Joanna
Belcourt climbed the stairs to the attic with the plastic case in her
hand. She needed to give it to her sister right away. Vicki had been
acting strange ever since that bruise appeared on her neck last
weekend, and Jo feared the worst. She didn't care if it made her look
like a superstitious little kid. Maybe twelve was too old to worry
about this, but she couldn't sit back and do nothing.
She
nearly tripped over Ophelia, her gray-striped cat, at the top of the
stairs, and heard Vicki talking to someone in her bedroom. Jo
knocked.
"Come
in," Vicki said.
Jo
opened the door.
Vicki
was seventeen, and her silky brown hair draped down to her shoulders.
She leaned on the windowsill and gazed out into the darkness. "Don't
worry," she said, "it's just my sister. She won't bother
us."
Jo
noticed Vicki's phone on the dresser. "Who are you talking to?"
"Jo,
come here." Vicki crooked her finger. Jo crossed the room and
saw the tiny spot of fur on the other side of the glass.
"Oh,
it's a bat." Jo looked closer. She never had the chance to see a
bat this close before. It had bright little beads for eyes, and its
wings gathered into thin needles along its arms. From its size and
color, it looked like an ordinary evening bat. "How long has it
been there?"
"About
ten minutes," Vicki said. "Isn't it cute?"
"Cute?"
Jo looked up at Vicki. "Are you okay?"
"What's
the matter? You love animals."
"Oh,
it's amazing. Don't get me wrong. But you should be screaming your
head off right now. Like that cockroach last week—remember?"
It had dashed across the room while they were watching a movie. Jo
caught it with her bare hands and tossed it outside, while Vicki
trembled on her bed. "You've been acting strange all week,
Vicki." She tilted the case in her hand, felt the beads inside
rattle. "Spacing out, wandering out without telling anybody...
I'm worried."
"But
I'm feeling a lot better." Vicki pointed at her neck, at the
pale blue spot along her windpipe. "See? The bruise is almost
gone. I'm not as tired anymore. And I haven't spaced out all day."
"Still."
Vicki
glanced down at the bat. "He's just a cute little furball. Let's
let him in."
"That's
not a good idea," Jo said. "He might be carrying
something." She looked into the bat's eyes. They seemed oddly
aware for a bat... almost as if it were listening to them. "Sorry,
little guy. Not tonight."
Vicki
crossed her arms with a huff. "Fine, leave him
out in the cold. What you got there?"
"Oh
yeah, I wanted you to put this on." Jo snapped open the case,
revealing a chain of smooth black beads attached to a silver
crucifix. "It's my rosary, the one Gramma gave me."
"The
one she got in Rome? Jo, I didn't know you still had that."
Jo
pulled it out, letting the crucifix dangle from her fingers. "Well,
it may sound a little crazy, but—"
The
bat let out a loud screech that startled Vicki and Jo. It jumped off
the windowsill and fluttered off into the night.
Jo's
mouth hung open as she stared at the empty windowsill, then at the
tiny silver crucifix. "I knew it. Vicki, you have to put this on
right now."
"I'm
sorry?"
"You
saw what just happened. And that bruise, and the way you've been
acting? I think a vampire's after you."
"Jo,
come on. A vampire?" Vicki rubbed her neck. "You're
overreacting."
"Maybe
so. Just...please, wear it to bed. Just tonight. I'd feel safer if
you did."
Vicki
sighed. "If it'll make you happy." She reached out, but
hesitated, her fingers just inches from the rosary.
"Come
on," Jo said. "I know we're not exactly the biggest
churchgoers, but—"
"Hang
on." Vicki stepped over to her dresser, where she pulled
something out of her jewelry case, and held it up for Jo. It was
another rosary, one Jo always admired, with red beads and small rose
petals on the cross around Jesus. She handed the black rosary back to
Jo, and lowered the red one around her neck.
Then
she shuddered.
She
stepped away, holding her hands over her mouth in a look of shock and
fear. She stared out at the spot where the bat had been sitting. "Oh
my god, Jo. I remember..." She paced to the bed and dropped to
her seat.
"Remember?
Remember what?"
