There was that familiar tugging again. My dreams were full of wonder, a strange boy named Salem, Mom abandoning me...this time I was more eager to wake up. I was startled when I found myself on a white sofa identical to the one in my dream – or what I had hoped was a dream. I screamed, pulled myself away from the comfortable sectional couch and ran toward the tall milky doors.
As the doors slammed shut behind me, I fell to my knees on the alabaster stairs. My Alero was gone. I fought the urge to scream again, and felt a sudden whip of cold air from behind me.
“Good morning.” The silky, sweet voice of the boy from my dream filled my ears.
I rose from the ground and thrust myself at him, my palm prepared to smack him across the cheek, but he was too quick. He gripped my wrist tightly and pulled my arm downward. “There's no need for that.” His voice was tense. “Your car isn't gone. It is in the garage.”
My eyes fell upon the garage to the left of the house, and I sighed with relief. He released my hand. “I’ll admit, it wasn’t easy getting it there, as I have limited experience with operating vehicles…however, I managed, and assure you that your car wasn’t damaged in the process,” he said and looked amused at my expression of alarm. “While we're out here, though, why don't we drive over to Paul's business? There are many things he needs to explain to you, and the sooner you know, the sooner you will understand everything,” he suggested, his voice calm and gentle now.
“I don't want to go there,” I replied stubbornly. If all of this was true, I didn't think I was ready to face reality. Paul couldn't be my father.
“You will have to eventually, you know,” Salem said calmly. “And somewhere, deep down, you want to.”
“What does it matter anyway? It’s not like it will change anything.”
“It will change a lot of things, actually,” he stated. “You'll feel better if you go.”
“I highly doubt it.”
The garage door opened, revealing my silver car. Salem gripped my hand gently and led me over to the vehicle. Despite all that had happened, it felt strangely good having his hand in mine.
I snapped out of the brief thought of Salem’s touch as he pulled my keys from his pocket, holding them in the air between us–the now familiar and alluring smile slightly blocked by the dangling metal. I sighed, taking the keys and climbing into the car. It appeared I had little choice; he was very persistent. I sat behind the steering wheel, pondering whether I could pull out of the garage and go home before he made it into the passenger seat. I put the key in the ignition and started the car, about to put it in reverse when I heard the passenger-side door open and shut.
“You're too slow.” He smirked.
“Maybe you're too fast,” I said glumly.
After enduring the long winding trip away from Salem's house we finally made it back to town and soon pulled up to Paul's auto shop. I glanced over at Salem, who had an apprehensive look on his face.
“What's the matter with you?” I asked.
His expression changed immediately, although I could tell he was faking the smile this time. “Nothing. Go on ahead, I will wait out here.”
“It’s fine; I don’t care if you come, I mean…you already know it all anyway, right?” Part of me sincerely wished he would join me; I didn't want to face Paul alone, regardless if I barely knew this boy.
“No.” He gave me a stern look. “It would be best if I was not present.”
“I really don’t think Paul will care if you come with me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I'm staying out here, and that's final,” he replied, the fake smile vanishing right as he turned away from me.
“Fine!” I said bitterly, slamming the door behind me as I left the boy in the car. His eyes were watchful as I approached the shop. As soon as I opened the glass doors I scrunched my nose. The smell of oil was so overwhelming I had to cup my hand over my nose to keep from gagging.
Paul was nowhere to be seen at first, but I could hear his distinct voice paired with someone else's. He must have been with a customer. I noticed a small surveillance camera perched high up on the ceiling, and I felt like it was following my every step. It had been years since I came here, but everything looked the same as it always had.
The building wasn’t too huge, but large enough to fit a back room full of various-sized car, bicycle and motorcycle tires. There were at least seven aisles of vehicle-related objects that I simply had no idea what were. For me, this was probably the most boring store in existence. Despite that fact, there was nothing else to do other than browse while I waited for my uncle—or father, if the story was true. As I quietly walked down the first aisle, I found a row of things I actually recognized and understood: air fresheners. I picked up a rose-shaped one and sniffed it, displeased by the fact that I could barely smell the scent through the plastic sleeve.
“Can I help you?” a woman's voice asked. I jumped and looked in her direction.
She was about a foot shorter than me – which was unfortunate for her, because I was barely over five feet myself – and a little chunky around the midsection. Her face was round and full, and atop her head was a spiked mess of pink hair. She wore a loose, sleeveless black top that revealed her arms, both of which were covered in vibrant, colorful tattoos. She had to be at least twenty-five or so.
