A Sanguinary Rose (Complete)
Runs in the Family

Weeks earlier, before Mandala instigated me to go inside the Starlit Almanac, we started the training sessions that Mr. Royce had proposed.

One Monday afternoon, we went to Hell for the first time.

Aunt Martha owned the three-story old-fashioned mansion on Final Rest Drive, sitting on the ridge of the pine-covered hill. Farpoint’s downtown and lake sprawled to the south, and the ocean’s white-capped crests glittered to the north under the sun.

Oliver turned the keyhole and pushed it open. Melanie and I slunk inside the hallway to escape the sun’s blistering reach, and he, Anja, Morganne and Mr. Royce, came in after us.

Alan had flat-out refused to show up, claiming he was already training under a renowned man-at-arms, and that it’d be a disgrace for his family to be associated with devils.

I pulled my hoodie off and took in the lavish surroundings. A brass spider chandelier dangled above. Renaissance-era paintings hung from the walls.

Squinting, Aunt Martha stalked her way down the broad marble steps.

Mr. Royce hurried to the foot of the stairs with his arm extended. “An honor to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Armstrong.”

The old woman gave him the evil eye. “Armstrong belittles our ancient family name.” She glanced between us four girls, her twitching eye growing more disdainful, and turned to her nephew. “No males? I don’t suppose I should be surprised. You were never any good at taking allies.”

I exchanged awkward looks with Anja and Morganne.

“Okaaay then, we’ll be on our way. Good afternoon to you, too,” Oliver said, turning a bright shade of red. “Right this way.”

He led us into the living room. Chaise lounges surrounded cocktail tables over a plush, gold-embroidered rug. A grandfather clock swung its pendulum in the corner. Busts of stern-looking men stood on various shelves, along with old books and antique vases. Melanie had her mouth wide open as she gawked at her dream house. Morganne strayed to read the name on the spine of an old leather book.

“No way you own an original copy of the Ars Goetia.”

“I want to redirect your attention over here, please,” Oliver said, reaching the back of the living room. He stopped before an odd device that protruded from the dark wood floor up to his waist. “We’ll be using this to get there.”

“Your own Infernal Gate?” Mr. Royce said, appraising the apparatus.

“Yes, I know I’m privileged. Just FYI, I haven’t visited in months. Things might be awkward,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, chuckling. His face turned serious. “Wait, perhaps it’s not such a good idea.”

“I’ve handled your parents before,” Anja said, smiling. “You’ll be fine.”

“It’s just… oh crap…”

Mr. Royce made a face. “We’ll wait here while you get that sorted out.”

Oliver gave a nervous chuckle. “No, it’s all right. Come on.” He bent over the apparatus and turned it on with the press of a button and the pull of a lever. It was a small copper-colored platform, with a railing for support, engraved with runes akin to those that shimmered up when Mandala cast a wormhole. “Anja will show you.”

The werecat bounced on the balls of her feet and stepped on the platform.

“Beam me up, Scotty.” She blurted out.

The runes lit up a bright fiery red, a light flashed, and before we had time to blink, Anja was gone. Melanie gasped and took a step back. Morganne remained aloof throughout. It was curious to see it first-hand from a distance and while my guts didn’t threaten to spill out my mouth.

“Excellent. Can’t say I’m not excited to visit a royal castle,” Mr. Royce said, grinning at the device.

“A royal what?” Melanie spat.

“We should hurry, or my parents will wonder why strangers are popping into our house,” Oliver said, pulling at the collar of his shirt.

“I’ve got to see this,” Melanie said, striding forward and taking the tiny stage, followed by her disappearance. I’d sooner have kept her out of our meetings, but Oliver insisted on having her join us.

Morganne came next. She gave a mocking bow of her head and vanished.

I wanted to hang back a little, so I gestured to Mr. Royce to go ahead first.

When Oliver and I were alone, he scratched his arm and kicked at the floor. “Um, so, you going?”

“Are you okay? What’s with the change of heart in having us over?”