"I
remember... when I was camping Friday... out in the woods, those red
eyes. He... pulled me toward them. I couldn't see his face, but he...
he..." She tensed up, her hands over her neck, over the bruise.
Her skin had turned pale. "Jo, you're right. There is a
vampire. He is after
me."
Jo
felt a sharp chill blow within her. Part of her had hoped she was
just being childish, that she was
worried over nothing. But now that Vicki said it was true, Jo saw
that it wasn't just her own overactive imagination they were dealing
with. It was a flesh-and-blood killer.
Vicki
held out her arms, and Jo dived into her sister's embrace. "Oh
Vicki, don't die. Please don't die."
"Don't
worry," Vicki said. "I'll keep the rosary on no matter
what."
"What
about the vampire? Is there anything else we can do?"
"I
don't know. Do we have any garlic?"
"We've
got garlic powder. We can sprinkle it on the windows." Jo rushed
to the door.
"Wait!"
Jo
stopped.
Vicki
glanced at the window, then smiled at her little sister. "I love
you, Jo."
Jo
said, "I love you," back, and nearly tripped over Ophelia
again on the way downstairs.
***
Jo
wore her rosary to bed just like Vicki, just to be safe. She prayed a
decade of beads as soon as she got up, with Ophelia in her lap. The
small brochure Gramma included with it reminded Jo how exactly to use
it, though the Our Father and Hail Mary came easily to mind. She took
a shower and put the beads back on immediately, to wear under her
blouse. After she dressed and brushed her hair, she grabbed Ophelia,
then went downstairs to the breakfast table, where Vicki had already
started a bowl of cereal.
"You
look better," Jo told Vicki. It was true: Vicki's cheeks had
more color, her eyes less sag, and she was smiling. Jo set Ophelia
down, poured her cat food, and then some Cheerios for herself. Mom
was making their lunches, and listening to the morning news on the
tiny TV over the stove.
"Thanks,
I'm feeling a lot better." Vicki pulled her collar to show Jo
the beads underneath. "Everything smells like garlic, though,"
she muttered.
Jo
leaned in toward Vicki so she could whisper. "You think
Mr.Vampire's gone?"
"Let's
hope so." Vicki tugged at the beads. "But if something like
this can scare him off, I should be okay."
A
line in the news report caught Jo's attention.
"—of
another cat found dead on the street in Terrace. The horrific scene—"
"Mom,
turn that off," Jo said. "I can't stand to listen to it."
"I'll
turn the volume down," Mom said. She pushed a button on the TV,
and the sound faded. "Don't worry, Jo, they'll find whatever's
doing it."
"I
know, it's just... those poor cats."
"I
heard it might be some coyotes that wandered into town," Vicki
said. "Ophelia, looks like you're staying inside today."
Ophelia
chewed her cat food without looking up.
Jo
sighed, and scooped a spoonful of cereal. "Is Dad at work?"
He was a physician at the local hospital, and tended to work at odd
hours.
"He's
asleep. They want him for a double shift this evening, so he's
getting all the rest he can. Vicki, if you're feeling better tonight,
why don't the three of us go out to a movie together?"
"Sounds
good," Vicki said. "Nothing scary, though."
"We'll
work it out after school."
The
girls finished their breakfast, put on their jackets, and headed out.
Vicki took her gym bag with her.
It
had rained the day before. Now the rainclouds had blown away, and the
sun gave the streets of Terrace, Tennessee, a strong white gleam. The
air carried a piercing December chill. Jo walked through the
neighborhood with Vicki, and watched the sparrows and robins flutter
and the squirrels scampered over the yards. She noticed more crows
out this morning along the highway.
The
way to school took them through the town square, where there were
shops and diners, and through Belcourt Park, which was named after
the girls' great-great-great grandfather, Carter Belcourt, who had
served a term as mayor. Not much ever happened in Terrace—even the
Civil War monument in the park only commemorated a regiment that had
been stationed there. No fighting ever took place. The biggest
employers were the hospital and a factory that made construction
equipment. Jo wondered what would ever bring a vampire to a tiny
place like Terrace.