“I-I'm looking for Paul,” I stuttered.
“He's with somebody else at the moment. Is there something I can help you with, though?” Her voice was high-pitched and light, bizarre coming from someone of her appearance.
“No. I'm sort of...family,” I wanted to say I was his niece, but I wasn’t even sure if that was the correct answer anymore.
“Oh!” She grinned and held her hand out. “I'm Kate.”
“I'm Alexis,” I muttered, wishing I could retreat back to my car and avoid all of this. “Any idea how long until he’s done?”
“No idea, but knowing him it could be a while.” She laughed and shook her head. “I think he spends more time buddying up the customers than he does fixing anything.”
“What do you do here?” I asked, trying to pass the time and being as polite as I could under the circumstances.
“Me? I work behind the counter,” she replied, pointing to the checkout counter at the front of the store. “I've been here for almost two years now, and don't tell Paul, but I still don’t know jack about half the junk people bring in here.”
“Yeah, I’ve never been much of a car person, either.”
Before the pink-haired woman had a chance to say anything else, Paul came walking out from the back of the store grinning and shaking his head. He looked just as I remembered him, if not a little heavier. He was a bulky man, with broad shoulders and muscles fit for a wrestler. His appearance had always intimidated me, but despite the way he looked, he was a gentle man. Atop his head was a thick mane of bronze hair that I was grateful I hadn't inherited from the family gene pool.
“Alex!” he said, walking in our direction with the grin on his face widening more than I thought possible, then suddenly engulfing me in his big arms.
“Hey, Paul,” I squeaked under the pressure of his hug.
He released me, the grin never leaving his scruffy, oil-stained face. “Happy birthday!”
I frowned. “I guess you wouldn’t forget a day like that, huh?”
“What? Forget my favorite niece’s birthday?!” He laughed and ruffled my hair, like he did when I was a kid. “What brings you around these parts, having some car troubles? I told your mom that old Al-”
“Mom–no, Janet–gave me a letter last night,” I interrupted, lying a little, not mentioning that Salem had filled me in on the rest of the story.
“About what?” He didn't seem to have a clue why I was here. I glanced past the aisles and customers and through the windows at Salem, wondering if it really had all been some sort of elaborate prank. He didn't move an inch.
“About her and Desmond not being...” The words caught in my throat. “About them not being my real parents.”
“Oh...” he muttered, looking at me in shock. “Do you want to go to the back room?”
I could feel Kate's brown eyes gazing curiously at us. I nodded my head slowly and followed Paul into the back. We were surrounded by boxes of car parts that weren't out on the shelves yet, and in the far corner was a light-brown desk cluttered with used coffee mugs, scattered papers and a checkbook. He took a seat behind the messy desk, and I sat in the seat on the opposite side.
“What exactly did she tell you?” he asked, pushing some of the debris away so he could lean forward with his elbows against the wood top.
“She told me that you are my real…my real father,” I said with some difficulty. “Is it true?”
He appeared just as uncomfortable talking about this as I was. “Yes, Alexis. I am your father.” His voice was barely audible.
“Why...why didn’t anyone ever tell me?”
“It was for your own good,” he said with a sigh. “I was just trying to protect you.”
“Protect me? Protect me from what?”
“From me...from my lifestyle.” He appeared to be having trouble discussing it.
I frowned. “I don't understand, because you’re a mechanic? How would that affect me? Or is it because you’re a single father or something, and you didn’t think you could handle raising me alone?”
“That’s not it at all…I'm just not the fatherly type.”
“I find that hard to believe.” I laughed, although it lacked any humor. “You’ve always been a good uncle.”
“It's much harder than you could understand, Alexis. There’s more to it than all that.” Paul sighed heavily and ran a hand across his face, smearing some of the oil around. “I take it Janet didn't explain much, huh?”
“She didn't really give me much more than 'Paul's your dad!'” It felt wrong lying to Paul about some of the details, but by the way Salem reacted to the idea of even entering the building gave me the feeling that he didn't want Paul knowing he was involved.
He smirked. “That sounds about right for her. This isn't easy for me to tell you...”
“What isn't?” I was getting impatient; someone needed to give me a straight answer soon before I went insane!
“You are going to think I'm crazy, and you are probably going to want to run away.” He stared at me, watching my expression. “But don't. I promise you, there's nothing to run from.”
“Get on with it, Paul.” I couldn't take any more of these vague answers, between him and Salem, I was getting sick of it.
