The Vampires' Last Lover (Dying of the Dark Vampires Book 1)

by Aiden James

  “‘Stay right where you are, boys!!’ he yelled back.

  “He’d already reached the trunk of the majestic oak and was about to disappear from our view. He motioned angrily for us to go back inside, but he continued on to the sphere without waiting to see if we obeyed.

  “Jeremy and I ignored his orders and followed, but pursued him from a safe distance. Moving quietly as possible, we closed the gap. We came around the base of the oak in time to see him stoop down in the mud before the sphere.

  “He stood, then turned toward the house. The fading sunset formed a weird silhouette I’ll never forget, with the sphere and the glowing object before it. He started to come toward us, but stopped. In one fluid movement, he went back and scooped the object out of the mud, hurling the damned thing over the stone wall toward the woods. We heard him shout something like ‘Stay the hell away from here!’

  “Neither Jeremy nor I wished to face any more of his wrath, so before he turned around again we bolted to the porch. We didn’t stop running until safely inside.

  “The kitchen’s stifling heat had cooled considerably during our short absence. Jeremy moved to the window above the sink and peered through it in order to gauge Grandpa’s progress. I stood on the tip of my toes to look over his shoulder just as Grandpa climbed the last step. He opened the screened door, swinging with another loud ‘snap’ against the doorframe. Tears streamed down his face.

  “‘What’s wrong?’

  “Alarmed, I tried to broach the subject as tenderly as possible. Shocked and saddened, I could tell by the appalled look on Jeremy’s face he was just as surprised. I couldn’t recall a time when I’d seen anything like this, though I imagine he privately shed tears from time to time.

  “Grandpa shook his head and continued weeping. He closed the storm door for the first time that day, turning the latch and deadbolt. He glanced through the door’s window to the backyard, and seemed apprehensive, as if expecting something to happen. I wondered if he’d seen the lizard, or one like it, previously.

  “Motionless next to my brother, we watched him peer out the storm door window again, wiping his face and eyes with his sleeve. After several agonizing minutes, he finally backed away from the door and looked at us.

  “‘Jeremy, go get the Winchester from the living room,’ he instructed. ‘I’ll get the shotgun from my bedroom. We’ll need to bring them out here in the kitchen.’

  “‘What in the hell for, Grandpa?’ Jeremy asked.

  “He eyed us tenderly, shaking his head.

  “‘Well?’ my brother persisted. ‘Grandpa, you’re starting to freak me out with this shit!’

  “‘Go upstairs, Jack, and close all the windows. Oh, and turn on the upstairs AC on your way back here.’ Grandpa’s voice was full of worry as he continued to ignore my brother. “I’ll take care of the AC down here.”

  “‘Yes, sir.’

  “I alternated glances between the two before turning to leave the kitchen. Jeremy reached out and grabbed my arm, preventing me from leaving.

  “‘What the hell’s going on here, Grandpa?’ he demanded. ‘Why do we have to close the windows, and what the fuck do you need a shotgun and rifle for, anyway?’

  “Grandpa tried to answer Jeremy, but he seemed at a loss for words. The uncomfortable feeling in the air thickened.

  “He walked to the sink, closing the kitchen window and securely latching it. He walked to the storm door and peered through the window once more, carefully scanning the porch and backyard for a second time.

  “‘It’s the ‘Season’, boys,’ he finally said.

  “Jeremy and I looked at each other for clarification as neither of us knew what he meant.

  “‘The ‘Season’?’ Jeremy asked.

  “‘Yeah, Grandpa,’ I chimed in. ‘What kind of Season do you mean?’

  “‘Just go close all the windows first and make sure the doors are locked upstairs, Jack. Jeremy, you and I’ll check everything down here on the main level. Once we’ve got the place completely secured, I’ll tell you both a little about the ‘Season’. Oh, and Jeremy, remember the Winchester. Make sure it’s loaded.’

  “He motioned for us all to move out of the kitchen.

  “‘We’ll all meet back here when we’re done. Jack, don’t forget about the upstairs AC, now.’

