Rancor: Vampyre Hunter (Rancor Chronicles)

by James McCann

  “Better be to apologize for avoiding me all day,” Carl answered.

  “So why’d she ask me to come?”

  “She and Betty are probably playing some stupid joke on us. You know girls.”

  “Well, there she is, and it isn’t Betty she’s with.”

  “What the hell?”

  Alix, Kim, Derrick and six Native males advanced toward them. The girls stopped at Carl’s left as the rest approached on the right. Derrick held something in his hands.

  “It’s time to end this,” the Native youth said.

  “I’ve been set up?”

  “Yes, but not for what you think.” Derrick stuck out his hand. “I want to make peace.”

  “Why? You punk chickenshit admitting I can kick yer ass?”

  “I’m saying it doesn’t matter. Hatred is making us weak, not strong.”

  “Strong? You want strong?” The jock lashed out and slugged Derrick across the cheek. Pointing at Alix he said, “You and me have got some serious talking to do.”

  As Derrick hit the ground, his friends stepped forward. Raising his hands to stop them, he yelled, “No! Smoke my grandfather’s pipe. It’s time to end this!”

  Carl shook his head. “Let’s not. C’mon, get up and get your ass kicked.”

  Derrick stood and looked briefly at his gang. They waited to see what he would do. Facing Carl, he walked up to the jock and said, “Can’t you see there’s something big going on in Minitaw? We should be banding together to stop it!”

  “That’s what I thought.” He shoved Derrick away and pointed to Alix. “You coming?”

  She looked at Kim and shrugged. “I’ll see you later.”

  “No. We’ll leave.” Derrick signaled his friends to follow.

  Carl waited for them to vacate before saying to Alix, “What was that?”

  “What?”

  “You know what. Pull that again and you can get another date for Friday.”

  “I already have. Shay asked me.”

  Carl closed his eyes and breathed hard. “I’m trying not to get real mad here.”

  “You don’t own me!” Alix yelled, and stormed away.

  Carl looked at Simon, who shrugged and said, “Maybe there is something big going on in Minitaw.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Rellik drove his ’Cuda from its hiding place and parked it on the street in front of Alix’s home. In a matter of an hour he’d adjusted the timing, put in new plugs, cleaned and adjusted the carburetor, and filled the tank with a high-octane fuel. As he stood before his prized possession on the lonely street, he prepared for the last thing he had left to do: clean and polish the immaculate body. He wanted his little fish to look good when it beat Shay.

  “Hi, Rellik. What’re you up to?” Fred said from behind, startling Rellik. Fred walked to the soapy bucket, grabbed a sponge and started cleaning the dust from the car’s hood.

  “I’m washing the ’Cuda. If you wish to aid me, I’ll take you for a ride.”

  His self-guard had returned in full force, but a yearning to accept friendship battled it. If he was to win Alexandria’s heart and live out a normal mortal existence, he needed to accept people. Besides, Fred pleased him, almost as much as Rafgard had. He half-smiled, picked up some polish-soaked paper towels, and chucked one to Fred before starting on one of the wheels.

  “I hear you and Shay are racing. It isn’t for ownership of the car, I hope,” Fred said.

  “Not for pinks.” Rellik frowned. “The winner has sole rights to stay in town.”

  Fred stopped cleaning and grimaced. His brow dropped, his eyes narrowed and he rubbed his chin.

  “You’re going to race for the right to stay in town? How barbaric. What is it between you two that only one of you can stay in town?”

  Rellik had long since finished polishing the Mag to a mirror finish, but he continued scrubbing to avoid Fred’s judgment. Without looking at his new friend he asked, “Have you ever known someone who is truly evil?”

  Fred’s face drew taut and color flushed into his cheeks. He tapped his fingers on the hood where he had been cleaning, and hoped Rellik wouldn’t notice the new fingerprints.

  “No. I have always found good in everyone. I believe it’s okay to hate an individual’s actions, but never the individual.”

