Familiars

by George S. Mahaffey Jr.

  Gideon led Evan around for the next ten minutes, giving him a mini-tour of the house. At every instance, Gideon took great pains to emphasize how good everyone was, how normal, how the Gathering was not unlike attending a family reunion. Evan soon realized his mom and Gideon had brought him along to pitch him on the idea of becoming a Familiar in the future.

  He recognized they were grooming him and so he smiled and nodded and listened as Gideon mingled with the other vamps, holding forth on a number of historical topics: the background of Judas Iscariot, the death of a woman named Hypatia in ancient Egypt, the real cause of the black plague, and a vampire scare in New England in the 1850s.

  Nearly everything Evan heard was directly at odds with what he’d always been taught. His mind raced as Gideon recounted intricate details, as if he’d been an eyewitness to history.

  Evan downed a few more snacks and nursed glasses of the red punch while listening to Gideon debate a well-heeled older vampire on the reasons why George Armstrong Custer had been the victim of a massive conspiracy.

  “Well, of course, I should know,” Evan heard Gideon saying. “I was there.”

  “Where?” the other man asked.

  “The Little Bighorn.”

  “Get out,” Evan said as the older man grinned.

  “I’m quite serious,” Gideon replied. “Do you want to know a deep, dark secret?”

  The others around leaned in close, smiling.

  “He was set up. Assassinated.”

  Gales of laughter from the others.

  “True story, true story.”

  “Why was Custer set up?” Evan asked.

  “Two reasons. One, he bailed on his unit’s most popular soldier, Joel Elliott, several years before the final battle. Left the guy high and dry and he was killed by the Indians. Two, Custer testified against President Grant’s brother in a huge scandal involving kickbacks from Indian trading.”

  “I never heard about that.”

  “Because history’s whitewashed,” Gideon said.

  “But that doesn’t prove that he was the victim of some vast conspiracy,” the older vampire said.

  “Check the testimony of the Indians, ask any historian. There’s plenty of evidence that white people were fighting with the natives.”

  “And you?” the older man said, pointing at Gideon, snickering.

  “I don’t need to ask them,” Gideon said, “because I was there. Along with a team of assassins assembled by railroad interests and powerful industrialists. Somebody should write a book, ‘Killing Custer!’”

  “Oh, Gideon,” the older man said, “I do love your fanciful stories.”

  Gideon’s silky voice coupled with the laughter of the others caused Evan’s head to swim. Heady with drink, he spun and drifted through the crowd, looking for his mother.

  Evan shuttled between rooms, the light growing dim as he moved toward what he assumed was the heart of the house. He called out for Lucy, but she was nowhere to be seen.

  The crowd thinned the farther he went. Sounds dulled and colors became more vibrant. There was incense in the air that made his eyes water and he felt disparate tastes on his tongue.

  He brushed through a heavy metal door that was lit only by a skylight. On the other side of the door the darkness seemed to fold around him. Two women were visible, embracing on a landing over a set of stairs that led down into the belly of the house.

  The women were startlingly beautiful: tall, long-limbed with radish-white hair. They smiled at Evan and went back to their business, muscular lips locked together as more incense swirled. As he passed them, Evan thought one of them whispered, “Don’t be like Lot’s wife, don’t look back,” and so he didn’t.

  At the bottom of the stairs was another landing and another heavy-looking door. Everything felt dreamy as he pushed on the door and entered a hallway echoing with music from various rooms.

  Doors were open as Evan reeled past. His vision was woozy and things wavered in and out of focus. He saw what he thought were men and women, vamps and Familiars alike, engaged in sordid things. One of the Familiars, an older woman cradled in the arms of a large vamp with scarified flesh that was so pale it was nearly transparent, looked at Evan and mused, “The snake can’t help being what it is, can it?”

  Evan looked away, inching forward, the air tinged with the odor of rot. He gazed at bodies intertwined and people smoking and injecting things and in one room there were cages hanging from the ceiling and in another a bear tethered to a wall by a thick chain.