  “‘I won’t, Grandpa,’ I assured him.

  “‘Jeremy, be sure to check the windows on the north and west sides of the main floor,’ he reminded my brother. ‘I’ll check the windows everywhere else down here after I get the AC on.’

  “‘Got it, Grandpa,’ said Jeremy.

  “The three of us left the kitchen, with Jeremy shrugging after I gave him a look that asked if he had any idea why we were doing this. Bewildered by our grandfather’s peculiar behavior and strange request, at least the air conditioner would soon cool the old house.

  “I ran upstairs and hurried to finish my task. Meanwhile, Jeremy started in the dining room and worked his way to the living room, where he grabbed the Winchester and ammunition from the gun case.

  “Grandpa waited at the kitchen table with his shotgun by the time Jeremy joined him. He told my brother to set the rifle next to the back door after confirming the weapon was loaded. They heard me running down the hall toward them right after the second air conditioner kicked on.

  “‘All done, Grandpa!’ I proudly announced.

  “‘Very good, son,’ he said. ‘We’re all set to defend ourselves should we need to.’

  “Though always a handsome man, he looked like he’d aged several years since dinner. His light gray eyes were still red from his recent tears, but the calm steadiness one could usually expect was rapidly returning.

  “‘Defend ourselves? From what?’ Jeremy demanded.

  “I knew he truly hated Grandpa’s vagueness and could tell he was in no mood for any more mysteries. Just the facts, and only those that explained why we sat in the kitchen with a pair of loaded weapons, every door and window in the house closed and secure.

  “‘Let me begin by saying I’m truly sorry for breaking down like I did in front of y’all,’ said Grandpa, dabbing his eyes with a hankie. ‘This evening’s events truly upset me, and if something bad were to happen to either of you boys…’

  “He paused to take a deep breath, and regarded us seriously.

  “‘I want your promise to stay away from the woods. For now, this includes the backyard as well.’

  “‘Why, Grandpa?’ asked Jeremy. ‘First of all, you go throwing that thing Jackie brought in here tonight out into the woods somewhere, which could be worth a fucking fortune for all we know. Then, you bring up some shit about the Season and whatever the hell that is. Now, you’re telling us to stay away from the woods, which, if you’d stop and think about it, you’d realize neither of us has ever even visited the woods.’

  He shook his head in disgust.

  “‘I mean, you’ve never even taken us hunting back there, ain’t that right? We’re always going to some place or another near Tuscaloosa or Demopolis for that type of shit. And, what’s up with the backyard? Why in the hell do we have to stay out of there, too? Have the aliens finally come back for their fucking sphere, or something? I mean, come on!’

  “I remember how Grandpa glared at Jeremy, refusing at first to respond. He looked at me, sitting wide-eyed in my chair, overwhelmed by the day’s events and hopeful he’d somehow help make sense of it all. He smiled before turning his attention to Jeremy.

  “‘Perhaps you’re right about the sphere, son, or maybe you’re not,’ he said. ‘I reckon I’ve spent thousands of hours wondering if it had anything to do with the Season, or if it did come from outer space. All I do know is that the Season has been an event around these parts for a long, long time. Long before that damned sphere showed up in the backyard, that’s for sure.’

  “He hesitated.

  “‘The legend of the Season is very old,’ he advised, speaking slower. ‘The foreshadowing for it is oft
en some sort of token that’s recognized as not being from around here. The thing Jack brought in here tonight? Could be something like it, or maybe not. Regardless, knowing the Season’s legend was all the reason I needed to get rid of the damned thing. It didn’t feel right, keeping it in the house. I mean it felt evil. Even if y’all don’t agree right now, perhaps someday you’ll both look back and realize I did the right thing.’

  “Tears welled in his eyes again. The tip of the iceberg was all he’d divulged thus far, I believe we both knew that. But, since this brought such obvious emotional pain to him, I knew he wasn’t going to reveal much more to us that night.