Back at the Halloween dance, Harvey’s friend, Demian, had thoroughly described Oliver as ‘the one with daddy issues.’ A hunch told me that was at the heart of the problem.

But he wouldn’t broach the subject. “Come on. Mom’s gonna freak if I’m not there.”

I nodded and got on the platform. An eerily familiar sensation of being pulled at my innards set in, then I became weightless in the void for a split second and slammed my feet on the other end.

***

Stepping on Inferno subverted all my expectations from a place regarded as Hell. No sooner had I emerged from the void than I gawked out the closest window—clear blue skies and white puffy clouds were the last I had in mind.

We turned up inside the castle’s inner yard with dry and red devil-grass growing from patches of dirt. It had a vaulted ceiling and a round window on the slanted walls through which the sun shone in—their own sun that probably had nothing to do with ours.

An older woman in a flowing, maroon, embroidered gown came out from the side door. Her hair was blond, tied back into a ponytail. If not for the extreme case of crow’s feet around her eyes and the sulking expression she wore, she would’ve looked incredibly beautiful.

“Hey, Aunt Moira.” Anja waved, bouncing on her feet.

Obviously, the feeling wasn’t mutual. Moira’s lips twitched slightly up in a strained smile. “Good to see you, Anja. It’s been a while.” Her smile widened in a serious effort to conceal her displeasure. “How many guests. Wonderful. I heard the Gate moving gears, but I didn’t expect these many faces…”

“Hi, Mother. Sorry to bust in like this. I thought it’d be a nice surprise.” No way in hell he really believed it. He grabbed Melanie’s hand and brought her closer to Moira. “This is Melanie. Melanie, my mother, Queen Moira.”

“Hi…” She looked mortified.

“My friend, Scarlett.” I saw him fight an inner struggle on whether to grab my hand, so I offered it to him. What I understood was that his parents must have been royalty of some sort, so I curtsied the way ladies did in movies. I felt like a dumbass, but at least I could see some approval in her cunning eyes.

Morganne was stiff as a rock when Oliver grabbed her hand. “This is Morganne.”

The witch nodded and said, “’sup?”

Oliver’s face drained in response.

Our teacher marched forward in a straight-backed gait. “Montgomery Royce. Time warlock. Cryptobiology and cryptohistory, PhD. Honored to make your acquaintance, your Highness.” He bowed and lightly kissed her hand.

“This one understands his place,” Moira said, smiling at her son. She turned her back and had us follow her through the door. “You must be hungry. I’ll have the cooks and scullions on the double.”

“That won’t be necessary, Mother. We just had lunch; we didn’t want to be a hassle.”

“I won’t insist.”

Inside the castle, our jaws dropped. Huge, octagonal, stone pillars held up the main hall’s ceiling. The marble-tiled floor was so polished you could appreciate the spider chandeliers dangling from silver chains and wooden rafters without looking up. Sunlight streamed through a rose window in the front facade, painting a gorgeous mosaic of shining colors on the floor at the far end of the hallway—the sight made Melanie and me squint and cover our eyes. About every fifteen feet stood sets of plate armor on their racks, the pommel of a sword cupped in their metal gauntlets. A maid stopped dusting the pauldrons of the armor and bowed her head meekly as we approached, raising a few eyebrows in our group.

As we toured the hallway, we got a glimpse of the outside world through sliding glass doors, leading out to the terrace where another maid swept leaves and twigs off the floor. Trimmed hedges lined the garden, with exotic flowers blooming on top. A great fountain jetted out sparkling water in the middle.

The castle looked old-fashioned at a glance, but it had several modern commodities, such as electrical outlets and several routers to pass along the Wi-Fi connection.

“So, only females?” Moira began as we walked in single file.

Oliver was hot on her heels. He lowered his voice into a hiss. “Mother, please. Not now.”

