by I D Johnson
Upstairs, he washed up, making sure to get all the blood off for certain this time, and he changed his shirt after seeing a few spots there. By the time he made it back downstairs, Marjorie had regained her composure. She was still sitting on the sofa in the parlor, but she wasn’t crying any longer. His mother was no longer in the room, and James thought he heard her voice in the kitchen.
James paused and looked at his sister. Her curly blonde hair was all a mess. She still clutched the pillow to her chest, but she was staring off across the room, her hands folded in front of her. They had never been close; for as long as he could remember, Marjorie had resented him. Learning came easy to him, while she always struggled. Adults were always taken aback by his skill and intelligence while most of them hardly noticed her at all. She was tall and lanky, with long limbs, which left her quite awkward when it came to playing sports or other activities, while James always had plenty of friends asking him to play games, though he didn’t have the time anymore since starting college at eleven. Still, as he stood in the doorway, looking at his sister’s face, he couldn’t help but reach out to her. She seemed to need some sort of healing, and that was becoming his specialty.
“Is everything all right, Marjorie?” he asked, quietly, not daring to step into the room yet.
It took her a moment to register his voice. Without turning to look at him, she said in almost a whisper, “They’re never going to let us.”
Puzzled, James took a hesitant step in her direction. “What is that, now?” he asked. “Who’s not going to let us what?”
“Mother and father,” she replied, her corn silk blue eyes darting to his face. “They’re never going to let us go through with it.”
“Go through with what?”
She let out a long sigh, one of exasperation. “Transforming,” she said, as if he should be able to read her mind. “They don’t want us to.”
“I don’t know what that is….”
“I’ve heard them talking. In their room. At night. I’ve heard them say they hope that we never do, that they’ll do what they can to prevent us.”
James knew the walls in this house, despite its size, were paper thin. But he didn’t know what that word meant. “I’m sorry, Marjorie. You’ll have to tell me what you’re talking about.” He slowly walked over and took a seat next to her on the sofa, expecting her to leap up and push him away at any instant; but she didn’t.
“You know, Jamie. Uncle Culpepper’s group. The Guardians. Once you turn seventeen, you can Transform. And… last he was here, a summer ago, I told him I wanted to. He said it was up to Mother and Father, that they’d have to approve.”
The information was disjointed, but the more she spoke, the more he seemed to recall what she was talking about, not from Uncle Culpepper’s most recent visit, as he had been so busy then with his studies, he’d hardly seen his uncle, but from many years ago, when he was only a boy. Then, not only had Uncle Culpepper professed to a most unbelievable life full of the paranormal and sinister, even his own parents had confirmed that Uncle Culpepper had dedicated his life to protecting Vampire Hunters, and someday, Marjorie and himself would have to decide if they also chose that path. At the time, James remembered being so frightened of Vampires, he couldn’t wait to make the change—he didn’t remember that particular word, Transform—so that he could keep himself and his family safe. Since then, however, his boyish scares had given way to much more grown up concerns, like saving lives. He hadn’t thought about Uncle Culpepper’s secret group for years.
“What makes you think they will never let you if you can’t do it straight away?” he asked, cautiously.
Marjorie turned, her eyes daggers. “I told you. I heard them. They aren’t going to let either one of us. If they don’t let me now, why would they ever?”
“Mother said you needed to wait for Uncle Culpepper….”
“That’s just an excuse. Besides, I’m quite certain they can contact him if they wish.”
James didn’t know what else to say. It all seemed so childish now, secret groups of people fighting boogeymen in the dark. But if it meant so much to his sister, he wanted to say something to comfort her. “I’m sorry, Marjorie.”
“You want to do it, too, don’t you, Jamie?” she asked, looking at him intently. “Live forever, save lives, help people who otherwise would die a terrible death? You want to, don’t you?”
Both of James’s eyebrows shot up. “I… I wasn’t aware that was part of what they did.”
“Oh, yes. It’s quite fulfilling. Much more so than just being a regular old physician.”
He wasn’t sure if the shot was at him or their father, and though he suspected just the latter, it still made him angry. “I’m going to make a wonderful physician someday. Someday soon. I saved a boy’s life today.”
She looked at him as if she didn’t believe him, but then, after a shrug, she said, “If you become a Guardian, you’ll save all sorts of lives every day.”
“I will as a physician, as well,” he reminded her.
“Perhaps,” Marjorie said, reverting her stare back to the wall in front of her. “Perhaps it’s just as well you don’t want to. It’s a tough life. You have to be more than just smart to be a Guardian.”
“I am tough.” He was growing more and more agitated by the moment now.
Once again, Marjorie looked at him as if he’d just told her he was President Hayes. “It’s all right, Jamie. I don’t blame you for not wanting to. Stay here with Mother and Father where it’s safe. I’ll protect you.”
His sister truly was beginning to make him furious, and he was just about to tell her where she could stuff it when his mother walked into the parlor. “James, did your father say when he might be home?”
Taking a deep breath, James explained, “He was closing on a patient. He should be home soon.”
