Forever Fearless

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

The high density polyethylene square buckets each bore a biohazard warning label.

Taylor and April, the Matarian vampire slayers who’d captured and killed the two blood drinkers, had taken the buckets straightway from the battlefield to the underground vault at the camp, an area strictly off limits to all cadets and most Matarians. The highly secure area contained items both valuable and dangerous, artifacts accumulated over the years. One particular room was used to store vampire remains.

When a vampire was destroyed on the battle field, the heart was all that mattered.

The body would disintegrate within a matter of minutes. Once that occurred, the heart died. In general, a cardioectomy did the trick. Though the vampiric blood within the heart had the potential to heal all wounds, it was useless outside the body. The heartless body, on its own, would quickly crumble to dust.

It should be enough to rip the heart from the chest of a vampire, but Matarians had learned from experience that vampires they’d thought exterminated sometimes had a way of coming back to life. If the heart were to somehow be reunited with the body in time, before the body had disintegrated, it had the potential to heal…and live again.

This is why the slayers had taken additional precautionary measures with the two vamps they’d popped outside the training campground. They’d torched the bodies and immediately stored the mangled hearts in the biohazard totes. The buckets were then transported immediately to the vault where they’d remain until the next council meeting. This way there would be witnesses, and the brotherhood would ritualistically incinerate the hearts.

Ray, cautious as he was, had gone back before law enforcement arrived on the site where the killing had occurred. Really, it had been only a matter of minutes between the time the vampires’ bodies had been set afire and the arrival of the ambulances. The only evidence remaining of the bodies were the two black patches of scorched earth.

Gone forever, thank God.

A day of celebration usually accompanied the ritualistic destruction of vampire hearts. Normally the Matarian council gathered and performed the rite, and members came from all over to participate. Small kills out in the field, where one or two vampires had been decimated, didn’t draw much interest. In those cases, the hearts were stored in the vault and destroyed at the next council meeting. But a significant kill, such as had been the case with Richard Beckett, was a big deal.

Unfortunately, nobody felt like celebrating. The losses the community had suffered completely dwarfed any celebratory mood they otherwise would have enjoyed. So Ray and the other council members agreed to simply perform the ritual privately after the meeting.

Ray placed his index finger on the alarm system sensor and waited for the computer to identify him. Three seconds later, an automated voice announced his name and the elevator door opened. Once inside, he entered his code number to the keypad.

The number provided him clearance to the lowest level, the floor that wasn’t even identified on the selection board.

His footsteps echoed off the cement walls as he made his way down the corridor toward the door at the end of the hallway. Ray stopped and again scanned his fingerprint to unlock the door, then stepped inside. He walked over to the metal shelving unit which held the plastic storage bins. He picked them up by the handles, one in each hand, then abruptly stopped and set them back down.

Something wasn’t right! He could feel the liquid in the buckets sloshing around.

From previous experience, he knew the hearts would have dried up as soon as the bodies had turned to ash.

Hastily he peeled back the lid of one of the containers. Then the other. Shaking his head, he whipped out his phone. “We have a problem! The vampire hearts are gone!”

~~~~~

“April, you told me Richard was wanted by the FBI. You said you guys were bounty hunters and that you’d find him and bring my son back to me.” Deborah sat alone in the motel room on the edge of her bed. Wayne had high tailed it across the street to the bar as soon as they checked in. She had to suppress her anger to resist screaming into the phone.

“Richard’s dead,” April replied. “But Robbie got away. Debbie, he’d been injured.”

“What are you talking about? If he was injured, how did he get away? Why didn’t you call an ambulance?”

“It was his friend, the one who calls himself Colt. He picked Robbie up and ran away.”

Deborah’s hands began to tremble and she felt the heat rising up her neck and into her cheeks. “Do you think that might’ve been a detail worth mentioning to me, April?

Do you think I might want to know my son was injured? How? How was he injured?”

“Debbie, where are you? We’ll come get you.”

“No! I don’t want you to come get me. I’m on my way to find my son!”

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

Deborah had always enjoyed a close relationship with her cousin and she’d always respected April and the work she did. She didn’t understand it all, but she thought it was important. Now she wasn’t so sure. She sighed heavily into the phone. “April, I trusted you, and you didn’t even tell me Robbie was hurt.”

“He was shot, Debbie. He was shot in the chest with an arrow.”

“No!” Deborah screamed. “Why are you saying this?”

“Please, let us come get you.”

“He…he couldn’t have been shot. I talked to him. I saw him, and he came to my house.”

“When?” April asked excitedly. “When did he visit you?”

She shouldn’t have said anything. She shouldn’t have told April. “I…uh…never mind.”

“Debbie, wait!”

Deborah ended the call and turned off her phone.