“Son, I understand your frustration. You’re a prince. But having a harem won’t invalidate the contract…”

We looked at each other wide-eyed while the mother exploited her son’s greatest weakness: social humiliation. Oliver’s head shrunk between his shoulders the more the Queen let on.

My eyes twitched. I walked level with Anja and whispered into her ear. “Hey, what contract?”

She shrugged.

“… You can keep trying, but it’s not going to happen, regardless. I tolerated your father’s succubi long enough, (before I grew irritated and sent them to the streets) so maybe she will, too. But there’s no backing out. The ink dried a long time ago.”

Oliver’s shoulders shook, and his head had almost disappeared into his body—probably what he most desired at that moment.

“Excuse me, your Highness,” Mr. Royce said, catching up to the Queen at the front. “We don’t wish to intrude upon the peacefulness of your ancestral home. We’re doing a group project for class, and Oliver here offered to be our host.”

“Sounds agreeable. So, you need space.”

“Yes, precisely.”

“I was thinking of the basement. Or the bailey, if we could have it covered from the sun,” came Oliver’s sheepish voice from the depths of his safe shell after his mother’s brutal verbal pounding.

In the end we settled for the basement because the castle’s bailey would’ve been too much of a hassle to cover up.

“At least we’ve got the AC running down here,” Oliver said, switching on the lights, with an unsure smile on his face. I bet he would’ve said anything if it meant pretending the conversation prior never happened.

“Dude, this is kick-ass.” Morganne blurted out. She held a flail and swung the spiked ball around.

“Put that down this instant, you dummy.” Mr. Royce held up his watch and put Morganne on stasis. He reached out gingerly and removed the weapon from her hands mid-swing.

“Wuss,” she said under her breath when the spell broke. Her eyes widened again with the excitement of a ten-year-old at a theme park and ran to the next object of her fascination. “No way you got an iron-maiden! This is as close wet dreams get to being real.”

“Yes, we’ve barely grown out of the Middle Ages. Father had the dungeon cell blocks demolished and expanded the room so my brother could start mastering his fire manipulation,” Oliver said. He clapped his hands together and looked at the teacher. “So… how are we gonna start?”

“This should work out fine.” Mr. Royce looked around. “We’ve got ourselves a nice spacious room. We’re gonna need a few more things—punching bags…”

“Let’s use Scarlett in the meantime,” Melanie interrupted.

“…Some hurdles, weights, targets, dummies. Oh, and flame extinguishers.” He pointed at Oliver. “Did you jot it down?”

“Uh, sure. Order coming right up.”

“Also get rid of the medieval nightmare machines.”

“That’ll be a bit trickier.”

“Gather round.” Mr. Royce raised his voice and waved at us to join him. Anja and I huddled in next to Oliver and Melanie. Morganne dropped the barbed whip with a clattering noise and joined in. “So to recap, we’ll be meeting on 457 Final Rest Drive every day after school. This is not mandatory, by any means, so if you want to back out, you’re welcome to that. Any objections before we begin?”

Morganne raised a hand tucked in her sweatshirt’s sleeve. “Are you going to teach me how to be a powerful witch to strike terror into the hearts of people who don’t take me seriously?”

“Into the hearts of those who mean you or your loved ones harm, yes. I don’t imagine I have to repeat myself and say this is all strictly for personal defense. Yes, Anja?”

“Not an objection, but how come it’s just us? What about the other kids in our class?”

“We don’t want to attract unwanted attention, simple as that. Besides, I’ve got enough with a few couple of brats eating up my afternoons.” He looked at each of us and clasped his hands. “Let’s start with your first tasks. For the vampires, I’d like to measure your maximum speed. We’ll move on to strength tests, and finally to fighting skills.” To the others, he said, “Oliver, I want to see how much raw power you can draw and your skill in controlling fire. Morganne, your spell effectiveness and energy manipulation. Anja, we’ll see how you can make the cat within your most effective weapon.”

Mr. Royce took a cursory glance around the dim-lit area: Morganne was rummaging through the assortment of medieval weapons on the racks and gawking at the guillotine sitting in the dusty corner. He turned to Oliver.

