by Leo Romero
He made it to the railing of the basement stairwell and stopped just ahead of it. He crept towards it like an intruder, his eyes wide and alert. He craned his neck forward and piece-by-piece, the stairwell came into view. He trained his eyes down the concrete steps and leaned in more. His view reached the bottom of the steps and to the ground and--
He gasped, his back straightening. There was someone down there. His eyes darted left and right. Oh my God, oh my God, what do I do? What do I do?
It was his worst nightmare. Who are they? What do they want?
Panic set in. Then a grim realization hit him. Oh my God, the Father! He had to protect him! It was his duty.
He grabbed his head. "Okay, Eddie. You can handle this," he told himself.
He approached the railing once more, craning his neck forward. From his vantage point, he could see her. And yeah, it was a she. She was waiting by the door, her ear pressed up against it, and in her hand was a gun.
A sudden rush of anger shot through Eddie's chest. They were there for the Father for sure. He had to do something!
He placed his shopping bag on the ground and grabbed his remaining bottle of juice. He then ducked down and scampered to the railing, opposite the entranceway to the stairwell. Not wanting her to notice him, he became upright and peeked downward. She was busy listening at the door, oblivious to what was going on around her. Eddie knew what to do. He licked his lips. He hoisted up the bottle to shoulder height, aimed and threw it over her head toward the stairwell entranceway. It hit a step near the top and bounced down the rest. The lady spun in the direction of the noise, her gun poised. Eddie kept his eye on her. Once her attention was diverted, he hoisted himself up and over the railing in one swift movement. He fell into the stairwell as silent as a cat, aiming for the spot just behind her back. While her attention was on the steps ahead of her, she was clueless to what was plummeting down behind her.
Eddie's eyes widened. He let out a grunt, just as he landed half on her back, half on the ground. He made sure to bring his fist down on her as well, the force of the impact sending her thudding to the concrete. She hit it with a yelp. Eddie's feet jarred on landing, the momentum sending him back; his ass slapped into the concrete, pain rocketing up his spine, the impact winding him.
Meanwhile, the lady was sprawled on her belly, the gun having left her grip. Eddie ignored the pain of his rough landing and jumped to his feet as fast as he could, just as the intruder was scrambling to hers. Eddie already had the initiative his surprise attack bought him; he made it to his feet first. The lady threw a hand out toward her gun.
Eddie spotted what she was trying to do. "No you don't!" he barked as he leaped forward, bringing a strong boot down on her forearm, trapping it in place.
"Let go!" she screamed.
Eddie had no intention of doing that. Instead, he snatched up the gun. He gripped it in a cumbersome fashion, the first time he'd ever held one. He grabbed it with both hands, aiming the barrel in her direction. He then stepped backward, taking his foot off her forearm. She spun onto her back, her face a scrawl of panic.
"Don't move!" Eddie ordered, both his voice and hands shaky.
She watched him for a second, Eddie knew she was sizing him up. He watched her leg move.
"Don't even think about it!" he snapped, poking the gun toward her in a menacing fashion. She got the message and backed down.
Eddie caught his breath. "How many of you are there?"
She just stared.
"Tell me!" Eddie screeched.
"One," she then replied with a huff. "One other."
"Inside?"
Her nod was slow and deliberate.
Eddie licked his lips. He glanced at the door. "Okay. You go in. Nice and slow. No funny moves or I'll shoot!"
She got the message. She rose up to her feet at half-speed, her hands raised in the air.
Eddie poked the gun toward the door. "Go!"
Her shoulders dropped; she turned, took hold of the handle, and pulled the door open.
Eddie kept the gun a couple of inches from her back. "That's right," he said. "Nice and slow."
She turned her head to the side.
"Go in," Eddie ordered.
She did as she was told.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Dom stood in death-like silence for what seemed like an eternity, rooted to the spot, his stare locked on the Father. Yeah, the Father, the thing who'd once kept him as a slave, who'd fed off him for so long. They were together again; alone in a dank basement.
Just like old times.