A
black sedan drove up as the girls waited for the crosswalk. Through
the back window, Jo could see the fiery eyebrows and white mustache
of Theodor Feszület. As the owner of the factory, he was one of the
most well-known and well-respected senior citizens in town. The next
street over was even named in his honor.
The
Walk signal came on, and the girls crossed the road. Jo waved at
Mr.Feszület and his chauffeur along the way.
"He
spoke to my class last week, when we took that field trip to the
factory."
"Oh
yeah, he speaks at graduation every year. Dad hates him."
"Why's
that?"
"Feszület
is on the board at the hospital. Dad hates everybody on the board."
"Oh,"
Jo said. "That's too bad." She waved again as Mr.Feszület
rode off. "I thought he was nice."
Vicki
walked Jo to the front of Terrace Middle School, then headed up to
the high school. Jo watched her until she blended with the crowd.
The
bus rolled up. Heather Carmen hopped out, and ran over to Jo.
"You
would not believe the night I had last night."
"Uh
oh," Jo said.
"That's
just it," Heather said. "I feel like it should be a good
thing. My dad stopped drinking."
Jo
froze. "No way." Heather's dad had been an alcoholic as
long as Jo had known her, and Jo knew it was why Heather never
invited anyone over. He was never mean, or rowdy, or anything like
that. Just very quiet, and very still.
"Yeah,
just stopped cold. Poured all his whiskey in the sink. Then he spent
the whole night pacing around the house. It's like all of a sudden
he's scared of drinking."
"But
that is a good thing, right?"
"I
don't know. I mean, it's so sudden and everything. And he's still
acting like everything's normal. So's Mom, naturally. And Steve and
Petey—" Heather's little brothers— "are too little to
tell the difference. Plus... he's still real quiet and sad.
Something's getting to him." Heather slapped herself in the
forehead. "What am I thinking—how's Vicki?"
"Fine,
after she put on one of these." Jo showed her rosary.
"You
know, I always forget you're Catholic," Heather said. "So
you think there... maybe there really is a vampire?"
"Something's
happening." Jo dropped the rosary under her collar. "I need
to talk to Lenny, ASAP."
"Yeah?"
Heather sighed. "You know he's gonna take it the wrong way."
"I
know." Jo opened the door to homeroom, where Lenny Bishop was
having a sword fight in the back with Graham Augustine, with
ballpoint pens as their weapons. Lenny noticed them come in, and
stumbled. Graham took the opening and poked him in the belly.
Poor
Lenny. He'd had a crush on Jo all year, and did such a bad job of
hiding it. Every time she was around, there were red cheeks,
stammered words, furtive glances. She dreaded the day she'd have to
break his heart. She hoped she could find the right words.
But
today, she needed to talk about vampires. Lenny knew more about them
than anyone else in seventh grade; he'd even done a book report
before on something about Dracula. Jo and Heather walked up to him.
"There you are," Jo said.
"Ah,
Jo." He looked at her and Heather for only a second, and
sputtered for a moment. "G—Nice to—good morning. H-how's it
going?"
"I
need your help. I think a vampire's after my sister."
He
straightened his back, and murmured to Graham to go ahead and sit
down. "Really? Has she seen anything?" He led the girls to
his desk.
"Well,"
Jo said, "her neck's been bruised all weekend, she's sick and
tired all the time, and last night I found her talking to a bat
through the window."
"A
bat?"
"And
here's the really crazy thing." Jo showed him the rosary. "She
snapped out of it when she put one of these on."
"That
sounds like a vampire, all right." Lenny stared at the floor,
too intimidated to look Jo in the eye. "Ms. Winters said it
would be like this."
"Who's
she?" Heather said.
"Oh,
um, well, she's the lady who wrote Blood
on the Thames.
Maria Winters. That's the one I read for my report a while back. It's
all about how there was a real Count Dracula who sucked people's
blood in London in the 1860's."
"Hang
on," Heather said. "You're seriously saying Dracula's
real?"
"Sort
of. And I'm not talking about Vlad the Impaler. This is the Dracula
that gave Bram Stoker the idea for his book. He took what actually
happened, and combined characters, invented new ones, moved the
setting up a few decades. It's kinda like how Psycho did
Ed Gein."