  Rellik walked around him to the other wheel, kneeled, but did not polish. He faced Fred, stared into his eyes, and, from the scent of perspiration in the air, realized his friend’s uncertainty about this conversation.

  “What if you knew someone so vile that there was no goodness in him?” He stood, keeping his gaze locked on Fred’s. “What if you found a person who took all ambiguity out of defining what good and evil is?”

  He took the sponge from Fred’s hand, turned his back on him, and dipped it into the soapy bucket. Rellik lifted it again and squeezed out the excess water. He watched the cool liquid run down the length of his arm. Then he said, “And what if you were helpless to stop it?”

  “Y-you’re going to win, right?”

  Rellik wondered if Fred was more afraid of him losing and leaving–or winning and staying. He sighed, and put the wet sponge into his friend’s hand. Gently, he started him polishing the car’s hood in a small, circular motion.

  “Keep cleaning.”

  “But good versus evil–good always wins, right?”

  Rellik picked up a bottle of window-cleaner and another rag. He walked to the back of the ’Cuda, sprayed the cleaner on the mirrored rear-view glass, and stared at his broken reflection. As he rubbed it clean he . . .

  . . . burst through the cabin door, slammed it shut and threw the brace. His dark complexion had turned a pale hue that Ariana had never seen before. His hands shook. He ran to her, grabbed her roughly and pulled her to the ground. As each met the other’s gaze they rose to their knees, and when Rancor tried to speak he found that his voice failed.

  “What kind of devil has gotten into you?” Ariana asked, never having seen her love quite so fearful. He was strong-willed and sure of himself by nature.

  “’E’s a demon, Ariana!” Rancor finally said, his eyes darting about the room to ensure he had secured all entrances. “’E turned ta mist right in ma grasp!”

  “Of whom do you speak? You frighten me!” Her voice shook, and though she had tried holding tears at bay, they gushed down her reddened cheeks.

  Rancor stared into her wet eyes. He sensed her terror and put aside his own. He had made a bargain with the Devil and would have to fulfill it–but his first duty was still to her. He was ashamed for agreeing to the stakes and, as well, that his honor bound him to comply.

  But did honor take precedence over love?

  “Ma apologies, Ariana. I speak of Shay, fa a merchant ’e is noy. Lest ’e be one o’ souls and moy be his next purchase. Forgive ma, I knew noy with woy I bargained. I must fight ’im, or be banished from an ’ome I ’ave come to love.” His voice resounded with shame, but he decided that shame was by far a better emotion to show than fear.

  The cabin’s floor became their place of safety as Ariana wrapped her arms tightly around her love’s neck. She prayed he would never leave, but knew the stubborn strength that bound him to his honor, a trait with which she had fallen in love. He had to return to meet Shay on the field of battle, and though she released her tight grip from him, she did so only enough to meet his eyes. She dared not release him fully.

  “You can fare better than he, can you not?”

  Rellik stared deeply into the mirrored glass. He laughed at the strange camaraderie he had found with the car, and realized that, after having spending so long without human contact, he had forgotten what it was to truly rely on a friend.

  Now he had come full circle, but this time to wonder why the vamp would choose a duel that took away his advantage.

  “This has nothing to do with good or evil,” Rellik said, just now understanding the vamp’s insidious plan. “This battle has to do with my car faring better than his!”


  Alix watched as Rellik and Fred worked on the ’Cuda. She debated for a moment whether she should go outside and join them, or just leave them alone to bond.

  Then she turned from the living-room window and walked out the back door. Alix was first overcome by the odor of oil, second by the smell of spray-paint. She looked over to where Sam sat hunched on a lawn chair. He had his face buried in his palms.

  “Hey, Sam,” Alix said, as she moved toward him.

  He stood and spun around, a smile forced over his sad expression. He looked so old as he said, “I hadn’t realized how much stuff I’d let pile up. The only thing that we’ll need to call someone for is the garage door. I think it needs a new opener.” He walked up to his daughter and put his hands on her shoulders before adding, “Just look at that barbecue! I’ve covered all the rust spots. No more embarrassment when you have your backyard parties!”