“The Waldron family is different from ordinary people.” He was choosing his words carefully. I barely caught that he said 'Waldron' and not 'Hobbs'. “We are...vampire hunters.”
I burst into laughter, but there was little humor behind what he said and his expression was dead-serious. “Vampire hunters?” I shook my head, about to get up and leave. “I knew it; it's all a joke. You and Salem are both going to get it for this crap. I-”
“Salem?" His eyes went from gentle to fierce, almost fearful. “Please tell me it isn't Salem Young.”
I opened my mouth to confirm his assumption, but stopped myself. “You’re the one who set him up to do it, aren’t you? You’re obviously both in on it. Okay…you got me!” I threw my hands up in frustration.
“Alexis, this is serious,” Paul growled. “Salem Young isn't safe.”
“He seems perfectly safe, and friendly, to me,” I objected.
“Alexis, this is not a damned joke. I’m being serious!” I somehow knew by the tone in his voice and the look in his eyes that everything I had been told was indeed true. “Salem…he’s one of them!”
“One of...them?” I gulped, eyebrows creasing with uncertainty. “Them? As in a ‘vampire’?”
Paul nodded slowly. “He’s one of the ones that lives around these parts that I haven’t been able to kill yet.”
“You kill people?” I gasped in horror.
“They aren't people, Alex. They're monsters!”
“I don't believe in monsters.”
“Please, you have to listen to me,” he pleaded, reaching across the table to touch my hand. I pulled away.
“If all of this is true, and you are who and what you say you are, why did Janet and Desmond pretend for so long, how are they involved?”
“They don't know the full truth,” he said uncomfortably. “I put you in foster care after your mother passed away, hoping someone would find you and give you a better life than I could ever offer here on my own. But, I insisted they let me be a part of your life. So, I played the role of your uncle. It worked out kind of well for me, because I had already known Mr. and Mrs. Hobbs. I’d gone to school with Desmond. You can't imagine how hard it was, pretending all of this time to be your uncle,” he explained with grief. “I told Janet that by the time you were old enough, I wanted you to know the truth about where you came from. I guess eighteen is old enough to understand in her book. All she knew, though, is that I was your dad, and that your real mom passed away.”
“Why did it have to wait until now?”
“I had to protect you from them, if they knew I had a young daughter...” He shook his head. “There's no telling what they might have done to you. It was for the best. But now you're older, stronger, and more able to understand all this. Hell, you might even turn out to be a fine hunter.”
“I refuse to believe this, Paul! It's not funny anymore.” I didn’t know what to think, my head was spinning with everything Paul and Salem had said.
I got up from my chair, ignoring his pleading calls and left the room. Tears began to stream down my cheek, from frustration and confusion. Then I looked out the window to see Salem in my car, staring back at me. I walked slowly out of the auto shop and grasped the handle to my door. I was scared to open it, afraid that Paul hadn't been joking...but the welcoming smile on Salem's flawless face made me change my mind. I collapsed onto my seat and glanced over at him cautiously, wiping away the tears from my eyes.
I thought over everything that I had read in vampire novels—noting the fact that he was out here, in the sunlight, not burning to a crisp. However, he was breathtakingly beautiful, and he did have a pallid complexion, but he seemed harmless—aside from the bizarre episode about his ‘special abilities’ that he went on about. Crazy, perhaps…but harmless.
Salem opened his mouth to speak, but I put my hand up to stop him as I remembered what Paul had said. “There’s more about you than you let on last night, isn’t there? You’re not just some far-off offspring of a witch, are you?”
He lowered his eyes. “You are correct, Alexis Waldron.”
Waldron. “Why didn't you tell me?”
“I was afraid of how you would react.”
“But if you are what Paul says you are, and you try to avoid this place, why would you want to bring me here?”
Salem sighed. “I promised Janet I would.”
“How’s my mom…Janet…involved in any of this?”
“She knows my secret,” he spoke quietly. “All thanks to Mark.”
“Mark? As in her boyfriend?”
He nodded. “He is one of us as well.”
“What?! Oh my god, is she in danger?!" I asked, beyond alarmed. Regardless if she was my biological mom or not, I still loved her.
“Of course she isn’t.” He smiled reassuringly.
“This is all some sort of trick, right?” My voice was filled with panic as I stared at him with pleading eyes. “Tell me this isn't real. Tell me my mom is at home waiting for me, and that she's secretly planning a surprise party and is just using you guys to distract me.”
