Familiars

by George S. Mahaffey Jr.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Evan was still giddy from the prior night’s activities as he strolled down the staircase for breakfast. Lucy was seated at the table, tapping her fingers.

  “So how’d it go last night?”

  Evan shrugged and opened the fridge.

  “You meet up with your friends?”

  “Yep.”

  “Are they nice?”

  “Wouldn’t be friends with them if they weren’t.”

  “Any females?”

  Evan grabbed a drink, closed the fridge door and sat across the table from his mother.

  “What are you? A prosecutor?”

  “No, I’m your mother.”

  “Sometimes it’s tough to tell the two apart.”

  She smiled broadly.

  “I got them to let you go with me.”

  Boom. There it was. Evan was speechless for a few heartbeats.

  “Come again?”

  She pounded the table and squealed with delight.

  “You heard me, bud! You’re going with me this time to the Gathering!”

  Lucy’s words fell like a thousand-pound anvil.

  “Wait – the Gathering – it’s tonight?”

  “Didn’t I mention it before?”

  “Hell, no you didn’t.”

  “Well, that’s probably because I didn’t think they’d let you go, but they have and it’s on and the two of us are invited!”

  “Why – why me – why this year?”

  “Because I’ve been listening to you. I can tell you’re tired of the status quo.”

  “You sound like some corporate honcho.”

  “Well you and I run our own business don’t we? And that kinda makes me the CEO.”

  “Of what? Vampires ‘R Us?”

  She smiled, knelt before him, and took his hand in hers.

  “I know you’re a little disillusioned and still haven’t gotten over what happened to Dad. Neither have I and I don’t know if I ever will. But we have to keep going, okay? He’d want that and I want you to see behind the curtain for once, Evan. To see that this whole thing can be positive if you just give it a chance.”

  “Jeez, mom.”

  “Whaddaya say, Evs? It would mean the world to me. Can you do this one thing for your dear, old mom?”

  Evan wanted badly to say no, to tell his mother to go to hell or worse. But he knew she’d probably called in a lot of favors to get permission for him to go. Not just anyone was permitted to attend the Gathering. All of the representatives from the progressive families and their primary Familiars would be there and it occurred but once a year. It was big freaking deal and Evan was worried about what might happen to his mother if he didn’t go. He didn’t really have a choice.

  “Okay, mom,” he said. “I’ll go.”

  She clapped her hands.

  “Then it’s all set!”

  She threw an arm around him.

  “Me and my little guy riding front and center into the lion’s den.”

  “Probably not the best imagery.”

  She laughed.

  “What about … him?”

  “Oh, he’s already there. Made the trip up last night. He’s making sure everything is perfect. Oh, you just wait and see.”

  He hadn’t seen his mother this happy in months as she flew upstairs. Soon he could hear the bangs and thumps as she rooted around in her dresser. She yelled that she was taking the time to find just the right outfit as he ventured outside to clear his head.

  The sun was low and the bell on an ice cream truck could be heard warbling from a few streets over. Evan moved down the front steps.

  “What’d you think of the car?”

  Evan looked over to see Dez popping a wheelie on his chair, gesturing at the Cressida.

  “Sweet ride, Dez, thanks a bunch.”

  “Always willing to hook a friend up.”

  “So what can I do for you?” Evan asked.

  Dez threw his hands up.

  “Don’t you think I got everything I ever needed already, Evan? Take a look around. I am truly blessed twenty-four seven.”

  “You have a change heart?”

  “Let’s just say I did some heavy thinking last night.”

  “Care to share?”

  Dez shook his head.

  “Some shit you gotta keep to yourself.”

  Evan smiled, squinting in the sun.

  “I ask you something, Evan?”

  Evan nodded.

  “You really believe all that stuff you told me about your father and the dude in your basement?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “As you see it?”

  “The way I see it is the way it is.”