“We’ll definitely need those things I mentioned. Unless you can put out your own fires safely, there’s not much we can do today. This place will do for now.”

The first thing I did the next few days was the 100-yard dash. I ground my heels and nudged against the wall to a final stop. Mr. Royce stopped the timer on his gold watch. “A little over six seconds. You’ve shattered a human world record. You’re reaching 35 miles per hour. Not bad. However, you could be much faster if you put the effort into it.”

That much was true. Tobias seemed to break the distance in a blink.

“You should also work on getting your stamina up. I know it’s strenuous, but for a vampire, you shouldn’t be tiring so fast.”

Melanie’s sleek hair got ruffled up after her sprint. Mr. Royce pressed on the timer. “Ten seconds. About 20 miles per hour. You too, you’ll have to work hard on your stamina.”

Breathless, she glared daggers at me. “Wipe that smug smile off your horse-face.”

Within days the basement area began to resemble an actual gym. I supposed being an infernal prince had its perks.

The room was now properly lit. There were weight racks, dumbbells, bars, punching bags, a water cooler, hurdles along a track, dummies, mannequins, gun range shooting targets, and fire extinguishers.

Routine began with a fifteen-minute warmup track running. Melanie, Anja, and I followed up with hurdle runs. Mr. Royce measured both of our raw strength as vampires.

I stood in front of the BOB dummy, clenching my fists. It was taller than me, at about six feet. Cushioned, but sturdy, and its base filled with sand, it must have weighed about 200 pounds.

“Hit it as hard as you can. Give it all you’ve got,” Mr. Royce said. “Also watch your fingers.”

I balled my fist and slammed my knuckles into its chest cavity. The dummy rose in the air, pivoted mid-flight, and tumbled to a halt about ten feet away.

Anja clapped excitedly from the sidelines.

Grumbling under her breath, Melanie stood before the next dummy in an upright and unpracticed stance. Before Mr. Royce gave her the go, her fist pounded it so hard it flew nearly twice the distance mine covered and smashed into the opposite wall with a crashing bang. Melanie arched her eyebrows in amazement.

“You could forgo weightlifting, if you wish,” Mr. Royce said after a pause, writing notes on a clipboard.

Anja spent her hours running laps along the track, jumping over hurdles, beating her own score time and time again. She did it in human form, in lynx form, and in her were form, the half and half transformation. Mr. Royce explained that learning to move and fight in each state of self would make her formidable. She did her share of pounding the poor dummy, mostly to learn to throw a punch or a claw.

Oliver was visibly drained after every bout in his training. Casting and manipulating fire for hours straight took a notable toll on his body and psyche. Mr. Royce had designated a corner for his fire-bending, covered in scorch marks top to bottom from all the times Oliver had scrambled for the extinguisher when the flames didn’t snuff out on their own. He cast fireballs, conjured sprays of flame, and summoned poles of flame, which Mr. Royce insisted could become pillars and the fireballs, boulders, if he put more effort into it. He slumped down on the training mattresses and sighed with relief after each session.

Since they were both a warlock and a witch, Mr. Royce spent most of his time micromanaging Morganne. He had her memorize numerous passages and phrases from several books for spellcasting and to help her avoid forgetfulness. One time that the teacher berated her for failing multiple times to cast a mending spell on a dented dummy, she got worked up and made its skin melt off in a stinking puddle.

Weeks flew by. Each day after school we went for lunch together, drove to the Armstrong manor, avoided Oliver’s family through the castle at his behest, and trained an hour or two. Later in the afternoon I’d say goodbye and go to ‘work’ with Mandala. Before we knew it, November had dissolved to December.

I usually opened up about my job with Mr. Royce during my training breaks. Against every non-disclosure agreement I’d signed, I told him about every previous day at work.

However, the day after Mandala had pushed me to enter the Starlit Almanac, Mr. Royce took me aside from the group in the castle’s basement.