“Very well, then. Dinner is ready. We shall eat as soon as he arrives. James, would you like to come into the kitchen to tell me how your day was?”
His mother must have heard her children nearing the eruption point. Looking at Marjorie sternly one more time, James rose and followed his mother into the kitchen. As excited as he had been to tell her all that he had done that day, now the thoughts seemed to sour inside, as if they weren’t even that important. How could he let Marjorie steal his joy? One thing was for certain, as he accepted the glass of milk Sadie extended to him, no matter what sort of doctor he might be, or what he might achieve in his life, he was never, ever going to become a Guardian. Let Marjorie do as she wished; he would be the most successful doctor he could be and show her how wrong she truly was.
Chapter 4
Boston, Massachusetts, USA, 1883
The house was full of families, friends, and his father’s colleagues, soon to be James’s colleagues as well. He never really cared for this sort of get-together; it always seemed like outdoing one another with food and décor was more the focus than anything constructive. However, this particular party was in his honor, so James was compelled to do more than make an appearance. His mother had been taking him about from one group to the next as each guest pounded him on the back and congratulated him. Graduating from Harvard Medical School at the age of fifteen was no easy feat, and the accolades were plentiful. If any of them knew he would’ve actually have been able to graduate nearly two years ago if the dean hadn’t decided to prolong his training based solely on his age, they likely would’ve been unable to find the words to express their shock. James kept that information to himself, however, and as he mingled amongst the well-wishers, he wore a humble smile; he was well-aware that his talents were a blessing he’d done little to earn.
His mother was in the kitchen now, his father speaking with several of the other doctors who worked alongside him at Massachusetts General Hospital. Thanks to his father’s negotiating skills, and James’s stellar academic career, he would start seeing patients there himself next week. While the prospect was exciting, it was also a bit unnervi
ng. He’d only treated patients in his father’s office these past two years, and then only under his father’s careful eye. Now, he would be responsible for solely handling whatever cases befell him. Everyone else seemed assured he could handle it, but James wasn’t so sure.
The room was overly crowded, so he felt compelled to escape for a few moments to catch some air. It had been a lovely late spring day for a graduation ceremony, and now that the sun was going down, he hoped it would be nice and cool in the back yard. Without telling either parent where he was going, he slipped away toward the back door, hopeful no one would miss him for a few moments.
Once outside on the back porch, James inhaled deeply. The scent of his mother’s flowers wafted through the air, roses, lilacs, and honeysuckle filled his lungs. It was nice just to have a chance to catch his breath.
A noise at the far end of the yard caught his attention. The familiar squeak of the rusty chains on the swing he and his sister had begged their father to construct for them when they were younger carried across the breeze.
Seated there on the swing beneath a sprawling oak that dominated that part of the yard was the form of his older sister, Marjorie—who preferred Margie, though he often called her by her given name just to annoy her. In turn, she insisted on calling him Jamie, though it didn’t bother him nearly as much as he let on.
Despite being nearly twenty, she still lived at home. She had lots of friends but had never been courted, and James just assumed she was destined to be an old maid. She insisted there were more important things to think on and that someday she would be the one gaining all of the attention from their parents and their friends.
He felt sorry for her, seeing her there by herself, clearly disheartened at all of the attention he’d been getting. Yet, he wasn’t sure if he should approach her. They’d never been capable of carrying on a conversation. It seemed each time they tried, one of them ended up offending the other. Nevertheless, this was his party, and in a sense, she was his guest. He couldn’t have her hanging around in the back yard all by herself.
As he approached, her back was to him, but she must’ve somehow known who it was. “Did father give you leave from all of your adoring fans to come and check on me?” Margie asked, not turning around.
“No. They likely haven’t noticed I’ve slipped away,” he replied as he came around the front to look at her.
She was still wearing the long pink, frilly dress she’d been forced to wear to graduation. Margie preferred to wear pants, which their mother found absolutely repulsive and their father forbid. James knew she wore them beneath her skirts whenever she went out with her friends and changed once she was out of their sight, but he’d never told on her.
“You look so grown up in your suit,” she said her face expressionless. Her head was leaning against her hand, which held onto the chain, and she barely even blinked as she spoke.
Instinctively, James glanced down, as if he couldn’t quite remember what he had on. It was a three-piece black suit, the same as almost every other gentleman attending the get-together. “Thank you,” he said, presuming it was a compliment. “Why are you out here all alone?’
“Why not? Better than being in there all alone.”
He hated that she felt that way. “I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it. He shoved his hands down deep into his pockets. “If it’s any consolation, I didn’t want any of this, you know.”
“Oh, I know,” Margie replied, finally sitting up, a bit of fire in her voice. “You’re never one for praise or recognition.”
James inhaled deeply but bit his tongue. From her perspective, maybe it did seem like he enjoyed all of this positive attention, even though he really could’ve done without any of it. “Margie, why don’t you come back inside? Some of my classmates are here. They’re about your age.”
“Are you trying to find me a beau?” she asked. Her voice had a lilt of amusement in it.
“Not at all,” James replied, though the thought had crossed his mind. His sister wasn’t stunning, but she was pretty. She should’ve been married by now. She should have children. She should live far away.
