Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Vampire Summer ❯ Cousin ( Chapter 27 )

 

 

“No,” I said, rejecting his offer to drive. “You're just going to get burned again, and I'll end up paying for it.”

 

“So?” Johnny grinned up at me without shame, and I knew that was his plan the whole time.

 

Exasperated, I snapped, “Just get in the back seat and lie down.”

 

His eyes darkened to black, and he scowled. Stubborn vampire. I shook my head and ran back into the cottage, fumbling a little with the key. I grabbed a plastic picnic tablecloth and relocked the door behind me. When I came back out, Johnny hadn't moved.

 

I held out the tablecloth, which was soft felt on the inside but plastic on the outside. No sunlight would get through it. “Please?” I asked. “You can't drive. Somebody might see you.”

 

Johnny continued to stare at me in stony silence from the driver's seat. This time, I wasn't going to let him get away with it. He didn't scare me much anymore. I sighed. “Johnny, after all we've been through, why would I turn on you now? Can't you trust me, just this once?”

 

Without warning, Johnny threw me the keys, which I nearly dropped, and flowed into the backseat, stretching out and eying me balefully. His eyes were more black than brown. I covered him completely with the tablecloth, draping it so that it didn't look like it was hiding a body underneath. “Does that feel all right? Is it too tight?” I asked. Johnny didn't answer.

 

Fine. Be that way. I started driving. We had to go through the center of town to pick up the main road into Rhode Island. I prayed we wouldn't pass by anybody I knew. I wanted to get there and back without anyone noticing that I was gone. Cara was expecting me to be at her house around seven p.m., so I had a deadline.

 

Every so often, I glanced into the rearview mirror but the body on my backseat didn't move. He could have been really dead for all I knew. I hoped he was getting a good rest. He was going to have to go out in the noonday sun soon enough. It was only about an hour from here to Kenny's parent's house. I stopped for gas after we got across the border, and still Johnny didn't move. It was scary. I was almost tempted to raise a little corner of the tablecloth to check on him, but I was afraid he might wake up and hurt me, or hurt himself, so I left him alone.

 

I couldn't remember exactly how to get there, so I drove around and around until I passed the old cemetery where Kenny had shown me his ancestors. I pulled over to the side of the road, trying to find an unobtrusive place to park. This was as good a place as any to leave the car. We would have to walk to the Brown's house from here, so the neighbors wouldn't remark on the unfamiliar car with out-of-state plates parked in their driveway. “Johnny, wake up!” I said, reluctant to touch him. He didn't stir. He must have been sound asleep. “Johnny!” I said louder.

 

Just like in the movies, the entire tablecloth moved as Johnny sat upright. He shrugged it off his head and shoulders, and winced as the dappled sun streamed in through the windows. Even in the shade, the sun affected him. “We're here,” I said, pointing diagonally across the cemetery. The Brown's house was somewhere in that direction, one or two streets over, if I remembered correctly. They lived in a residential area which bordered a small woods. The cemetery was on the other side of that woods. I was fairly sure I would recognize their house once I got closer. “Can you go out?”

 

Johnny just gave me a disgusted look and got out of the car. He left the tablecloth behind, but took out his baseball cap from his back pocket and propped it on his head. It was better than nothing, I supposed. “Let's go,” he said shortly, following my pointing finger and heading out across the cemetery. About halfway through, he stopped, and looked around in confusion. “How do you know about this

place?” he asked me.

 

When I had pointed across the cemetery, I hadn't expected that we would walk through it. I just meant that that was the general direction. I had assumed we would walk around the woods, along the road. “We stopped here, on our way back from visiting Kenny's parents,” I told him. “This is where Kenny's family is buried.”

 

Johnny moved forward slowly, but he paused every now and then to read the inscription on a gravestone. I hurried to catch up to him. “This one is Kenny's grandfather, the one who came to Lockwood and married Alyce Smythe,” I told him. “Over there are his great-grandparents.”

 

Johnny kept moving, only briefly stopping to look at the individual graves. I wondered if he had been here before. He came to another grave and ran his hand over the worn letters. “Jack,” he murmured, with a slight smile. “You got your final wish, I see.”

 

I bit back what I was going to say. “You knew him?” I asked instead, as my mind whirled helplessly in a tangle of growing realization. The headstone read `Jack Pryce-Smithe.' Kenny had told me he was a distant cousin.

 

“I told you about him,” Johnny replied. “How he was dragged out of his house and killed by the hunters. I didn't know they buried him. Jack would have liked that. He tried so hard at the end to fit in.”

 

“But . . .” Jack—John. I should have guessed, but I didn't. “He was your—father?”

 

“If you want to call him that,” Johnny agreed, already moving past the grave. “Let's get going.”

 

I could see that Johnny's face and hands were already beginning to blister. I didn't have time to think about this right now. Johnny needed to get out of the sun. “This way,” I directed him, climbing over the far stone wall and into the woods. Through the trees, I could see the backs of a few houses not far away. Kenny's parent's house should be one street over after we crossed that one. “It's not far.”

