by P. J. Burgy
Lizzie pulled the handle outward, opening the door, and stared at the necklace. A jade bird pendant on a leather cord. Tina Summerset had purchased that necklace at her shop. She reached down to pick it up, staring at the brown crusty blood on the back of the pendant as it spun in the air.
She almost dropped it.
Her breakfast threatened to come back up as she bent in half, skin crawling. She managed to shove the necklace into her pocket, not wanting to leave it outside. That was when she noticed the tangled mess of black hair on the car seat, woven in loops. He must have set the necklace in it. Like a little nest.
She gasped and shut the door.
She called Margo – no answer. Lizzie left a message begging for a call back as soon as possible.
While it was completely plausible that her friend was simply sleeping in on a snow day, it bothered Lizzie nonetheless to imagine her headless corpse somewhere in the deep woods, hanging from a tree or dumped in a shallow grave. There might be many inches of snow on her by now.
On her laptop, Lizzie read the news looking for signs that Martin had gone on the rampage the previous night. If he had, no bodies had been found yet. Again, she imagined a scantily dressed corpse out in the cold, this time floating in the river, caught on a large rock or under a sheet of ice. The head had snagged on a branch downstream, grimy hair twisting around in the current. The glazed, creamy white eyes staring off.
She put Tommy’s nametag and the jade bird necklace each in their own sandwich baggie, sealing them shut and stuffing them into her pockets. The last baggie was for the nest of black hair out in her car. Her chest burned.
Sitting in her car and letting it warm up, she called Kate and left yet another message. This time, she did ask for a call back.
The drive to the police station was stressful for many reasons; the roads weren’t good, and she had no idea what she was going to say. Her little red Honda skidded on packed snow on the road more than once and she feared she’d slide right into one of the high snowbanks along the way.
Hefty pick-ups and SUV’s with better traction control and more experienced drivers passed her on roads with buried lines. Lizzie waved them by, her hazards flashing as she slowly made her way into town. If they sent her nasty looks, she didn’t see. Her eyes were on the road.
She parked at the police station, took a deep breath, and gathered herself up to go inside.
Officer McCleary stared at her, and she stared back. He nodded slowly, rubbing his white mustache. “I need you to say that again, Miss Clay.”
Lizzie blinked. “Martin St. Andre is the killer.”
“That new fella that moved into the old Hildemann place a few weeks back?” Officer McCleary asked.
“Yes. He killed those women. And he killed my boyfriend.”
“And the proof is… ah…” He held up the baggies. “This here necklace which you said you found in your car with the hair, and your boyfriend’s nametag, which you found on his property?”
“Yes, Officer.”
“Why would he put this necklace in your car?”
“Because he knows I know.”
His eyes narrowed. “And he’d give you evidence that could be used against him because…?”
Her bottom lip trembled. “I don’t think he’s scared of being caught, Officer. He wanted to scare me though.”
“Which led him to break into your car and put these things on the seat, yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Tommy Kramer is still listed as a missing person, Miss Clay. We can send the nametag in for testing. Send the necklace and hair too to see if there’s a DNA match for the two female victims. But we can’t just arrest Mr. St. Andre for murder without linking him to the crimes, you know that?” He frowned, mustache puffing up over his top lip.
Phones rang somewhere close by in the station outside of the little office. She folded her hands on the desk, sitting across from the police officer.
He sipped his coffee and then set the cup down, avoiding the piles of loose papers next to his keyboard.
She nodded. “I understand.”
“Now, about the other thing you told me…” He lifted his little notepad, picked up his glasses from the desk beside him, and placed them back onto his face. His nose crinkled. “Mr. St. Andre is, ah, let me read this off exactly as you said it, ‘supernaturally strong’. That’s what you said, isn’t it? What do you mean by that?”
“Ah, he… he’s very strong. He threw a rock through my window, and-”
“A rock? Through your window?”
“My bedroom window.”
“He threw a rock through your bedroom window?”
“It was a big rock.”
“Ah. Let me write this down.” He scribbled on the pad.
“On the second floor,” she added.
“He threw a big rock through your bedroom window on the second floor of your house? Is that right?”
She gestured in the air, attempting to depict the size of the rock with flailing hand motions. “Yes. It had to be the size of a, ah, a cat. Or a small dog maybe. It wasn’t small. It’s got to be about forty pounds. I tried to lift it before I left.”
“He hurled a forty pound rock?”
“Supernaturally… strong…”
“Okay.”
“And he burned down Kat’s Corner.”
He glanced up. “And why would he do that?”
“So, I’d work for him.”
With steady fingers he removed his glasses. “Miss Clay, I want you to imagine yourself in my position. Think about all the things you’ve told me today. I want you to try imagining how I’ll type up this report. What I’ll send along with the evidence when I mail it out tomorrow morning, or the next…”
“Can’t you send it now?”
“Miss Clay, we got three feet of snow here in Puhtipstie. North and south of us got nailed with over four. The plows ain’t coming through any time soon. We’re not going anywhere for at least another day. None of us are.” He shook his head.
