andi handed Rafael a blanket and a couple of pillows as he got comfortable on her sofa. “So when did you become a vampire hunter?” she asked, taking a seat in the chair. “I started training
of child’s play, but I realized when I was older that it was not. By the time I was twelve, I had mastered using a bow and arrow, and how to properly stake a vampire.” “What of your parents?” she asked. “I was raised by my father,” he said softly. “My mother died while in childbirth.” “I’m sorry,” she said. “When my father lay on his
obligation of killing the vampire queen.” “So this vampire queen,” she said, “why are you so intent on eliminating her?” “Because she continues the vampire bloodline,” Rafael said. “The vampire bloodline began in Egypt, as far as I know, and she is the last royal. “Once she is vanquished, it will be easier to kill the rest. They keep their power as long as she lives.”
“Very interesting,” she said. “I have a friend who works in the morgue, and she told me that there have been bodies of homeless people arriving with their blood drained. Rafael remembered seeing the shriveled up body of Robert in the coffin at the cemetery, drained of blood. He shuttered as though he felt a cold chill in his bones. “Are you cold?” she asked. “Do you need another blanket?” “No, I’m fine,” he said. “From what you’ve told me, that sounds like the work of a vampire,” he said. He looked at her. “This is why I must kill the vampire queen to end this once and for all.”
Cristian walked over to Sage, grasping her hand. “Don’t say that,” he said. “It’s true, Cristian,” she said. “This is what I tried to warn you about. It’s in our nature. Vampires are evil because we live in darkness. Your mother could sense it.” “What would you have done?” he asked. “Let me die?” “No,” she said firmly. “That is why I turned you, because you would’ve bled to death.” “Then don’t regret your decision,” he said, sensing her thoughts. He sighed. “There’s no way I’m taking the portrait to the gallery tonight,” he said, still reeling from his mother’s harsh treatment of them. “You can still go, don’t worry about me,” she said. “I am worried about you, Sage.” “There’s something troubling you.” She didn’t want to confirm his suspicions by admitting that he was right. Ever since she tasted his blood, she has acquired an unquenchable thirst for it. So much so that even the animal blood wasn’t enough to squelch her hunger for human blood. It was beginning to consume her every thought. She looked away from his penetrating gaze to the burnt edges of the sketches in the fireplace. “I had to burn them, Sage,” he said. “It was a bad idea for me to have left them around for so long.” She looked at the dent in the wall. “This is where you and Pedro struggled?” she asked. He silently nodded his head, knowing that she was avoiding eye contact. “Sage, look at me.” She closed her eyes and slowly turned her head to look at him. “I know with Rafael out there somewhere and Pedro…,” his voice trailed off. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise you that.” They embraced.
John tossed and turned, shifting uncomfortably on the bed as he tried to sleep. Opening his eyes, he was startled to see Lisa standing at the foot of the bed watching him. “Why are you looking at me like you want to eat me?” he asked. She began to laugh. “You really need to lighten up, John,” she said. “I don’t bite.” “Yes you do,” he stammered. “Well I do bite, but that’s beside the point,” she grinned. “You’re too uptight. Loosen up.” “Where did you go last night?” he asked. “To visit my mother’s grave,” she said softly. “I thought you were dead asleep.” “I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “I would’ve gone with you if you’d asked me.” “I know,” she said. “But I needed to do this alone.” They stared at each other. “Anyway rise and shine,” she said. “This is one time I wished vampires slept during the day,” he mumbled getting out of bed and stepping into the bathroom to shower. Lisa smiled, watching him. His nervous shyness amused her. She thought about the rest of the coven, wondering how they were doing on their various journeys. Then she thought of Cody and if he had made it to his father’s farm yet. John came out of the bathroom clothed, his hair still wet. “That was fast,” she quipped. “I’m ready to go see about my father and brother,” he said with apprehension.
While sitting on the bus, John felt as if he was going to hyperventilate while en route toward his house. Lisa, wearing dark sunglasses, sat silently beside him while some passengers would occasionally glance at the both of them in curiosity. “Let’s get off here,” he said, standing up suddenly when the bus came to a stop. “I live down this street,” he said, standing at the corner. “I did live there,” he said under his breath. Lisa lightly stroked his arm. “You’re trembling,” she said. “I’m just nervous,” John replied. “I don’t know what kind of reception I’m going to receive.” “There’s only one way of finding out,” he said taking a breath and walking down the sidewalk. They stopped at a small wooden house with white sidings where the paint was cracking and peeling. Fallen leaves were scattered throughout the lawn.
Portions of the front steps crumbled as they approached the front door. John drew a heavy breath and rang the doorbell. There was no answer. He rang the doorbell again. “Maybe no one is here,” he said. Lisa with her sensitive ears heard movement. “Someone is here,” she said. The door creaked slightly open. “Who is it?” the rough voice yelled. John opened his mouth to speak but was unable to utter a sound. The door opened wider. A scrawny man with short white hair smoking a cigarette stared at them. His weary blue eyes softened at first glance of John and a tiny smile subtly formed at his mouth.
