Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Vampire Summer ❯ Family Ties ( Chapter 11 )

 

 

Aunt Beth passed away during the night. She died in her sleep, they tell me. I recalled Johnny's words to me at the cemetery: `I take care of my loose ends.'

 

Her grand-niece Betty had called me as soon as she received the news. “I knew you were close to her at the end,” she told me as we met outside the big white house.

 

“Was she sick?” I asked in surprise. Aunt Beth had seemed perfectly healthy to me.

 

“Bad heart,” Betty said. “She knew it—we all knew it was a matter of time. She wore one of those medic-alerts and she must have pressed it when she knew she was having a heart attack.”

 

Maybe I had misjudged Johnny.

 

We entered the same front room where Aunt Beth had served us tea and cookies. Crystal was going to be devastated. It looked neater somehow, less cluttered. Over on the side table, where Aunt Beth kept her collection of photo albums, sat a small, neat stack of albums, far less than I remembered from a few nights ago. I glanced over to where the framed photograph of the Crews should have been, but that, too, was gone.

 

With a murmured excuse to Betty, I hurried into Aunt Beth's little study. At first glance it appeared as if the room had been untouched, but then I noticed that two sheets of the family tree, spanning approximately the last 100 years, were missing from the end.

 

Johnny had done this. He had been here and taken what he wanted, then killed poor Aunt Beth. I take care of my loose ends. His words echoed and echoed in my head. I was a loose end, too.

 

I wondered what else Johnny had taken from this house. No wonder he had been so calm when he was here before. He had planned all along to murder Aunt Beth and destroy any evidence she might have inadvertently gathered on Jonathan Price. But why the elaborate game with me last night? Was he telling me the truth about himself because he was sure he would be able to kill me before I could reveal it? My only leverage with Johnny was Crystal. He needed me because he needed her.

 

I left Betty at the house with some of her other cousins to make the arrangements. Although Aunt Beth had no other close family, she was related in one way or another to nearly everyone in town. She was a sweet old lady, and because of Johnny I felt horribly guilty that she had died, but I didn't belong here while the cousins went through her things. I drove back to the cottage in the bright light of day while my head whirled trying to make sense of it all. Johnny was dangerous. Every time I began to trust him in even the smallest way, he proved to me how very dangerous he was. I couldn't count on his good will because of my relationship with Crystal forever. He was too unpredictable.

 

I made an executive decision. Johnny wasn't going to like it, but it was his own fault for what he had done. “Sam?” I said into my phone. “Could you keep Crystal with you for a few extra days?” I quickly explained the situation to Sam, who agreed to keep Crystal until after the funeral.

 

At the same time, I didn't want to face Johnny's wrath. I threw a few things into a suitcase, including all my notes from under my mattress, and left the cottage. On the way, I stopped by the beach to pick up my blanket and towel from the night before. I had no idea where I was going—just away. It wasn't forever, and it was just delaying the inevitable, but I really did not want a confrontation with Johnny tonight.

 

On the spur of the moment, I decided to head for Rhode Island. It wasn't that far away. Maybe I would head down to the shore and stay in a motel overnight. Rhode Island is where the vampires supposedly originated, where Jonathan Price had come from. It was Sunday, and everything was closed, even if I had known which town to look in. Who was I kidding? I didn't have nearly enough information to actually do any type of search. It was a silly idea, anyway.

 

Thank goodness I took the back roads through Rhode Island. The highways were clogged with beachgoers. I wasn't going to find any place to stay near the beach. I turned around before I got completely stuck and headed back inland. After about a half-hour of driving, I came across a cute little town which had a banner strung across its main street advertising the annual summer barbecue. Cool. I stopped by the local convenience store and got directions to a nearby bed and breakfast, which reminded me of Aunt Beth's house. It was a sprawling white colonial with green shutters, and luckily, it had a vacancy. In fact, I was the only guest at the moment.

 

I wandered down to the town green and mingled with the locals. I bought myself a plate of barbecued chicken, spread out my beach towel and sat down on the grass to eat. The sun was just starting to set, and there would be fireworks at nine. It was nice to have a Johnny-free evening for a change. The next morning, I enjoyed a home-cooked breakfast and then set out again, with no particular destination in mind. The funeral was set for Wednesday, and I had no intention of going back before then. Let Johnny sweat a little bit. It would be worth the price he was going to make me pay just to cause him a little worry.

 

I smiled wryly to myself. Was I trying to teach Johnny a lesson—that it wasn't nice to kill someone? I think I was.

 

On the edge of town I passed an old cemetery. There was no reason for me to stop, but I did. Some of the graves were at least as old as the oldest in my cemetery. I read the names, looking to see if any of them were familiar. There were several Smiths, even a Smithe, but no Price. I went back to my car and grabbed my notebook so I could copy down the names and dates. Probably these Smithes had nothing to do with my Smythes, but now I had a goal.