"Who's
Ed Gein?"Jo said.
"You
don't wanna know. But anyway, I've been emailing the author, and
today I'm Skyping her, and—"
"Whoa,"
Heather said. "You mean you've actually been talking to a real
author?"
"Uh,
well, it's no big deal, really. She's really accessible, and likes
sharing her research. It kinda helps that...well, I'm kinda descended
from one of Dracula's victims."
"Whoa,
really?" Jo said.
"Yeah,
she helped inspire Lucy in the novel. I—"
"Ooh,
I remember her," Heather said. "Sorry, I read the book over
the summer. Didn't mean to interrupt."
Lenny
coughed. "But yeah, the girls Dracula attacked always went
through the same pattern. They'd get bruises and cuts, they'd get
sick, they'd start acting strange. Sounds like exactly what's going
on with your sister, Jo."
Jo
made a worried groan. "I was afraid of that."
"Did
she tell you who it was? Because I have a theory."
"No,
she can't remember. What do you think?"
"Remember
that old man who talked to us at that field trip last week? Theodor
Feszület?"
Jo's
eyes spread out in a glare. "Mr.Feszület is no vampire. I just
saw him in his car on the way here. The sun was out and everything."
"Okay,
one, sunlight doesn't kill vampires. It didn't kill Dracula.
Nosferatu invented
that. And two, I'm not saying he's a vampire." Lenny pulled the
book itself, Blood
on the Thames,
out of his backpack. "I'm saying he's Dracula."
He
opened it to a set of glossy color pages, and pointed at a portrait
of an old man with a long, almost beak-like nose, fiery eyebrows, and
a white mustache. If the caption didn't say A
portrait of the mysterious Count Dracula, by an unknown Székely
painter,
Jo would have sworn it was Mr. Feszület.
"That
is a pretty strong resemblance," Jo said. "But it doesn't
mean anything. I've been told I look like Marie Antoinette."
"Just
think about it. If he's the vampire, then he could have caused
everything from your sister's bruises to that cat eater."
"Cat
eater? That's crazy!" Jo thumped her fist on a desk, and bent
over Lenny's face. "Why would Mr. Feszület be killing those
cats?"
"Jo..."
Heather laid a hand on Jo's shoulder. "Lenny, what does this
have to do with the cats?"
Lenny
turned aside and scratched his head. "Uh, sorry. Didn't mean to
upset you." He gulped. "Well... Heather... you've
read Dracula.
Remember Renfield?"
"Oh,
I couldn't stand him," Jo said. She had seen the Gary
Oldman Dracula with
her sister one night when Mom and Dad were out of town, and she
remembered Renfield very well.
"Well,
he's based on what happened to London mental patients when the real
Dracula arrived. They'd start asking for live animals so they could
drink their blood, sorta like vampire practice. They'd catch rats and
bugs, and pick up cats whenever they could."
Jo
winced, picturing that creepy tall-haired man popping a fly into his
mouth like popcorn. The first time she saw that, she gagged, and
turned her back to the screen, and asked Vicki to tell her when he
was gone. She could handle everything else in that movie, but
Renfield was too much!
"Anyway,"
Lenny said, "the point is, he seemed to have a bad effect on
people with mental illnesses. The book goes over all these
examples—vagrants and patients and drug addicts, all suddenly
craving bugs and animals, even if they never did before. And as soon
as Dracula left, they stopped."
"Drug
addicts?" Heather said.
"Is
there anything we can do?" Jo said.
"I'm
not sure. I could ask Ms.Winters when I Skype her later. Maybe she
knows a good vampire hunter."
"Let
me know what she says."
"Let
me know, too," Heather said. "Thanks, Lenny. You sure know
a lot."
"Oh,
eh-heh... you're welcome."
The
bell rang. Jo went to her desk. The thought of some weirdo doing
something horrible to some poor animal churned through her mind. She
hoped Ophelia was okay.
Heather
stopped beside her. "You don't think this has something to do
with my dad, do you?"
"Heather,
don't worry. He stopped drinking."
"I
know, but... You heard Lenny. What if vampires affect drinkers, too?"