“Is something on your mind? You look unfocused,” the teacher said, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder.

Mandala’s twisted snarl on his face got burned in my mind’s eye, and the words he spoke at the time made me shudder to the bone. Irrevocably insane… Irrevocably insane… Irrevocably insane… Irrevocably insane… Irrevocably insane…

I told him about the underground vault.

“Something’s wrong with that place. There’s a catch. There’s gotta be.”

“He was testing you, I reckon. It seems it’s not a literal vault.”

“And everything I’d ever want to know is inside. How’s that possible, though?”

Mr. Royce shook his head. “I don’t know. I’d never heard anything of the like. Maybe there’s a contraption or equipment to wear to avoid coming out mad as a hatter.”

I gave him a look. “I get the feeling Mandala’s known my intentions all along.”

“You have to be careful. Forget everything about that vault while you’re with that man,” Mr. Royce, chewing his lips. “I’ll look into this Starlit Almanac and its precautions, so if the time ever comes, you’re ready to make use of that information.”

“I really appreciate it. I’ll be going off to Seattle for the holidays in the meantime.”

“Try to enjoy your time off,” Mr. Royce said as I slung my backpack over my shoulders. “Take your mind off things and have fun. We’ll keep you posted.”

“I really can’t thank you enough.” Before the stairway, I turned to the others. “Happy holidays, everyone.”

Melanie gave me a thin smile and turned back to her cellphone. Oliver and Morganne waved back.

Anja didn’t seem to hear me as she bent down to tie her shoelaces. I climbed up the stairs and emerged into the castle’s hall. As I turned the doorknob to the inner yard with the portal device, I heard footsteps racing to catch up with me. It was her, looking flustered, and hurrying to fix her ruffled hair strands.

“Hey! Um, so… leaving tomorrow? A shame you couldn’t come with us to Ireland.”

“Believe it, I’d take that any day over Seattle. Guess I’ll see you next year. Have a merry Christmas.” I gave her a smile as I spun to the portal.

But she stopped me. I heard her step forward and then she was grabbing my hand. I turned, now flustered too. As if realizing a mistake, she let go.

“Oh, sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” Silence stretched longer than I felt comfortable with.

“Is there anything you wanted to tell me?”

By then she was fidgeting with her hands so much it was distracting me. She flashed a quick nervous smile while her gaze flitted around the hall.

“Yes…” A pause. “I… wanted to tell you I…”

“Yes?”

She swallowed and seemed to relax, letting off the tension. “That I never got to thank you.”

It took me aback. “What about?”

“About the whole thing with your sire, Tobias, that night when he, you know… Mr. Royce told me how brave you were, and the fierce resolve you had to fight on.” It made her flush. “And after Halloween’s dance, how you fought back even when you were stabbed. I thought I haven’t shown enough what it means to me.”

She rocked on her heels.

“I guess what I’m trying to say, Scarlett, is that I—um, that I—” She swallowed. I glanced down to see her arms tense at her sides; her nails were digging into her skin. “That I really appreciate your friendship.”

She gave me a quivery smile. Somehow, she looked relieved but let down at the same time.

“Yes, you have, in your way. You guided me through a whole new world when I was weakest and loneliest, and you had no obligation to do that. I mean, without you and Oliver, I don’t know where I’d be right now. It should be me thanking you. So, yes, thank you.” I felt my face getting hot. “Yeah, anyway. I’ll be seeing ya.”

As I turned back around there was a rush of footsteps. Anja flung her arms around me in a tight hug, and I heard purring. I stiffened on the spot. It was over in a blink. Red in the cheeks, she gave a one-eighty and went back through the door.

***

The highway to Seattle was a more life-threatening experience than it had any right to be.

Since we left early in the morning, the rising sun shone straight into the car’s windshields. I covered myself up like never before—gloves, boots, sunglasses and the hoodie pulled all the way down and zipped close over my nose. To cap it off, I sank as low on my backseat as it allowed to hide behind dad’s headrest from the prying deadly light.