 

I spent the rest of the day driving in a hundred-mile radius, stopping at every old cemetery that I came across. Wherever there were names in common with those from my cemetery, I copied the information down. One cemetery even had a family named `Price.' None of them were named Jonathan, but nevertheless I wrote it all down. My notebook was full by the time night fell.

 

On Tuesday, I repeated the process, widening my circle. I must have visited every old cemetery in the state of Rhode Island, and I had quite a compilation of names. There were Smythes in Rhode Island at one time. There were also Crews and Jamesons and Wilsons and just about every other name you could imagine. Nothing to tie any of them to my cemetery. Still, I wrote down every name. If I was still alive after Wednesday, maybe I could do a little research on them.

 

The funeral was scheduled for nine in the morning. My travels had brought me close to the Rhode Island border, so I didn't have far to go. I quickly packed up my things, placing both my old and new notebooks underneath my clothes, and grabbed a cup of coffee from the motel lobby on my way out. Vacation was over. I wasn't looking forward to tonight.

 

Aunt Beth was buried in a modern cemetery close to the center of Lockwood. I was amazed at the number of people who had shown up for her funeral. I felt a little out of place, until Betty took me under her wing and introduced me to the family. An inordinate number of them were still named Smythe, or Crew, or Jameson. I was right when I had said this was an insular little town. Everybody was related to everybody else.

 

“This is my cousin Cara,” Betty introduced us. Cara was a middle-aged woman who looked vaguely like Betty. “She was a Smythe before she married. Now she's a Peterson.” Betty said it teasingly, as if being a Peterson was somehow not as good as being a Smythe. Insular. Cara must have married outside the family. Good for her.

 

“It's nice to meet you, Cara,” I said politely. A gaggle of kids ran up to us, of varying ages, and a few of them called Cara `Grandma.' She was a young Grandma, in my opinion. I guess I could have brought Crystal, after all. These kids didn't seem to be traumatized by their Grand-Aunt's death, but then again, they probably hadn't known her. I didn't know how Crystal would have reacted to the death of someone she had known. If Johnny had his way, she would eventually become used to death. Not if I had my way. “I'm a Porter by marriage, but I was born a Summerfield.” I said facetiously, but both ladies took me seriously.

 

“Summerfield!” Cara said in surprise, exchanging glances with Betty. “You wouldn't be related to a Philip Summerfield, would you?”

 

My heart stopped. “My grandfather's name was Philip Summerfield,” I said. “Did you know him?”

 

“No, not me. But my grandmother did. She had a cousin Philip Summerfield who moved away when he was a young man, but they kept in touch while she was alive. It was during the Depression, and there just wasn't any work to be had around here. Later, after she died, my mother kept in contact with Philip through cards and letters. I thought she lost touch with him when I was still a child, because I don't ever remember hearing about him after that.”

 

It might not have been my grandfather. He had never mentioned having relatives in this area. Oh, please, let it not have been my Grandpa! Because if it was, then I knew how Crystal had got the blood!

 

“Wouldn't that be something?” Betty commented with a bright smile. “We could actually be related!”

 

Betty and Cara both dragged me off to meet another elder of the family, hoping to get some clarification on the matter.

 

Old Mr. Jameson, who apparently wasn't dead yet after all, remembered the Summerfields. “George's boys,” he said, his eyes misting over as he tried to remember. “Philip and Walter. Haven't seen `em in years.”

 

I took a sharp breath. Grandpa had talked about his brother Walter who had died in the Second World War. It was looking more and more like I might actually be related to these people.

 

“How was my grandfather connected to the Smythes?” I asked.

 

“I'm not sure,” Cara answered. We left Mr. Jameson in the corner where he was still reminiscing out loud despite the fact that his audience had deserted him. “I think my mother and Philip were second cousins.” Cara smiled sheepishly. “I never paid much attention to our ancestry. That was Aunt Beth's passion. She kept genealogy charts with that sort of information.”

 

I was willing to bet that those were the very charts Johnny had stolen from Aunt Beth. I wonder how much he knew, and how much he had guessed, about my heritage. “Was Philip Summerfield on those charts?” I asked. I hadn't remembered seeing that name, but then again, I hadn't been looking for it, either.

 

“Probably,” Cara said. “It's easy enough to check.”

 

No, it wasn't, I thought. Not if those names were on the charts Johnny had taken.

 

But Betty had another idea. “I'll check the town records tomorrow,” she said. “I'll give you a call, or did you want to come down and go through them with me?”

 

“Give me a call,” I said. “No use jumping to conclusions before we know for sure if I'm really related to you, is there?”

 

Betty nodded, and Cara hugged me. “Oh, I hope we are!” she replied.

