had turned him in to authorities,” Richelle said.

  “Before Jesus made this announcement of betrayal, they’d shared a meal together,” Seamus said, “and during this meal Jesus blessed bread and gave it to everyone and told them to eat it, that it was his body, and that it was being given up for them.”

  “He did the same thing with wine,” Richelle said. “He blessed the cup and passed it around for everyone to drink from, and he told his disciples to take the cup and drink from it, that it was his blood, and he was sacrificing it for them.”

  “They ate the bread, Madison. They drank the blood,” Seamus said.

  Madison sat on the bench. She felt a chill from the night, the dropping temperatures, and a shiver ran down her spine. “I think I know that story,” she said.

  “But have you heard it? Do you understand it?”

  “Yeah. I’ve heard it. Sounds pretty self-explanatory,” Madison said.

  Seamus sighed. Madison knew her answer was wrong.

  “Do you see any similarities between yourself and the apostles?”

  “Who are the apostles?” Madison said.

  “It’s another name for the disciples,” Seamus said.

  “I am having trouble seeing how anything you’ve said to me tonight makes any sense.”

  “Not trouble with everything we’ve said,” Richelle said. “You knew when we called you a vampire that we’d told you the truth.”

  That was true. “What am I missing about this dinner story?”

  “What did Jesus give the disciples to drink?”

  “Wine.”

  “What did he call it?” Seamus said.

  “His blood.”

  Richelle and Seamus stared at Madison, as if waiting for her to get the point of their tale.

  Madison opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it. His blood. “Are you try
ing to tell me. . .”

  Richelle leaned closer. Seamus came away from the pond, taking steps toward the picnic table.

  “Jesus created the first vampires?”

  The moonlight was enough for Madison to see that Seamus was smiling. “That is exactly what we are trying to tell you.”

  “And what? Our bloodline goes back to the disciples?”

  “Directly back to them. To one of them. To Peter,” Richelle said.

  “I don’t get it. I wasn’t a vampire. It didn’t happen to me until I was attacked by vampires.”

  “Think of being a vampire like being HIV positive.”

  “AIDS?”

  “No,” Seamus said. “HIV is the sleeping disease living inside of someone, waiting for the chance to become full-blown AIDS.”

  “You have the vampire gene inside you and have always had it inside of you. When you were attacked, I am assuming one of the vampires bit you?” Seamus said.

  Madison touched her neck.

  “The saliva and blood mixed, and slowly you began to change,” he said.

  “You did more than start to change, didn’t you?”

  “What do you mean?” Madison said.

  “There’s no point hiding the truth from family. You’ve consumed human blood. We can tell.”

  Madison looked at the grass under her feet. She no longer noticed the cold. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “That’s neither here nor there at this point,” Richelle said.

  “I didn’t kill my mother,” Madison said.

  “We never implied otherwise,” Seamus said, his eyes drifted over to his sister. “Her boyfriend?”

  Madison stared at Seamus. “He killed my mother.”

  “Have you told police this?” he said.

  Her answer was given in the silence that fell between them.

  Seamus waved his hand in the air, as if bored with the procedural aspect of policing. “There is no such thing as coincidence, Madison. If you had not been attacked and bitten on that night, it would have happened on a different night, under a different set of circumstances. If it wasn’t you, it would have been your child, or grandchild,” Seamus said. “It was just a matter of time”

  “I still don’t understand why you’re here, or what all of this means,” she said. Not much of any of it made sense. Her head hurt trying to sort through it all.

  Seamus set the dagger down on the picnic table and pulled the blade from the sheath. Madison thought the dagger better resembled a small Roman sword. The steel was straight, double edged, and came to a razor sharp point. It was at least sixteen inches long, and the handle added another six, or seven. “See on the sheath, there is a place for four pendants on one side, four on the other. And here, on the handle of the blade, two on this side, and two on the other,” he said, turning the items over in his hands. “As you can see, so far seven jewels have been attached, and there are five places for jewels yet to be affixed. Your pendant will fit into one of those spots, bringing the collection up to eight of the twelve pendants.”

  Madison touched the pendant. “And then what?”

  “You must track down the other pieces,” Richelle said.

  “The other pendants? Like mine? Do you know where they are?” Madison said.

  “We don’t. We knew where your jewel was, and have kept an eye on you since.”

  Madison removed her necklace, and slid the pendant off the chain. “I am not happy about giving you this pendant.”

  “You’re not,” Seamus said. “We’re giving you the dagger. It is being entrusted to you, and you will have to protect it.”

  “Protect it from what?”

  “The dagger has certain powers,” Seamus said.

  “Magic?”

  “I cringe to use that word,” Seamus said. “The blade will kill a vampire. A stab to the heart is best. A slash will cause serious damage, and if the vampire does not feed, he or she will eventually die from the wound. It is a long, painful way to die.”

  “That is the extent of the magic?”

  Seamus looked at his sister. “The legend indicates that once all twelve pendants are in place, the curse of all twelve bloodlines will be broken.”

  “I won’t be a vampire anymore.” Madison lifted the sheath and ran her thumb over the raised pendants in place. “And who will know I have the dagger?”