The Father scrutinized him in the harsh glow of the flashlight, no doubt wishing to discover who'd invaded his crypt. Dom remained frozen in shock, none of his limbs working. He'd lost his dart gun somewhere in the darkness. He knew there was no way he could find it, pick it up, and then fire it before the Father sunk his teeth into him. He went to say something, but his tongue betrayed him. It had suddenly gone dumb in his mouth. All he could do was stare. Stare...
"Why have you come back, my son?" the Father then asked in a commanding voice that echoed around the chamber.
On hearing that voice, Dom shivered. "I-I-I--" he managed to stammer this time.
The Father threw his legs off the mattress and made it to his feet. He loomed over Dom like a sentry, while he remained on his knees. He felt helpless, a slave as if his destiny would always be in the hands of the creature towering above him. His legs trembled, sweat plastered his shirt to his body.
In the next instant, the Father threw out a pale hand. Dom flinched.
"Take my hand," the Father ordered.
Dom hesitated.
"You're safe now," the Father told him in a coarse whisper. Somehow the words offered solace, offered a safe route through the sea of madness. Yeah, if he just took that hand, allowed him to feed, then everything would be okay again. There'd be no need to stalk the underworld any longer, no need to risk his life. The Father would take care of him, would see to his needs, stem the pain. The Father would provide all that he needed. As he always did.
Just take that hand, Dom, a voice inside him said. It was the venom--the remnants of the venom--talking to him, urging him. Take that hand, Dom, take that hand, and we can go back to where we were before when we were happy and we were safe and everything was okay and the Father loved us and he gave us his love and we let it wash all of our pain away and we loved him back and all we wanted was to be happy and in blissful servitude to the Father and we didn't have to worry about anything and we could just spend all day in euphoric darkness riding the wave of internal pleasure and say 'screw you' to the outside world and we were lost in our own personal inner world of peace and pleasure and it was wonderful and we can go back there if you just take that hand. Take that hand. Take that hand. Take that hand. TAKE THAT HAND!
Dom became conscious of his own hand working against his control; it was reaching up.
TAKE THAT HAND!
His fingertips touched the Father's open palm. It was cold. So, so cold.
TAKE THAT HAND, DOM!
Dom rolled his eyes upward to meet the stare of the Father. A grin spread across his now scarred face, causing his lips to part. His fangs gleamed in the harsh light. Dom's soul was sucked in by those eyes, not because of any icing, but because they were the eyes of benevolence. They were the eyes of the one who'd save him.
TAKE THAT HAND!
He closed his eyes and gripped the cold hand of the Father as if his life depended on it.
"That's right," the Father cooed. "Come home to me, my son."
Dom's head nodded of its own accord. Yes, he wanted to come home; to be safe, to be under the wing of the protector. He rose to his feet. Now eye-to-eye with the Father, the master, his hand clutched in a grip as cold and dry as ancient parchment hidden away in long lost Egyptian tombs. He breathed in equally dry air, his chest juddering under the pressure, the parts of his brain still infected with venom rising in anticipation, having been starved for so long of thei
r craved substance.
He watched with glazed eyes as the Father turned his head to the side, his eyes fixed firm on the flesh of Dom's throat. Dom tilted his head back and closed his eyes. A few more seconds and everything would be okay. Everything would be okay.
Just relax, Dom, it'll all be okay.
In the next instant, there was hot breath on his neck.
No place like home. There's no place like home.
There's no place like--
A crackle sounded out from somewhere below and he came to as if awaking from a dream. A crackle. A radio crackle. A radio. The radio in his pocket. The radio connected to Trixie's. Trixie. Outside. Waiting for him. Trixie. Vincent. Both waiting for him to...
KILL THE FATHER!
He recoiled in horror, just as a jagged edge of fang scraped down his neck, bringing with it a sharp heat. He grabbed his throat. The Father's momentum caused him to stumble forward. He growled in frustration. Dom wiped away the blood trickling down his neck before he turned and shone his flashlight on the ground in a frantic panic, seeking out his dart gun. He spotted it a few feet away. He dived for it, snatching it up and whirling around, pointing it at the darkness ahead of him. The Father's angry face came into view in the flashlight beam. Dom's chest heaved, his sweaty trigger finger was about to go to work.
