"Yeah I'm game," Chris said walking over to the rack and picking up an 18oz. stick. He chalked it up thoroughly then laid it on the table before gathering the balls to rack them.
Donnie picked the twenty off the table, added two twenties of his own and a ten to the stack, then set it on a small side table with several cans of soda on it. Chris pulled the triangle off the table spinning it in his hands.
Jake lined up his shot and broke with a thunderous crack. One ball went in. It was stripes. On the next shot he missed by mere inches. "Damn." Jake said, rising up and chalking his stick.
Chris pushed his glasses up on his nose and leaned down taking aim. On his first shot, he sunk two balls with a combo. Jake realized as those balls cracked together, flawlessly setting up the next shot, that he had just made a big mistake. This was going to be bad. "Perfect," he said, shaking his head. “Just perfect. That was my last twenty.” He had fallen right into their trap. One by one, Chris ran the table sinking every single ball. Jake lowered his head in defeat.
"Eight ball corner pocket," Chris said, finishing the game.
Jake picked the seventy dollars off the table and handed it to Donnie. "Well played sir. Well played," he said.
"Thank you very much," Donnie grinned handing the ten to Chris.
Jake shook Chris' hand firmly. "Man that was one hell of a game. Where did you learn to shoot like that?"
"I don't know.” Chris shrugged. “Lots of practice I guess."
"I'm sorry I underestimated you. I'll never do it again that's for sure." Chris shook Jake’s hand, a smile crawling to his face.
Just then, Jake heard Buck whisper something to Amber that sounded a lot like ‘dumbass’. Amber frowned at him and slapped his knee. Jake gave him a cold stare. Buck stared right back. "So Jack, you ever see a vampire? A real one I mean? None of that movie magic crap."
So it's gonna be like this is it? Jake thought to himself. All right then, pal. Let’s see who the big bad alpha is. "It's Jake not Jack. Yeah I've seen one Buck. What kind of name is Buck anyway? You like frolicking through the woods or something?" Both Chris and Donnie laughed.
"It was my Great Grandpa's name. So tell me, was it scary? I bet you pissed yourself didn't you?"
Jake let out a laugh. This guy is a joke! If he only knew of the conversations he had with what was probably the oldest living Maker left in the world.
Tiberius . . . are you alive my friend? He couldn’t help but wonder. He had never told a soul about Tiberius. The ancient Maker had saved Jake’s life, so he figured it was the least he could do.
"Actually, I have seen a vampire. More than a few times.”
“Sure you have,” Buck scoffed.
“The first time I was only ten years old. A grunt snuck into my house and nearly killed me. So yeah, I was a little scared, and yes, I did piss my pants. The second time there was at least a half dozen of them. Makers. One of them was on a chain like some demented junkyard dog. Fitting I guess. Before that he was my so-called grandfather’s lawyer.” Jake shrugged. “What about you Buck? Have you ever seen a vampire?"
The group stared at him in awe. "What was it like?" Amber asked before Buck could answer.
"It was terrifying,” he answered truthfully, his eyes meeting hers. “Like . . . like the grim reaper was standing over me, just waiting to suck my soul into the deepest depths of hell."
"Seen one? Hell I've killed one," Buck interjected.
This time it was Donnie that spoke up. "Bullshit. You're telling me you've staked and torched a vampire?"
"You bet your ass I have. My Dad took me on a hunt last year with The Slayers. Him and my uncle Tank let me do the honors of sending that fanged bastard back to hell."
"Your dad took a fourteen year old on a vampire hunt? Now that's about the dumbest, most reckless thing I have ever heard in my entire life."
"You calling my dad dumb?" Buck rose to his feet throwing his Coke can to the ground. The can landed on its side, the fizzy brown soda poured onto the light brown carpet.
Donnie stood his ground. "This is my game room, Buck. Pick that can up and clean up that spill before I put you on your ass."
"Why don't you come over here and make me?"
"Would you two knock it off?"Amber said, rising to her feet. "Let's go girls. A little too much testosterone in this room if you ask me."