 

In broad daylight it was easy to walk openly down the sidewalk, and Johnny and I made good time after we left the woods. Since it was a Friday, the houses were mostly empty as people were at work, except for a few with children enjoying their last few days of summer vacation. No one paid any attention to us.

 

We entered through the side door, which was miraculously unlocked. Either Johnny had a really lucky streak with doors not being locked, or he somehow was able to circumvent the locks. If that was the case, though, he wouldn't tell me. “It was unlocked,” he insisted. We slipped inside, and Johnny sank down into a nearby kitchen chair and sighed. The sun really bothered him.

 

“Are you going to be okay?” I asked, and he arched an eyebrow. Sighing myself, I went to the sink and got a glass of water.

 

Johnny waved me away. “No, I'm fine,” he said. “Let me just sit for a minute.”

 

When Johnny was rested, I showed him Mr. Brown's den. He spent a long while staring at the coat of arms, before he systematically started going through the desk. I didn't want to interrupt his concentration, especially since he still didn't look very good, so I wandered aimlessly around the rest of the house, looking for clues of my own. My mind kept spinning, over and over. If John Price was really Jack Pryce-Smithe, and if Jack Pryce-Smithe was Kenny's cousin, did that mean that Johnny, too, was a Smythe way back when? Were the vampires and the Smythes related by more than just an attraction to the blood? Did Johnny know? Did Kenny?

 

I found myself outside Kenny's bedroom. He only stayed there when he came to visit his parents, so the room remained a shrine to the younger Kenny he used to be, with photos from his high-school and college days, and posters of his favorite teams at the time. I tried to calm my racing thoughts. I was jumping to conclusions. Jack wasn't Johnny's real father, so there was no reason to think that Johnny was a Smythe at all.

 

I picked up one of the pictures. It showed a smiling Kenny in team uniform holding up a big trophy. The picture must have been taken when Kenny was in high school, because he was much younger, still a teenager, but I could still recognize his curly brown hair and expressive eyes. The blood drained from my face as I stared at the picture. Why hadn't I seen it sooner?

 

The door burst open and Johnny glared at me. “I've been calling you,” he said, waving a sheaf of papers in the air. “Can you copy them? Now?”

 

I glanced from Johnny to the photo still in my hand. The resemblance was striking. Johnny could have been a younger Kenny. Or, perhaps, Kenny is what Johnny would have looked like if he had been allowed to grow up. Quickly I turned the photo face down on the bureau. “I'll have to find a place that makes copies, like the public library,” I said. “Let me find a phone book.”

 

I made my call, and got directions to the library. I would have to get the car and drive over there. “It's going to take me a while,” I told Johnny. “What will you do in the meantime?”

 

Johnny lay down on Kenny's bed and put his arms behind his head. “Take a nap,” he said, and he closed his eyes.

 

I walked over and pulled the shade down as far as it would go. I wished I had my tablecloth to hang over the entire window, but it was still back in the car. The shade would have to do. “Be good,” I said, and Johnny grinned without ever opening his eyes.

 

The list Johnny had found was easily fifty pages. I had to make change at the local Laundromat in order to feed coins into the copier at the library. As I copied the pages, one by one, I skimmed through them, awed by the scope of the project. I found Grandpa's name in there, and Dad's, and mine and Eddie's and Crystal's and Eddie's two kids. The spouses were not listed anywhere—just the Smythe descendants. I found Jonathan Price, too. The fact that he was on this comprehensive list told me he was related—otherwise, he wouldn't have been mentioned. Was that what Johnny was looking for—traces of himself in the history of the family? He wanted to see how closely they were able to keep track of him over the centuries, as that might explain how they knew who he was now.

 

Unfortunately, I didn't have time to scan through each page as I made a copy. There were just too many of them, and I had to get back to Johnny. It was late afternoon already. Soon, people would be coming home from work and the streets around the Brown's house would become busier. We had to get out of there before we were noticed. I bundled up my two stacks of paper and hurried out of the library. There was a corner market half a block away from the Brown's house, so I parked there and left our set of papers in the car.

 

“It's done,” I said breathlessly as I let myself in the back door. Johnny was sitting at the kitchen table again, looking rosier than when I had left. “I thought you were taking a nap.”

 

“I woke up,” Johnny said, unapologetic. I was willing to be that more than sleep gave him his rosy appearance. “Give me the papers.”

 

I handed Johnny the original documents so he could put them back in Mr. Brown's desk. When he was finished, we returned to the car and Johnny slipped into his accustomed seat next to me. He read through the copied papers silently as I drove, until we passed a diner out on the main road. “Pull in here,” he directed. “You should get yourself some lunch.”

 

It was closer to suppertime, but I didn't argue. By the time we picked up Crystal at Cara's house and got back home, it would be close to seven-thirty or eight at night, and I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. Johnny came in with me and I ordered my food while he watched the patrons of the diner. At that time of day, between lunch and dinner, there weren't many. The ones that were there were mostly old, at the restaurant for an early dinner so that they could go home to an early bed. “Excuse me,” Johnny said, as he slid his chair back and followed an elderly gentleman into the men's room.