Then the twinkle in his eyes instantly turned to anger and the smile into a scowl. “You,” he glowered. “Dad,” John replied. “I thought you were my son,” he said icily, taking a puff of his cigarette. John winced. Lisa glared at his father. “Where is Jude?” John asked. “He’s not here,” his father snapped. “He was in the hospital because he’s…he’s sick,” he said. “Because of the drugs?” John asked. “The drugs you gave him,” his father snapped. “He was in the hospital to get better and then left before he was done with the treatment.” “This would’ve never happened if not for you,” he said. “It’s not my fault,” John protested. “It is your fault.” “You planted the drugs in his socks because you were always jealous of Jude. Your mother even left because of you. You were a mistake.”
John stumbled back, his knees buckling at his father’s cruelty. Lisa grabbed him to keep him from falling. “Just go away and don’t come back,” his father said slamming the door in his face. Lisa tugged his arm gently. “Let’s go, John,” she said. “You’re better off without him.” John lowered his head trying to compose himself before starting down the steps. Lisa turned back and saw his father looking at them from behind the curtain. She shook her head in disgust. “There’s a special place in hell for people like you,” she thought. “There’s no reason to stay here,” John said, fighting unsuccessfully against the tears that were streaming down his cheeks. “The sooner we leave the better.” Lisa went to console him, but he pulled away. “Can we just leave now?” he said. “Okay,” she said, hurt by his rejection.
Billy and Samuel walked across the lush, green lawn toward a stone house shaped like a castle. “This is my home,” Samuel said smiling. “It still looks the same way it did when I left.” “It was built in the style of Renaissance castles.” “It’s gorgeous,” Billy said in awe. “A castle,” he said. “You could say that,” Samuel replied. “But it’s actually called a tower house.” “I feel like I’ve stepped back in time,” Billy said. “Now I’m looking for knights in shining armor.” Samuel chuckled. They walked toward the gate and read the inscription: “James Museum,” Billy mouthed. “My home is a museum,” Samuel said with surprise. He opened the door, and they walked inside, Samuel stopping abruptly while Billy swiftly stepped to the side as they looked at the French furnishings, tapestries, porcelain, silver pottery, and armor enclosed in a glass case. “Looks like a museum,” Billy thought looking around. “Welcome,” a stout man wearing glasses and a suit said, approaching them cheerfully. “This is the home of Lord and Lady James. My name is Lawrence and I’m the keeper and historian. Lord and Lady James lived here until their deaths,” he continued.
“They left the home to their son Samuel when he vanished in hopes that he would return, but when he did not, the home was turned into a museum.” Samuel stared stoically. “Rumor is that Lord James thought his son to be a bit, um,” he cleared his throat, “a bit effeminate.” Samuel smiled wryly. The man stared at him, dropping his mouth slightly. “I do say, you should take a look at the family portrait that hangs in the study,” he said. “You look remarkably like their son.”
Samuel didn’t reply while Billy bit his lower lip to keep from laughing. “How did their son vanish?” Billy asked in jest. Samuel shot him a perturbed stare. “No one really knows,” the historian said. “It’s rumored that he climbed out the window and disappeared into the night.” He stared at Samuel inquisitively. Samuel gazed into the historian’s eyes. “You will have no memory of seeing me this night,” he said. “You will go and leave us be and speak no more of it.”
The historian blinked and robotically left the room, confused with his actions. Billy laughed. “I was only teasing,” he said innocently while Samuel shook his head. “I want to see this portrait,” he said. “Seems that’s something you and Queen V have in common,” he joked. Samuel smirked. They walked up the wide marble stairs into the study that had rows of books along the stone-built wall. Billy gasped, looking at the portrait. Samuel was standing while his stone-faced parents remained seated. He wore a velvet ruby jacket trimmed with silver, trousers, and tunic with a brooch, his long hair tied back into a ponytail, and he had a slight frown on his face.
