by C. J. Pinard
Mounting his bike, he began to pedal off when three males suddenly appeared in the middle of the street; one was tall with long, wavy hair, and standing next to him was a shorter, average-looking male. The last of them had unkempt greasy hair and a scruffy half-beard. The hair on the back of Thomas’s neck stood up and his arms became covered in gooseflesh. It seems fog had rolled in, because now it was eerily swirling and mounting around the three brooding figures who blocked his path down the shortcut alley he knew he had to take to get home. He could barely see them, as the one remaining streetlight was flickering, as if it was about to go out.
“Hey, fellas, excuse me, I need to get through,” Thomas indicated by jutting his chin in the direction of the alley, one foot resting on the ground.
“We aren’t your fellas,” the tallest one hissed. The other two began to laugh. It sounded anything but friendly.
“At any rate, I still need to get by you, so if you’d please move,” Thomas shot back, his patience quickly wearing thin, but his fear rising at the same time. He knew something was not right.
“He smells pure,” the shortest of them said to the other two, not taking his eyes off of Thomas. The words seem to drip out, like venom from a rattlesnake’s mouth.
“All I smell is fear,” the scruffy one said with a slight snicker.
Then, swiftly and without warning, the three were on Thomas. He screamed like a girl as he was knocked from his bike, his head hitting the pavement once again. He began to kick and thrash wildly while two of the thugs held him down and the biggest one sat on his chest. Their arms felt like steel grips as they pinned him down. Suddenly, Thomas looked into the face of his assailant and thought he might pass out. He saw what looked like long, thin, dripping snake-like fangs protruding from the man’s mouth where his eyeteeth should be. His eyes were black with no pupils at all, and just as he lunged down to bite into Thomas’s neck, his attacker was suddenly whisked off and went flying through the air. Thomas and the other two watched as the gang leader was thrown at least fifty feet into the night, crashing into the brick wall of a nearby building. The creepy stranger slumped down the wall, motionless and bleeding from the head and face. Brick dust bellowed up and looked like flashes in the flickering streetlight. Thomas looked wildly around for whomever – or whatever – had done that. The other two thugs were on high alert, and Thomas sat stunned as he watched on as the ratty-looking one seemed to grow giant claws from where his hands should be. He also produced razor-sharp teeth, but instead of fangs, he had two entire rows of them, top and bottom. He was hissing like a deranged cat, spit dribbling from his mouth. Looking in the direction the men were gaping at, Thomas was stunned to see Jonathan Murphy standing there, suit torn, hair disheveled, and the most frightening, murderous look on his face Thomas had ever seen. On the last night of his mortal life, Thomas then mercifully slipped into unconsciousness.
Chapter 2
∞∞∞
Alcatraz Island, San Francisco – 1968
“Jonathan, why do you insist on meeting on this godforsaken island? I mean, there are a million places in the city we could meet,” Kathryn whined, her high heels propped up on one of the abandoned metal desks, her hair coiffed neatly into a bouffant.
“I’ve told you before, Kat, that I like the seclusion of this island. Plus the sylphs prefer to meet here, the air is cleaner, and you know how they get about these things,” Jonathan answered through gritted teeth.
“Yes, but there are ghosts here. I hate ghosts! These are bad, evil ghosts too,” she continued. “They won’t shut up. I can’t stop them.”
“You know, for a seventy-four-year-old Immortal, you sure are a whiny little tart,” Jonathan glared at her. His leather shoes snapped back and forth against the bare floor as he paced.
“Could we get back to the business at hand?” Thomas asked, checking his watch. He wanted to go check on his father at San Francisco General Hospital, where he lay dying of cancer. Of course, his father would not know he was there, as his parents assumed Thomas had died years ago, never returning from a bike messenger job. Still, Thomas always kept tabs on his parents. His guilt over being an only child did not allow him any other choice.
“Thomas is right, we all have places we’d rather be. But the sylphs called this meeting so let’s just wait until… oh! I think I hear Malina now,” Jonathan answered.