"Like,
make them want to...?" Jo didn't want to say it... to admit it
was possible.
"I'm
just saying, what if that's what
scared him so much last night?"
Jo
made herself grin for Heather. "He just needs to go without it a
while. It'll be tough, but he'll be fine."
Heather
swayed her head in thought, her brow furrowed. "If you say so."
***
At
the end of the day, Jo met Vicki at the front entrance as they always
did. Vicki had her gym bag strapped across her chest. The bruise on
her neck had dimmed even further. "Ready to go?" Vicki
said.
"Anytime,"
Jo said, as Heather walked out the door with a blank stare and a
grin. "What's up with you?"
"Well,
you're not going to believe this." Heather giggled. "Lenny
just asked me out."
"What?"
"Yeah.
We're getting ice cream as soon as his mom gets here."
"Um...
Huh. Wow. Okay. I thought—"
"Me
too. But, you know, I figured, why not?" Heather looked up.
"Hey, Vicki. Glad you're doing better."
"Thanks.
Have a good time."
"Yeah,"
Jo said. "Have a good time."
Jo
said nothing else until she and Vicki reached the other end of the
parking lot. By then she'd pieced it together: the blushing, the
glances—they were for Heather from the beginning. But Heather and
Jo were always together, so when they saw him, they just assumed...
"How
did I get that so wrong?"
"Jealous?"
Vicki said, smirking.
"No.
Just, I dunno, confused."
"Boys'll
do that."
Thick
clouds rolled overhead, lit red by the sunset. Jo was at least happy
for Heather, and glad Vicki was safe. They crossed through Belcourt
Park and decided to stop at the Cherry Street Diner, where Vicki's
friend Marcie worked as a server. It would take the pressure off Mom
for dinner.
"Hey,
good timing," Marcie said when she saw Vicki. "I just
started my shift. So, the usual?" For Vicki, that meant a BLT
with hot sauce dabbed on the bacon. For Jo, a pasta salad.
"You
know it," Vicki said. "We can't hang out too long, though.
Mom's taking us to a movie."
"No
problem. Hey, I just noticed, your bruise is almost gone."
"Good."
Vicki rubbed the spot as Marcie showed them their table.
The
sky outside dimmed while they ate. The Christmas lights lining the
roof of the courthouse blinked on.
They
walked out. The willow oaks along the sidewalk had long since shed
their leaves, their branches dry and empty for winter. A young man
with glasses and a stubbly beard was calling into one of them. "Here,
kitty kitty kitty." He wore a neatly-pressed white suit. The cat
bin sat next to him. "Here, kitty."
Jo
spotted the cat in one of the branches, and stopped. It was a tiny
calico kitten with a big black spot on its eyebrow. The kitten mewed
with a sweet little squeak. "Aw, is he stuck?"
"She,"
the man said. "I was on my way to the vet, when all of a sudden,
she started acting funny. I opened the bin and she jumped right out.
It's like she's afraid of me all of a sudden."
"Oh,
poor thing. My cat hates the vet, too. What's her name?"
"Umm..."
The man spaced out for a moment, then shook his head. "Sorry,
it's been a long day. It's Scout."
"Like
from To
Kill A Mockingbird?"
Vicki said. "That's my favorite book."
"It's
my favorite movie," the man said. "I'm Caleb. It's nice to
meet you."
"I'm
Joanna. Want me to get her down? I can climb up pretty easy."
One of the branches was low enough, and looked sturdy.
"I'd
hate you to go out of your way. But then, I'd hate to have to call
the fire department over this. I just don't want that cat eater to
catch her."
Jo
winced, but stood tall and confident. "It's no problem, right,
Vicki?"
"I
don't see why not." Vicki lowered her gym bag to the ground.
Jo
jumped and grabbed the branch, pulled herself up, raised her legs and
stepped off the trunk. Scout was sitting on the next branch over, a
little higher up. Jo clambered across, and straddled the branch, and
inched forward.
"It's
okay, Scout," she said. "I'm here to help." She
cinched further, reaching out her arm. "Everything's gonna be
just fine."
