***
Barbara watched as he disappeared into the darkness of the open doorway. She could not see Nathaniel anymore and somehow knew that he had left the house. She stared in the direction of the hallway for ten minutes before the tears came. It was not until nearly an hour later that she was able to release herself from the ball that she had rolled herself up into and give herself back over to sleep. When she did, she began to dream. Yet, these were not dreams, as dreams go. These were memories. The first one was not hers…
February 12th, 1747
“You bastard!” Nathaniel screamed at the top of his lungs. “You horrible, evil bastard! How could you? All these years I have stayed here, faithful as the sunrise. I have done all that you have wished. I have even learned not to detest your very presence even though you butchered my family, and look what you have done! Why? Damn you, why?”
“My son,” Vincent calmly spoke. He knew full well his effect on Nathaniel. “I am really quite surprised at your tone.”
“Foul creature of Hell!” he howled back at him, stepping closer. Long strands of spittle stretched with his fury from the top of his mouth to the bottom, and poured out of the corner of his light purple lips. Yesterday, his lips had been pink.
“Nathaniel, please!” Vincent grinned. He displayed his healthy, gleaming incisors, fangs which had now, after all of these years, finally tasted the young man's blood. The sight of the beast's smile sent Nathaniel into a fury that he had never known. It sprung him like a trap.
“AHHHH!” Nathaniel lost control and pounced.
The attack was as clumsy as it was unsuccessful. To Nathaniel's eyes, it was like passing through a ghost. He tried to stop himself but his momentum had carried him too far already. He did not stop until he struck the wall and slumped groggily to the floor, his long blonde hair cascading about him.
“Really, Nathaniel! Don't you see why you need me now more than ever?” He was standing over him now. “You would be absolutely lost without me. In fact, you would probably perish.”
“Get away from me, Vincent!” Nathaniel shouted, sitting up with his back against the wall that he had struck. “I have never needed you! Never!”
The vampire put his hands upon his hips and laughed. “Of course you have, dear boy! Of course you have!” His laughter rose. It grew crueler. “That is precisely why I have made you in my own perfect image, so you could finally see that!”
“Go to Hell, damn you!” Nathaniel screamed.
The vampire smiled.
“Oh, but my dear Nathaniel, for one to go there, one must be able to die!” His smile grew into a hearty laugh. “Don't you finally see? You and I can never die!”
Barbara stirred. The scene was over, only to be followed by another…
There was someone coming through the twins’ nursery window. She looked up. There was a terrible face adorned by long flowing hair. Piercing, penetrating eyes were staring back at her and into her, looking into everything that made her who she was on this earth. There was nothing that she could hide from those eyes.
She found herself screaming. The twins were screaming, too, but she had to take great pains to hear it.
Her hands were numb as bitingly cold, vise-like hands gripped her.
The owner of the hands laughed heartily at her while she continued to scream.
“Madam,” he said to her. “Your children seem to be crying!”
Barbara shuffled backwards, trying to free herself from his grip. Her feet tangled as she attempted to jerk herself free and she lost her balance. The vampire still did not let go of her.
“A pity!”
“Who are you?” She attempted to shake free of his grip, but could not. “What do you want?”
“So many questions!” He laughed.
As he spoke, Barbara took the opportunity to try once more to free herself with one last violent shake of her arm. “Let me go!”
“As you wish.”
Barbara suddenly became free and fell down. She let out a cry as the momentum snapped her head back when she hit the floor, biting her lip.
“What precious little throats they have!” she heard and suddenly alarms were going off inside her head. Her babies were in horrible danger. She attacked.
The beast had her before she could scream. Those cold, claw-like fingers had her arms above her elbows, pinning them to herself. She tried to let loose a cry but could not. The pain made her bite again into her lower lip. The vampire lifted her off of her bare feet with little effort and then brought her close. Suddenly, eyes that seemed black as pitch to her in the dark widened and focused immediately upon a trickle of blood upon her lips.
The vampire pulled his face back in another terrible smile, exposing ivory white fangs. The sight made her shiver and she finally was able to let out a cry.
“Careful,” he whispered tenderly. “You'll spill it.”
The vampire did not notice her revulsion as he pulled her closer. Ignoring her, seeing only the crimson upon her lips, he brought them down to him and licked them clean with a slow sweep of his rough tongue.
The tongue was cold, too, for her attacker was no man.
Barbara was blacking out now. She could see it coming as if she were hovering above the room in some out of body experience. She heard the babies screaming at the top of their little lungs as she watched herself collapse there onto the floor.
Barbara removed her gaze from herself and followed what incredibly seemed to be a vampire that was inside her house. She watched, powerless to stop him as he moved over to her daughter’s crib. Rebekah wailed and wriggled as if she anticipated what was to come. The vampire reached into the crib and picked up the baby. He held the child high above his head. Behind his purple lips, gleaming fangs hungrily protruded out from the corner of his mouth. Slowly, confidently, they pierced the air on their way toward the baby's warm, vibrating little throat.