"No more! No more!" he sneered.
He inhaled deep then--
The overhead lights flicked on, illuminating the whole chamber in a dull haze.
"Stop!" a voice shouted from the doorway, a male voice.
Both the Father and Dom spun in the direction of the doorway.
Dom laid eyes on Trixie, who was standing just inside the doorway, a resigned expression on her face. "Trixie!" he exclaimed.
She gave him a tired nod.
Dom then spotted the stiff arm pointing at the back of her head. Gripped in the hand was a gun, a dart gun identical to his.
"Shoot and she gets it too!" came the male voice again and Dom frowned. It was a voice that set off that déjà vu again. He watched in stunned bewilderment as the owner of the arm stepped to the side and came into his view. He was dirty, disheveled, but he recognized him in an instant. The initial shock was like a bucket of water in the face.
"Eddie?" he half-exclaimed, half-gasped.
Eddie stared back at him with a furrowed brow. "How do you know me?" he enquired. "Huh?"
Dom licked his lips, his dart gun still aimed at the Father, but his eyes never leaving Eddie. "Eddie, it's me, Dom," he said with a hopeful grin. "Your brother."
Eddie twitched. "I... I... don't have a brother," he replied.
"No, Eddie, you do," Dom said nice and slow. "Me, I'm your brother. Dom."
"I don't know any Dom," Eddie reiterated.
Dom looked around him in disappointment. Why doesn't he recognize me?
"He's right, Eddie," Trixie said, her eyes rolled up to the ceiling in irritation. "He's your brother."
"You shut up!" Eddie snarled, poking the dart gun into the side of her head.
Dom threw out his free hand. "Don't hurt her, Eddie!" he pleaded.
"You put your gun down and I won't!" Eddie ordered.
Dom looked from him to the Father. He was now staring back at him with stern eyes. Dom knew he was trying to ice him, but it wasn't working because of the lenses. He watched a twitchy grin spread across his face.
What can I do to make Eddie recognize me?
Then, he remembered something. He dug a hand into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. "All right, Eddie, look," he said, as he held out his wallet for Trixie to take.
"What are you doing?" Eddie asked.
"I've got a photo in my wallet. Of us. Me, you, and Dad."
"Yeah. So?"
"So, it's proof I'm your brother."
"You're lying again."
"I promise I'm not. Just let Trixie take out the photo and it'll prove it." Dom stared at him with sincere eyes. "Please."
Eddie thought about it for a second, then nodded toward the wallet. "Okay. Take it," he told Trixie.
"They lie, Eddie," the Father then interjected. "I'm your family."
Dom turned and pointed his dart gun at the Father. "Quiet!"
Eddie twitched. "Hey!" he said, poking Trixie with the gun again.
Dom backed down. "Okay. Okay!" he said. "Trixie." He held the wallet out again.
Trixie reached out, took the wallet and began sifting through it. Eddie watched her with interest. She pulled out a photo that had been taped back together. She stared at it for a moment, then handed it over her shoulder to Eddie. Eddie snatched it, held it to the side, and stared at it.
Dom watched his eyes. Watched them for any sign of recognition in them. He saw a flicker, a small flicker, but enough to tell him something clicked in Eddie's mind.
"You remember now, Eddie?" Dom asked him.
He watched Eddie shift on his feet, his stare not leaving the photo in his hand.
"Eddie?" Dom repeated. "You remember?"
Eddie's bottom lip began to tremble. "I... I... I..." he stammered, half shaking his head, half nodding.
Dom's eyes began to well up.
"Why have you come here?" the Father then asked Trixie, much to Dom's surprise. He frowned as he turned his attention from him to Trixie. There was no surprise in her eyes, just a clear knowing.
"To put an end to this," she replied.
"I already did put an end to it," he said. "So leave us."
"With all due respect, we didn't think your adopted method was humane," Trixie retorted.