  The bear lunged at him as some unseen hand slammed the door shut and Evan startled and began to run. He sprinted back down the hallway as high, crazed laughter and elongated moans echoed. He reached the other door and bounded up the stairs past the two women whose visages had changed.

  They’d appeared beautiful before, but now he saw them for what they were. The flesh on their faces was a web of raised veins that throbbed under gray flesh that had been shrink-wrapped around sunken eyes and gums eaten away to reveal diseased teeth. The air all around them turned stale and seemed to crackle with static electricity.

  One of the ghoulish women snarled at Evan who stared at her, fear surging in him as he darted past. He levered the door open and crashed to the ground at the feet of the younger Familiar he’d noticed earlier in the night. The man who was dressed almost entirely in green.

  “You a freak or something?” the young Familiar asked.

  Evan stared, unable to speak as he gathered his thoughts.

  “I asked whether you were a freak, kid.”

  “No.”

  The man closed the door and peered back at Evan.

  “The PG shit is up here, okay? Behind that door and down the stairs it’s strictly NC-17. Adult themes, strong sexual content. You feel me?”

  Evan nodded.

  “You see some stuff you probably shouldn’t have?”

  “Probably.”

  “We’ll keep that between us.”

  “Thanks,” Evan said weakly.

  “Who the hell are you?” the man asked.

  “Evan Devine.”

  “No, I don’t give a rat’s ass what your name is. Who are you?”

  “I just said-”

  The man placed a finger on Evan’s lips.

  “I’m going to ask you the only thing that matters to anyone at this little bash and I’d appreciate an answer,” the Familiar whispered. “Who do you serve?”

  “I don’t serve anyone,” Evan replied, returning the man’s gaze and removing his finger, “but I assist Gideon Redmayne.”

  At this, the man’s face pulled back in a taut smile.

  “Why didn’t you say so? The House of Redmayne is one of the plank-holders. They’re good peoples.”

  The man shot a hand out that Evan reluctantly pumped.

  “Bram Blackledge. I’ve been told it sounds fake as shit, but it’s the name I was given. Honest. I’m the personal assistant to Mister Julian Stoneburner.”

  “I met him.”

  “Course you have, but don’t believe the hype. He’s one of the good ones,” Bram said with a wink. “When I’m with Julian it’s like being the roadie for the world’s greatest band. Every minute’s a blast.”

  At the same time that Evan was listening to Bram’s stories, Lucy was on the other side of the room. This was, for all intents and purposes, a business affair, so she’d intentionally positioned herself near the members of better families. Not the one-percent mind you, but individuals from solid, second tier tribes that owned avocado farms in Florida and race horses in upstate New York and small tech companies on the west coast. In so doing, she hoped to make a pitch to them for her own skills in the event they were searching for additional help. This was not at all uncommon or frowned upon, the idea being that more seasoned Familiars would eventually move up to better families, thereby giving younger ones the chance to get their feet wet.

  Lucy stood silently, smiling, nodding as the vamps talked about business and polit
ics and history. Suddenly, there was a sour smell followed by a disturbance in the air. She noticed one or two other Familiars react. They sensed it too. The longer you were around the undead, the more you picked up on things civilians never noticed, almost like a dog responding to one of those silent whistles. Every one of her internal alarms was starting to sound and so she swiveled and moved through the crowd, looking for Evan.

  Evan and Bram were similarly on the move, drifting between the party-goers, looking for food and drink. Bram stopped near a wall of ancient books and flared a smoke. He offered another one to Evan who deferred.

  “Your first time?”

  Evan nodded as Bram took a long pull from his smoke.

  “So when’d you pop your cherry?”

  “I – wha - what do you mean?”

  “When’d you put your first one down in the line of duty?”

  Evan didn’t immediately answer and Bram read his look.

  “Jesus, you haven’t done it yet have you?” he said with a dark smile.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Are you kidding – you mean nobody’s told you?”

  Evan shook his head as Bram sucked on his cigarette again and leaned in close.