Marcus snickered, and probably snapped a picture. Mom told me to stop fooling around, ‘little caterpillar,’ but I didn’t like the way one of her eyebrows arched with curiosity. Dad kept his eyes on the road, occasionally throwing chit-chat around.

We’d be staying at my grandparents’ place. Their modest two-story timber house stood on a hill in a suburb overlooking Seattle’s downtown cityscape.

As soon as Dad unlocked the car doors, I bolted outside and onto the timber porch to ring the bell.

“Mommy, can you get my bags? Please…”

Mom arched one eyebrow, a hand on her hip. “Weren’t you all grown up, or when did you regress?”

“Please… I have to pee.”

My grandparents answered the door then. The big loving hug I gave them was due in part to dispel any suspicions from her.

After dinner, I’d spend the evenings propped up against the soft, feather pillows, browsing through my social feeds for news of my friends. Especially from Anja. She’d chat me up and ask about my day, send me songs to listen to, we’d talk about our future plans and colleges we wanted to attend, etc. We’d do videocalls and she’d tell me about the others, and then about her trip and her family once she got to Ireland for Christmas. There was nothing else I wanted to do other than be there with her, or with the others in Farpoint. Often a question came burrowing out of my mind: Was turning into this, a vampire, a blessing or a curse?

After my first week away from Farpoint, she sent me a sunny picture of herself and her mom beaming at the camera and throwing peace signs up with their fingers. Behind them, the green earth fell out over a gigantic fall to the crashing waves of the ocean. She tagged the picture with Cliffs of Moher.

Mom knocked on the door to my room and I put down the phone.

“Hey, baby.” She sat down on the edge of my bed. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good. Thanks for the concern. Why do you ask?”

With those words, she dropped the act. “Well, why do you think? Come on, guess.”

“Do I have to?”

“I’d like to know what’s going. A mother can tell when something’s wrong, you know? You’ve been acting weird for some time now. Your room is always shut up in the gloom. You’re always dressed in such an… overkill way. The dress you borrowed for your Halloween dance, you think I wouldn’t notice the stitches and the patch? It was clearly damaged. Although I appreciate you tried to fix it out of your own savings.”

My palms had gotten sweaty. But I didn’t let my nerves show. “I understand, Mom. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

She gave me an arched eyebrow. “You know you can talk to me about anything. Whenever there’s trouble, I’m here for you.” She gave me a kiss on the cheek.

On the next day’s evening, my uncle, aunt, and little cousins came to visit. They’d be staying over the whole week for Christmas, too. I barely knew the kids, and since I never was a social person, I ignored them. Plus, I didn’t like kids, anyway. I gave Aunt Marie a hug.

When uncle Frank entered the house, I was transfixed on the spot. My heart nearly went out hurtling. There was something odd in the way he smelled, the way he looked, how he dressed. A turtleneck sweater and a winter hat. It was cold, but not that cold. Normally I was attracted to humans by their blood. Not his, though.

“Hey there, little niece!” Uncle Frank stopped mid-motion from giving me a hug. “You okay, Scarlett? I didn’t think six months away would turn me into a stranger,” he said, chuckling and smiling at Dad.

“Oh, you know teenagers. She’s been acting up lately, but what can you do?” Dad said, hugging his brother.

Fine.

I decided to play dumb, too. My uncle sized me up with a sideways glance. He had most definitely noticed about me what I first noticed about him. And he was standing shoulder to shoulder with Dad. The irony of it made me smile, too. How long before we all became a family of vampires?

“I think It’s been longer than six months. A year, two?”

“Yeah, it sure feels like years.” Uncle Frank curled his lips in a fake smile and went into the kitchen with my grandmother. “Mm, yummy as always, mom.”