Instead of watching in utter transfixed horror as her daughter was about to be consumed alive by the vampire, or in the very least turning away from the scene in order to spare herself the horrible and graphic sight that would haunt her dreams and paralyze her waking hours forever, she turned her gaze toward the open window. As if she knew what was to happen next, she waited for the precise moment when her beloved Nathaniel would come flying through. In one glorious ballet of movement, Nathaniel swept the unharmed baby from the vampire's hands and knocked the vampire into the far wall.
“Nicely done, Nathaniel. I wondered when you might show yourself,” the vampire said as he attempted to regain his composure. “I taught you very well, indeed.”
“You taught me only to hate. And I hate you very much.”
Vincent sighed dramatically, and then took a threatening step forward.
“Remain where you are, Vincent!” Nathaniel commanded. “These are under my charge.”
“Oh, but Nathaniel, surely you don't think me gluttonous. I will gladly share them with you.”
Nathaniel made no effort to respond.
“Ah, but that is right,” he quickly interjected. “You don't feed on human blood, do you, Nathaniel? Such the pity. Cats and vermin!” he said with a dramatic shudder. “It makes you considerably weaker than I, you realize. In that instance, I guess I will have both!”
“No!” Nathaniel stood his ground.
“I will not be ordered around, Nathaniel,” the vampire said firmly, taking another step forward.
Nathaniel said nothing and made no effort to withdraw. Barbara felt herself bracing for an attack, as if she might be able to assist in the defense of her children.
The vampire stopped. “Ah, you mean to challenge me. I adore challenges. It has been a challenge, my finding you. It has been a challenge following a cold trail across the globe.” Vincent took one step closer. “And now that I have you…”
He stared his adversary down, menacingly, for a moment, then reached out delicately with his left hand and lovingly moved a stray hair out of Nathaniel’s face. He whispere
d: “And I do have you, Nathaniel.” Now he lowered his hand back to his side and changed his expression, this time to a look of intimidation. Then, he seemed to shake it off again.
“Just go, Vincent,” Nathaniel said, placing his hands on the back of the little baby's crib. “It is still early. I trust you have more than enough time to acquire for yourself another meal.”
Vincent sighed again and smiled, turning his attention back to the nearest baby. They were each still screaming their lungs out, red-faced panic on their tiny faces. Something made him giggle.
“So lovely!”
The vampire reached down into the nearest crib.
No! The beast was touching her baby.
“So warm!” Vincent pulled the hand away from the baby and then, glancing dramatically into Nathaniel's eyes, stuck the caressing finger into his mouth and licked the scent from it.
“No more games, Vincent.”
Vincent turned his gaze back upon Nathaniel, his face devoid of expression. He appeared neither pleased nor angered. “It is so good to hear you speak my name again after all of these years.”
“It has been much longer than years.” There was a pregnant pause where Vincent’s name should have followed, but Nathaniel refused to satisfy the beast any further. “And not at all long enough.”
Vincent nodded with understanding or perhaps it was acknowledgement that there was nothing more to discuss. No chance at reconciliation. “I'll not be denied so easily the next time, Nathaniel.”
Nathaniel gave no response.
“I’m almost sorry that this must end, my young Nathaniel: my hunt for you. This chance meeting. Our next meeting.” There was the obvious threat in those words, but he showed no hint of it on his face. “It is good to find you, finally. I have grown so exhausted with the travelling. I miss the old country. I will be returning home soon.”
Barbara could see herself stirring in the corner of her eyes, but paid herself little attention. She held her gaze to the interaction before her there in the middle of the nursery.
“Come back with me, my son. May this not end with the shedding of our blood that mingles inside you.”
Barbara felt for Nathaniel and marveled as her children’s protector stood ground and said in the most composed of voices: “I am not your son!”
Barbara stirred yet again and more pronounced. So much so that she awoke. Barbara sat up in her bed. She was alone. Michael had not yet come home. Behind her eyes the images continued to loop. Everything that she had dreamed and more was there to be relived and examined, but she needed no more of it. Though she was alone, she could hear Nathaniel’s words as if the confessed vampire were still lurking about her bedroom.
“My dear, I am a vampire. I live off of the blood of others to survive. Vincent did this to me. Unlike Vincent, however, I have never taken a human life to get it. No, I am far more pathetic; trolling about for stray animals that no one would miss. You never need fear me, Barbara.”