“You can’t be serious…”
“Small town problems, little lady. Poor cell reception. Shaky internet. Closed roads in inclement weather. You should know all this by now. You might’a moved out for a long time but you’re a local at heart. Maine winters are never kind.”
“I need protection, Officer. He said he’d come for me.” She shuddered, gripping her purse tightly.
“You didn’t mention he’d threatened you. When did that happen?” His thick eyebrows lifted.
“Before he threw the rock the other night.”
“Which was around what time again?”
“Maybe six?”
“Would’ve been over a foot of snow on the ground around then, I think. How did he get there anyway?”
“Ah…”
“I know old Dave Clemons was out trying to get the roads clear, but he gave up sometime after three. Did he get to your neighborhood, Miss Clay? Were your roads cleared?”
“A plow came through around two.”
“Mr. St. Andre must have an all-terrain vehicle, eh?” Officer McCleary said. “Did he park on your street?”
“He didn’t drive.”
“He didn’t drive?”
“I mean, I don’t know how he got there.” Her mouth had gone dry, and she swallowed.
“Did you two get loud?”
“I wouldn’t open the door, so yes, we shouted.”
“Neighbors would have heard.”
“Maybe they did.”
“Anything else?”
“Ah, he damaged my door.” She slipped her phone out and went to her camera roll to show him the images of the claw marks in the wood. “See?”
“What did he do that with?”
“His, ah, hand?”
“His hand? His fingernails?”
“Yes.”
He narrowed his tired eyes at her, leaning back in his chair. The joints supporting his weight groaned. “Is Mr. St. Andre part mountain lion now, L
izzie? What is this? What are you doing in here?”
“He’s dangerous, Officer. He’s a dangerous killer. You have to go there now while he’s sleeping. You can only stop him now. Once the sun sets, he’s…” She shivered, lips working soundlessly as she searched blindly for words.
“Miss Clay?”
“He’s a vampire!”
His brows flattened. “A vampire?”
Her voice cracked as she choked and gasped at him. “I know it sounds, guh, crazy because… it is crazy, but he really is a vampire, Officer McCleary. He, uh, he showed me. He drained those women of their blood and, he ah, he pulled their heads off before he-”
“Miss Clay.”
“He has fangs. He can fly, ah…”
“I’m used to this crazy talk from the Miller kids, but I never expected it from you. Go home, Lizzie.” He stood up. “Before the roads ice up.”
“Just send someone out, please! Before dark!” Her eyes widened as she stumbled to her feet.
“You should get some rest. You’ve been through an awful lot lately and I’m sorry about Tommy being missing. Go home and lie down.” He ushered her out of the office and into the station.
“But…”
He nodded slowly and directed her toward the front of the station, beyond the lobby and the big glass doors at the exit. “Go on now. Get on home.”
Shaky on her feet, Lizzie turned from him and walked through the station. Two other officers were on duty and watched her as she staggered by them.
“Miss Clay?” An officer came to assist her, offering his arm. “Do you remember me?”
“Officer Daniels,” she muttered, dismissing his help.
He stopped her before she could leave, stepping in the way of the big double doors. His brows furrowed. “Don’t know what you said or did in there, but if you need anything…”
“I needed help and he didn’t believe me.” Her eyes burned and she wiped at them.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“I went to the wrong place, that’s all. You can’t do anything.” Shaking her head, Lizzie held up a hand. “You’re the wrong people.”
“If you told me…”
“You wouldn’t believe me either. Just let me go, please.”
He skirted out of her way, and she left the station.
The arcade was closed, of course, but she knew where the Millers lived and drove carefully to their house. The long dirt road was treacherous, barely plowed at all, and she almost got the Honda stuck a few times trying to traverse the path.
They had a sad looking single home with drooping windows and an old, sagging roof. The trees surrounding their place would fall and crush that roof one night during a storm, she was sure of that.
Hank Miller owned an old, rusty Chevy truck. The other two cars – vintage skeletons of collectibles – sat on cinder blocks and sheltered raccoons and other woodland critters.
The Chevy had been brushed off and driven recently, but she doubted it had been Hank driving it.
Lizzie parked precariously in a thinner patch of snow. Someone had shoveled. Again, probably not Hank. As her car settled, it lurched to the side and her glove box fell open. The taser fell out and landed on the passenger side floor. Without thinking, Lizzie grabbed it and threw it in her purse.
Stuffing her hands in her pockets, Lizzie shuffled across their lawn to the porch. Beer cans served as ash trays on battered little tables next to the screen door. The lawn chairs were covered in layers of dirt and grime.
She knocked.
After a minute, Teddy answered, cracking the door open. “Lizzie? What are you doing here?”
“Um. Do you… have a minute? I need your help,” Lizzie replied, fidgeting on the worn-out doormat outside.
“Yeah, come in!” He opened the door.
“I knew it!” Helena cried, fist in the air. Without her big, puffy coat on she was a whisp of a thing, tiny in size but massive in spirit. She stomped a foot to the floor. “Martin the vampire!”
Lizzie sat on their creaking brown couch, hands folded in her lap, and watched as the two siblings nodded in agreement. “What can we do? How do I stop him?”
“Well, obviously we kill him!” Teddy stated.