Malina walked in, dressed, as usual, in purple. Her light brown hair was pinned neatly on her head in a French twist and her white shoes clicked loudly against the dirty concrete floor, showing off dainty ankles peeking from under her purple pedal-pushers. A large, shiny purple handbag adorned her right arm.
“Hello, Immortals,” Malina tinkled. For such a tiny woman, she commanded the room. Most sylphs did, as they had something the Immortals needed. “Can we make this quick? I have an appointment with my beautician in an hour in the city,” she finished with a smile.
“Of course, of course,” Jonathan replied, pulling out a chair for her and indicating for her to sit. They were in the old Warden’s Office of the prison, which still had a full set of furniture inside it. The notorious Federal penitentiary had closed five years prior, but the government still owned the buildings. And everyone knows how long it takes the government to clean anything up.
Malina sat down and pulled three glass vials of red-pink liquid from her monstrous purse. She then pulled a small sewing needle from her obnoxiously large purse and pricked her index finger. The three Immortals watched on as she dribbled three drops of blood into each vial. Suddenly, the vials began to glow a faint aquamarine color and seemed to be unnaturally swirling inside the tube. “Here you are.” She handed each Immortal a tube.
In unison, they raised their vials and recited, “Ad vitam longan!”
Malina smiled and repeated, “To a long life!”
Each one downed the liquid quickly, shuddering at its bitter taste. They all breathed quickly as the magic raced through their veins and arteries like white-hot lightning.
“That should hold you for another five years,” Malina finally said.
“Thank you so much, Malina,” Thomas piped up after his breathing had slowed. “We always appreciate not only your gifts, but your company as well.”
“Mighty sweet of you, Thomas.” Malina winked at him, one of her long, false eyelashes batting against her honey-colored eyes. She turned to Jonathan. “I assume our usual protection is still in place?”
Jonathan smiled at her. “Of course, my dear. It is the Treaty after all. I’ve been watching the head of the local vampire clan and my sources tell me he has some things in the works, but we’re watching them. They won’t get away with much… trust me.”
“And those animals, the shapeshifters…?”
“Also under control. Their leader is too busy planning bank robberies and jewel heists to worry himself with sylph or human assaults. We will know when the heists are planned and will put a halt to them,” Jonathan half-smiled at her.
“Sounds like things are running smoothly then,” Malina said, getting up and squeezing the twist-snap closed on her handbag. “Thomas, will you walk me out?”
Nodding, he stood immediately.
She took Thomas’s proffered arm as he walked her out of the Warden’s Office and outside onto the ugly stone terrace that surrounded it. The railing was rusted and peeling paint, and the concrete below their feet was chipped, forever scarred by the wet, salty bay air that seemed to never stop blowing.
“Thank you for escorting me, Tom. I wish they would fix up this place and turn it into something fabulous. Someone could make a lot of money having a disco or perhaps a nice waterfront restaurant out here.”
She paused and looked at Thomas. He was so handsome with his black hair and blue eyes. She loved his easy-going manner and his relaxed personality. She knew he had a little schoolboy crush on her, and truth be told, she felt a little something for him, too. She was much too old-fashioned to make any first moves, though. They had forever –
she could wait.
As she smiled at him sweetly, he returned the smile, resisting the urge to brush a stray lock of brown hair off of her forehead.
“It is quiet out here at least,” Malina said, breaking his stare and looking out into the choppy San Francisco bay. Its icy wind was blowing, but neither of them seemed to be bothered by it.
She turned back to look at him, and Thomas saw the strange flash of light that often occurred in her eyes – and in the eyes of all the sylphs he’d ever met. A normal human would not ever see it, but he had heightened senses. Malina kissed Thomas on the cheek, and with one dramatic wave of her hand, she was off, her entire purple form seeming to disappear into thin air as she stepped through her invisible portal. It never ceased to amaze him how they did that. They were sylphs after all, he supposed – Fae of the air. He shook his head, thrust his hands into his pants pockets, and walked back into the dilapidated prison, whistling the theme song to Bewitched.
