The Girl With Crooked Fangs

by Amy Cross

“Isobel,” a voice whispered, sounding frail and weak. “Is that you?”

  She froze for a moment, shocked both by the power she sensed in the room, and by the apparent sickness of the figure. At first she thought it might be a trap, but as she took a couple of steps closer she realized she could hear a faint gasping sound, as if the figure was struggling to breathe.

  “Don't be shocked,” the voice continued. “And please, please don't be scared. Look at me, I couldn't hurt you, even if I wanted... Please, come closer.”

  “Who are you?” she asked, trying not to sound scared.

  “Just come closer. Let me see your face properly.”

  She wanted more than anything to turn and run, but instead she edged a little further into the room. Her heart was pounding, but something was drawing her closer, as if all her fear and terror was still not enough to counter some deeper, more rooted sense that she couldn't quite define. It was almost as if she felt, for the first time in her life, that she belonged somewhere.

  “You're strong,” the figure whispered. “Stronger than I dared hope. Stronger than O'Malley hinted. I cannot tell you how -” He gasped suddenly, as if struck by a fresh bout of pain, and it took a moment for him to settle again. “I cannot tell you how often I have imagined this moment. How often I... tried to picture your face in my mind's eye.”

  Stopping in the middle of the room, Izzy stared at the man's face and saw pain etched into his features. Dark, matted hair hung down over flesh that was pocked with cuts and scars, and the socket around his left eye appeared to have been broken, with shards of bone poking out in several spots. The man's hands, meanwhile, rested on the floor and appeared older than his face, and the pinky finger on his right hand was partially missing, having apparently been severed just below the first joint.

  “Are you shocked by my appearance?” the man asked, raising his face a little to reveal stubble all over his chin. There was sweat, too, washing down his features, glistening in the dancing candlelight. “I've been avoiding mirrors, for obvious reasons. I'm sure I look quite terrible. I would have preferred to have -”

  With that, he broke into a coughing fit that lasted several seconds, and by the time he was finished there were flecks of blood on his hands.

  “I shall heal,” he continued. “Have no doubt of that. It will simply take a little longer, that's all. Believe me, I have been in much worse shape before. They tried everything in their power to bring me down, they threw all their forces against me, but still I live to fight another day.” His voice sounded a little stronger now, as if anger was coursing through his veins. Finally, gasping again, he began to get up, still leaning against the rocky wall as he rose. Once he was on his feet, he seemed so frail that he might collapse again at any moment.

  “Who are you?” Izzy asked, with tears in her eyes. She'd already guessed one possible answer, but she couldn't bring herself to believe that she was face-to-face with the man who'd killed her mother.

  “Izzy -”

  “Who are you?” she asked again, starting to tremble with shock. “Tell me your name!”

  “I have so much more to tell you than that,” he replied, forcing a faint smile. “O'Malley tells me that you know very little about where you come from. He tells me that the truth has been kept from you. I can't imagine how frustrating that must have been. All of us, no matter who we are or what we've done, deserve to be told the truth. After all, how else can we make the right choices in life?” He took a limping step toward her, clearly struggling to stay upright. “I understand why John must have been tempted to hide things from you, but he was wrong. I'm sure, Isobel, that you're more than capable of dealing with the truth, once you know it all.”

  “What's your name?” she asked, as a tear trickled down her face.

  “Or do you prefer to be called Izzy?” he continued. “I might call you Izzy. Not that Isobel is a bad name, but...” He gasped, almost falling, before taking another step closer. “You just look more like an Izzy to me, that's all.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Who do you think I am?”

  “I don't -”

  “Yes you do,” he replied, with a hint of irritation in his voice as he interrupted her. “Don't play dumb, Izzy, it doesn't suit you. You must know, you must sense it. Deep down, you suspect the truth, even if you can't bring yourself to say the words, but you must say them.”

  Staring at him as he limped closer, Izzy felt more tears running down her face.