  Alix brushed his hands off her shoulders and stared at him. Tears welled in her wide eyes and her hands shook. Though it felt as though she was breathing underwater, she managed to say, “Stop it.”

  “What?” Sam asked, with sadness evident in his tone.

  “Stop pretending that nothing’s wrong. Stop pretending that you don’t crave booze. Stop pretending that you can change things with WD40 and some paint!”

  She stared at him and whispered, “Stop pretending that you don’t hurt.”

  He looked over her shoulder. A breeze rose and pushed away the heat. Sam sighed.

  “Alix, I don’t know what to do.” And suddenly tears fell from his eyes. When he reached to wipe them, Alix grabbed his wrists and held them fast.

  “Cry, Sam. Let yourself cry!” she said, and held him. At first he did not respond, but as the rain came down upon the roof he wrapped his arms around her and wept. Amid his sobs, he said, “I am so sorry, honey.”

  Alix rested her head on his chest. She thought about her mom, of how sad she had always seemed whenever Sam was “too tired” to help out around the house. Would she be proud of him now, or would she consider this too little, too late?

  “Honey,” Sam whispered, “I need to finish up here. Why don’t you go inside and start dinner?”

  “Okay,” Alix said. She walked from him to a cushioned patio chair with a sweater draped over it. As she put on the sweater, a loud roar shattered the peace and rumbled the ground beneath her.

  Alix went around the house to the front where Rellik was staring at his car with his brow furrowed. His intense glare told her that something very important rode on his vehicle’s performance, and she wondered what. She knew only what everyone else in school did: that Rellik and Shay were to meet at Devil’s Highway to drag their cars down the one-mile strip.

  Rellik, standing over the engine, held up his hand. Fred pressed the gas pedal. The outsider brushed his hand through his hair, leaving a trail of grease over his brow. The car door creaked open and Fred wandered over to him, also staring at the engine. He imitated the gesture with his hand, but no grease stained him.

  “Do you think this’ll be enough?” Fred asked.

  “Shay will not be the victor of this duel. Of that I am certain.” Rellik never met him eye to eye. It seemed almost as if he was trying to avoid visual contact.

  “Hey, guys.” Alix startled them both. “What’re you up to?”

  Rellik slammed the hood shut and flinched when it echoed. He sighed and growled, “We have just finished readying the ’Cuda for its race tonight.”

  “So, I’m too late to help?”

  “I am about to drive Fred home. You may accompany us if it pleases you.” He never looked at her and clenched his muscles tight.

  “I’d like that,” she said, smiling.

  The three of them piled into the ’Cuda and sped off. The incredible power roared all around her. It impressed her that the sheer raw power handled so coolly beneath Rellik’s fingertips.

  But it was no different than other muscle cars, and she knew, with all their tinkering, Rellik and Fred must have done something to it. Discreetly, she surveyed the interior. She had the benefit of some knowledge from her autoshop class, but try as she might to find anything unusual, all she could see was an average dash. Nothing out of the ordinary, except . . .

  Then she noticed it.

  It was only a tiny something, hardly anything at all. In fact, unless someone was as curious as she, they would probably have overlooked it. A toggle switch crudely drilled into the dash beside the temperature gauge, now in the off position, had a thin red wire leading from it to the carpet on the floor. Where that wire went she had no clue. Another wire, a black one, led from the back of the toggle switch onto a shiny bolt screwed tightly into the dash, cracking the paint.

  The car stopped and Fred climbed out. Sticking his head inside, he said, “Thanks for letting me help, Rellik. Hope we can get together again.”

  “I’ll pick you up for the race.” There was a pause and, with a sigh, Rellik added, “It would be nice to have someone on my side.”

  “I’ll be ready! See ya then!” Fred helped Alix out. He whispered to her, “You were right to keep trying for his friendship. He’s a good guy.”