  “If what you say is so, how come you’re not livin’ in some castle or something? I always thought them vampires were high rollers.”

  “Some of them are. Others are basically one step removed from a trailer park.”

  “How ‘bout the one in your basement?”

  “Somewhere in between.”

  Dez registered this and then a long moment of silence ensued.

  “Can you keep an eye on the place tonight?” Evan asked. “Me and my mom are going to this party out in the country with all the families.”

  “Want me to tag along?”

  “No, they’d kill you, Dez,” Evan replied. A chill worked its way up the back of Dez’s neck because Evan said this with absolutely no emotion in his face. Up until that point Dez had convinced himself that Evan was lying about the vampire stuff, but now his doubts were lifting.

  “If I don’t come back, I got a phone and some electronic stuff up in my room I want you to have.”

  “Jesus, man, you don’t know me like that.”

  A slight smile danced across Evan’s lips.

  “I think I got a pretty good idea of who you are.”

  ***

  That night Lucy and Evan were elegantly turned out: Lucy in a black dress that accentuated her sleek figure and Evan in an almond-colored suit and dark shoes that were shined so slickly he could see his own reflection.

  Though he didn’t want to, Lucy made him pose for a series of pictures that she took with her phone. Evan had received his GED a few months back online. He’d gone to several schools over the years, but didn’t have much to show for it. There’d been far too many moves to set down roots and in a twisted way, Evan felt that posing with his mom was his version of prom. The culmination of his teenage years. After tonight, he had the funny feeling that nothing would ever be like it was before.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lucy and Evan left a little after eight at night and drove north out of the city. After twenty miles or so, they motored through Hunt Valley and into the countryside of Baltimore County. They had the radio on and were singing classic rocks songs.

  “Just like old times, huh?” she said, finishing up the chorus on a Beatles song.

  Evan looked over and smiled.

  “Remember that time you were air-guitaring to that Black Sabbath song in Wichita and almost ate the back end of that semi?”

  “It was a Hendrix song,” she corrected. “Something from Monterey Pop which I do believe was the greatest live concert ever.”

  “Get out of here.”

  “You’ve got something better than M.P.?”

  “Little thing called Woodstock.”

  She turned up her nose.

  “Too crunchy.”

  “The Stones at Altmont.”

  “Too gritty.”

  “Queen at Wembley Stadium.”

  She considered this for a moment.

  “Freddie Mercury at the height of his powers?”

  He smiled and nodded.

  “Okay, I can go with that,” she said. “Greatest live concert ever.”

  Lucy smiled at this and at the thought that, at least for the moment, the old Evan was back. She hoped that he’d forgotten the last few days and would be open to what was to occur that night and perhaps the id
ea of staying around, maybe for a few more years. She looked up and spotted a sign for their exit and then another one for the Pennsylvania border.

  There were fleeting thoughts of missing the exit and just driving on into the night, through Pennsylvania and possibly into New York and the lands that stretched beyond. They could make it work couldn’t they? Evan would go to college and Lucy would find a place to work. She pictured filling out job applications and staring at hiring managers whose faces collapsed into puzzlement when she described her special skills and precisely what she’d been doing for the last nineteen years.

  She’d gone to a temp agency once on a lark where a perky young recruiter engaged her in exercises to assess her employability. She was asked to create a chart of old job skills, new job skills, and transferable skills. She’d written down “conceal, evade, and kill” as special skills on the paper and after the recruiter noticed something under Lucy’s fingernails, which Lucy conceded was probably dried blood, the recruiter nervously smiled, ended the meeting, and said the agency would get back to her.

  No, she knew that it was impossible to try and leave now. They almost certainly wouldn’t be noticed for a few days, but then someone, Gideon probably, would whisper things and a search party would be sent and then what? No matter where they hid, they would eventually be found. The Gentry had numerous former FBI agents and military intelligence officials on the payroll, men and women who were well-versed in hunting down people who tried to leave. A middle-aged woman and a young kid wouldn’t stand a chance.