  “Not wanting to upset him further, I didn’t ask any more questions. But I was extremely curious about the Season and its legend. I especially wanted to know whether any of this could be related to my parents’ disappearance twelve years earlier. It made sense, but I wanted confirmation from him.

  “‘Grandpa…does this so-called ‘Season’ have anything to do with what happened to Mom and Dad?’

  Jeremy broached the subject, and obviously, I was only slightly disappointed he’d done so.

  “Grandpa regarded us solemnly again.

  “‘Perhaps,’ he offered, ‘I don’t know for sure. But, that alone should make a strong enough case to stay away from the woods and the backyard for the present time.’

  He scooted his chair back and stood. He walked to the back door and peered through the storm door’s window once more. Outside, the early evening light faded to twilight. It would be dark soon, and gaining the upper hand on something sinister was disappearing as quickly as the day’s light.

  “‘Jack’, he said, still staring out the window. ‘Tell me once again about the lizard you saw today.’

  “Before responding I glanced at my brother. Being ridiculed once had fulfilled my daily quota for embarrassment, I’d decided, and was willing to wait it out until Jeremy gave me assurance he’d be merciful to the storyteller this time.

  “‘What?’ he snapped, apparently irked again by me staring at him. ‘What in the hell’s up with you now, Jackie?’

  “‘I think Jack’s expecting some common courtesy from you, son, before he starts telling his story again,’ Grandpa explained. ‘You’d be wise to let him finish uninterrupted. At least I’d appreciate it.’

  “Jeremy sighed and rolled his eyes. ‘Let’s just get this over with quickly, all right?’

  “They looked at me, and this time my brother did seem more interested in what I had to say about the strange lizard in the backyard. I would’ve relished the moment had this been the first time I told my story. But I could hardly wait to finish. I’m sure it exasperated my grandfather, as he made me repeat several points and give him more specific details. Once I’d finished the second narrative, I leaned back and awaited the critical reviews, fidgeting as my audience stared in silence.

  “Grandpa spoke first. ‘I was hoping to see if the critter you saw today matched anything else that’s ever been reported around here, Jack. I don’t think I’ve read or heard about any lizards or anything else quite like that. I mean, the Indians around here used to trade wild stories about giant leeches and serpents living in or around the Black Warrior and Tombigbee rivers, but no unusual lizards. At least none I know of. I should’ve gotten off my lazy butt earlier and taken a good look at the damned thing when it sat on the porch. But, that other thing you brought in here this evening…’

  “He looked into the growing darkness again, turning on the porch light, along with the backyard floodlights. I figured he felt satisfied there wasn’t anything amiss for the time being, as he shrugged and turned his attention back to us. Jeremy stared blankly at the wall behind me. As quiet as a church mouse, I would’ve bet my life he was wondering exactly where Grandpa had thrown the mysterious object.

  “‘Well, if I do catch sight of anything like what you saw earlier today, I intend to fill its sorry hind end with buck shot,’ he advised, moving to us. ‘I reckon it’d be better, though, if the damned thing just stayed away from here. Period!

  “‘Anyway, I’m taking the shotgun with me to the living room and I’m sure either one of you boys can handle the Winchester just fine if that lizard, or anything else, tries to come through the back door.’

  “He headed for the dining room, which sat adjacent to the kitchen, glancing back just before disappearing from our view on his way to the living room.

  “‘On second thought, why don’t you boys join me?’ he called from the dining room. ‘I’m sure we’ll be up to the task of responding if needed, and I believe the Braves are on television tonight. Be sure to bring the rifle, so we’ll have it handy.’

  “I stood and noisily pushed in my chair toward the kitchen table, drawing another irritated look from my brother who stood up with me. I caught up with Grandpa as he stepped into the living room. Jeremy lingered in the kitchen for a few minutes longer as he needed another cigarette. But once he was done clearing a few dishes from the dinner table, he grabbed the Winchester and joined us.”

  “Are you still with me so far, Agent McNamee?” asked Jack. “I’m probably boring you to death with this shit.”