 

He came back out before the elderly gentleman did. “Are you finished yet?” he asked me, grinning slightly. His face wasn't as sunburned as it had been just a few minutes ago.

 

“Did you leave the poor old guy alive?” I whispered angrily.

 

Johnny shrugged, and walked out to the car. I paid the bill up at the counter and followed him out, a little afraid to find out whether the old man was dead or alive. I couldn't change it, regardless. Johnny read the papers the rest of the way home. I thought about asking him directly if he was related to the Smythes, but I couldn't bring myself to ask. If he already knew, he wasn't saying, and if he didn't, I really wasn't sure I wanted to be the one to tell him.

 

We got to Cara's a little before six, earlier than I had expected. “You should go,” I cautioned Johnny. He was supposed to be keeping a low profile.

 

“In a while,” he agreed, making no move to leave.

 

I seethed in silence as I rang Cara's front doorbell. Johnny was always pushing the envelope, seeing how far he could take things. His life was at stake! Why couldn't he be a good little vampire and disappear before somebody recognized him? He wasn't only putting himself in danger—he was also exposing Crystal and me for helping him!

 

Cara opened the door, and I thought frantically of what I was going to say to her, but when I looked behind me, Johnny was gone. I stood there alone. “I'm early,” I blurted, just to say something. “Is Crystal ready to go?”

 

“Cara, who is it?” Someone in the other room called out. I froze. I recognized that voice. It was the voice of the man I didn't know at Kenny's house last night—was it only last night? It seemed like ages ago. He came to the door, holding a hot-dog on a bun. When he saw me, he smiled. “Hello,” he said. If I had met him at Betty's picnic, or at the funeral, I didn't remember. He was about Cara's age, tall, with a bit of a pot belly. “You must be Crystal's mother.”

 

“Yes, yes I am,” I replied awkwardly. It seemed we hadn't met each other, then. “I'm Lisa Porter.”

 

Cara opened the door wide and invited me in. “We're just finishing supper,” she said. “Lisa, I'd like you to meet my cousin, Bill Lovall. He's the one who let me dig around in his attic for memorabilia.”

 

I started to take a step forward, when I felt a sudden jerk on my arm and stumbled back. “Uh, I forgot something in my car,” I said quickly to explain my reaction. “I'll be right back.” I ran to the car, and rummaged around in the back seat trying to find something I could bring into the house to explain why I had run off so suddenly. My hands fell on the plastic tablecloth. That would have to do. “Johnny,” I whispered, fairly sure that he crouched on the far side of the car. “What did you do that for?”

 

“Don't trust him, Lisa.” I heard Johnny's disembodied voice float up from the other side of the car. “I'm going now. I'll meet you at home.”

 

“Why? What's wrong with him?” I asked, with little hope that Johnny would bother answering me. I was already on guard because I knew he had been at Kenny's hunter meeting, so he was one of those who had the blood. What worse could there be?

 

“It was him,” Johnny said in a low voice. “He was the one who called in the hunter.”

 

I didn't know how Johnny had figured it out. But I believed him. My stomach started to roil. That meant that all the information Cara had obtained from her cousin Bill's attic was suspect. He knew who I was, and he knew about the vampire.

 

“Can I help with anything?” Bill came up quietly behind me as I backed out of the car with the tablecloth in my arms. I jumped in startlement.

 

“No, I've got it,” I said, pushing past him to where Cara still waited on her front steps. “Here, I got this the other day and thought of you.” I handed Cara the plastic tablecloth, which she graciously accepted. Just then, Crystal ran up.

 

“Mommy!” she shouted happily. “We're having hot-dogs. Want a hot-dog?” She led me outside to the patio where a round picnic table was already covered with a round plastic tablecloth. Cara must think I'm an idiot.

 

I declined the offer of a hot-dog, but did accept a cup of coffee while Crystal finished her meal and then gathered up her things. By the time I was ready to leave, it was after seven. “Thank you so much for having her,” I said to Cara, feeling a little guilty that I had left her there for so long. Her granddaughter Ellie had already gone home with her mother.

 

Bill Lovall sipped his coffee and watched me over the rim of his cup. “Lisa, will you be staying in Lockwood after the summer?”

 

I shook my head. “No, I don't think so,” I replied. “Crystal's got school.” That was my excuse. It wasn't worth getting into my situation with Sam.

 

“Will you come back?”

“I'm sure we will. My family has a cottage by the lake.”

 

“Then I look forward to seeing you again,” Ed said.

 

It was dark by the time we got back to the cottage. I expected Johnny to have the lights on for us, but he must not be home yet. There were lots of possible reasons for that. Maybe he had gone to get something to eat again. Being up all day took a lot out of him. Maybe he had something important to take care of first. Maybe he had just forgotten to turn on the lights. He did that sometimes.

 

“Shower, then bed, young lady,” I said, as I unlocked the door. My heart was hammering in my chest. Please, please let Johnny be all right, I prayed.