Jake noticed Diana give him a slight smile as she walked out of the room following her sister. Amber was close behind; she laid a hand on Buck's shoulder and whispered something in his ear as she went by. Buck's eyes were fixed on Donnie’s; he didn't even acknowledge that she had touched him.
"Time to eat boys," Sandra said, coming into the room. "Buck clean up that spill." she said, before heading back to the kitchen.
"Yeah Buck like I said, clean up that spill," Donnie added walking past him and placing his cue on the wall rack. Chris followed Donnie out without saying a word to anyone.
“You don’t fool me you know?” Buck said as Jake turned to go down the hall.
“What’s that?” Jake asked turning around. Buck patted at the spill with a paper towel. “I said you don’t fool me. I know a bitch when I see one. You won’t last a week.”
Jake snorted a laugh, “You missed a spot, Bucky.” He pointed to the floor then followed the others into the dining room.
A large mahogany table sat in the center of the room, covered in a variety of delicious foods. His mouth watered at the sight of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, red beans and rice, corn on the cob, fried plantain, and a plate piled high with freshly baked homemade biscuits. Never before had he seen so much good food in one place. He hadn't had a meal like this since before his mother died.
"Wow!" Jake said, to no one in particular, completely forgetting Buck.
"Jake, sweetie. Why don't you take a seat over here next to your dad?" Sandra said, setting a bowl of sweet potatoes on the table.
John was just sitting down at the table so Jake pulled out the chair next to him. John leaned in and whispered, "Make any new friends?"
"Oh yeah,” Jake whispered back. “Donnie and Chris just hustled me out of twenty bucks. And that guy Buck. Oh, he's a real class act. I could see us all being lifelong friends."
"Cut Buck some slack Jake. He's had it kind of rough."
"Like his mom dying when he was ten rough? Like his grandfather kidnapping him to sell to vampires rough? Like a bunch of vampires storming in and destroying his house in the middle of the night rough? Yeah, having it rough doesn't mean you get a free pass to be an asshole."
“Boy stop cussing!” John whispered loudly. "You're going to have to spend the next couple of years training with these kids. Just try to be nice, okay? And how on earth did you let yourself get hustled?"
Jake rolled his eyes, "I couldn't help it. That kid Chris is like some sort of pool savant or something!"
"Well I would think so,” John whispered. “Ben was State Billiards champ four years running."
"Well thanks for keying me in on that little tidbit before I put twenty dollars on a game!" Jake whispered loudly. "Looks like his son is headed in the same direction."
John chuckled. Jake's eyes wandered across the table to find Buck sitting down next to Amber. She brushed her hair back with her hand then laughed softly at something Buck said. Buck saw Jake looking and placed his arm around her shoulders. He caught an angry look from Billy and quickly lowered his arm.
"Pretty girl," John whispered into his son's ear.
"Really? I hadn't noticed," Jake said, looking down at his plate
"Yeah right. You're all but broadcasting it. Just remember, you're going to be working for her grandpa for many years to come, and believe me you don't want to get on Billy's bad side." John placed his napkin in his lap. “I know he may seem like a gentle giant, but mess with his cubs and the grizzly will show his claws.”
When everyone had finally taken their seats, Billy Williams stood tall at the head of the table with Sandra at his right. "Before
we dig into this wonderful meal made by my beautiful wife,” he lovingly squeezed Sandra's hand. "Let us bow our heads in thanks."
Everyone lowered their heads. As Billy said grace, Jake kept his head down but peeked an eye open looking around the room. Wes Turner's cold blue eyes were fixated on him. An icy chill ran through his body. The eyes of a killer, he thought for the second time that day.
"Amen!" Billy said, finishing the prayer causing Jake to jump.
"Amen." everyone echoed in response.
"Alright let’s dig in," Billy said, dropping back into his chair.
Jake looked back up to see Wes Turner was already fixing his plate. Shaking off his unease, he smiled. This was the first home cooked meal he'd had in a long time and he planned to enjoy every morsel. He grabbed a chicken leg in each hand and dug in.