  “In order to be let into the club, to become a real, actual Familiar, you’ve got to spill some blood protecting the host.”

  Evan saw his mother on the other side of the room. She looked alarmed and waved, wading into the crowd toward him. Bram spotted her as well.

  “Oh, man, don’t tell me - you’re Lucy’s kid?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your mother’s well known. She’s a straight-up hive-kicker. I heard she’s put down damn near two-dozen attackers over the years.”

  “That’s a lie.”

  Bram ashed his smoke in a ceramic tray.

  “If that helps you sleep at night keep believing it. But you don’t get to party, bra, ‘less you got some blood on your hands.”

  Lucy approached and Bram headed off, mimicking a bow as he brushed past her.

  “What did he say to you?”

  “Not much.”

  “Don’t believe anything he says. He’s a known liar and an asshole to boot.”

  “You said a curse.”

  She just stared at him.

  “You only curse when you’re scared, mom.”

  Lucy used her wrist to blot a snail of snot from Evan’s nose.

  “Where the hell were you?” she asked.

  “Looking for you.”

  “I was back there.”

  “Yeah, well, I got lost.”

  “You didn’t go downstairs did you?”

  “No,” Evan lied, his answer undercut by a slight delay in responding. “Why? What’s downstairs?”

  “Nothing that concerns you.”

  “I wanna go home.”

  “We just got here.”

  “It’s weird.”

  “It’s perfectly fine.”

  Evan stared at his mother, his equilibrium still a bit off. His teeth felt mossy and everything was muffled, as if he was hearing things underwater.

  “Can I ask you something and you promise not to be mad or think I’m super weird.”

  “I already think that, Evan.”

  “I’m serious.”

  Her eyes spun toward him.

  “How come you and dad never had another one?”

  “Another one what?”

  “Kid.”

  “Good lord, Evan…”

  “How come?”

  “Now is not the time to talk about-”

  Before another word could be uttered, shouts echoed from the middle of the room. Evan and Lucy couldn’t see who was yelling, but they watched as the crowd of partiers parted.

  Julian, the vamp who’d given Evan the drink before was staggering, bellowing. He had an empty bottle of wine in hand and was clearly three sheets to the wind, piss drunk, his speech slurred. He jeered the partiers. Lucy held Evan’s hand as they took a few steps forward, looking over the shoulders of the others. Julian’s words became clearer with every step:

  “The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it!” he said. “It’s the self-denial that mars our lives!”

  Another of the guests approached Julian who shoved the man back.

  “Didn’t Wilde say that all influence is immoral?!” he raged, “Didn’t he?!”

  “How so?” someone shouted which seemed to enrage Julian.

  “How so?! Why, to influence a person is to give him one’s own soul and to make it so that the influenced becomes an echo for another’s music!”

  There was a fusillade of footfalls as Evan turned to see Leopold, the older, distinguished man with the excellent mane of silver hair that he’d seen before. He was flanked by several imposing guards who were icing Julian with nasty looks. One of them whispered into the cuff of his jacket.

  Julian smiled and then aimed the wine bottle like a six-shooter, firing imaginary shots at the onlookers. Evan watched Gideon receive a nod from Leopold as Julian suddenly ran up the side of a wall and somersaulted backward like some jungle cat. Bram, Julian’s Familiar, struggled to hold his master back.

  “We are punished for our refusals!” Julian screamed, his eyes glowing like two candles in a cave. “I’m the only one here who’s remained true to himself! I’m the only one that realizes every impulse that we strive to strangle broods in our mind and poisons us! And for what reason?! To find favor in the eyes of these – these sheep?!”

  There was a moment of silence and then Julian turned his laser-like focus on Evan. What happened next was so incredibly quick that it took Evan four or five seconds to realize it had actually happened. Bram muttered something to Julian and made a move for him. Julian’s mouth distended and he swiped his hand like a conductor flicking a baton. The talon moved with such force that it seemed to make the air sing.

