They Come by Night

Chapter 2: Come By Night-2

“The Rege—”

“Huh?”

“I wish your grandmother were still alive. She’d have seen you learned…King, Tyrell. It means ‘king.’”

“Oh. Thanks for clearing that up, Dad.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, but was satisfied when he realized I was serious. “The king and his council decided they needed to expand their source of food,” he continued. “They began feeding off the remaining livestock. Of course, they couldn’t exist solely on the blood of cattle—it lacked certain elements they required for survival, and so humans couldn’t be completely abandoned.”

“But the people who beat the odds and lived wouldn’t have been able to spare a drop of blood.” In spite of never having been particularly interested in European history, I found myself wondering, “Wouldn’t it make sense for the vampyres to leave them alone for a couple of generations, maybe feed on the nobility and the clergy instead?”

“Who’s telling this?” He frowned at me.

“Sorry, Dad.”

“All right, then. The problem was, those who caught the Plague but lived anyway had something in their blood that was fatal to vampyres, and so their population shrank too. They were on the verge of dying out completely, at least in Europe, when they discovered a small number of those men and women the Plague passed by remained safe to drink from, a sip here, a few swallows there, the sweetest blood, so sweet that sometimes it was hard for them to remember they needed to be careful not to take too much and lose this resource.”

“Um…Dad, how do you know this? I mean, it’s not like it’s in history books.”

He sighed. “It was what your grandfather told me the night before your uncle’s eighteenth birthday, when a vampyre came for him, and it’s what I would have told your brothers and sisters in two years if I’d been given that opportunity.”

My ears perked up. He’d never talked about my siblings or the time before we lived in Clewiston.

“Well, never mind that. It isn’t something you have to know.”

Shoot. I guessed he wasn’t going to talk about it now either. Something did puzzle me, though. “If they live on cow’s blood and have the…the buffets on the side, why do they still have such a bad reputation?”

“The human race believes they’re at the top of the food chain. They didn’t take it well when they realized otherwise.”

“I guess that makes sense. Wait! They?”

“What?”

“You said ‘they.’ Does that mean we’re not human?”

“I…it…we…” He looked distressed, and he swore under his breath. “The Plague continued to come along periodically, so folklore about vampyres never died out. Instead the tales were passed down from one generation to another.”

“Oh, I get it.” No, I didn’t get it, but how could I tell him that? It was obvious he wasn’t going to explain—or maybe he wasn’t able to. “Gee, Dad, that’s kind of interesting and all, but what does it have to do with me?”

“There are a few things, Ty. The fact that you haven’t entered puberty yet, your inability to tolerate being touched, but most of all…” He sighed and reached out as if to touch the mark on my throat, but folded his fingers in on themselves before he could. “This birthmark…You’re a sabor, Ty.”

“Well, yeah, you said that. Does it make any diff—” I’d taken three years of Spanish, and two things clicked in my brain. Sabor. Tasty. Tasty. Sweet. “Oh, my God. I’m a buffet? Dracula is going to come in one night and chow down on my neck? No, wait a second! He’d have to be invited by someone to enter the house…Jesus, Dad, you’re not going to invite him in, are you?”

“No, Ty. No. Dracula is a fictitious character. The vampyre won’t enter the house. You’ll go out to him. Her.” This time he did run his fingers over my birthmark, and I shivered. This had to be serious. He’d never touch me otherwise. “Most likely, you will be starting puberty soon. Within two years, he’ll come for you. Or she’ll come for you.”

That didn’t make me feel any better. And why did he keep mentioning men first? Had he found the stash of magazines I had up in the attic? “I have no say in this?”

“It’s your—”

“Don’t say it’s my f*****g destiny!” I snapped shrilly. How could Dad even agree to let some old guy with fangs bite my neck? Oddly enough, I never even considered it might be a woman.

“Tyrell.”

I wasn’t going to stand still for this. No, sir. I was going to run away.

He pulled me into his arms, and I stiffened. He knew I didn’t like being touched!

“I’m sorry, son.” He kissed my temple and released me immediately. “Come on. Let’s go have dinner. I stopped by the bakery on the way home and bought you a cake for your birthday. Chocolate, your favorite.”

Big whoop. Happy birthday to me.

I couldn’t just up and run away, though. I needed to make preparations. And at the top of the list was not making my father suspicious.

“Sure, Dad.” I offered him a big smile. “That sounds good.”

* * * *

After dinner, Dad brought out the cake with eighteen candles. The additional ones were for good luck and happiness. I drew a deep breath, made a wish—please let this be a big mistake!—blew out the candles, and had a piece of cake. I made a big fuss over my present…Nikes…and rinsed the dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher.

“Want to watch some HBO with me, Ty?”

“No, thanks, Dad.”

“When…when your Uncle Phil learned he was a sabor, he threatened to run away.” Dad’s brother was a quiet man who lived alone. I’d met him about eight years earlier, when he’d moved to Clewiston, and he had the most haunted eyes I’d ever seen. We’d never gone back, and it was something else Dad wouldn’t talk about.

