B007Q4JDEM EBOK Read online

  “Yeah, I can't imagine what that might be like.”

  Before the pink-haired woman had a chance to respond, Paul came walking out from the back of the store. He looked just as I remembered him, if not slightly slimmer. 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.

  “Alexis!” he said, walking in our direction with a wide grin on his face before suddenly engulfing me in his big arms.

  “Hey, Paul,” I squeaked under the pressure of his grip.

  He released me and the grin remained on his face. “Happy birthday!”

  I frowned. “I suppose you would know it was that day, huh?”

  “Can't keep it from everyone,” he laughed. “What brings you around these parts, havin’ some car troubles? I told your mom that old Al-”

  “Mom – no, Janet – gave me a letter last night,” I interrupted, lying slightly, 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 through the windows at Salem. He hadn't moved an inch.

  “About her and Desmond not being...” The words caught in my throat, “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 father,” I mumbled, “is that true?”

  He appeared just as uncomfortable back here as I was. “Yes, Alexis. I am your father,” his voice was barely audible.

  “Why...why has this been kept from me so long?”

  “It was for your own good,” he sighed, “I was just trying to protect you.”

  “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 or what? Or because you’re a single father 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. “You’ve always been a great enough uncle.”

  “It's much more difficult than you could know, Alexis,” Paul sighed heavily, “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 even entering the building I felt 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 nothin’ to run from.”

  “Get on with it, Paul,” I couldn't take any more of these vague answers.

  “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. “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 it aren’t you? You’re obviously both in on it. Is there a problem?”

  “More than just a problem,” Paul growled. “Salem Young isn't safe.”

  “He seems perfectly safe, and friendly, to me,” I objected, “aside from this whole birthday prank nonsense.”

  “Alexis this is not a damned prank!” 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. “As in a ‘vampire’?”

  Paul nodded slowly. “He’s one of the ones that live around these parts that I haven’t been able to kill yet.”

  “You kill people!” I gasped.

  “They aren't people, Alexis. 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.

  “Why did Janet and Desmond pretend for so long, how are they involved?”

  “They don't know the full truth,” he said quietly, “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. You can't imagine how hard it was, pretending all of this time to be your uncle,” he explained with grief, “but, 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 tellin’ what they might have done to you. It was for the best. But now you're older, stronger, and more able to help rid the world of their evil.”

  “I refuse to believe this, Paul! You and Salem are just playing some sort of stupid birthday joke on me but I'm sick of it. It's not funny anymore, I'm out of here!” I didn’t know what to think, my head was spinning. They both seemed so adamant about all of this, and I admit it was an awfully elaborate prank - if it was one. It had to be one. Why would they do this, though? It wasn’t funny at all, it was downright infuriating.

  I got up from my chair, ignoring his pleading calls and left the room. Tears streamed 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 afraid 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.

  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.

  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. “Perhaps there is.”

  “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 is Janet involved in this?”

  “She knows my secret,” he spoke quietly, �
��all thanks to Mark.”

  “Mark? As in her boyfriend?”

  He nodded. “He is one of us.”

  “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 my father is your enemy, are you willing to be around me? Don't you fear that it is in my blood to be like him? Or even that he would kill you?”

  He smiled, “I told you before. I find you intriguing; in more ways than I can even explain. 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.”

  “Okay, 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 false and inaccurate. 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.

  “What isn't?” He arched an eyebrow.

  “The beautiful part,” I averted my eyes.

  “Consider me an exception in that aspect, then,” he laughed.

  “So, then it is all true?” I paused for a moment, “are you going to kill me?” I really wished I wouldn't 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. “I have no interest in hurting you, or 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 us haven't done anything wrong, not in several centuries. The hunters are the monsters!”

  “But you used to be monsters?” I asked.

  “Some of us, yes. Some still are, but I'm not amongst 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 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 somewhat contradictory, too,” I said, speaking my thoughts again. “That is, assuming that part of vampire lore is 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 did you know that I'm not as young as you are?”

  “The way you speak, your love for classical music and literature, and maybe a little that you can’t drive a car,” I chuckled.

  “Those are all very valid reasons,” he replied. “of course, how ancient must you be to love classical music 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. “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.”