  She shivered at these thoughts and feelings of regret gnawed at her. She took solace only in the fact that she and Clark had collected evidence, video footage, taped calls, photographs and the like of what they’d endured and done on behalf of the Gentry over the years. All of this, together with the identity of the only person who was known to help ex-Familiars go “ghost,” had been gathered several years before and buried in a metal coffin in a cemetery down south, to be accessed only in a time of utmost emergency. It represented the only modicum of leverage she had if the shit truly hit the fan. Her right temple suddenly ached and she felt old and worn out, so she took the next exit.

  They drove over a strip of blacktop that snaked through densely forested hills. The Cressida sped by an old stone mill before thundering over a metal bridge that spanned the Gunpowder River.

  The yearly soiree was always held at different locations. Sometimes in the city, other times in the country or the suburbs and, Lucy had told him, in the rear of a large gothic church on one occasion. That night’s Gathering would be held in the weekend home of a family that had done exceedingly well selling commodities.

  The Cressida crested a ridge and in the distance little orbs of light could be seen and then an estate presented itself. A sprawling complex built in the middle of a field that was hemmed on all sides by woods.

  A heavy fog hovered over everything, but Evan could make out the palatial digs, the expansive circular driveway, the small army of attendants who were scurrying around, parking cars and greeting guests.

  The Cressida passed through an imposing gate manned by two beefy guards and rambled up the driveway. An attendant flagged Lucy and Evan down and they parked the car and exited.

  Evan stepped back and took in the small front pond where a trio of swans were drifting across the dark water. His gaze hopped to the massive main house, a structure of slate and stucco that rose over the countryside like some pagan temple.

  Lucy was busy greeting a few of the guests so Evan took up a position behind the Cressida. Through the miasma he watched the cars arrive, one after another, all long and dark and generally foreign in make. So many black cars were assembled that Evan thought they resembled the coils on a snake.

  More attendants hurried out to the cars and doors were opened to disgorge men and ladies who dressed and carried themselves as if they were of exceedingly high station. Evan could hear a blitzkrieg of voices spoken: European, Asian, and some tongues that he surmised were native to the Middle East.

  There was a great abundance of polished and glittering flesh, men and women dressed to the nines, appearing ageless. There were lots of cravats and velvet suits for the men and jewel-bedazzled clingy dresses for the ladies. A few of the male vamps sported facial hair including some intricately-groomed beards, but the majority were cleanshaven. Evan watched everyone ghost past, some blowing kisses at each other, others shaking hands, and still more smooching each other on the forehead which Evan had heard was some kind of secret vampire greeting.

  And behind the members of the families (always behind) were people like Lucy and Evan. Familiars… servants. Most looked road worn and in their autumn years, but a few were on the youngish side, including a striking man with a mop of black hair that appeared only a few years older than Evan. This man, clad almost entirely in green (including a green waistcoast and suit), stared hard at Evan hard before entering the house.

  Lucy spotted Evan and waved and grabbed his arm and led him inside.

  The interior of the main house was well-appointed and sparely lit. Garlands of flowers were draped on the walls which sported oil paintings of dour-faced men and women and strange scenes from what Evan assumed were points in the past. Evan studied one in particular, smeared orange, red and black paint on a canvas that showed a ravenous pack of peasants burning a country manor.

  “That really happened,” Lucy whispered, bobbing her head at the picture. “I think it was in Bavaria in the 1700s. Villagers storming the castle.”

  “Sure those are the villagers?”

  “Who else would they be?”

  “The hired help?”

  She pinched Evan’s arm as he yelped and they continued on down a hallway that spilled to a circular hall adorned with ancestral portraits and strange symbols and a few mounted animal heads.

  The guests milled about here, touching glasses of what Evan assumed (and hoped) was red wine, munching on snacks and chatting amiably.