Scout
hissed, and swiped her paw. Jo pulled her hand back. "Yeek."
She checked and made sure there was no scratch. "It's okay. I'm
not gonna hurt you." Soon Scout was within reach. "I almost
got her!"
"Great,"
Caleb said. "I'm glad you came along."
Jo
reached forward. "C'mon, Scout. You wanna go inside, don't you?
Where it's nice and safe and warm?"
She
lowered her hand on Scout's back and rubbed it. Scout seemed to
relax, and Jo was able to move her other hand under her belly and
pull her off the branch and into her arms. After zipping the kitten
into her jacket, she lowered herself down, and dropped to the ground.
She handed Scout over.
Caleb
cradled her in his arms while she darted her head around. Vicki's bag
sat unattended.
"Thank
you so much," Caleb said. "How can I ever repay you?"
"I
was just glad to help," Jo said, looking up and down the street.
"Where'd my sister go?"
"She
said she left something inside. Thank you again."
"Sure
thing." Jo picked up Vicki's bag. "Later. Bye, Scout!"
She
ran back into the diner. She didn't see Vicki anywhere, so she walked
up to Marcie, who was keying an order into the register. "Have
you seen Vicki?"
"Nope,
haven't seen her," Marcie said. "How long has she been
gone?"
"Just
a few minutes." Jo knew Vicki wouldn't run off. Never without
good reason, that's for sure. "I'll give her a call." She
took out her phone and selected Vicki.
A
pocket in Vicki's bag shook.
Marcie
gritted her teeth.
Jo
opened it with a rip of Velcro. Vicki's phone rattled inside, playing
her marimba ringtone. Jo canceled the call, then noticed another
object resting inside the pocket.
She
reached in, and pulled out a chain of red beads, with flower petals
on the crucifix.
Vicki's
rosary.
Jo's
blood ran cold. This wasn't right. Vicki would never be this
careless. She'd promised to keep it on! She knew what would
happen if she didn't!
"Oh
yeah," Marcie said, "she was wearing that this morning.
Must have stashed it in there before Gym. Where'd she get it?"
Jo
stuffed the phone back into the pocket. Vicki was a sitting duck out
there, all because she forgot to put the rosary back on! Jo had to
find her, before something happened—if nothing had already—
A
loud, gritty screech echoed down the road. Everyone in the diner
heard it, and stared out the door. Just as suddenly as it started, it
stopped with a sickening quiet.
It
was the unmistakable shriek of a cat.
Jo
crept to the door and pulled it open. The jingle struck through the
silence, and startled her as she stepped outside.
The
streets were empty, even of cars, and the street lights cast an eerie
daylight under the dusky sky, through the bare branches. Jo looked
over to where she had rescued Scout.
Caleb
was there, crouched over a splash of red. He munched and slurped and
dug into something in front of him. Jo's stomach began to churn. She
didn't see Scout. Scout was okay, right?
Chilled
air blew from behind her.
Caleb
turned, and noticed her over his shoulder. His beard dripped with the
same red as the puddle. He waved, revealing even more on his hands.
"Thanks again," he shouted.
Jo
wanted so desperately to look away, but her eyes wouldn't leave the
puddle. She had to know it wasn't what she thought. Scout was still
fine, right? She had to be. Who'd want to hurt a sweet little thing
like Scout?
Caleb
stood up. Blood had dribbled and smeared and soaked on his suit. Jo
could see, in the middle of that red splatter below him, an
outstretched paw, and a little snout, its teeth tiny and sharp,
frozen in a shriek of agony.
Jo's
scream pushed up her throat like steam through a kettle. When she let
it out, it seemed to echo through the whole town.
Where
was Vicki? She needed Vicki!
Caleb
took a step toward her. "What's wrong? Scout had plenty of life
to give me. You can have some, too."
Jo
dashed back into the diner. Marcie was right behind the door.
"What's
going on out there?" Marcie peeked out as Jo dived into a booth.
"Sounds like bloody murder—oh Jesus." She pushed the door
shut and turned the lock. "Somebody call the police! There's
somebody covered with blood right outside!"
Jo
could hear Caleb shouting... crying out for...
"Master!