"Um, do you two know each other?" Dom asked in utter confusion.
Trixie sighed. "I was hoping you'd just kill him and save your brother, but it hasn't worked out that way."
Dom recoiled. "Wait. You mean you knew Eddie was here?"
Trixie nodded.
"What?" Dom exclaimed. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?"
"Ask yourself, Dom. Who is that?" asked Trixie, diverting attention from herself. "Who is this vamp that had you and your brother trapped all that time?"
Dom turned and stared at him. At the Father. He shook his head. "I... I..."
"He used to be your father," Trixie said in a matter-of-fact tone. "The man in that photo."
Dom's head dropped, he scanned the ground hard. My father? "What?" he blurted, his head snapping back up and meeting the Father. He was staring back at Dom with solemn eyes.
"According to our contacts, you and your brother tried to cut a deal with the Order," Trixie continued. "A deal that would've got you both killed. Rather than see that, your dad allowed himself to be turned. That way he could keep you in hiding." She shrugged. "He sacrificed himself for your safety."
Dom shook his head. "No, no, no, no, that can't be true!" he shouted.
"It is true, Dom. Look at him."
Dom looked back at the Father.
"Can't you see he's your father?"
Dom stared at the pale, scarred face. There were remnants of his father in there, yeah, he could see them now. The nose, the ears, the chin. But, the eyes, the eyes weren't Dad. They were... something else. Something... else. "I can't believe this," he declared, lowering his dart gun for the first time.
He rubbed his wet eyes. What's going on?
Trixie let out a hot sigh. "Well, this has worked out just dandy," she said, glancing over her shoulder at Eddie, who was just standing there in numbed silence, the photo in his hand, her dart gun in the other.
Dom glanced over at Eddie, then back at the Father. His father. He was staring back at him with smugness stamped all over his face. Dad would never have stared at him in that way. Ever. "So, what now?" Dom asked the whole room.
"Come back to me, son," the Father suggested. "Me, you, Eddie, we can live together in peace. Harmony. She will lead you to your death. She doesn't care about you the way I do. You know that."
Trixie shrugged. "You can believe that if you want, Dom. But, take it from me, it's all lies. Your dad doesn't exist a
nymore. That thing standing there isn't him. The venom eventually turns men into monsters. Your dad made his choice. He did it for you, but it was ill-advised."
"She lies, son. I love you." The Father attempted a loving grin that was akin to a crocodile trying to express affection. Dom shivered. He stared at the Father's fangs. They were tusks. Gleaming tusks. A sudden nausea brewed in his belly.
"There's only one thing to do, Dom," Trixie said, glancing over her shoulder at Eddie. "You'll have to kill him."
Dom met her stare. "Kill him? How can I? He's my dad."
"He's not your father any more, Dom. He's a monster. There's no cure for vampirism. Lay your dad to rest, or you'll spend the rest of your days craving his bite. It'll haunt you forever. Sever the connection. For you and your brother."
Dom closed his eyes and inhaled deep. She's right, Dom, a voice deep down inside him said. That thing there ain't Dad. Dad's dead. Dad's... dead.
You know what you have to do.
He flicked his eyes open and thrust his dart gun toward the Father's chest. The Father recoiled in fear. Dom's trembling finger went to pull the trigger. Just do it, Dom, he told himself. Kill him, get it over with. Pull that trigger. End this. Do it. Do it. Do it!
He clenched his teeth, his hand holding the dart gun now trembling. He saw that face again; the face that used to be his father. He went to do it but faltered. He lowered the dart gun, his head dropping. "I can't," he declared. "I can't do it."
Trixie lowered her head in resignation.
The sudden chatter of footsteps snapped Dom into life.
He flicked his head up to watch Eddie storm his way, a steely determination etched into his face. He stopped ahead of Dom, his stare fixed on his brother. Without saying a word, he reached down and grabbed the dart gun from Dom's grip.
Dom watched him in shock. "Eddie..."
Eddie spun away, toward the Father, a snarl of hate now emerging on his face.
The Father's eyes widened in disbelief. "Son!" he gasped.