I craned my neck for a better look at my little cousins, already playing with their toy trucks. Six- and nine-year-olds, but nothing out of the ordinary stuck out. In fact, if not for my enhanced senses, I never would’ve suspected my uncle of being a vampire. For how long he’d been one, I couldn’t tell. Along with that train of thought came a morbid curiosity that begged the question, what would Dad do if he found out about us? Would he pull the trigger on us? Would he be afraid? Change his mind about vampires?

During dinner I gushed to my grandparents about the friends I made back home, getting a job, how I’d love to visit NYC and London one day (for more than thirty minutes), that one time I won a silver medal at our local ice rink. Dad made a remark how I rarely opened up like that.

“Well, you always lock the door to your office,” I replied, munching on my cereal and milk. “You missed out.”

His smile was faint. “I know, I know. Work’s been heavy. There were three reports of missing people during Halloween week. The Chief claimed they were dead-end cases and told our teams to drop them. But I disagreed. If we keep giving up, things can only get worse. And yes, that is extra work on top of my plate, young lady.”

Only three people?

“How’s your classmate, by the way?” Dad asked, chewing down his ham sandwich.

“Huh?”

“You don’t remember? I don’t know her name. The one who had an accident in the sport equipment’s shed. Seems she’s back on her two feet, as I hear it.”

I could feel my heart climbing up my esophagus. He means Melanie.

“Yeah, she’s fine. A little withdrawn lately. She stopped hanging out with her usual friends. But okay, I guess.”

“That’s no topic for the table,” Mom said, eyeing Dad with arched eyebrows.

“Sorry.” He smiled back at her. “You’re right, sweetie.”

“Missing people during Halloween? Maybe they didn’t want to show up to work again,” Uncle Frank said in a lighter tone across the table.

“No, it’s serious,” Dad said. “Farpoint is… odd. Beautiful, full of great people, but just so… bizarre. Especially at night. You don’t want to find yourself strolling home at night. I’ve told Scarlett countless times to avoid going out late. I think I might have to board up your windows.” He gave me a casual wink. But deep down I could tell it in his eyes he was troubled.

Uncle Frank stared at me. I challenged him back. He nodded, as if to say, that’s how it happened then. I nodded back.

Dad cleared his throat. “Actually… Scarlett got attacked.”

There was the typical uncomfortable silence that wraps up everyone in a blanket. Silence broken only by my cousins’ chewing and clinking of cutlery.

Mom was about to scold him when Aunt Marie got up and picked up her two sons’ dirty dishes. “It’s fine. They should be in bed now.” She took them both by their hands while they protested. “Come on now. Bedtime.”

Marcus made a face, picked up his dirty plates and left.

When my aunt slipped out to the hall with the two kids, Uncle Frank echoed the question with disbelief. “Attacked? How so?” He turned to me. “Gosh, are you okay?”

“We’ve talked it through. We’re okay now,” Dad said, giving me an uneasy smile. “The man was chasing Scarlett, God knows for what kind of reason. He trespassed into our home and threatened to hurt my family, so I shot him on the spot.”

“A man?” my uncle asked, shifting positions.

Dad looked taken aback. Unsure of what to answer, he simply nodded.

“He shot him in the heart,” I replied, watching closely my uncle’s reaction.

“I’ve told Scarlett to aim for the heart should she find herself or anyone of us in similar situations. This last year Farpoint has been in a steep decline, and it wouldn’t surprise me if it became inhospitable. Why the news doesn’t cover any of the murders, disappearances, or scandals in our dear town, I’ll never understand. Half the population could be homicidal maniacs and there’s no way you’d know. Beneath its layers of suburban charm and old-timey allure, Farpoint is one of the most dangerous towns in all North America. Because nothing is covered by the media or followed up on by the FPPD. Every act of kidnapping or murder is downplayed or ignored altogether.” He took a pause for a deep breath. “When I got appointed at the FPPD, I knew things were turning south fast. Muggings and robberies are scarce, nearly non-existent. So, it’s a different kind of danger you’d see than anywhere else in the country. Weird people, that’s what they are. Often they leave their victims with bites to the neck.”

“And you shoot them in the heart,” my uncle said, shifting positions on his chair.