Do you have any more? I've done what you wanted, and I'll do more!"
A
man seated on the far end of the diner stood up, looked toward the
window with worry. "Caleb?"
The
entire scene endlessly in Jo's mind, from offering to climb the tree
to hearing Scout's cry. She hardly thought why Scout would be so
frightened. Then Jo's hand rose up to her mouth. Scout knew.
She knew
Caleb
was trouble. He may have stolen her, or already hurt her.
And
Jo handed her right over.
Screams
rang from up and down the block. Pedestrians were discovering Caleb,
and Scout's remains.
"You
have the girl!" Caleb cried. "Please, take me with you."
"Caleb."
The man at the table ran across the diner to the window, and slid
into the booth beside Jo's. "That's his voice!"
Marcie
was on the phone. Some of the other diners were making their own
frantic calls.
Caleb
slammed his hands flat on the window. Scout's blood smeared over the
diner's name. He smiled at the man on the inside. "Hey, Bro."
"God,
Caleb, what's happened to you?"
"Guess
what, Tom? I'm gonna be immortal."
"Y-you know him?"
Jo muttered. Her hands were shaking.
"He's
my brother. Caleb, did Feszület make you do this?"
"He
made me promises. The animals have life, Tom. If I can prove myself—"
Jo
lifted her head. "Feszület?"
Red
and blue lights flashed through the window. Jo heard a siren, and
shouting.
She
leaned over the table, forced herself to see Caleb's bloody face.
Police officers were pouring out of their cars, aiming their guns at
Caleb, ordering his hands behind his head.
He
cooperated. A hard-faced lady cop yanked his arms behind his back,
and handcuffed him.
Before
they pulled him away from the window, he grinned at Jo.
"Thanks
again," he said. "Best meal I've had in ages."
Jo
curled up and buried her head under her arms, as Caleb's brother
rushed outside.
***
She
pieced together the full story as she listened to Caleb's brother,
Tom, answer the officers' questions inside the diner. Caleb Stimson
was on his way to the station, and Jo had given her report. Her
fingers wouldn't stop shaking, so Marcie dialed her mother for her,
and explained through her own tears and horror that Jo had run into
the cat eater, and they did not know where Vicki was.
While
Tom gave his report, Marcie handed Jo a cup of green tea from the
break room.
The
way Tom explained it, Caleb had been diagnosed with schizophrenia
when he was sixteen. He had actually managed it very well. He kept up
with his medications, saw a therapist, went to a support group up on
Monteagle. That changed when he got his new job earlier in the year.
He skipped doses, and began to fixate on insects.
A
month ago, he began eating them.
Then
spiders.
Then
rats.
Tom
had never seen anything like it. None of the other members of the
support group had, either. Caleb hadn't seen them in three months. He
disappeared a week ago, and Tom had been searching for him ever
since.
The
only explanation Tom could think of was Caleb's job as—
"My
chauffeur."
Jo
shot out of the booth when she heard the voice, with the deep accent.
And she saw him through the door, the old man with the white mustache
over his lip, and eyes like a wolf. "I first hired him six
months ago. He has always been a good driver, and I never saw any
indication of instability. Just now he drove me here so I could meet
with an old friend at Whitby Tavern." He pointed at the bar on
the far end of the block. "This unfortunate incident happened
while I was there."
Tom
said, "He only dropped his meds after he started working for
you."
"If
his duties to me ever distracted from his duties to himself, then I
apologize. If you'd like, I can help with his court expenses. We can
make sure he gets the care he deserves."
"You
made him stop," Jo snapped.
Tom
and Feszület turned and stared at her.
Jo
stepped out the door. "You let him run loose, didn't you? You
used him to distract me and my sister. He killed Scout so you could
take her!"
Mr.
Feszület jabbed his cane to the ground. "Talk some sense,
child."
"Where
is she? Where's Vicki?"
"What
are you talking about?"
Tom
said, "Her sister disappeared when they met Caleb. Do you know
anything?"
"I
have only met this girl once before. I am an associate of her
father's, nothing more." He raised a withered smile to Jo. "You
have been through a lot tonight, young lady. Panic and reckless
accusations will not find your sister, nor bring back that
unfortunate feline."