His father was dressed in the same fashion, while his mother wore a red-velvet gown with a fur petticoat. None of them smiled. “Pardon me for saying this,” Billy said, “but no one looks happy in this painting.” “I wasn’t,” Samuel said. “My father wanted me to wear my haired pulled back, because he didn’t want people to think he had a daughter instead of a son.” “Is that part of the reason you left?” Billy asked. “Partly,” Samuel replied. “My father arranged for me to marry an upper-class heiress. Social standing was very important to both of my parents,” he said. “My future bride was envious because I was prettier than she,” he scoffed. He looked around in the dimly lit room. “This house was always stuffy to me. I felt like I was suffocating. Just like the rigid furnishings, this house never had warmth to it.” He stared at Billy. “I never saw my parents show affection towards each other. Never saw a hug or kiss. I didn’t want to be doomed into a loveless marriage.” “Now that you know that your parents left this house to you, do you regret your decision to leave?” “No,” Samuel said. “I made the right decision.” “Before we leave you have to show me your bedroom,” Billy said. They walked down a narrow, darkened hallway. “At one time you needed a torch to walk through here,” Samuel said. They walked into a room with a large bed carved with intricate designs of vines throughout with a feather mattress and silk quilt and canopy, and along the wall a mammoth fireplace with carvings of birds in the stone. “This was my sleeping chamber,” Samuel said. “My parents’ room is made up the same way except they had their own private oratory.”
Leaving the museum, Samuel turned back for one last glance. “This is probably the last time I’ll return here,” he said. “Maybe we could bring Queen V so she can see the portrait,” Billy said. “Maybe,” Samuel grinned. “Maybe we can see your home in California,” he said. Billy’s smile vanished. “No,” he said sadly. “No home for me,” he said as they walked across the lawn. “I grew up in foster homes since I was a baby. I never knew either of my parents. I went from foster home to foster home until I went to L.A. and stayed with friends until I met Anna. I never stayed at one place for long before I met Queen V. I wonder how she is doing,” he said. “I miss her and everyone else.” “I miss them too,” Samuel said. They stopped and sat down in the darkness. “I must confess,” he said. “I was smitten with Queen V when I first met her—she’s so beautiful. Nevertheless, I knew having a relationship with her was impossible, because she always seemed unattainable.” He sighed wistfully. “Does it bother you that she’s with Cristian?” Billy asked. “I’m not the envious type,” Samuel replied. “If he makes her happy, I’m happy.” “At least you weren’t obsessed like Pedro,” Billy said. “Pedro…,” Samuel replied. “You believe he will come back like Anna said?” “If Queen V could come back from nearly being staked to death, then Pedro could as well.” “Maybe we should hasten our return then,” Samuel said. “Cristian will look out for her,” Billy said. “He’ll take care of her while we’re gone, and Queen V can take care of herself. Remember how she flung that hunter across the pavement?” “Yes,” Samuel smiled. “It was definitely a Kodak moment.”
“Anyway, I thought that you and Anna would get together,” Billy said, changing the subject. “What!” Samuel exclaimed. “But that would probably be weird for you since you both look alike,” Billy joked. Samuel shoved him playfully, causing him to soar across the lawn. “Billy,” he yelled, standing up looking for him. Billy grabbed him from behind as they wrestled falling to the ground. “Okay,” Samuel said while Billy tickled him unmercifully, singing a chorus from a popular eighties song. “I’m sorry,” he laughed, gasping for air. They stopped wrestling and stared at each other. Billy flicked a blade of grass from Samuel’s hair. “You are beautiful in an effeminate way,” he said, staring into his illuminated eyes. “You could use a bit of eyeliner and rouge though.” “This, coming from someone who wears makeup?” Samuel teased. “I’m metrosexual and proud of it,” Billy joked. He rolled off of Samuel and they sat up. “When I think of the eighties, I think of big hair and shoulder pads,” Samuel said. “As if you didn’t wear any fashions from the eighties,” Billy said.
“The eighties rule. It was the decade of revolution.” He began counting down the list: “Sixteen Candles, Pretty in Pink, The Breakfast Club, St. Elmo’s Fire, Weird Science.” Samuel shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t tell me you’ve never watched any of these classic movies?” Billy stammered. Samuel shook his head “no.” “When we get back to the States, we’re going to sit down and watch all of those movies I just mentioned, and the other classics.” Samuel chuckled. “This also means you probably didn’t wear your hair feathered at least once,” he said staring at Samuel in disbelief. Samuel shook his head furiously. “No,” he said, trying to conceal a smile. “Liar,” Billy laughed. “Now it’s my turn for a confession. I wore the punk look for awhile. Feathered hair and spiked hair,” Samuel said. “Can you imagine the visual?” They looked at each other and started laughing until they cried. Samuel glanced over at Billy whose black eyeliner ran down his eyes. “You look like a raccoon,” he said doubling over laughing, holding his belly.
Anna and Daniel entered their room at the cottage. “What a revealing night,” he said. “We learned a lot about each other.” “Yes,” she said, watching him intently, the heat surging through her veins like molten lava. “The night is still young,” he said. “Are you hungry?” “Yes,” she said licking her lips, her voice deepening as her body grew more aroused. “But not for food,” she said grabbing him and kissing him, moaning. They fell against the wall kissing long, hard, and deep while Anna feverishly worked to take off his shirt. They stopped kissing long enough for him to help her out of her clothes, while she jumped on him, wrapping her legs around his waist and panting heavily while they fell to the floor.