  “So are you,” she said and hugged him. Alix watched him walk up to his door, rubbed her nose and got back into the ’Cuda.

  Alix wanted to talk, but she wanted Rellik to begin the conversation. Finally she said, “I’m sorry about saying no to the dance.”

  Alix wondered why, when it came to this outsider, she was never true to her resolutions. What made her even more curious was why she felt so inclined to say yes to the dance. She added, “Carl asked me after you did. He was pretty mad.”

  “Then he is a fool to think you should wait on him. Although I, too, thought it strange you would accompany Shay.”

  “I’m not even sure why I said yes. It was weird, like–”

  “–like you were lost in a dream?” he said softly.

  “Yes. That’s exactly how I felt.”

  “Perhaps you were overtaken by his charm.”

  Alix laughed, and suddenly felt completely at ease as she watched him drive. His one hand gripped the small steering wheel while the other rested gently on the stick. She reached out, uncertain as to why, and placed her hand over his on the gear-shifter. His grip tightened and she sensed his body tense, but this time she did not back away. He sighed and relaxed, reaching one of his fingers to interlock with hers. They shifted the powerful car together, as one.

  He steered with his elbow, and reaching into his jacket, he took out his sunglasses. As he slapped them on, Alix thought she saw a tear leave one of his eyes.

  She found herself saying, “I would rather go to the dance with you.”

  “Why?” Rellik’s voice, losing its darkness, shimmered with sadness. “We do not even know one another.”

  “Can we change that?”

  “I would relish that very much.”

  “For a while, I was under the impression you didn’t want to be friends.”

  “I did not mean to seem distant. I have felt a little out of place here.”

  The way he’d said here made her wonder if he meant the town, or the world itself. She thought about the girl in her story. A name flashed through her mind, but left too quickly for her memory to grasp it.

  “I’m glad we’re friends now,” she said and, as he pulled up snugly against the curb outside her home, she added, “And I think you have twice Shay’s charm.”

  Alix climbed out and glanced back. Rellik watched after her, stunned. Before she disappeared into her house, she turned back and saw him gaze at the sky with an expression as if he were praying for the whole world to be his own.

  “Religion always seems to boil down to one thing: finding peace within oneself. But how can man find peace, knowing that tomorrow may be his last, or that even this very moment may be his final one upon this world?

  “Is this futile search for peace drawn from his fear of death? Does mankind truly believe that, by havin
g simply lived well, he can one day die without regret?

  “As one who will always see another tomorrow, as one who knows this moment is simply a prelude to the next, I have learned this: Although those who live with principle may find Heaven when they die, it is those who live without principle who find Hell on Earth.”

  -Wulfsign

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Fillmore High’s students began to gather around the obsolete strip known as Devil’s Highway. For the past fifty years, teens had used it for drag races–their means of settling disputes. Most often one driver would lose control and crash, thus giving the strip of pavement its nefarious title.

  A red Mustang GT was first to pull up against the white chalk line. When the driver flipped a switch on his dash, its black top retreated into the back. As it disappeared, so also did all traces of sun. The driver looked up into the starry sky as the angels began their colorful dance, and turned his impish grin on a girl who was all alone. He rolled his head back in laughter.

  Alix stood without the comfort of friends. They were there, but they stood on the strip’s opposite side from her, waiting to cheer Shay to victory as if his triumph would be their own. Carl had his arm around another girl, one he’d dated last year, someone he’d said meant nothing to him. Alix caught him as he looked over at her. She turned away from his angry gaze.

  “Hey, Alix,” called a voice from behind.

  “Hi,” she said, turning to see Kim, Derrick and their friends.

  “Where’s the Barbie pack?” Kim asked.

  Alix looked back at the highway. “Can we not do this?”

  Kim walked to stand beside Alix. There was a silence between them until the Native girl said, “To think I’ve spent my entire high school life wanting to be on your side of the highway, and now you’re on mine.”

  “You wanted to be our friend? Really?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. You’d have to be a whole lot less blonde before we could be friends.”