∞∞∞
A week later, Thomas and Jonathan were back in the Hyde Street bank building where Jonathan still maintained his architectural company. They had contemplated changing the name to Murphy-O’Malley Associates, but then quickly decided against it, leaving it Murphy Architectural Associates. He and Thomas were making plans to sell the building and move north anyway, as even the sham of posing as Jonathan’s and Thomas’s fictitious sons to hide their lack of aging wasn’t cutting it to their clients. Jonathan still looked thirty-five years old, as he had since 1809. He’d only had his architectural business for about three years when he met Thomas in 1946, having moved to San Francisco from Los Angeles. After the vampire attack in the Mission District twenty-two years ago, Thomas couldn’t go home, not after what he saw; he knew too much. He was offered immortality and protection in exchange for leaving behind the life he once had. It pained him greatly to leave his parents grieving, not knowing where he was or what had happened to him. His father, through his police resources and eyewitnesses, had learned about a supposedly random gang attack in the Mission District the night of Thomas’s disappearance and had assumed he had died, his body never being discovered (as the mob was famous for burying bodies). Thomas and Jonathan continued to live in San Francisco, in the Hyde Street bank building, maintaining separate apartments on the top floor, which nobody knew were up there. He knew his father worked the day shift, as he had been made detective a couple of years after Thomas’s disappearance, so Thomas kept to going out at night for his errands. He knew his parents never went out after dark, as they were creatures of habit, and Thomas was grateful for that. Even now that he knew his dad wouldn’t be going out at all, he still kept to the nightly routine, still paranoid of running into his past.
“Hey, I’ve gotta call it a day. I’m heading over to the hospital. Is there anything you need while I’m out?” Thomas asked as he plucked his powder blue suit jacket off of the oak coatrack that hung in the corner of the office.
“Nope, I’m good. Just be careful out there. I don’t need you getting recognized, as we are so close to blowing this pop stand soon,” Jonathan said with a smile.
“I know. I’ll be careful. I’ve been extremely fortunate so far. Nobody really pays attention to people anymore, in case you haven’t noticed. It’s kind of sad, really,” replied Thomas while putting on the suit jacket and checking his pockets for his wallet. “Besides, I’ve got this groovy moustache now. Don’t I look more like Clark Gable than Tom the Bike Messenger?” He smoothed the tips of his thin moustache with his fingers.
“True enough. See you later,” Jonathan said with a chuckle. He went back to writing in his financial ledger. He was sitting at his desk, squinting at it under the dim light from a green, tubular-shaped lamp with the chain hanging from it. Tax time was coming and he was too cheap to pay an accountant.
Thomas exited the yellow taxi, paid the cab driver, then waited for a cable car to pass before crossing the busy street to San Francisco General Hospital. He pulled his coat up around himself as the frigid ocean wind blew around him. He took the stairs up to the third floor Intensive Care Unit. It hurt deeply that his dad was now dying of cancer, and he grew even sadder thinking of how his father would be disappointed in not finding Thomas “on the other side” once he passed. How would God explain that one…
A pretty middle-aged nurse he had never seen before whacked him from his thoughts. “Sir, can I help you?”
Thomas spun around after being tapped on the shoulder.
“Oh, my! Tommy? It can’t be…” she shrieked.
Uh oh, he thought. He looked at the nurse’s nametag. ‘Barbara Dougherty, Head Nurse’ it read. No way. Think fast. “Uh, yes. Do I know you?” Thomas asked, keeping a neutral expression.
“Are you Thomas O’Malley… oh, my goodness, it can’t be!” the pretty nurse repeated, her hand at her mouth, eyes wide.
“Yes, I’m here to see my grandfather, Joseph O’Malley,” he quickly lied.
Thomas had thought long and hard at what he would say to anyone who ever recognized him. The first few years were hard, as he wasn’t quite sure what he would say, but now that twenty years had passed, he knew he could pass himself off as his own son. He was glad he did not crack under the surprise of seeing Barbara again, and had remembered his well-rehearsed lie. It bothered him a little how easily it slid out of his mouth, but he had other things to worry about at the moment.