"Her
name was Scout."
Mr.
Feszület turned to an officer. "May I go now?"
The
officer said, "Sure. We might still need you to come in for the
arraignment."
"Very
well. A pity none of us could meet under more fortunate
circumstances. Mr. Stimson, your brother was a model employee. Young
lady, I hope your sister is found safe and sound. Is that her?"
Jo
spun around, her heart pounding. And Vicki was there, staggering
around the cordoned-off scene of Scout's death. She covered her mouth
in disgust, spotted Jo, and sped up her pace. Jo ran to embrace her
sister, but stopped after a few steps.
The
bruise was back. An inky blue blotch spread up the side of Vicki's
neck, with two tiny pinpoint marks within it. "Jo," she
said, her voice a weak groan, "what happened?"
Mr.
Feszület stepped up and grabbed Jo's shoulder, clutching it tight.
His fingers were like dry, empty branches. He bent down to whisper in
her ear.
"Never
try to stand between me and my prey, child."
Jo
locked in place, and turned to look into Mr. Feszület's eyes—his
empty, glassy eyes, whose wrinkles never moved to betray any emotion.
Yet they still bore the clarity and ferocity of the deadliest wolf.
"Tell
whomever you wish," he said. "I'd be interested to see who
believes you."
He
stood upright, and from the angle Jo saw him, in the light the street
lamps dropped on him, she saw a pale spectre, like the devil himself
made manifest.
He
turned, and smiled, and walked down the sidewalk, past Tom Stimson
and past the police, as Jo's mother and father drove up to the curb.
Originally published in A Light in the Dark, 2013.
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If you thought a story inspired by Mega Man was dorky, here's a story that was originally inspired by Castlevania: Rondo of Blood. In that game, you play Richter Belmont, your typical buff, whip-wielding vampire hunter trekking through Dracula's castle to fight the legions of the undead. One of the things that makes Rondo unique, though, is that this time, Dracula has hostages—four village maidens, including Richter'sfuture wifefiancé and her 12-year-old sister, Maria. When you rescue Maria, she becomes a playable character. Her attacks involve birds, cats, turtles, and dragons. This means you can totally go through the game and beat up Count Dracula, Prince of Darkness, with a little girl and her animal friends. So one day, I put on a longplay of this game (it might have been this one), in which the player was using Maria, when I thought, "What if this happened in modern times?" The result draws more from Bram Stoker than Konami, but you get the idea. It's only a step removed from Stephen King's inspiration for 'Salem's Lot. There's your window into the creative process, dear reader. This story is actually a chapter from a novel-in-progress. I'm taking a break right now to work on other stories (and try to get an agent for a somewhat less in-progress novel), but I'll try to get back to it soon. When fellow Talking Time poster Andy Keener called for submissions for a horror anthology (A Light in the Dark, now available on Amazon!), I had just written the chapter in question, and thought I'd clean it up a bit to help it stand on its own a little better. I do have one regret: UPDATE (12/31/16). The vampire's name has been changed in the story to "Feszület."
There are a few family connections here. The girls' dad is loosely based on my late grandfather, and the fictional town of Terrace is based on small towns outside Chattanooga such as Pikeville and Whitwell. Finally, I was myself raised Catholic, and Vicki's rosary is based on my own, which I've had since 2006. Finally, the tree in the story is supposed to be the same one on the cover—it's on a sidewalk here in town, and I took the photo myself. It's referred to as different species in the anthology and the solo release because I had trouble figuring out how to identify it at first. I investigated a bit more thoroughly as I was putting together the ebooks, checking the leaves and the bark, and I'm a lot more confident in how it's identified in the current version of the story.
GEEKY REFERENCE ALERT: Maria Winters, the author of Blood on the Thames, is named for Shelley and Erin Winters, from John Allison's Scary Go Round family of webcomics. Go read it. It's very British. Ms. Winters actually joins the plot later on in the novel, so you have that to look forward to. Also, in case it's not clear, I totally made up the idea of Dracula being inspired by a real-life serial killer. Still, it's a fun idea, right?