She balked. “Kill him?”
Helena stalked toward her. “Yes, kill him. Stake through the heart! Silver bullets! Remove his head from his body! Expose him to daylight! There are many ways to kill a vampire.”
Lizzie kept glancing up at the mounted deer head on the wall to her left, uncomfortable under its leering stare. It wasn’t the only dead animal in the room. Two squirrels and a woodchuck had been stuffed and mounted on either side of the old CRT screen directly in front of her. She shook herself out of a daze to meet Helena’s glare. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
“That’s what we’re for!” the girl exclaimed.
“We’re prepared to do the slaying.” Teddy opened the closet in the corner, dug around and produced an unloaded crossbow, holding it in the air. “Just need to prep for the job.”
“Prep for the job?” Lizzie asked.
“We’ve got silver nuggets. Melted them from jewelry long ago for such an occasion,” he replied. “We can coat the arrow heads and get some ammo ready.”
“We managed to load up on a few bottles of holy water before Father Alvin kicked us out.” Helena pointed at the ceiling. “Got them upstairs for the anti-vampire guns!”
“Anti-vampire guns?”
The girl stuck her bottom jaw out. “Water pistols.”
“Oh.”
“We got salt,” Teddy stated.
“Crucifixes,” Helena said.
“And wooden stakes,” her brother declared.
“You were ready this whole time. You really were,” Lizzie whispered, unable to stifle a weak laugh.
“Has the vampire tried to bite you, Lizzie?” Teddy asked.
She shook her head. “No. He said he wouldn’t.”
“They lie, you know,” Helena said.
“He said I was special. He wanted to take care of me and keep me. Said he loved me…”
Helena crossed her arms. “Vampires don’t feel love. He wanted to possess you most likely. Make you his property. You did the right thing, coming to us. Should have come sooner. You knew what he was.”
“I wasn’t thinking…” Lizzie covered her face with her hands.
“It’s easy to fall under the spell of the vampire,” Helena stated, head up. “I can’t be mad at you for it, Lizzie. We don’t have much time before sunset though. And there’s no way we’re getting to his place until the plow gets through Main.”
“What does that mean for me?”
Teddy came to stand near the couch. “It means we stay here and defend you tonight.”
“If I’m not home, he’ll look for me. He’ll hurt a lot of people tonight, Teddy. I can’t just hide in your house while he’s out there punishing this town in my place.” She exhaled shakily.
“We go to your house then. He’ll show up and we’ll trap him there,” Helena said. “Could invite him in, bind him in silver and stake him through the heart.”
“Or lay a salt line at the doors and burn the house down with him in it!” Teddy cried.
Lizzie sat bolt up, hands out. “Don’t burn my house down!”
“How old is this vampire?” Helena asked, eyes narrowed.
“He said he was six hundred.”
Teddy rubbed his chin. “He’ll have multiple abilities then.”
“Abilities?” Lizzie raised her chin. “Like flying?”
“Flying is a given. He’ll be a pro at glamouring, I’ll tell you that. Don’t make eye contact at all or he’ll get you,” the girl said. “Shapeshifting for sure.”
“Oh yeah, for sure.” Teddy nodded.
“I feel kind of nervous about your plan.” Lizzie swallowed thickly, rolling her shoulders. “Inviting him in doesn’t seem like the greatest idea.”
“The alternative is keeping hi
m at your house for as long as possible. He’ll flee back to his coffin before dawn and then we’ll go stake the bastard!” Helena shook her fist.
“He said his house would be guarded…”
Teddy shrugged. “Nothing we can’t get past.”
Helena nodded. “All spells can be broken if you have the right tools at your disposal.”
“What, do you guys know magic too?” Lizzie asked.
“We have a book of runes and symbols. We know a thing or two about this stuff.” Teddy pointed at a disorganized bookshelf in the corner of the living room. “Mom was all about it.”
“Let me ask you something,” Lizzie said, stiffening. “Have you ever actually, ah, killed a vampire before?”
The siblings eyed her.
Helena sniffed. “No.”
“Did your mother ever kill one?” Lizzie asked.
“Sure,” Teddy answered. “She said she killed dozens.”
“Maybe I should leave town instead… or just… just do what he wants and let him have me. I can’t risk your lives. I can’t put the town in danger.” She covered her face again. “What was I thinking?”
“Don’t talk like that!” Helena rushed over to her and bent low, grabbing Lizzie’s shoulders. “We’re gonna take care of this. Maybe we don’t have any real-life experience yet, but we know what we’re doing. You have to trust us!”
“And we don’t have time to go, ah, take care of him now?” Lizzie looked up and out from between her fingers.
“It’s just past two. Sunset’s in two hours. By the time we rolled in he’d be waking up,” Teddy stated. “No, we have just enough time to get our shit together and drive to your place.”
“We can make the molds there!” Helena bounced on her feet. “I’ll grab all the arrows we’ve got. No time for silver bullets.”
Lizzie’s head spun. “Guys, are you sure?”
“Sure as we can be!” Teddy said. He went to the closet and began to rifle around again. “Start heading over to your house, Lizzie. We know where you live.”
“Okay,” she said, standing.