  “Not at all,” Peter assured him. “There are quite a few references to this Season your grandpa mentioned in the books I brought, so everything you’re talking about has relevance for me. Are you ready for another Coke? I see you’re done with the one in your hand. I’m afraid that poor can’s about to be split in two, by the looks of it.”

  “Yeah, I guess it is,” Jack replied, slightly embarrassed. He hadn’t noticed the torn seam across the can’s middle, and set it near the recorder. “I might have another one in a little while, but I’m okay right now. You sure you don’t want the ‘Cliff Notes’ version of my story instead, to speed this up a bit?”

  “Definitely not, Jack.” Peter chuckled warmly. “Your story seems to be working fine this way. You’ve got a captive audience sitting here, so please continue.”

  “Well, all right. The living room was by far the largest room within our home. The ceiling was fourteen feet high, with hand engraved moldings similar to those in the kitchen and dining room. Still had the original plaster medallion in the middle of the ceiling, too. As I mentioned earlier, Grandpa had done some recent remodeling in the house, and the living room received quite a facelift.

  “He kept the large mahogany gun case, passed down for generations, and also a large oak bookcase that belonged to his mother. Almost everything else was new. Though Grandpa was determined to keep our home’s rich heritage intact, he spared no expense in redecorating the room with new furniture and a large home theatre system.

  “Jeremy came into the living room and found Grandpa and I had taken our preferred places. Me on the right side of the overstuffed sofa, and Grandpa in his recliner rocker, already with a magazine in one hand, his pipe and tobacco pouch in the other.

  “Jeremy took his spot at the far left end of the sofa. Neither of us cared for the middle, as a portrait of our great-great-grandmother hung above the sofa. The antique mirror above the mantel across the room leaned in just enough to provide whoever sat in that unenviable spot a clear view of her sullen stare. We tried to make Grandpa get rid of it, or at least move the portrait to another room, but he wouldn’t do it. He told us he wasn’t ready to part with his beloved grandma’s image. I think he simply enjoyed watching our reaction whenever we caught a glimpse of her looking at us.

  “‘The game may be on already, boys,’ I remember him saying. ‘Why don’t one of you turn on the television and find out for sure.’

  “Jeremy picked up the remote from the coffee table and turned on the TV, while I confirmed in the satellite guide the game had already started. An instant later, our quiet living room was filled with the sound of the roaring crowd at Turner Field, along with the announcers’ animated play by play. Within minutes, this simple act had at least temporarily displaced the bizarreness of the recent events. Occasionally, Grandpa would look up from hi
s magazine to verify the score and current inning.

  “Despite his seeming indifference, he got up once thirty minutes had passed. He didn’t return to the living room for a good ten minutes, indicating he’d thoroughly surveyed both floors of the house before reclaiming his pipe, magazine, and favorite chair again.

  “He maintained this routine for nearly two hours before I began to nod off. Reasonably certain we were in no immediate danger, he encouraged me to head upstairs to bed. Despite my weariness, I managed to flick on every light along the way to my bedroom. The upstairs really was spooky at times, and I often wished either my grandfather or my surly brother would join me, at least until I’d reached the safety of my room. But Grandpa slept downstairs and Jeremy rarely went to bed before the wee hours. I’d learned to cope with the shadows, bumps, and noisy creaks as best I could.

  “When I reached my bedroom, I quickly closed the door. Even in darkness it was my sacred hideaway. None of the spookiness or creepy feelings ever followed me there.

  “I remember the moon was one night shy of its fullness, and beams of white light poured into my room, clearly illuminating everything around me. I got undressed, but before I crawled into bed, I walked to the window and looked toward the majestic oak in the backyard. During the summer months, all I could usually see was the great expanse of the oak and its dense foliage. Only in fall and winter was I apt to find a clear view of the woods rising beyond the backyard’s rear wall.

  “That night, however, I could see part of the tree line glistening in the moonlight through gaps in the oak’s leaves and branches. A gentle breeze pushed the branches back and forth, revealing even more of the woods’ beauty than I’d expected, thanks to the brilliant light from the moon. At least that’s what I originally thought it was.