 

I helped the cousins clean up after the obligatory funeral party, and it was late afternoon before I headed back to the lake. If Grandpa really had been born in this town, that explained why he had built the cottage here after he came back to this area. He was reliving his childhood. It was strange, though, that he hadn't contacted any of his relatives who still lived here, unless his final contact had died when Cara's mother passed away.

 

My tires screeched as I tried to avoid the figure standing in the middle of the road. I was barely out of the parking lot when I almost hit him. The door handle on the passenger side was wrenched suddenly and Johnny slid into the seat, slamming the door shut behind him. It was way too sunny for vampires yet. I glanced at his eyes, and they were yellow, reflecting the sun.

 

“Drive,” he growled, looking straight ahead.

 

I couldn't help it; I started shaking, but I drove. I thought I would have a few more hours at least before I had to face him. This was the earliest I had ever seen him. We drove in silence for a few minutes. Johnny pulled the visor down and slouched low in his seat.

 

“Where were you?” he asked, his voice low and controlled.

 

“I was at Aunt Beth's funeral,” I answered, knowing that wasn't what he had meant. “Did you kill her?”

 

Johnny slammed his fist down on the dashboard, causing it to crack. I jumped, and the car swerved before I got it back under control. “Where were you?” he asked again.

 

“Out of state,” I said, watching out of the corner of my eye to see how he would react. Wasn't that what he had told me the other night? I wondered if he had been in Rhode Island, too.

 

Johnny tore the wheel out of my hand and forced the car off the side of the road. Frantically, I pressed the brake so we lurched to a stop without smashing into anything. He grabbed the keys out of the ignition. We were on an isolated stretch of road halfway between town and the lake.

 

“Get out,” he ordered. When I didn't do it fast enough, he dragged me across the passenger seat and out his door. He kept dragging me until we were deep in the woods, and only then did I notice the blisters on his hands and face. So the sun did affect him after all, damn vampire. He needed the shadows in order to function. I breathed a small sigh. Maybe I would survive this.

 

He pushed me down into the bushes and held my head to the side with one hand. I had never seen him drink blood before. It always was so fast. Was this what it felt like? His teeth ripped into my neck and I screamed. It hurt!

 

In another second, he pulled away and wiped his mouth with his other hand. I saw a streak of blood on the back of his hand. My blood. My stomach lurched.

 

Johnny turned away, but he didn't leave. “You can get up now,” he said in his ordinary voice.

 

I slowly got to my knees, then stood up. I was shaky, but ok. I felt my neck where he had bitten me, expecting it to be shredded and bleeding, but there was nothing there. Impossible. I had felt him bite me! I rubbed a little harder. My neck was sore, but there was no blood.

 

“Don't push me,” Johnny said, as he turned back around to face me. “I don't have infinite control. Let's go.” He handed me my keys as if nothing unusual had happened, and started back to the car. It was still bright outside, but he ignored the sunshine and slipped back into his seat.

 

When we got back to the cottage, he held open the door for me and locked it behind me once we were both inside. That didn't bode well.

 

“Crystal?” he asked.

 

“She's coming back tonight,” I told him. I explained how I hadn't wanted her to witness Aunt Beth's funeral, and Johnny's eyes widened slightly, as if that had never occurred to him. He nodded, though, and settled back to wait for her while I unpacked my suitcase and went to take a shower.

 

“What's this?” he asked, when I came out of the shower. He held my two notebooks in his hands. I had forgotten to hide them under the mattress. I tried to snatch them back before he could look inside, but that was the wrong thing to do. It only made him more curious. He took the notebooks and sat down on the couch.

 

I trailed behind him, wrapped only in my bathrobe with a towel on my head. The mark on my neck was an angry red rash. “Please give them back,” I begged Johnny. “They're personal.”

 

“Oh?” Johnny opened the first notebook and flipped through the pages. He frowned at something he read there, but he continued flipping through. He set the first notebook aside and picked up the second one, the new one I had bought just the other day. His eyebrows rose. “Rhode Island?” he asked, and for some reason there was amusement in his voice. “You went to Rhode Island?”

 

I didn't have time to answer. Just then there was a scrabbling at the door, and I heard the sound of a key being turned. Damn! I'd forgotten Sam still had a key.

 

That was how Sam found us—me in nothing but my bathrobe, still damp from the shower, and Johnny sitting pretty as you please on my couch.

 

“Wonderful, just wonderful,” he said in disgust as he placed Crystal's little suitcase just inside the door. He didn't bother to speak to me; he just turned around and left.

 

Crystal bounced into the room. “Hi, Mommy! Hi, Johnny!” she said happily. “Bye, Daddy!” she called out the window as Sam's car tore out of the driveway.

 

Johnny caught my dismayed glance. “Do you want me to kill him?” he asked too softly for Crystal to hear. He was still in a good mood.

 

I thought about it. I really thought about it.