  “Why?” she asked finally. “If you're who I think you are, then why did you come for me? What could you possibly want?”

  “Look into my eyes,” he sneered, now just a few feet from her, “and ask me that again. Look at me, Izzy! Vampires have died from lesser wounds before, but I kept going. I was delivered to the gates of the underworld, but I refused to go through. I fought the Valkyries themselves, and I clawed my way back to life, all because of this moment. I knew that one day, I would see your -”

  “You killed my mother!” she hissed.

  “I -” He paused, staring at her for a moment.

  “It is you, isn't it?” she continued. “You're the one I heard about, you're Gaal RaYuul.”

  She waited for an answer.

  “Aren't you?” she sneered.

  He hesitated, staring at her with a hint of wonder, before slowly nodding.

  “You killed my...” Her voice caught for a moment in her throat. “You killed my mother...”

  “You look like her,” he replied. “I knew you would, at least a little, but the resemblance is actually -”

  “What do you want with me?” she asked, already feeling the rage starting to rise through her body, rippling as if to spur her on. “Did you bring me here so you could gloat? Is that it? Or am I here so you can apologize and beg my forgiveness?”

  “No,” he replied, reaching out with a frail, trembling hand to touch her face. “Nothing like that.”

  She instinctively took a step back.

  “You don't know, do you?” he asked, his eyes wide with wonder. “You really don't.”

  “Why did you do it?” she sobbed, sniffing back tears. “What do you want from me? Are you just trying to hurt my father again?”

  “I thought you felt it in your soul,” he replied, shuffling closer again. “Yes, Izzy, I killed your mother. So why are you still standing here like this? Why haven't you turned and run? Why haven't you lunged at me, kicking and screaming?”

  More tears than ever were streaming down her face. “I don't know,” she whimpered. In truth, she felt paralyzed by rage, as if fear and anger were rooting her to the spot. But there was something else, something that seemed to be slowly uncurling in the back of her mind.

  “It's because you sense a deeper truth,” Gaal continued, moving his hand toward her again. This time she didn't pull back, and he was able to place his rough, scarred fingers against the side of her face. “It's because you know I'm not merely the man who killed your mother.”

  “No,” she whispered, feeling some other, darker realization bubbling up through her soul.

  “You sense who I really am,” he added, smiling as he leaned even closer, and as his hand moved up her face. “Izzy, I'm your father.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  “Who's there?” Rita called out, turning suddenly and looking back through the dark forest.

  She waited, convinced that she'd heard someone a moment earlier. Her heart was pounding, but finally she figured she'd simply imagined the brief rustling sound, so she turned and -

  “Woah!”

  Almost bumping into a dark figure, she stepped back, only to find that John had appeared as if from nowhere.

  “What are you doing out here?” she stammered. “You almost gave me a heart attack!” She hesitated, before seeing a hint of pain in his eyes. “So what happened? Did you change your mind and decide to help your daughter after all?”

  “She's not my daughter,” he replied, his voice trembling with shock.


  “She's -” Rita frowned. “I'm sorry, what?”

  “I'm not Izzy's father,” he continued,with a hint of hollowness in his voice. “I raised her, I fed and clothed her, I looked after her and I protected her from when she was a baby until this night, but...” He paused, as if he could barely get the words out at all. “I'm not her father. And tonight she's going to learn the truth. She's going to realize that I've been lying to her every day, since just after she was born. That's why I...”

  His voice trailed off.

  “That's why I could never be truthful with her,” he added. “I knew that when I finally had to start telling her everything that had happened, I wouldn't be able to stop. And now he's taken her, and she'll hear it all from his lips, and she'll never be able to look at me again.” He paused again. “But I have to see her, don't I? I have to try to help her, even if it's too late. Even if she hates me.”

  “Wind back a moment,” Rita replied. “You're not Izzy's father?”

