***
Back in the living room Vincent had stopped laughing, but was still amusing itself with Barbara on the love seat.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“No,” she said, curtly. Then she quickly added: “Thank you.”
She thought it an odd exchange that he would care anything at all about her comfort, considering the fact that he very well might be debating whether to end their lives before the dawn. She thanked him not because she appreciated the concern, but out of fear. She needed to keep him friendly until she could think of something. She had seen what he had been capable of with her own eyes. With Mark and Nathaniel possibly dead, and Michael passed out in the back of the house, she might be all that her children had to rely on.
“Me, neither,” Vincent added.
The thought of Vincent feeding or needing to feed sent shivers down her spine. She could vividly picture just how he might do that should it become necessary.
“Did you eat?” she asked, but was afraid of what his response might be.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Before paying you the visit tonight,” he answered. “You are welcome, by the way.”
For what? She started to say before the thought occurred to her that he could have waited and then fed at her house. “Thank you.”
“Young Tiffany has not fed, however. She is young and stupid, and not nearly as patient as I am.”
Oh, God! Barbara thought, leaping to her feet. Tiffany had been at the back of the house for a long time, supposedly watching over the children. Barbara had never thought to be concerned that Tiffany would harm them. She was a vampire just like Vincent. Maybe she just thought that the girl would remember something of her former humanity and do nothing to harm the children that she had known since their birth.
She headed for the hallway but never made it. Vincent got in front of her and she slammed into him, knocking herself backwards and hitting her head. It snapped back hard, but not enough to knock her out.
She never saw the vampire, nor could she see him now. She only saw stars. He did not make a move to come to her aid or even appear the least bit sympathetic. He just stood there, hovering above her. She wanted desperately to get to her feet and get past him, but there was no way that he was going to allow her to do so.
“Please, Vincent. I beg you. Please don’t let anything happen to my children.”
Vincent continued to stare at her.
“Vincent?” she said, lowering her voice. If he were angered, there was no telling what he might do. She could not tell the nature of his disposition, so she treaded carefully. “Please, Vincent.”
The vampire sighed. “Did I lead you to believe that something was going to happen to them?” he asked finally.
“No,” she answered. “You said that Tiffany had not fed.”
“Did you believe that I would allow her to feed on your babies?”
Barbara said nothing.
“If anyone feeds from those precious little throats,” he said, his eyes boring down upon her. “It will be me.”
Barbara felt as the vampire quickly moved over her and into the middle of the living room.
“Do not move!” he commanded.
Vincent moved closer to the front windows. He took his time looking through them, and she deduced he found nothing at all, but was not in any hurry to rush to judgment. Barbara obeyed Vincent’s command not to move; however, she did turn her head a bit and looked toward the open windows. Vincent was a large shape, blocking most of the view. He started to leave the windows, she saw, but turned back. She did not know why.
“Vincent,” she began carefully. “May I get up?”
The vampire said nothing. She could only see his shape there so she had no idea of his expression or mood. He continued to stare, study or wait, for what, she did not know.
“Vincent?”
“You may stand,” he said at last. “Do not attempt to leave this room again. A car is approaching. It has no lights on, but I can see it. Do not think for an instant that I cannot kill all of you well before the vehicle arrives.” He made not the slightest move while saying it.
Barbara stood and slowly approached Vincent from behind. She stepped beside him, careful to remain a step to his left. She was also careful not to antagonize him further, not that she thought that she had, but with her children in the balance she could not be too careful.
“It looks like a police car,” she offered, hoping that he would be at ease, realizing that she was not simply biding her time for the right moment to plant a stake through his heart.
Vincent took his eyes off of the car for a moment and eyed her somewhat surprisingly. “Does it?”
“Yes,” she added. “Across the top of the car you can see the light bar. The car has a square look to it. You’ll see.”
“Oh, I can see it,” Vincent replied. “I am simply intrigued why you would assist me with the identification.”
The car continued to crawl towards them with no lights. Eventually they could see but one lone passenger. When it had reached them, the Jackson house sitting on a corner lot, the car turned without using its turn signal.
Then it stopped.
Right there in the road just through the intersection.
Vincent studied the car. Although Barbara knew there was no man alive capable of taking him by surprise, she could see him brace himself.
The sudden beam of white light burst through the open window, knocking Vincent back. It was clearly not at all what he had been expecting. Barbara shielded her eyes from the beam, but the light was not aimed at her. She peeked at the vampire beside her carefully as he backtracked, holding both of his hands across his face. They glowed luminescent in the darkness of the Jackson living room. Vincent moved to his right but the beam followed him as if he were an actor on some elaborate stage. He moved further right, but so did the light. He attempted to backtrack further. In the middle of the room, the beam was still too strong.