  The whole event was a little underwhelming. He hadn’t known precisely what to expect, but Evan had imagined a gathering full of vampire families would be a little sexier. This was more like a weekend jaunt for money massagers in the Hamptons or a Thursday night carouse in Georgetown for the string-pullers in D.C. From what Evan could see, the centuries old cult of the blood-worshipper had decided to ditch its forests and catacombs for boardrooms and mansions. They’d sold out. For God’s sakes, they’d gone corporate.

  “Doesn’t everything look beautiful?” Lucy asked.

  Evan forced a smile.

  “Real nice, mom.”

  “This is how it always is. First class all the way.”

  Evan spotted a tall, lithe man with a shag of beautifully coiffed gray hair who was being greeted by all of the guests. Evan thought he resembled a greyhound wrapped in a three-thousand dollar suit.

  “Who’s the high-roller?”

  “Leopold Vonnegut. He’s the head of the Gentry.”

  “So what’s Leo’s day gig?”

  “He’s a lawyer.”

  “Figures.”

  She swatted his arm and looked around.

  “Sit tight and don’t overuse your talking muscles. I’m going to try and find your Uncle.”

  “He’s not my real-” Evan reflexively said, but she’d already disappeared into a pocket of partiers.

  Evan did a quick circuit of the room, perusing some of the artwork, books, and a few of the slickly-produced magazines churned out by the fake-news organizations in the employ of the Gentry. The ones with the bold colors and slippery stories (conspiracy and otherwise) designed to confuse the public and surreptitiously cast favorable light on politicians (including someone just elected President) who were in the pocket of the Gentry or soon to be.

  He snatched a snack from a tray and inspected it. It was some sort of glazed flesh on a stick. He held it up to his nose and thankfully it smelled like chicken.

  “Fresh meat,” a voice said and Evan looked across the
room at a man who gazed deeply at him. The man was in his thirties, bald as a stone with alabaster skin. He lifted his nose and scented the air.

  “That I mean,” the man said, pointing at the hors d’oeuvre in Evan’s hand, “not you.”

  Evan smiled nervously and blinked. When he looked back the man was nearly upon him and had somehow taken the stick of meat from Evan’s hand. How he’d managed to cross the distance between them in a millisecond, Evan didn’t know. The man sucked the meat down in a single bite and held up two glasses that were full of red liquid. He handed one glass to Evan and nudged him to sip at it, which Evan did. The liquid was room temperature and tasted of fruit punch mixed with honey and cloves.

  “You’re new,” the man said.

  Evan was too startled to speak, so he simply nodded.

  “Who do you belong to?”

  “My mother.”

  The man giggled.

  “Your mother, huh? Very cute,” he said, the man so close Evan could smell his musk, a mix of wine and copper and freshly plowed earth. Evan’s nostrils curled up.

  “What’s your name?”

  “His name’s Evan Devine, Julian,” a voice said as a hand came down and slapped Evan’s shoulder.

  Evan wheeled around to see Gideon who was dressed in a natty three-piece suit. He’d never seen Gideon in anything other than jeans or dungarees and was shocked at how well he’d cleaned up.

  “He’s a bright young thing,” Julian said of Evan and Gideon nodded, pulling Evan closer to him.

  “He’s a good kid,” Gideon replied. Evan watched the muscles in Gideon’s neck throb.

  Julian returned Gideon’s gaze and whatever existed between them passed. Julian nodded and walked off.

  “Steer clear of that,” Gideon said.

  “Who is he?”

  “Julian Stoneburner.”

  “Cool name.”

  “For a terrible person. He’s a vestige of our past and a man I wouldn’t turn my back on.”

  “I’m pretty sure you can say that about everyone here.”

  Gideon made a gesture as if to say touché.

  “Can we put aside whatever differences we have for one night, Evan?”

  Evan slowly nodded and Gideon smiled, relieved.

  “Follow me,” he said, “there’s some people I want to introduce you to.”