  “I was in love with her mother,” he continued. “Genevieve was the most wonderful woman I ever met in my life, vampire or human. She was in love with me, too, I know she was, but... There was someone else. I wasn't the only vampire who'd noticed her, and who'd fallen for her. Gaal RaYuul also sought her affections, and he and I could not have been more different. Whereas I was always rather quiet, a little bookish and reserved, Gaal was like a man on fire. He was reckless and daring, but also passionate. I fully understand why Genevieve allowed herself to be swept away by him, why she was dazzled by his great qualities.”

  “So Izzy's Mom went off with this Gaal guy and had a baby?” Rita asked.

  “It was a little more complicated than that. She was torn between us. I tried to step away, to let her be with Gaal, but he was so dangerous and over time she began to see the truth. Gaal had a past, a dark past, and by that stage in his life he'd already committed many of the atrocities for which he's now feared. The burning of Gothos, the ransacking of the Padrimal Temple...” A shudder passed through his chest. “It's no wonder he ended up being hunted down by other vampires. He killed so many, and that's not counting the many humans who fell dead at his feet. When he fell in love with Genevieve, he swore to her that he could change, that he regretted his past actions and that he'd dedicate the rest of his life to undoing the damage. And Genevieve, with her heart of infinite love and hope, believed him.”

  “She thought she could use the power of love to straighten him out?” Rita asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “She sounds one sandwich short of a picnic, if you ask me. The power of love doesn't do a goddamn thing.”

  “It was vastly more intricate than that,” he replied. “She was torn, she ran from him many times, and eventually I think she began to see that he wouldn't change. No matter what he said, his anger would always show through. She tried to stay with him, for the sake of the baby she was carrying. She even told me I could never see her again, because she knew that my involvement angered Gaal. But Gaal showed his true colors when he tried to break into the great vampire library. He poured the bodies and souls of ten thousand children into a vast schism, convinced that their pain would breach the iron gate. His aim was to enter the core of the vampire race memory and wipe out all recollection of his crimes. He failed, and in the process he was horrifically injured. It's a miracle he survived at all.”

  “And what did Genevieve do?”

  “After she learned about Gaal's attack on the library, she came to me one night and begged me to take her away. What could I do? Say no? I abandoned everything, I dropped my entire life, and we set off together into the night. Maybe I was wrong to believe that she loved me, or maybe the love she felt for me was simply different to the love she'd felt for Gaal. Maybe I was just useful. Whatever the truth, I found a safe place for her to give birth to the child.”

  “And Izzy was born,” Rita whispered.

  “And Isobel was born,” he replied. “I mean... Izzy. She prefers Izzy, doesn't she?”

  “So what really happened to her mother?”

  “Gaal caught up to us eventually,” he explained, with fresh tears glistening in his eyes. “He begged her to take him back, he swore he'd be a good man, and I think he might even have believed his own words. But when she refused, when she told him she was leaving with Izzy and with me, his fury overwhelmed him. I tried to stop it, I swear, but when Genevieve fell to the ground...”

  “You took Izzy and ran?”

  “I ran like I'd never run before,” he replied. “She was all I had left of Genevieve, so I resolved to hide her in a place where Gaal would never, ever find her. It helped that his injuries were so severe. For various reasons, we ended up coming here, to this little town, and I thought that so long as we stayed under the radar and attracted no attention, Gaal would remain in the past. Besides, he was being hunted by that point, after his assault on the library, so he couldn't exactly move freely. To this day, he's wanted in three words for his crimes.” He swallowed hard. “And somewhere along the way, to avoid awkward questions, I taught Izzy to call me Daddy. It was never my intention to deceive her, not at the start, but I guess I enjoyed it too much. I didn't realize, until it was too late, how one lie begets a thousand others. I failed her.”

  “You didn't fail her, dude,” Rita told him, taking a step closer. “What else were you supposed to do? Sure, you could have been more honest, but if you'd left her with that Gaal guy... I mean, what would her life have been like?”

  “Miserable, but that doesn't -”

  “It sounds like you did your best. You raised another man's daughter as your own.”

