“You seriously don’t believe Clark James had the ability to cloud young Harry’s mind.”
“He said as much,” replied Jess.
“If I’m not mistaken, Clark also told you that I was dead. Perhaps he even led you to believe he had killed me.”
By getting no response, Solis had the answer he was looking for.
“Clark James didn’t do anything without my blessing. His compliance was inbred with becoming part of my bloodline. I knew if someone stumbled on his secret life as the two of you did, it wouldn’t hurt for them to think he was the last of the Civatateo.”
“That changed when he turned my father,” said Jess.
“Walter was supposed to slip away and die. Clark didn’t think that was enough because he hated him so much.”
“For what he did to Tracy seven years ago.”
The Civatateo nodded. “Which is why I made sure Clark James paid the price for going against my wishes to settle a personal vendetta.”
Solis grinned. And suddenly the last piece of the puzzle dropped—the most horrifying one of all. Jess wanted to rip the smile off the vampire’s face.
“You turned Tracy. Not my father.”
I just couldn’t stop it.
Walter’s last words. The operative word being “It”—with a capital “I.”
Jess had thought Walter meant he couldn’t stop himself from attacking Tracy—when he actually had been trying to tell his son it was the Civatateo who had turned her.
Solis was quite pleased with himself. “Clark needed to fall back into line. He told you that your father did it because I wanted you to believe I no longer existed.”
The vampire’s sanctimonious tone made bile rise in the back of Jess’s throat. “Meanwhile you destroyed Tracy’s life.”
“Or you might say I gave her a second one.”
“Never seeing the light of day? What kind of existence is that?”
“One I’ve managed for a couple of centuries. You learn to survive.” He took a step closer to Jess and Benji. “Because that’s what I am, Jessie. A survivor. Nothing more. Nothing less. I was around years before either of you were born and I expect to be here long after you die. I spent close to a century beneath that infernal glass waiting for a chance to rejoin the world of the living. I’ll be damned before going back.”
“I’d say you were damned a long time ago.”
This seemed to get under the vampire’s skin. For a millimeter of a second, Jess saw the flash of the Civatateo’s temper and teeth.
“Watch what you say, son. You saw what I did to Tracy. Imagine how easy it would be to do the same to your brother, sister, or mother.”
“Leave my family out of this.”
“Or perhaps I should pay a visit to that Mexican girlfriend of yours. After all, she’s more my type than yours.” Solis unleashed the hideous smile again. “Sí¿”
Something finally snapped inside of Jess.
He threw himself full force at the Civatateo.
They crashed through the greenhouse window. Shards of glass flew as both hit the ground. Jess was on top of Solis and began to pound at him with bloodied fists. The Civatateo let out a roar and revealed its teeth with a snarl.
Jess was suddenly overpowered by the brute strength of the creature as Solis threw him onto his back. The Civatateo opened his mouth and started to lower himself toward Jess as Benji rushed in to try and help.
The vampire violently shoved Benji aside like he was made out of papier-mâché. Benji crashed into the wall near the greenhouse door and crumpled to the ground.
Solis turned back to Jess. Sarah could be heard screaming somewhere in the distance but the two men ignored it, continuing to grapple. Jess was quickly succumbing to the power of the Civatateo, who was pumped up from its lust for blood and edging ever closer with its pointed fangs.
For a few seconds that was all Jess could see.
Then, something came into focus above the vampire—the large industrial lights that lined the greenhouse ceiling.
“Grow Lights,” as they were commonly known because of their ability to replicate sunlight and allow plants to thrive at any given time.
Especially in the middle of the night.
Jess turned his head and saw Benji struggling to his feet. The Civatateo had his hand around Jess’s throat—preparing for a feast—but Jess was able to croak out a half yell across the greenhouse.
“The lights, Benji!”
For a split second, the Civatateo looked as confused as Benji.
Then, Benji got it and stumbled toward the door. Solis looked up at the greenhouse ceiling and screamed at the top of its lungs. He leapt off Jess to try and stop Benji before he could reach the switch.
Benji got there maybe two seconds before the Civatateo.
He flipped on the switch, and the greenhouse was flooded with bright light.
The sound that came out of Solis’s mouth was unlike anything Benji or Jess had ever heard. It was feral, ancient, and most of all, painful.
The Civatateo was blasted by the Grow Lights and it fell in extreme pain to the floor.
Solis’s scream was cut off as his body burst into spontaneous flames.
Jess leapt to his feet and joined Benji at the door.
They stood there watching the thing that had been Jaime Solis writhing on the floor.
By the time Sarah arrived, screaming at the top of her lungs, all that remained of the Civatateo were its tattered clothes and ashes.
EPILOGUE
LIGHT OF DAY
POSTSCRIPT TO THE JOURNAL OF EDWARD D. RICE
TO JESS STARK (OR SHOULD HE NOT BE ALIVE, WHOEVER RECEIVES THIS):
If you have finished reading this journal, you now understand most of this falls on the doorstep of the man calling himself Jaime Solis. He might have taken a modern Spanish name along with a good deal of money from Clark James to start a new life, but to me he will always be the monster I first saw in the tent five years ago in the tiny Mexican village of Santa Alvarado.