~~~~~

“You’re where?” Dylan sounded so excited that Issa thought he would’ve climbed through the phone if he could. “You’re in Traverse? But how? Why?”

“Dylan…” Issa began, then the knot in his throat prevented him from going on. He knew if he even tried to speak, he’d lose it.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Just tell me where you’re at, and I’ll come get you.”

“I…um…I’m at this bookstore.”

“Horizon?”

“Yeah, I think.” Issa, who was sitting in the café, looked around. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

“Okay, I’m about twenty-five minutes away. Just sit tight till I get there. All right?”

Issa ended the call, then removed his wallet from the side pocket of his backpack and stepped up to the counter. The small café had a cappuccino bar and a few two-person tables which were situated in front of the plate glass windows that extended the full length of the building. The place reminded Issa of a Barnes and Noble but with a small town appeal.

The kid working the counter, a slender blond, had to be about Issa’s age. His nametag said “Eric.” Issa smiled as he looked into the boy’s blue eyes. “Uh, I’m not sure what I want. Sorry.” He glanced behind Eric to look more closely at the menu board.

“You like hot drinks or cold?”

“Hm. Good question. Usually cold, but I just had to walk about a mile or two and I’m chilly.”

“Really?” Eric said in a tone that sounded like he and Issa had been friends for years. “Where’d you walk from?”

“Oh, the bus stop. The driver said it was a quarter mile, but it felt a lot longer.”

Eric nodded. “Yeah, it is. You mean the Greyhound stop down on Hall Street?

That’s more like two miles. I can’t believe they just drop people off there like that.

You’d think they’d at least pick a location near some businesses.”

“I know. Right?”

Eric leaned against the counter on his elbows and stared directly into Issa’s eyes.

“So what’re you doing in Traverse?”

Something about his mannerisms put Issa both at ease and gave his stomach butterflies simultaneously. Was he flirting? “I have a friend who lives here. He’s coming to get me.”

“Ah, I see.”

“I live in Canton. It’s down near Detroit.”

Eric nodded. “Yeah, I know exactly where it is. I used to live in Pontiac.”

“Really?”

“You like cappuccino?”

“Hm. Yeah, how about just a French vanilla? Non-fat.”

“Seriously? You hardly need to worry about the calories.” Eric winked.

“Gotta watch my figure, ya know.” Issa laughed then felt the heat in his cheeks.

“Nah, I’m sure plenty of other people are already watching it for you.”

He definitely was flirting! Eric took a couple steps away from Issa and opened a refrigerator below the counter, removing a container of milk. He proceeded to mix the ingredients of the drink, pouring them into a metal cup.

“What about you?” Issa asked. “How’d you end up here?”

“My mom bought a business here, so I had no choice. But, hey, I’m glad. I really like it here.”

“So your mom owns this place?”

He shook his head. “Nah, but you know what’s weird? Her business is a bookstore.”

“No way. So you work for your mother’s competition?” Issa grinned.

“Kinda. But her store is small, and it specializes in certain types of books.”

Issa wondered if he dared press for more details.

Eric smiled at him again. “I know that look, and no, it’s nothing like that. She has a store called Enchantments. It’s right down the street, actually. They sell, like, spiritual stuff.”

“Ah, you mean like a Pagan bookstore?”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll have to check it out.”

Eric removed the metal cup from the mixer and poured it into a mug. Issa opened his wallet then took a step closer to the register.

“It’s on me,” Eric said and again winked.

“You don’t have to.”

“Consider it my way of welcoming you to Traverse.”

“That’s…uh…really nice of you. Thank you.” Issa pulled out a five dollar bill from his wallet and slipped it into the tip jar.

“I saw that,” Eric said. “Thanks. I’m Eric, by the way.”

“Issa, but you can also call me Mark.”