“I’m not interested, Jamie. You already know that.”
“Right,” he said. He crossed over to the tree and leaned back against it. “The vampires.”
“You don’t have to say it like that.” Margie turned and shot him a look that could kill.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I just… I remember when you used to make fun of me for believing they were real, and now, they seem to be all that you think about.”
“So what?” she asked, defensively.
“So… what happened? What brought on the change?”
Margie took a deep breath and turned away from him. Quietly, she said, ‘I saw one.”
James almost laughed but caught himself. He, too, had thought he’d seen one once, a long time ago, when he was a small boy. He knew better now. Yet, not wanting to offend her, he held his amusement and asked, “Where?”
“In the alley,” Margie replied, her voice even and unemotional. “The same place you did.”
A chill rose up James’s spine, but he ignored it. Calmly, he said, “Whatever are you talking about?”
“I was walking home from Bonnie’s one afternoon when I was about your age,” she said, turning to look at him now. “And I saw it. Standing behind one of the trash receptacles. It looked exactly as you had described it. Long, sharp white teeth glowing in the darkness. Steel gray eyes. Claws a half a foot long. It looked at me, and I nearly wet myself. I backed away, and so did it, disappearing somewhere deep in the alley.” She never blinked the entire time she spoke.
“Marjorie,” James began, “you can’t honestly…”
“I know what I saw, James. I wasn’t a small child, afraid of the dark. I was a skeptical, nearly grown adolescent, one old enough to become a surgeon, apparently.” She eyed him up and down. “I know what I saw.”
He ran a hand down his face, attempting to collect his thoughts. “Margie, if there has been a vampire living in that alleyway for all of these years, why haven’t any of our neighbors ended up a victim?”
“How do you know they haven’t?”
“We would’ve heard,” James replied, his hands springing out in exasperation.
“Don’t you remember? Uncle Culpepper said they have people for that, they call it ‘interference.’ Special people whose job it is to confuse the humans. We’re the humans.”
He did recall Uncle Culpepper mentioning something like that when last he visited, but that had been years ago. Lately, whenever James thought of Uncle Culpepper, he felt sorry for him. Clearly, he was an older, disturbed gentleman who needed assistance.
“It’s real, James. And I only have two years left to Transform before I won’t be able to anymore.”
The age of twenty-one was the oldest one could Transform, according to Uncle Culpepper’s stories. That meant Margie would have to do it before too much longer if she intended to do it at all. Not that James bought any of it, however. His uncle claimed to have some sort of magical serum that would make them live forever. It was no wonder their parents refused to let their children go through with it. The life-giving fluid might actually kill them.
“What are you thinking of doing, then?” James asked, knowing neither of their parents would allow her to go through with it.
“I’m not sure,” Margie admitted. “There has to be some way to do it other than the serum Uncle Culpepper mentioned. He said it had only been around for a hundred years or so. I wonder how people Transformed before that.”
The urge to say, “They didn’t, and they don’t now,” was fought off, and James only shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe he’ll come for a visit soon, and you can ask him.”
“I have a feeling Mother has forbid him from coming around until after I am twenty-two.” She sank into the swing low enough James thought she might fall out.
“Surely not,” he replied, not sure why he was getting her
hopes up that Uncle Culpepper could do anything even if he did come to visit.
“Don’t you think it’s odd that he’s not here for this? He’s never missed an important event in either of our lives before.”
“True.” James recalled countless other get-togethers his uncle had attended. “Maybe he’s in the middle of a hunt.”
Margie glared at him once more. “You don’t have to patronize me,” she spat. “I know you don’t believe.”
“No, I wasn’t trying to,” James began, even though he wasn’t exactly sure that was the truth. Maybe he was.
“Well, you say whatever you’d like, little brother. But I’m telling you, I am Transforming. One way or another. I will find a way. You can bet your fancy doctor’s license on it.”
James opened his mouth to respond but realized he had nothing to say that would be well-received, and the fact that he was now a doctor, officially, made him clamp his mouth shut. It seemed beneath him to argue with her. “I’m going back in now,” he said, rising to his full height of nearly five-foot-eight. “Will you come with me?”
Margie didn’t answer, only fixed her eyes off somewhere in the distance and began to slowly push the swing back and forth once more, the squeaking rusty chain screaming out on her behalf.
James turned and crossed back through the yard, feeling sorry for his sister. He had truly hoped by now she’d forget all of that vampire foolishness and do something with her life, but it seemed she’d spend the next two years trying to figure out what he already knew—there was no such thing as Transformation, and there were no such things as Vampires.
Chapter 5
Boston, Massachusetts, USA, 1885
James came home from a lengthy shift at the hospital where he’d attached three nearly-severed fingers to the same thankful woodchopper, removed an appendix, and treated several children for distemper, exhausted and ready to drop into his bed without bothering to change his clothing, let alone eat dinner. However, the aroma of something savory coming from the kitchen hit him right in the gullet as he closed the front door behind him, and his fatigue was temporary lifted.