It was clear who the villain was in this drama that had slammed into the town just days ago. That was plainly evident. It was just so terribly sad that there was nothing to be done for poor Nathaniel. Indeed, how could such a one be redeemed? Barbara seemed to ask herself, but quickly realized that they were not her words, or if they were, it was certainly not her own voice that she was hearing. The words continued: There could be no saving grace. What amount of the Lord’s blood could cover the stain of this walking death when the living corruption was itself covered in the blood of so many others, be it animal or otherwise?
Barbara thought to argue with the words that filled her head and not her ears. She did not know what or how she might argue; she simply felt compelled that someone should be arguing something on Nathaniel’s behalf! It had been God, the Father, in heaven who had spared her babies from certain death, and it had been the Lord Jesus Christ who had done the work; but Nathaniel was the tool for that dispensation of grace! Before she could utter a single word, she felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach.
How could such a one be redeemed?
One could see the hopelessness of the circumstance.
“I have to destroy Vincent,” Nathaniel had said; apparently oblivious to the battle taking place about it that the vampire was destined to lose. And lose decisively. “You and I will never know peace until this is accomplished. There are rules against this, but I have no choice. Please do not hate me, Barbara.”
Barbara had been staring at the ceiling of her bedroom but not really seeing anything as the words played and played—Nathaniel’s voice, as well as the other voice that was not her own. At last she lowered her eyes and simply looked at her hands that were clasped together over her bedspread-covered lap.
“What do you think of my Nathaniel, now?”
Barbara looked up. If anything that she had heard tonight seemed to be coming from directly beside her, it was those eight words, yet she was still alone. Or was she? It was the same voice as the one in the dream that she’d had the day before during her early evening nap: the teacher. If it had been his voice all along that condemned Nathaniel, why was it now defending the vampire? It was a deepening mystery.
What was not a mystery, however, was how she felt about Nathaniel. She was not in love, but she did love Nathaniel. Any confusion that she had felt before, though she understood far from everything, was now replaced by direction; by a call to arms.
And she was not afraid.
She felt strangely empowered suddenly, and as she flipped away her bedspread and sheet, Barbara meant to use every ounce of that power.
11:30 p.m.
The sky over downtown Kingsburg was lit up like South-Central Los Angeles. Patrol cars of every persuasion were adorned with circling blue and red, blue and white. There was flashing yellow, too—so much artificial light that it nearly felt as if it were day and the sun was doing the lighting.
Detective Michael Lopez studied the scene before him with a bit of glaze over his eyes. It was late, nearly midnight. If asked, he might have not been able to reveal just how many hours he had already put in with seemingly no end in sight. He was exhausted. Whatever adrenaline he possessed had been burned up long ago due to the fact that he’d been borrowing the stuff heavily for days now. Lastly, with yet another body lying before him, and yet another police officer, he could not help but feel like giving up.
The hell with it! If the chief wants me replaced, replace me! They can have the God—
“Why don't you go home, Mikey?” Jackson said in a concerned tone, ignoring the mass of peace officers, the encircling lights, and the covered body upon the police car in the middle of another cordoned off street in their beloved town.
“What?”
“You heard me. Get out of here while you can. Go home and kiss the wife, watch your kids sleep for a while, and then get some yourself.”
“No way,” Michael said, momentarily snapping out of his daze. “This is where I belong. This is the job I chose.” Heavy words; his voice betrayed them, however.
“Bullshit!” Jackson loudly exclaimed, catching his partner off guard.
“What did you say?”
“Bull! Shit!” He did not step closer. He did not attempt to cover his voice. He didn’t give a rip who heard and what they might think about it. “Of course what you say is true. That goes the same for me, too. But this case is kicking our asses, man. And there’s no Calvary to call in. Oh, this is the Alamo alright, but we cannot lose. And the only frigging way we’re going to be able to figure this thing out and stop this sonofabitch is if we’re smart.”
Michael started to interrupt, but Jackson waved him off. “No. I don’t want to hear it. I can see it in your eyes. You’re about ready to shut it down, and not just for tonight, but maybe for good. Now, I want you to go home right now and get some sleep. I’ll give you five hours. After that, you get your ass back here so I can get mine.” He glanced around. A few wer
e watching them, listening to everything that they could hear. Finally, he lowered his voice and approached. “We’ll probably still be out here.”
Michael laughed. It was gallows humor—brief and not overly obvious to anyone but Jackson. “Alright,” he said. “I give up.”
“That’s why you’re going.” Michael stopped and gave his partner a hard look. Michael waved that off, too. “Hey, maybe tomorrow morning when you come back I’ll be the one who needs the kick in the ass.” He reached out and put his right hand on Michael’s shoulder, patting him a few times. Michael answered it by sliding his left below his and patting the small of the man’s back.
The two men separated and Michael quickly walked through the throng of cars and police to get to his vehicle. Luckily, it was not blocked in. Had it been, he would have simply continued on by foot the necessary fifteen to twenty blocks to get to his pillow.