“EEE SUH? It’s nice to meet you, Issa.” In that moment, he seemed sort of shy. Issa looked down, then took a sip of his drink.

While Eric busied himself at the counter, Issa pulled out his phone again to check his email. Nothing from his parents yet—just a bunch of spam. He wondered if they’d try tracking him down as they’d done with Shadi. It was odd how history repeated itself. They hadn’t learned anything from their first go round. They had a son who happened to be gay, and they’d rejected him. He ran away, and they were given a second chance. Now their replacement son—which is exactly what Issa considered himself—ends up exactly like the first one. Christ, he even looked like Shadi. They could be twins.

“Dude…” Eric’s voice jarred Issa from his thoughts. He pulled out the chair across from Issa and spun it around, then sat in it backward, straddling it as he rested his elbows on the back. He then leaned in to whisper. “I don’t mean to freak ya out or anything, but I think someone might be stalking you or some shit.”

Issa sat up straight and started to turn his head in order to look behind him.

“Don’t look!” Eric continued to smile at him and act as if they were just having a casual conversation. “There’s a guy who came in right after you. He’s in the bookstore, but he keeps looking over here. He’s been watching you the whole time.”

A wave of panic washed over Issa. “What’s he look like?”

“Uh, short black hair…well, kinda spikey. Not old or anything. Maybe in his twenties. Was anyone like that on the bus with you?”

Issa shook his head. “No. I was the only person who got off at this stop and the bus was practically empty.”

“Any reason you can think of why someone would be following you?”

Yeah! Like, because he was Matarian. Like, because he was responsible, at least partially, for killing two well-known vampires.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“All right. Well, just sit tight and wait for your friend to get here. I’ll keep watching the guy, and if he does anything weird, I’ll call 911. If you want, I’ll see if the store manager can get rid of him.”

“No. No. Just watch him. I’ll just chill. If I can get a look at him, I might know who he is.”

“Okay. He’s in the bookstore on the other side of the first partition.”

“All right. Thanks, man.”

Issa’s pulse quickened. The entire scene didn’t seem real. If the guy was stalking him, why? Maybe it had something to do with Shadi. Maybe it was someone who’d known Richard or Brendan and wanted revenge. Issa didn’t even have anything with him he could use for protection.

He shifted in his seat, then picked up his phone again. He could text Dylan and warn him. No, that might be worse. If Dylan came into the store prepared to slay a vampire, God only knew what kind of mayhem would ensue. Instead he typed a quick text that said, “Can’t wait to see you. Please hurry.”

He pushed his chair back and walked over to the counter to get a napkin, casually glancing out into the bookstore. That was him, over in the corner. The dark-haired guy.

No, Issa had never seen him before, and he couldn’t get a close look at his face. His palms began to sweat, and his heart rate quickened. Damn! Where was Dylan?

“Issa!”

Startled, he spun around to face the voice, then immediately crumpled into the protective arms of the young man he loved with all his heart. “Dylan! You cut your hair!”

Though they’d only been separated less than a week, it had seemed an eternity to Issa. Issa didn’t want to make a scene, but he couldn’t help himself. The tears began to flow as he pressed his face against Dylan’s solid, muscular chest. The strong, protective arms enfolded him, squeezing Issa tightly. “I missed you so much,” Issa murmured. “I loved your long hair, but you look awesome with it short.”

“I missed you too,” Dylan hugged Issa, rocking slightly back and forth. “And I’m glad you like the new haircut, but what are you doing here? How’d you get…?”

“I took a bus.” Issa pulled away from him so he could look Dylan in the eye. “My father didn’t take it well.

“He hit you.” Dylan looked closely at Issa’s face. He took Issa’s chin in his hand and tilted his head side to side, examining it. “That fucker hit you!”

“It’s okay. I-I’m just glad to be with you again.”

“I swear to God, when I get my hands on—”

“No! Please, Dylan, I don’t want any more fighting. Not with my father.”

“I don’t see how you can even call a man like that your father. Why’d he punch you?”

“He slapped me. It was…nothing,” Issa lied.

“Why? Because you told him?”

Issa nodded. “It was too much, too fast. He couldn’t handle having a gay son.”

“Bullshit. He’s had seventeen years to get used to it, since he found out about your brother.”