  “I should have realized he'd show up again one day. I can't even begin to imagine what he wants with her, why he can't leave her alone, but...” He took a deep breath. “Even if it's the last time I ever see her, I have to tell her to her face that I'm... I have to tell her I'm sorry.”

  “You're gonna do more than that,” Rita replied. “We're gonna get Izzy and bring her home.”

  “I don't know if that's -”

  “It's more than possible! It's what's gonna goddamn happen!”

  “What if she doesn't want to come home?”

  “Please, she's not that dumb. I know the mine system pretty well, and there's some kind of metal door that leads deeper. I think someone's hiding something down there, and I'm pretty sure coincidences only stretch so far. That's where we'll find her.”

  “I should be able to pick up O'Malley's scent,” John told her. “That way, I can find where he's taken her. Undoubtedly Gaal will be waiting at the other end. I just wish I knew what he wanted with her. Somehow, I doubt he's motivated by fatherly love.”

  “Come on,” Rita muttered, turning and leading him between the trees. “We don't have time to get sentimental. We need to get to that mine shaft, but first we have to take a little detour. I've got something that I think'll help us get through the metal door.”

  “There must be some kind of secondary access -”

  “Dynamite,” she added, interrupting him. Turning, she grinned. “Screw anything too complicated. I've got a load of dynamite and -”

  “Stop!” he hissed suddenly, his eyes widening with shock.

  “Chill,” she continued. “I know how to handle it. There's fuses and timers and shit, it's all...”

  Her voice trailed off as she realized John was looking past her, as if he'd seen something in the distance. Before she could ask what was wrong, she noticed his eyes looking above her.

  “What?” she asked. “You're freaking me out.”

  “Those three cold-bloods that attacked us at the house,” he said cautiously, looking up at the dark trees surrounding them. “They weren't alone.”

  “What do you mean?” She looked up, but all she saw were the dark trees framed against a starry night sky. “Are you -”

  Before she could finish, she spotted a hint of movement high above, and she heard a scrambling sound. Moments later, she spotted more movement, and finally her eyes began to adjus
t to the darkness. Sure enough, there were more of the gaunt, angry-looking cold-blooded vampires above them in the trees, staring down from the branches.

  “Is there any chance,” Rita said slowly, turning to watch as the vampires began scratching their way down the trees, ready to attack, “that they're here to help?”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  “No, Izzy,” Gaal continued, stepping up behind her, “you have to understand! Your mother didn't run away from me because she was scared! She ran away because she listened to all the lies about me!”

  Too shocked to reply, Izzy stared straight ahead as tears rolled down her cheeks. Her whole body was trembling, but she flinched as she felt his shaking hands on her shoulders.

  “Genevieve was right,” Gaal explained. “John was right too, in a way. I was a terrible, cruel, violent monster, and thousands, maybe even millions, died because of my barbarity. I could tell you my whole life history, but none of it would excuse or explain my actions. I can only say that the wars changed me, Izzy. Evil crept into my soul, and pain too, and I dealt with that pain by swamping it, by flooding my body with hatred. By making other people suffer, vampires and humans alike, I was able to reduce my own pain. Your mother was finally persuaded that I couldn't change, and she ran.”

  He paused, waiting for her to reply.

  “And I'm glad she did,” he added, his voice cracking a little. “I would not have raised you well.”

  She swallowed hard, before slowly turning to him. “You killed her?”

  “To save her,” he replied, with tears in his eyes. “She'd given birth to you not long before, but the experience of carrying a vampire child had driven her mad. John never accepted that fact, he refused to believe it was true, but I saw it. She was suffering incalculable pain, she begged me to end her misery. I'd killed so many times before, and yet I hesitated when Genevieve needed me the most. Not a day has gone past that I haven't relived that moment. It was the moment that finally did change me. Sometimes I feel I should have found another way, but it took until now for me to recognize the true possibilities.”