The Civatateo.
I was put in the untenable position of either having my career destroyed or throwing in with Solis. I chose the latter because I was weak of spirit and had a fondness for the things in life that had been previously unattainable. I presume there was the third option of trying to stand up to this two-hundred-year-old creature—but I was afraid had I done so, it would rip me to shreds.
It still might.
Clark James just told me at the country club how displeased the Civatateo is that you escaped from the grave in the desert. He blames me, since I was the one who suggested it instead of killing you right there in the backyard, as Clark wanted.
I expect to pay the price for his displeasure.
It is why I called you. I am sure time is running out to explain my complicity in all that has transpired since my return from Mexico.
It is important that you know a few things.
I truly love your sister. Sarah is a remarkable woman and believe it or not, I think she has missed you dearly.
I feel like I shall forever be damned for my part in what happened to Clark James.
If I had been stronger, I wouldn’t have let the Civatateo near him and perhaps your own father would still be alive.
I am certain that Tracy James would be.
I regret all of this more than any words can ever convey.
God forgive me.
Edward D. Rice, M.D.
P.S.S
It is time to put this in the mail.
I feel like I’m being watched.
It took a couple of days before Maria and Jess were able to leave for Mexico, mostly because of the Civatateo’s demise. Getting Thaddeus Burke to dispose of Solis’s remains had not been a problem. Assured by Jess this was the end to the sheriff’s vampire problem, Burke was happy to keep something off the record he could never explain to his superiors.
Sarah was more difficult. Her mind almost blown by what she had witnessed in the greenhou
se, it took a couple of hours to just calm her down to where she could form a coherent sentence. Jess gingerly tried to explain what Jaime Solis had been, but wasn’t getting through to his sister. None of this was surprising: it had taken Jess a while to wrap his own brain around it all—and he had been privy to much more mayhem before being pulled out of the grave by his dead father.
Finally, Jess landed upon the journal. He hoped the fact it had been written by the man she had hoped to marry would carry weight with his sister. Jess sat across from Sarah for an hour while she read each page. He watched her expression go from bewilderment to horror; then begrudging acceptance; and finally at the end, when she got to Rice’s pledge of love, she shed tears of sadness. Sarah fell into Jess’s arms and he tried to comfort her as her body quaked with wracking sobs. He couldn’t remember the last time he had held his sister. He must have been a teenager.
Eventually she regained enough composure to head upstairs to bed, but not before extracting a promise that he not leave home so quickly. This brought some inner peace at long last for Jess with his family, but he never could have imagined the price he had to pay to get it.
Jess drove the motorcycle back to the house Solis owned near the golf course, figuring it would just add to the illusion the country club owner had suddenly packed up and disappeared into thin air. He used Solis’s key to let himself inside to explore the house. The décor was sparse; clearly the man did most of his entertaining at the country club. Jess figured Solis had spent most of his days holed up in the dark bedroom avoiding the sun when he didn’t descend into the cavern to quench his thirst from the blood pond. In the bedroom closet he found half a dozen identical motorcycle outfits, which had provided the Civatateo a way to move around during the daylight hours.
The next morning, Jess said goodbye to his mother and promised to return within a couple of days. Kate had not asked many questions about what had transpired in the greenhouse a couple of nights before; she was too busy tending to the needs of her younger children. Jess got the impression his mother knew more than she let on, not an uncommon thing for Kate Stark. She told him she was glad he had decided to stay for a while. His family needed him. They always had. It warmed Jess’s heart and he tried to hold onto that feeling as he boarded the plane with Maria for the journey he had been dreading.
Jess appreciated being able to take a commercial flight from Los Angeles to Puerto Vallarta instead of having to sneak across the border in a car trunk or worrying about being hauled into jail for fleeing the country. As the plane crossed into Mexico, Jess took Maria’s hand and held it for the longest time. They hadn’t talked much about what they might find on their return to Santa Alvarado, but both were filled with a sense of unease and foreboding. Jess hadn’t been able to get Tag Marlowe on the phone. Maria had reminded Jess of the village’s remoteness and accessibility to technology.
But neither bought that as the real explanation. They just didn’t want to consider alternatives. It was bad enough they were returning to Tracy with busted promises of a cure and no clear game plan. They also had to tell her that Clark James had perished in the sun-baked desert.
They spent the night in the same hotel in Puerto Vallarta. They lay in each other’s arms until the light of day crept through the window shade, filling them with hope that nothing sinister could befall them when the sun was up in the cloudless sky. They made good time traveling to Santa Alvarado and Jess pulled the jeep into the center of the village just past noon.
They immediately went to the small home of Ramon, where Tag Marlowe had gone to stay. Ramon, an artist who painted in vibrant primary colors, told them Tag had left the house two days before and hadn’t returned. The painter didn’t seem troubled; Tag was a free spirit and Ramon was used to his friend not adhering to any kind of set schedule.
Jess wished he shared Ramon’s lack of concern.