“Uncle Phil?” Now that I thought of it, he had a birthmark similar to mine on his neck. “What…uh…what happened?”

“He realized you can’t run away from what you are.”

“Yeah. I guess.” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat. “Well, I’ve got a big test tomorrow. I think I’ll go up to my room and crack the books.”

“Sure, son. Keep your mind occupied. That’s a good idea.” He went into the living room, and I went up to my bedroom on the second floor.

There were two windows in my room, which was at the back of the house, and the one that mattered to me just now was the one that overlooked the patio and lawn. Beyond it was a small preserve filled with trees and scrub.

The back floodlight was on, so I had to wait, but I knew Dad would turn it off before he went to bed.

I usually listened to music while I did my homework or studied, so I put my MP3 player in its base and set the music to shuffle; if he passed by he would hear it and wouldn’t get suspicious.

I dumped my backpack out on the bed and began filling it with what I’d need, including the small pillow I’d had since forever. Dad had had it made for me from the blanket I’d been wrapped in when we came home from the hospital.

There was a tap on my door. I pushed everything onto the floor, shoved my books under the bed, and crossed to open the door.

“Yes, Dad?”

“I just wanted to say goodnight, son. I’m sorry this has been such a shock to you, but give it a few days. You’ll grow comfortable with the idea. I promise you.”

Never! I thought stubbornly. “Sure, Dad. Well, g’night.”

He started to raise his hand to run his palm over my hair, but before I could shy away, he dropped it. “I love you, Ty.” He closed the door before I could tell him I loved him, too, in spite of what he’d done to me.

Okay, I wasn’t thinking too straight, but it wasn’t my fault I was a sabor, so it sure as hell had to be his. Whose else’s blood was in my veins?

The back light went out. To be on the safe side, I waited another half hour before I raised the window sash. Once I got the screen out of the way, I slipped the straps of the backpack over my shoulders and climbed out.

“It’s a cold night to be without a jacket.”

I bit back a yelp and grabbed onto the windowsill, only just preventing myself from tumbling headfirst down onto the concrete patio below my room.

“What—”

The man sitting on the eave was gorgeous. The color of his eyes was hard to make out in spite of the moonlight, and all I could tell about the color of his hair was it was very light. I was so transfixed by the sight of him, it didn’t even occur to me to ask how he’d gotten up on our roof.

And shoot, he was right. Now that I was outside, I could feel the chill bite of the autumn night.

“I’m Adam, by the way. Adam Dasani. It’s not that bad, you know.”

“What isn’t that bad?”

“Being a sabor.”

“How would you know? Are you a sabor?”

“No, I’m a vampyre.”

I would have fallen off the roof for real, except he reached over, snagged my hand with negligent ease, and kept me from splattering my brains out down below.

“Does everybody know about this except me?” I tugged my hand free.

“Well, your father should have told you a few years ago.”

“Listen, you. My father is a good man, and don’t you say otherwise!”

“He’s a very good man, Tyrell. And you know it’s going to kill him when he finds you gone in the morning.”

“But how can I stay? I don’t want to be vampyre kibble.”

“That’s the last thing you’re going to be.” He sighed. “I wish I knew why you young sabors aren’t told what to expect before a vampyre comes to claim you.”

“Can…can you tell me?”

“I’m not supposed to. That privilege goes to the vampyre who’ll drink from you the first time. As a matter of fact—”

“Don’t tell me. You’re not even supposed to be here.” I scowled at him, and my scowl deepened when he laughed. “Then why are you here? No, wait, I know. You can’t tell me.”

He grinned ruefully and shrugged.

“Can you at least tell me if it will hurt?”

His face took on a dreamy expression. “Oh, no. It won’t hurt at all, I promise you.”

“And that’s all you’re going to tell me? Well, I think that sucks. Uh…”

He laughed. “Yes, I guess you could say that.”

“Will my vampyre be a man or a woman?”

“Your vampyre.” Did he sound wistful? No, what was I thinking? “That’s a unique way of putting it.”

“How else is there to put it?”

“No other way, I suppose.” He reached out as if to stroke the mark on my throat and I tensed and held my breath, but then he seemed to change his mind, and he drew his hand back. “Just remember, you are what you are, and running away won’t make it any different.” He looked up at the night sky, but I didn’t know what he was searching for. “I have to go.”

“Well, bye.”

His smile became wistful. “Goodbye, Tyrell Small. I do hope I’ll be your vampyre.”

And just like that, I was alone on the roof. I listened for the sound of bat wings, but the night was silent except for the slight rush of the wind.

I thought about what he’d told me, not that it was much. I thought about being out in the woods without my jacket, with a single change of clothes, no food, and no money. Even if I hadn’t forgotten my wallet, there were only a couple of fives in it.