  The nails on Julian’s fingers divested Bram of his right ear. There was a muted scream and a gush of red and then Julian was on all fours, breathing deeply in anticipation. He quickly lapped up the blood and greedily devouring the little nuggets of flesh from Bram’s ear.

  Someone nearby retched, but Evan didn’t react. He was rooted in place, watching Julian’s eyes shudder with pleasure, his tongue darting and dipping into the steaming blood and strands of gristle. He stared at the vampire for longer than seemed right.

  Julian finished and stopped and sniffed the air. His loathsome, bloody maw opened and closed and then he flung Evan a contemptuous look. His lips pulled back, almost ear-to-ear, a dark smile creasing his lips.

  Evan thought he heard Julian say the word “piglet,” in a guttural howl as he leapt to his feet. He drew in a long breath and then sprinted toward Evan.

  What happened next was less reality than fever dream, everything condensed to a single image of Julian traversing the room toward Evan. There was no way to avoid him, the vampire was too fast, too agile. Evan crouched and held his hands up, bracing for impact, as Julian threw himself at Evan and—

  WHAM!

  Lucy hurled herself into Julian, knocking him off balance. Evan watched Gideon quiver and then reluctantly tackle Julian, the pair rolling violently sideways in a mass of flailing limbs and snapping teeth.

  Julian came up on his feet and Lucy kicked him so hard in the face that a rope of blood spattered Evan’s cheeks.

  Screams followed, Lucy shielding Evan with her body. Julian’s face was screwed up and he howled like a caged animal.

  Guards charged and Julian threw three of them off before Gideon pinned him to the ground. In a flash Leopold juked forward. He held a knife with an eight-inch blade fitted to an ivory-colored handle that looked as if it had once belonged to the skeleton of some great beast. Evan could see strange markings and symbols filigreed down the blade as the older vampire held it over his head.

  Gideon and the others held Julian back, everyone watching, absolutely rapt, as the older vampire plunged the knife down. In s
everal swift moves, he sliced Julian’s mouth up, cutting through his gums to remove the offending teeth.

  The canines were cast to the ground and a barrel-chest man with a bulldog neck (the old master’s familiar Evan presumed), took them up in his hands and slashed off down the hallway.

  Gauze was jammed into Julian’s wounds and a metal muzzle fitted tightly around his bear trap of a mouth. Lucy grabbed Evan and pulled him back.

  Evan struggled as Lucy yanked him away from the scene. He turned back to see two things: Julian being dragged off, his mouth leaving a wending trail of gray and amber ichor down the hallway, and Bram, on his knees, severed ear geysering red.

  Lucy still had her arms around Evan who was wriggling like a worm on the end of a hook. At the front door he broke free and bolted outside and across the lawn.

  “Evan! Slow down, Evan!”

  He surged past startled attendants and flummoxed guests. Lucy tossed her shoes to catch up with him.

  Twenty yards from the pond she finally grabbed and pulled him to the ground. Evan rolled over, hair slicked with sweat, face still daubed with Julian’s blood.

  “Jesus Christ, I’m sorry, sweetie.”

  She rubbed the blood away, but a silicone-like residue (unique to vamps) remained.

  “That was a mistake back there – a horrible mistake. That’s never happened before. That isn’t who they are.”

  Evan’s chest rose and fell.

  “No, mom, it’s exactly who they are.”

  Lucy didn’t respond, her breath steaming the air. A ripple of fear pulsed over the entirety of Evan’s body and Lucy feared, for a moment, that he was going to faint.

  “Evan, listen to me-”

  He held up a hand to silence her.

  “I - I want to go home now.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Evan had his headphones on the entire ride home, blaring hard rock and rap. When they reached the rowhouse he bounded outside and neighborhood be damned, went for a long walk to clear his head. There were a few gangbangers out prowling the streets, but when they noticed his feverish eyes and the blood on his face they gave him a wide berth.

  When he got home a little over an hour later, the rowhouse was silent. He listened for Lucy, but assumed she’d headed off to bed. He went into the kitchen and leaned an ear against the door. There were no noises coming from the basement and for that he was grateful.