* * *
The limo stopped once again outside Jenkins’ store. Rennstadt stepped out and opened the umbrella for Master Blomquist. Even though it was dark, the street lamps were bright.
“I am starting to wonder if this human is worth the trouble,” Master Blomquist said, stepping out of the limo.
“He called me to say he was sorry to have upset you, my lord. He has the payment.”
The two crossed the street and entered the bookstore. There weren’t any surprises on the front door. No, I guess the real surprise is inside. Jenkins sat behind his cash register, one hand on the counter, the other beneath it. Holding the stake, presumably.
“I have your money. I’m sorry I didn’t come up with it sooner.”
“Mister Rennstadt, gather it for me,” Master Blomquist said.
“Actually, sir, I’d prefer if you collected it,” Jenkins voice quivered.
Rennstadt inwardly groaned at Jenkins’ performance. He saw the gears spinning furiously inside Jenkins’ head and he wondered if he’d be brave enough to follow through with his plan. Vampire murders weren’t unheard of. There was a tale of one borrower turning on his fanger and escaping the wrath of the others, so it was possible. But is bright boy smart enough to escape them? Master Blomquist didn’t move toward the counter.
Jenkins opened the register and pulled out the money. He looked to Rennstadt for help, who offered none. You got yourself into this mess, kid. You’ll have to figure your way out. Apparently Jenkins decided on something because he walked forward with the money. He bowed from the waist as he presented the cash to Master Blomquist.
“I do not know why this was so hard,” the vampire said upon accepting the money. Rennstadt saw the stake hidden under the bottom stack.
Jenkins dropped the rest of the money and lunged at Master Blomquist.
A blade slid up Jenkins’ torso before he even struck. Jenkins looked at the blood that spilled from his wound. He then stared at Rennstadt, who brandished a sword retrieved from his umbrella. Rennstadt knew he would never forget the look of betrayal on Jenkins’ face.
Jenkins collapsed to the floor. “Is he dead?” Master Blomquist asked.
Rennstadt checked for a pulse. “Sorry, bright boy,” he whispered. He stood and addressed Master Blomquist. “Not yet, my lord.”
Master Blomquist pushed him out of the way and gorged on Jenkins’ warm blood.
He’ll be a lesser fanger by tomorrow night, Rennstadt thought. It would only have been a matter of time before Jenkins received his fate. He looked at the stake clutched in his hand and realized it was made from the fallen bookcase. The store had meant everything to Jenkins that he had turned to the vampires for help. Rennstadt admired the tenacity, even if misplaced. I’ll have to call his grandfather. Let him know to start hiding.
The money strewn on the floor was covered in blood. Rennstadt realized that his dream of escape had died with Jenkins. He was foolish to think he could ever escape the fangers. Master Blomquist’s death would have indicted him. The fangers would turn him into a lesser fanger, and the first person he’d kill would be his wife in her hospital bed.
Rennstadt imagined he’d end up like Gregor Johnson—old, no future, and a human pincushion. But at least he and his wife would be alive.
When you dealt with vampires, that’s the only way you could win.
* * *
About the author:
Sean lives in central Florida with his wife, Amy, and daughter Chloe. He’s had success with a couple of his short stories being published online. He is a “low end Mac” advocate, and writes on his PowerMac G3. His favorite authors include: Stephen King, Philip K. Dick, J.K. Rowling, and Kurt Vonnegut.
Connect with Sean Online:
Website: https://seancapelle.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/seancapelle
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