“Always. Without hesitation.”

“Regardless of who they might be?”

Dad leaned forward. “Doesn’t matter who they are. They will always pose a threat.”

***

The moon was a small, round orb of silver painted on the midnight sky, somehow smaller than it looked from Farpoint. This I thought as I slipped out the back door into the yard, and out the wood fence leading into the streets. The cold wintry air of December hit me in the chest as my breath wafted away in the breeze.

Uncle Frank followed me out of the house seconds later, and we strolled down the sidewalk side by side to the nearby park.

He cleared his throat. “So, when did it happen? Last time I saw you during the summer you were still the same shy, sweet girl I’ve known all your life.”

“Probably around these days, three months ago. I was out till after midnight. He caught me walking home from a party.”

“Well, that explains your change in attitude. How do you feel about it?”

I like it. “I’m not sure. But if Dad were to find out, I don’t know what I’d do. It scares me. If I could go back to normal…” Would I want that? “… I think I’d do it.”

“Do you really think he’d hurt you if he knew?”

“You heard him. His own words, I will always pose a threat.” I don’t know.

“His words aren’t entirely without merit. Even other non-humans will treat you that way, though I’ve grown used to it. You learn to live with it.”

“When did it happen to you, uncle?”

He looked away at the pine trees, at the lamp lights, at the cars slumbering along the curb.

“About two years after Andy was born. I’d gotten a promotion at my firm, and I decided to spend the night celebrating. And I, well, I might have had a few too many beers… and then it happened. That was about seven years ago.”

“That many years? But that means…” My mouth hung open.

“Yes, his little brother, Matt, is a dhampir. Ya know, it hurts. Not to play favorites in any way, but Matt will be better at everything than Andy. It won’t be fair to him. His brother will cast a very large shadow and he’ll have to go the extra mile to escape it. Then there’s also the fact that your aunt… had complications during childbirth… You know what I mean, right?”

I shook my head, but I had already gotten the gist of the idea.

“Most dhampirs are left motherless. But I am hugely grateful and still kick myself over our reckless decision. It’s been worth it, though. I couldn’t have asked for better kids, a better wife.”

“Does she know… that you’re…?”

“A vamp? No. Nobody in the family knows but you.”

Deciding not to pry, I went a bit off topic. “Did no one notice your change in attitude or behavior after it happened?” He looked down at the grass in silence, and I backed up my point with personal experience: “I’m much more confident and… probably a bit rash since then, for example.”

“There was no change in me. Perhaps sadness lamenting that night. But no, no change. I’m still Vestal. Never bit anyone else, and never will.”

The wind was picking up. I could hear it rustling the trees, rattling the screen door and window frames from the houses around. The skyscrapers rose high a short distance away toward the Puget Sound.

“Good things don’t always last. Remember that. One day you will outlive your dad and your mom. Of course, that’s expected. You will see Marcus outgrow you though. Friends and family will come and go, and they will be a speck in history that no one will remember but you. Although time can be cruel, and even you will begin to forget them with the slow drag of centuries.”

Watching my family, Anja, Oliver, Mr. Royce aging, aging, aging, and passing on the torch to the newer generations… If I didn’t meet an untimely end at the tip of a stake, what was there for me after they were all gone? I didn’t want to think about it any longer because it killed my mood.

“Maybe it’s still too early for anyone to notice, but when I married your aunt, she was four years younger than me.” Uncle Frank gave me a dark look. I could tell it was his first time revealing this information to anyone. He must have realized how alien it sounded because he winced as he said it. “Now… she’s three years older than me. It won’t be long before she asks where I found the Fountain of Youth. Shortly after that the joke will take a serious note and things will go south. Twenty-five years down the road my sons will look the way I do now. I should be gone before that happens.”

He paused as a rush of cold air ripped into my flesh and made me shiver. My uncle didn’t shiver. I saw a tear roll down his face.

“A father shouldn’t outlive his sons.”

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