Barbara followed its progress with the knowledge that whoever was behind this particular stunt would not hold the vampire at bay for long. She also knew that when it had run its course, there might be no getting along with him after that. She took her eyes off the spectacle for a moment, wondering who was behind it. Perhaps no one. Perhaps it was just a poor cop, doing his part to locate the missing detective.
Suddenly, Vincent was behind her, growling. She let out a cry as the vampire lifted her easily off the ground and held her up as a human shield. His icy touch and the jagged finger nails gouging into her soft flesh stifled any further cries from her throat. However, the police car’s spotlight was immediately extinguished.
Vincent held Barbara there, peeking out from behind her. She glanced up upon feeling the presence of the ceiling just a mere inches from the top of her head. Thankfully, in all of the tension, the vampire had not blindly shoved her head through it.
Barbara watched as the car began to slowly back up. It moved twenty feet back and then stopped once again. Nothing happened for a moment. She winced as Vincent’s nails dug deeper into her during this time. Even Barbara could detect movement from within the car, so it was clear to both of them that something was about to happen. The only question was what.
Still clutching Barbara tightly, Vincent began to slowly back up.
Tires screeched suddenly as the driver of the car seemed to shove his foot through the accelerator pedal, driving what was left into the floor of the vehicle. The Ford Crown Victoria took a hard left turn. It hit the curb with such brute force that dancing sparks were sent in all directions. The front end lifted up momentarily as if it were about to take flight, then slammed back to earth. It did not slow. Rather, it picked up speed as the tires, like some great predator’s claws, dug deep into the earth for traction. Vincent turned and moved both of them to the safety of the hallway.
“Tiffany!” he yelled.
The car raced onto the front grass, snapping a nineteen foot Chi
nese maple in half and crushing a number of bushes and various flowers. Barbara anticipated the sound of glass breaking and the force of shrapnel slamming against them as the walls caved in while they retreated, but none of that occurred. Instead, the car stopped just feet before doing just that. The explosion that they heard now was not the front wall but the vehicle’s horn as something heavy seemed to hold it down.
“What’s happened?” Tiffany yelled over the horn. She nearly ran into Vincent as she came rushing his direction.
“Get back to the room!” Vincent roared, though Tiffany was a mere foot away from him. Still, his command could barely be heard over the blaring horn. It sounded as though it were coming from inside the middle of the house. “This is but the diversion!”
Barbara’s heart sank with Vincent’s remark and she was suddenly overcome with doubt. She had spent a great deal of time praying for a miracle. Even the smallest of ones. Yet, at no time did there seem to be even the slightest chance for escape or for some turn of hand. It was clear that everything that she did with her conversations, with her actions, or the actions of others, was simply delaying the inevitable. She and her family would never see the sunrise. Even if Nathaniel was still alive, and there did not seem any hint of this, what chance would he have against the stronger vampire?
Vincent suddenly spun her around and set her on her feet. He did not wait for her to gain her bearings, but simply dropped her. She slumped against the nearest wall and was forced to right herself. He then grabbed her by the right hand and pulled her forward as he carefully studied the scene unfolding before him.
The horn continued to blare as something leaned against it in the front seat of the police car. She could make out a shape, but that was all.
“Make it stop!” Barbara shouted, cupping her hands over her ears, feigning pain.
Vincent eyed her suspiciously as if reading her intent. “We will!” he said, dragging her cautiously toward the front door. He never took his eye from the scene before the window until the last possible moment. In a flash, Vincent yanked open the door, allowing it to slam against the opposite wall, and pulled Barbara through. Everything between three feet from the front door and her being thrown against the grill of the police car was a blur.
“Check the driver!” Vincent commanded as he launched himself onto the hood of the vehicle. “The driver is either dead or pretending to be!”
By the time that she glanced up at him, he had moved to the roof of the car. She quickly ran around from the front of the car, stumbling over the carcasses of bushes, doing her level best to ignore the bruise from the car’s grill. Vincent seemed to be in a sort of wild frenzy, posing as if ready for any upcoming attack, auditing his perimeter.
***
At the first blast of the horn, Michael Lopez awoke.
Wait! A voice sounded not in his ears but from somewhere within his head. Not yet!
He did not open his eyes. He felt so groggy, and now the pain was coming back to him. There had been a question at his lips, but he had forgotten it. He waited.