Chapter 2
Jake
The Williams Ranch
November 26, 7:45pm
Jake ate until he nearly burst. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so full. After an hour of good food, idle chitchat, long-winded stories, and more than a few laughs, most of the group had picked up their now empty plates and gone one by one. Only he and Billy remained at the table.
Jake finished his fourth piece of chicken and leaned back with a loud groan.
"Boy you said, it," Billy said, unbuckling his belt and doing the same.
"Man Mr. Williams, that was delicious.” Jake pushed his plate forward. “I haven’t eaten that well in years!"
"Please Jake, call me Billy. Mr. Williams just doesn't sound right. Makes me feel . . . old." He chuckled lightly.
"Okay, Billy," Jake said then sipped from his iced tea.
Billy drummed his fingers on the dark mahogany. "Jake, son, I can’t tell you how happy I am you’re here today. I know John had his reservations about starting your training this early, but I really think this is for the best. You two belong with your family."
Jake pushed the remaining food around on his plate with his fork. “The only family I've known since Mom died is Dad and Grandpa. It's a little overwhelming to be around so many people."
"I know exactly what you mean," Billy nodded slowly. “I was orphaned when I was only ten so I can definitely relate.”
“What happened?” Jake asked without thinking. “I’m sorry; you probably don’t want to talk about it.”
“Oh no, don’t sweat it.” Billy waved it away, “You’ll learn as you get older that what us ‘old’ folks love more than anything is to tell our stories.”
“Yeah,” Jake agreed. “I know Grandpa sure does.”
“When you get to be our age you start to realize that you may not have as many adventures ahead as you have behind, so why not tell them, embellish them, and when all else fails . . . make them up!” He laughed.
Jake laughed with him, “So the story about you and Grandpa killing all those grunts after you ran out of ammo? Is that one of those made up stories?”
“Probably!” Billy laughed even harder. “Then again, maybe not.” He stopped laughing sobering up a bit. “Truthfully Jake, I’ve killed so many vampires over the years I can barely keep track of them all. After a while, the hunts all blend into one big terrifying nightmare that causes you to wake up screaming in the middle of the night. The victories fade and what you remember most are the mistakes you made along the way.” Billy sighed deeply. “So anyway, on to my story.”
“I guess the best place to start would be with my father. He worked in a slaughterhouse in Chicago and died in an industrial accident way back in . . . 1943. I believe it was. To be honest I barely remember him.” Billy’s eyes stared off into space. “I remember he used to read to me every night when he got home from work and that he loved his coffee with lots of sugar in it,” his eyes focused back on Jake. “Other than that I’ve only got flashes of what I think he looked like.”
“What about your mom? What happened to her?”
“A couple of years after Dad died, when I was about seven, maybe eight years old, she got sick. Really sick, and couldn’t take care of me anymore. Tuberculosis . . . man I’m telling you it was bad.” Billy furrowed his brow and clenched his fist tightly around his fork. “Of course after Dad died we didn’t have any money coming in, and Mom was no longer able to work, so the only hope for her was the free hospital, which in reality wasn’t any hope at all. It was a death sentence.
“Mom went to the Municipal Tuberculosis Sanitarium outside of Chicago and I was sent to live with my great aunt and uncle in Oklahoma. I didn’t know them at all, had never even met them before. Even my mother had only met them once, way back when she was a kid, but we didn’t have any other family, so that’s where I ended up. At least for a little while anyway.” Billy grabbed a toothpick out of clear glass container in the middle of the table and placed it in the corner of his mouth. He offered one to Jake.
“No, thank you.” Jake shook his head. “So what happened after that?”
Billy chewed on the toothpick. “It didn’t take long for me to realize my Uncle didn’t care for me much. Didn’t care much for anyone. That man was meanest, most miserable person I have ever known. He was a cotton farmer with a dusty little stretch of land outside of Redbird Oklahoma. It was small compared to most farms in the area, no more than thirty acres.” Billy suddenly laughed. “Man I tell you he was the worst damn farmer! I mean that man could not get a weed to grow in that hard packed earth! And he took every bit of that frustration out on me. He’d beat me senseless for no good reason at all. One time I spilled a glass of milk and he damn near killed me with a leather strap. Said, I was wasting his money. My aunt just sat there and watched. I guess she figured better me than her.”