  “Every vampire out there,” Seamus said. “We’ve lost the dagger once or twice over the years, but have always managed to get it back.”

  “Because they don’t want the curse broken?” Madison said.

  Seamus pointed to his nose. “Bingo.”

  “Aside from you, there are, or were, ten other original vampire bloodlines,” Richelle said.

  “You said there were twelve disciples. There are places for twelve stones,” Madison said. “How are there only eleven bloodlines?”

  “The apostle who betrayed Jesus hung himself, the guilt over what he’d done was too much for him to bear,” Richelle said. “But there is still a pendant for his bloodline.”

  “What about the other bloodlines, how many are left?” She counted five places for pendants. Two vacant spots on either side of the sheath, and one on the handle. “Five?”

  “Five. Four if we place yours tonight,” Richelle said.

  Seamus nodded. “The key thing to remember is that ours is the only bloodline that was entrusted with the dagger. It is not clear when our family came in possession of it, but it has been handed down from generation to generation. Now that you have it, you should always have it close by, within reach.”

  “A sword?” Madison said, wondering how inconspicuous she would look with a sword across her back.

  “The dagger, yes.”

  “Going to be tough getting into school on Monday.”

  “It is yours, and you are one of them,” Seamus said, as if unconcerned with problematic issues caused by wearing a sword everywhere. “You asked why we haven’t tracked down the other pendants. It is not our task, it is yours. But if you do not accomplish this, it will be your responsibility to pass the dagger on to the next family member,” Seamus said. “But only if they are like you.”

  “Like me. A vampire, you mean.”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “And if you’re not vampires, why did you have the dagger?”

  “It was your grandmother’s. She sent the pendant on to you when you were born. She did not want to immediately add it to the collection. I’m sure she had her reasons.”

  “My grandmother was a vampire?”

  Richelle wiped tears from her eyes.

  “She was,” Seamus said.

  “How did she die?” Madison said. “My mother only said there had been some kind of terrible accident.”

  “She was trying to get a pendant for the dagger. The one you’re wearing,” Richelle said.

  “Who else in the family is a vampire? I mean, if I need help, who do I have backing me up?” Madison said.

  “As of right now, you are the last of Peter’s bloodline.”

  “In the whole wide world?”

  “In the whole wide world,” Richelle said.

  “Okay. I’m the last vampire in our family. So what exactly does that make the two of you?”

  “Another time, perhaps. Not tonight. You have plenty enough to think about,” Seamus said.

  “So I’m on my own?”

  “You have us,” Richelle said.

  “I thought you were going back to New Zealand?”

  “We are, in the morning.”

  Madison shrugged and threw her hands up. “How does that help me?”

  “We’ll exchange phone numbers before we say goodbye,” Seamus said. “Should we do it?”

  “Exchange numbers?” Madison said.

  “See how the dagger is almost pulsing? It knows a pendant is close. The dagger almost works like a GPS. It will guide you. Go on, put your pendant in place,” Seamus said.

  She had no trouble seeing clearly in the dark,
even as Richelle and Seamus leaned in close. “And only I can put these pendants in place?” she said.

  “You, or the next one to protect the dagger,” Richelle said. They didn’t seem to have a problem seeing in the darkness, either.

  There were three pendants on both sides of the sheath. The first was opal, and opaque, the second was a soft purple amethyst stone, the third a polished black onyx, next was a red ruby that seemed to shine amidst the dark, the fifth was a green emerald, and last a diamond.

  “You have to remove the bail,” Seamus said, “where the chain slid through to secure the pendant around your neck.”

  Madison snapped it off with ease. She held the egg shaped pendant over the vacant spot on either side of the sheath and looked up at Richelle.

  “Try the handle on the dagger,” she said.

  Madison lifted the blade and saw immediately the pendant from her grandmother fit in an opening on the top of the handle. “Just, what? Pop it in?”

  Seamus nodded.

  Madison held the pearl pendant over the cutout. It felt as if the handle were magnetic. The pendant was pulled toward the cutout in the handle and into it.

  Her fingertips tingled. It started in her fingernails. It was an energy that ran up her arms, spun around inside her shoulders before then shooting down her chest and back and up her neck.

  The pendants glowed. It wasn’t a brilliant light, but they were lit.

  The hair on Seamus’ arms stood on end.

  Madison pulled her fingers off the pearl.

  The energy fell away and faded, and the lights blinked out within the pendants. “Okay,” Madison said, “that was kind of incredible.”

  # # #

  “I don’t know how to use a sword,” Madison said, fastening her seat belt.

  Seamus started the rental. “Dagger.”

  “Dagger,” Madison said, holding the weapon in her hands, turning it over and over as she studied each of the pendants in place. “I still don’t know how to use it.”

  “You should practice,” Richelle said. “There are useful training videos on YouTube.”

  “Are you serious? Is she serious?” Madison said, making contact with Seamus’ eyes in the rearview mirror. “Is that like homework? Go home and watch videos in my bedroom and mimic what I see swinging some mystical, ancient dagger around?”