Suddenly Issa remembered where they were. He stepped back from Dylan and looked around, immediately noticing his new friend standing beside them, staring.

“Uh, Dylan, this is Eric.”

Dylan looked down at his nametag. “I see.” He seemed to eye him with skepticism.

“He bought me a cappuccino,” Issa said, hoping to dampen Dylan’s suspicion. By the look on Dylan’s face, it appeared to have had the opposite effect. “And we think someone might be following me,” Issa whispered.

“Where?”

Before Dylan had a chance to look around, Issa grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him over to the table where he’d been sitting. “Don’t look, but there’s a guy over in the bookstore. He’s been watching me. Eric noticed him.”

Eric stood beside their table. “He came in right after Issa. He’s just milling around, lurking.”

“You don’t know who it is?” he said to Issa, then looked up at Eric. They both shook their heads.

“He doesn’t look that old,” Eric said. “Black hair, about the same length as Issa’s.

I’d say he’s in his early twenties.”

“How’s he dressed?” Dylan asked.

Eric shrugged. “Normal. Jeans and like a lightweight jacket.”

“I gotta get you out of here,” Dylan said.

“No, wait,” Issa said. “He’ll just follow us, and then he’ll know where you live.”

“I’m pretty sure he already knows. Why else would he be here, looking for you in Traverse City?”

“Do you think he was sent by my dad?”

Dylan shook his head. “All your dad would have to do is make a phone call to Taylor, my brother. He wouldn’t need to send a spy.”

“Then what do we do? We can’t go back to your house.”

Dylan took a deep breath then bit his bottom lip. “We’ve gotta lose him, then get the f**k away from here.”

Issa’s mouth dropped open. “No, Dylan. I can’t let you run away with me. This is your home.”

“You’re more important to me than anything here.” Dylan grabbed hold of Issa’s hand and squeezed it.

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Eric said, perhaps sarcastically. The both looked up at him.

“Okay, listen. I’ll help you.”

“You’ll help us?” Dylan asked. “How?”

“I’ll distract him long enough for you two to get out of here. What’re you driving?”

“That pickup,” Dylan said, nodding toward the window. A black Ford-150 sat out front, parallel parked.

“Okay, you need to make a run for it when…well, you’ll know when. Drive the truck around the block. This is a one-way street.”

“I know the streets,” Dylan said. “Remember, I live here.”

“Right. Well do you know where Enchantments is?”

“The bookstore?”

Eric nodded. “There’s an alley right behind it. Pull the truck in there and park it up close to the building, by the rear entrance. Wait for me, but if this dude figures out where you’re hiding and comes after you before I get there, you’re on your own.”

“Deal,” Dylan said.

“I won’t be long, but don’t get out of the truck until I open the back door for you.”

“Eric, why?” Issa didn’t understand why he was doing this. It was like he knew something he wasn’t saying.

“Trust me,” he whispered, then turned and stepped back over to the counter. He began preparing another cappuccino, perhaps as a ruse.

A few seconds later he looked up. Issa watched him intently, realizing Eric had made eye contact with the stranger. Eric slid his hand inside the collar of his polo shirt and pulled out a medallion. He held it up in front of his chest, all the while staring at the dark-haired stranger.

Suddenly the pendant began to glow. A bright yellow light emanated from the necklace, and the man just seemed frozen in his tracks, as if in a trance. He stared at the medallion, completely immobile like a statue.

“Come on!” Dylan grabbed hold of Issa’s wrist. Issa picked up his backpack as Dylan pulled him out of his seat and dashed toward the door. As they scurried into the truck, Issa looked back through the plate glass window to see Eric still standing behind the counter, holding the medallion as the beam of brilliant light transfixed the stranger.

The two of them sped down the street, around the block, and into the alley, as Eric had instructed.

“Oh my God,” Issa said. “What the f**k was that?”

“He’s a witch,” Dylan intoned.

“Who? The dark-haired guy?”

“No.” Dylan shook his head. “Your friend, Eric. He’s a witch…or wizard, or whatever. Wiccan.”

“How do you know?”

Dylan tilted his head downward and raised his eyes to look through the windshield. He pointed to the sign overhead. “Enchantments?”

“How’s that make him a witch?”

“How else could he use a pentagram medallion to entrance a vampire? He bewitched him.”

“Vampire? Holy fuck.”