“Your… grandfather… oh! Your father must also be Thomas. Anyone ever tell you that you look exactly like him? It’s uncanny. Anyway, I’m rambling, I beg your pardon. I’m Barbara, I knew your dad in high school. What is he up to these days?” she asked, her crisp white nurse’s uniform bright against the harsh, sterile lighting as she put out a hand for him to shake.
“Oh, he died a long time ago, before I was born. Is my grandfather asleep?” he asked in deflection, clearing his throat.
Wow, though, she did still look great after all these years, he thought. It was so nice to see a familiar face, despite the initial panic. How had so many years passed, and he still remembered loving her like it was yesterday? He couldn’t believe she was standing right there, still as beautiful as she used to be. He had to resist the urge to hug her. He did resist that urge, however, and instead swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.
“Oh, that’s right. He disappeared during that bike messenger job, didn’t he? I remember when that happened all those years ago. It was such a tragedy. I didn’t know your pop was married at the time… hmm.”
He wasn’t, Thomas thought to himself.
“Anyway, yes, dear. Your granddad’s in a medically-induced coma. I’m afraid he doesn’t have long, I’m so sorry, honey. Visiting hours are over at eight, but I’ll let you stay as long as you need.” Barbara winked at him, then walked off after patting him on the arm.
I guess she settled for nursing school after all, he grinned weakly to himself.
Thomas walked into the hospital room to see his father hooked up to loud, beeping machines. His entire body up to the neck was covered by a white sheet and his soft, wrinkled face looked so peaceful. His gray hair was sticking up in different directions against the pillow. He had a shadow of silvery stubble on his chin.
He pulled over a clunky metal chair and sat next to his father and held his hand.
“I’m so sorry, dad,” he whispered, tears burning the corners of his eyes.
“So, Tommy… what are we going to do after graduation?” Barbara asked, her dark brown hair and green eyes shining in the afternoon sun.
She and Thomas were laid out on a red and white checked blanket in the middle of Golden Gate Park on a lazy, carefree Saturday afternoon. A now-empty picnic basket sat next to them.
“Well, I’m still saving for college, Babs. You know that. We all can’t have rich daddies like you,” Thomas teased.
“Yeah, well I am going to medical school in L.A. My father wants me to be a nurse but who says I can’t go all the way and become a doctor? They make more money,�
�� she replied dreamily.
“Good, then you can support us. I will stay home and cook,” he joked. “I’m sure my cop father would love that for his son,” quipped Thomas.
They both laughed.
Barbara then traced her finger along the buttons on Thomas’s shirt with her red-painted fingernail. “I really don’t care, Tommy, as long as we’re together. I love you.” She softly kissed him on the lips, and could feel him smile as she did.
He had been sitting there for a good hour, holding his father’s hand, lost in his reverie, when suddenly, one of the machines started beeping fast and loud. A startling rush of medical staff came in and shoved Thomas out of the way. The doctors and nurses worked on him with large, bulky electric paddles, alternating with manual chest compressions, but Thomas knew his dad was gone. He was just glad to be there during his final moments, even if his dad didn’t know he was there. Thomas quietly slipped out of the room, rushing to the elevator bank before anyone could ask him any questions. He pushed the call button and darted into the first available car.
“Time of death, eight-fifty-two p.m.,” he heard a voice say.
As soon as the elevator doors slid closed and he was alone, he put his head in his hands let go of his grief, sobbing for the loss of his father and the last twenty years without him.
Chapter 3
∞∞∞
Portland, Oregon – Present Day
“So, tell me how all this works between all these Fae,” newborn vampire, Joshua asked as he picked pieces of flesh out of his teeth.
“You’re not supposed to tear the neck open like that, dumbass. You killed that girl. The boss gets pissed when we kill them. It attracts too much attention to the clan,” Darius snapped.