“Man Billy . . .” Jake said, thinking back to the beating he’d received at the hands of his grandfather’s butler, Paul. He still had the scars across his back. “That’s terrible.”
Billy dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “Ancient history son. Ancient history.”
"So what happened with your mom? Did she ever recover?”
“No,” he said sadly. “Mom died, leaving me alone with Mister and Missus Satan.” He pulled the toothpick from his lips and tapped it on his empty plate. “It was hell, Jake. There’s no other word to describe it. My own personal hell.
“When I was barely fourteen I decided enough was enough, so I got the heck out of dodge. I ran away and never once looked back. I have no idea what happened to them. Maybe a vampire chewed them up.” He laughed. “I shouldn’t say things like that. I wouldn’t wish those people on even a vampire.”
Jake nearly spit out the ice tea he’d been drinking, then joined in Billy’s laughter. “So how did you get into hunting?”
"I hitchhiked for a couple of years doing odd jobs wherever I could, sleeping wherever I dropped. It went on like that for a while until one night I got busted stealing eggs out of this farmer’s coup. The Sheriff tossed me in a cage and it wasn’t long before the locals decided to string me up. All kinds of rumors started spreading around town. One was that I’d been caught in bed with the farmer’s daughter another that I’d killed his dog. Pure lies of course, but it was enough to stir up the local ‘good ole boys’. ‘Lucky’ for me an eccentric old rich fella spoke up for me and said he'd take responsibility for me. He paid off the Sherriff, the farmer, and his trigger-happy friends and late one night snuck me out the back of the jail.
“So at sixteen I was essentially adopted by a man by the name of Burrows. I couldn't believe it. A sixteen year old being taken in by a rich man is pure fairy tale nonsense. It just doesn’t happen. Especially to a young black man in 1950's Oklahoma! As it turns out my luck wasn’t so good after all as I found out my first day there. The good Mr. Burrows turned out to be a vampire. A Maker."
"Did he adopt you to feed on you?”
"No. It wasn't quite that simple. He wanted a, uh . . . he wanted a companion. If you know what I mean . . . he uh, well I’ll just tell you. He was into young men. Young black men.”
&nb
sp; “Oh,” Jake said, his eyes growing large.
“I found out later that I was the sixth one he'd attempted to turn."
"So what happened? How did you escape?"
"The day after I arrived he tied me up in his basement. I tried to fight him off but he was just too damn strong. I’d gotten pretty lean and mean working my uncle's farm and surviving on the road since, but this man, who was at least in his sixties, laid me out cold with one punch. I don’t have to tell you Jake, when I woke up to find those ropes tightly wound around my wrists I was terrified. I can tell you without hesitating that I’ve never been so scared in my entire life, and since then I've served two tours in Nam and faced down more bloodsuckers than I can recollect. But nothing and I mean nothing compares to the day I was locked in a basement with a Maker."
Billy paused his story taking a long swig of iced tea, the ice clinked against the glass as he emptied it. "Ahhhh. So anyway, the thing I remember most was that he talked all the damn time! Kept going on and on about immortality and drinking blood, about loneliness, and longing to love and be loved. Said he wanted me to be just like him. A gift he called it. Said we could live together forever.
“At the time I just assumed he was as crazy as a bed bug. All day long, he droned on about how crazy the world had gotten, how he missed the feel of the sun on his face. Every so often he would walk over and hold my face with his ice cold hands and beg me to stay with him."
"What did you say?" Jake interrupted.
"What could I say? I didn’t want to get raped or murdered by this psychopath! I told him exactly what he wanted to hear! I told him I would do whatever he wanted as long as he didn’t hurt me. He burst into tears and began dancing around, clapping his hands, giggling like a schoolgirl. Literally giggling . . . I can still hear it in my head. Creepiest damn thing that I have ever seen!” Billy closed his eyes shaking his head.
After a few moments of silence he finally spoke. “Not long after that he left. Promised he'd bring me back something special. ‘My first real meal’ he called it.
C.O.T.V.H. (Book 2): Judgment Page 4