  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 had better leave...” 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. “There isn't much for me there.”

  “All of your belongings are there.”

  “That's about 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.

  7. BLACK BEARS

  The house was cold, vacant and depressing. I wanted to run to my room, collapse onto my bed and sleep until this nightmare was over. Salem followed me inside, admiring his surroundings as we passed through the kitchen and into the living room. It was incredibly dull and shabby in contrast to his house. I groaned when I smelled the sour milk that spilled across the dining room floor from the prior morning. I quickly gathered the mop and cleaned it up, spraying the area with cleaner to eliminate the wretched smell.

  “You never did explain to me how you afford to live in that amazing house,” I commented as I watched him look around my place.

  “Technically, I did,” he said as he looked at the TV set, “I told you I can make things materialize at will.”

  “So you created that house?”

  He laughed lightly. “No, of course I didn’t. The house was abandoned when I arrived here. The furniture and touch-ups however…”

  “How do you do it?” He was still fascinated by the TV. I grabbed the remote off of the boring, scratched up brown coffee table.

  “Magic,” he grinned up at me.

  I glared. “I’m serious, how exactly?”

  “I think of something, and it appears. It is really simple.”

  “Anything?”

  “No. I can materialize a wide variety of objects. The smaller they are, the easier it is for me. I definitely could never manage anything as large as a house. And it's not something I am in constant control of.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I only discovered the ability a few years ago and sometimes it works...other times, not so much,” he laughed somewhat to himself. “Initially, things sort of backfired. Like, if I were to imagine a lamp...it would come out disfigured and broken. Eventually I figured it out, though.”

  “What happened when you discovered you could do it?”

  “I was...startled, for lack of a better word,” he appeared to be deep in thought. “But considering who and what I am, it didn't affect me as much as it did you,” he smirked.

  I hit the power button on the TV remote and a news report spread across the 36' screen. Salem jumped back.

  “Please tell me you have at least seen a TV before.”

  “I'm 126 years old Alexis, of course I have seen a television,” he shook his head at me. “I just wasn't expecting it to come on.”

  I wasn't paying attention; I was watching the TV intently. The slick-haired man behind the screen was talking about an incident in Denver, Colorado. My heart was beating r
apidly as I stared. Salem came up behind me.

  “What is it?” he asked, watching the screen.

  I tuned out his voice and heard only the rough voice of the news reporter.

  “Two hours ago, at the Denver Zoo, a black bear escaped its holding pens while a zookeeper was placing food in its enclosure,” he spoke quickly, “the woman was found brutally attacked within the bear's exhibit. We are still unsure how the bear escaped.”

  My heart sunk as a picture of a woman was pulled up on the screen. “No!” I screamed.

  Salem's voice reached my ears again. “Alexis...” It was merely a gentle whisper, right behind my ear.

  “No! Don't you dare speak to me or touch me!” I shouted, pushing him away. “Mark did this! I know it!”

  He looked taken aback by my assumption. “You think Mark did this?” he frowned. “We aren't like that, Alexis. There is no evidence that he had any involvement, clearly it was a bear attack.”

  “That doesn't make him innocent! It could all be some sort of cover up!”

  “You are just upset because he took her from you.”

  “That has nothing to do with it!” Or did it? It was more Paul's fault than Mark’s wasn't it? I fell back on the sofa. “Did it say...did it say if she was still alive?”

  “I didn't hear anything about her dying,” he sat beside me on the faux leather couch. “I assure you, it has nothing to do with Mark.”

  “I won't believe it until I hear it from mom – Janet, I mean,” This was going to take a while to get used to.

  “Why don't you call her?” he suggested.

  “Right,” I nodded, relaxing just a little as I stood up and got the cordless phone from the kitchen. So much for crude accusations the first time I called her after she left. I dialed her cell phone number. It rang once. Twice. Three times.

  “Hello?” a deep male's voice replied.

  “Is Janet there?” I said.

  “She can’t come to the phone right now. Who is this?”

  “This is her daughter,” I said, ignoring the fact that I wasn't her daughter. “Please, put her on the phone.”

  “She's a little groggy right now, but I'll see if she is willing.”

  “Thank you,” I said.