They stopped by Sophia’s. She was overjoyed to see them and insisted on making lunch. Maria and Jess didn’t need much persuading as neither looked forward to their next destination. When they both kissed Sophia goodbye, the old woman held onto each of them extra tightly, worried she might never see them again. She murmured something in each of their ears in Spanish. As they got back into the jeep, Jess asked Maria what Sophia had said.
“A prayer,” Maria simply replied.
Half an hour later they arrived at the glass house on the hill.
Jess began feeling sick to his stomach.
Tag’s car was sitting at the bottom of the driveway. It looked like it had been there for a while. One touch of the hood confirmed that the engine was ice cold. Maria was looking up at the house, her eyes transfixed on something.
“What do you think is causing that?” she asked.
Jess looked where she was pointing. Bright colored lights criss-crossed in the sunlight above the house. He didn’t have a clue but instinctively felt it couldn’t be anything good.
When they climbed the steps and got to the top of the hill, Jess’s suspicions were proven right.
The colored lights were sunbeams refracting off hundreds of pieces of broken glass—the byproduct of a couple of shattered windows. Worse yet, the front door was wide open.
Jess insisted on entering first. Maria was right behind him; she wasn’t going to remain outside by herself.
The living space looked like a mini-tornado had blown through. Most of Tag Marlowe’s possessions lay on the floor in ruins. The gasoline cans were nowhere in sight. There was blood on the floor where Jess had left them. It didn’t take long to see Tracy was nowhere to be found. That didn’t stop him from calling her name at least a dozen times. He didn’t want to believe that she was gone.
Maria was the one who found the override remote. It was on the floor close to the door. There were dried flecks of blood on it. Jess took it from her hand, stared at it, and cursed. Maria placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“You told Tag what he was getting himself into.”
“Then why would he come inside?”
“Maybe he just couldn’t help himself.”
Finally, they were left with no choice but to close the door. Jess used the override remote to click on the lights, even though he knew it was worthless.
He was sure that Tracy was never coming back here.
They talked about heading for the field of glass and cavern, but realized it would be dark before they got there. So they went back to Sophia’s house, had an early supper, and went to bed not long afterwards. But Jess had a hard time falling asleep. He half-expected to see Tracy appear outside the window, but all he ever saw was the half-moon and glimmering stars. He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved. As he finally fell asleep, he assumed it was a little of both.
The next morning they got an early start and drove out to the field. The jeep Jess had left behind the week before was nowhere in sight. Either Tag had managed to get out there and return it before his fateful trip back to the house of glass, or perhaps Tracy was using it under the cover of darkness. Jess knew long before they reached the blood pond that he wouldn’t find Tracy. It made no sense that she would flee one prison for another. He would never forget her screaming his name when he locked her in the glass house—he couldn’t imagine Tracy returning to this dreary place of her own accord. But they knew they had to search the cavern from top to bottom. They had to at least exhaust all the obvious places.
They remained in Santa Alvarado for the better part of a week. During the day there wasn’t much to do except wonder where Tracy might be and what had happened to Tag Marlowe. Jess feared he was dead, victim to Tracy’s unquenchable thirst. At times he thought perhaps Tracy had turned him. Jess took a small amount of solace in that; at least Tracy wouldn’t be totally alone.
At night Maria and Jess would stroll through the village. The streets were pretty much deserted but Jess suspected they always had been, ever since the Civatateo appeared two centuries before. They kept looking for some hint of Tracy, but found none.
When Maria finally suggested they think about heading home, Jess was more than ready.
Jess returned to Los Angeles and spent a couple of days there. Rose agreed to take the dispatch job until a suitable replacement could be found, and he gave notice on his Echo Park apartment. He didn’t know how long he was going to stay in Palm Springs, but knew he was done biding time in the City of Angels.
He spent the next couple of weeks helping Kate deal with his father’s estate. It was a process that would continue for a number of months; there were numerous holdings and it gave Jess plenty of time to figure out what he was going to do next. He had no clear plan. For the moment he was just happy spending time with his family, a concept that had been foreign practically all of his life.
Jess still didn’t feel comfortable staying under the Stark roof—mostly because of Maria. They wanted to be together whenever possible but found the prospect of sleeping in the same house with both of their mothers too much to handle.
So each evening they returned to Maria’s apartment. It was their own little cocoon and Jess went to bed each night and awoke every morning counting his blessings that this amazing woman had fallen into his life.
It was about a month later when he first heard her.
Maria lay beside him sleeping. Jess was trying to make heads or tails out of some complicated business deal his father had been involved in.
Jessie…
At first he prayed it was the wind playing tricks on him. But then he heard it again.
Jessie…
He looked over at Maria, thinking it would awaken her, but she continued to sleep. Jess climbed out of bed, threw on a robe, and walked outside.
The night air was filled with the smell of blooming acacias in the front yard and nothing more. He sat on down on the front step and lingered there for a good fifteen minutes, waiting for the girl he had left behind in the jungles of Mexico to emerge from the desert—but nothing came.
He sighed and went back inside.
He stood at the foot of the bed and stared for a long time at Maria as she slept.
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