“I wish I could,” Salem replied.
“I don’t know what to think. This is all impossible,” I said, shaking my head. “Okay, I’ll play along, Mr. Vampire, but I have one question.”
“Anything.”
“Why, if Paul is your enemy, are you willing to be around me at all? Aren’t you afraid hunting is in my blood or something? Or that, you know…HE might kill you?”
“I told you before. I find you intriguing; in more ways than I can even explain right no. And, you haven't been taught in the ways of hunting; therefore, I have nothing to fear from you. As far as Paul goes, I have nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing to worry about? I have another one for you, then. If you’re a vampire, how are you out here in the sun? Shouldn't you have shriveled up and died by now? Or burst into flame?”
He grimaced. “This is reality, Alexis, not a story. Everything you have read about vampires—most of it is inaccurate or downright false. We are not beautiful; we don't turn into bats; we don't shrivel up in the sunlight, and we are most definitely not afraid of something as fickle as garlic.”
“That's not entirely true,” I whispered bashfully, turning to look out the window, hoping he somehow had not heard.
“What isn't?” he questioned.
“The beautiful part,” I said, turning back to look at him.
“You are too kind.” The sound of his laugh extinguished my embarrassment.
“So, then it is all true?” I paused for a moment. “Are you going to kill me?”
I really wished I didn’t always blurt out what I was thinking.
He put his finger on my chin and turned my face toward him. I flinched at his touch, trembling slightly. “I would never hurt you. In fact, I have no interest in hurting anyone else for that matter.”
“Paul said you’re a monster, and that I shouldn't trust you.”
“Paul,” he said through gritted teeth, “is the monster. A lot of vampires haven't done anything wrong, not in a very long time. Some of us haven’t at all. The hunters…the ones that kill without feeling or discrimination…they are the monsters!”
“A long time? So you’re saying you used to be a monster?” I asked.
“Some of us, yes. Some still are, but I'm not among those. These hunters such as Paul do not understand that many of us are different. They only judge us by what we are, not who we are.”
I stared into his pale blue eyes, wondering if he was telling the truth. If he really was a vampire, there was no telling over how many years he could have perfected the art of lying. “If your kind is nothing to be afraid of, why do hunters even exist?”
“I said a lot of us, not all of us. There are some vampires that are still a definite threat to society, and that is why the Waldron lineage exists. Your ancestors are natural-born hunters of our kind. It would overwhelm you to know just how many vampires exist in the world, how many exist in just this little town. That is why hunters exist.”
I gulped at his words, trying to avoid wondering just how many vampires were roaming around in what I thought to be a peaceful little town. Sure, Willowshire wasn't perfect—we had criminals just as any town did, but thinking that there were undead monsters roaming through the city sounded far more sinister than your everyday crook. “Are your special abilities a part of being...what you are?”
“No,” he said quietly. “I have always assumed it was something to do with my mother’s heritage.”
“Your last name is kind of contradictory, too,” I said, speaking my thoughts again. “That is, assuming some parts of those vampire stories are true–and that you have been a vampire for a long time...” I was prepared to ramble, but he stopped me.
He smirked. “I suppose you are right. However, how do you know that I'm not as young as you are?”
“The way you talk and dress, your love for classical music and books, and maybe a little that you can’t drive a car.” I laughed.
“Those are all very valid reasons,” he replied. “Of course, how ancient must you be to love classical music and books as well?”
“Ha! That has nothing to do with how old I am.”
We laughed for a couple of minutes, but I stopped abruptly and glanced at him. “Well, then… how old are you?”
“I was born in 1885,” he replied, bracing himself in assumption that I would freak out.
“You're 126?” I gaped at him, quickly doing the math in my head.
“More or less.” He shrugged. “It's hard to keep track after all of this time. After a couple dozen years, they start to blend together.”
I glanced up toward the auto shop window and saw Paul glaring out at us. I wondered if he could see Salem despite the glare on my windshield.
“We should probably get out of here...” I muttered and Salem followed my gaze.
“Let's go to your house,” he said quickly.
“Why would we go there?” I asked as I pulled out of the parking lot.
“Don't you want to?”
“I guess...” I sighed as I turned left onto the road. “Not like there’s anything there for me now, though.”
“All of your belongings are there.”
“Yeah. That’s it.”
“It will make you feel better,” he assured me, but I was certain it would do the opposite. Nevertheless, I agreed to go home...at least temporarily.