Blood's Thicker...

The clock shows five minutes until closing time when the door opens, sending the chiming of the bells to fill the air of my bookstore. Cristov lies on the counter, watching with interest as I finish the display of Kate Smith’s latest before turning around.

“Browser or buyer?” I whisper in question to him. The cat gives me a lazy blink before having a look at the late arrival. I complete my turn, following his gaze to greet the man walking towards us; my heart falters as I meet his vivid green eyes.

He’s one of them.

Stay calm, I tell myself as Cristov flows off the counter like water to saunter in front of me. Sitting, the cat gives the vampire a disinterested look before lifting a front paw. It appears it must’ve gotten very dirty with all the napping the useless beast’s done today. “May I help you?”

“I’m hoping we can help each other, Miss Harkfell,” he replies, halting a few feet away from Cristov, his eyes focused on the cat. Cristov blithely ignores his gaze, choosing to switch paws. The vampire’s English, though his accent’s a bit faded.

I have a stake under the counter, but the ward on the building is supposed to keep them from stepping inside. Trying to appear as though my movements are natural, I walk towards the end of the counter. “I’m not sure I understand, Mr…?”

“Harker. Charles Harker,” he replies, still studying Cristov with what I now realize is a healthy wariness. “I’m not what you think, Miss Harkfell. Please allow me to explain before attempting to drive that stake through me.”

I pause, surveying the scene. Cristov is still busily cleaning his paw, but from the angle I now stand at to both, I can see his sapphire eyes are locked on the vampire’s. The vampire hasn’t moved an inch, is just standing there before my cat with his green eyes staring intently back. “Then what are you?”

“A relative, for one,” he informs me. “I’m the child of Mina Harker and the Count. I’m a dhampyre, Miss Harkfell, and your many times removed cousin.”

“Dhampyres don’t exist, and Dracula was fictional,” I retort, becoming more intrigued by the staring contest between the two. “Why are you afraid of my cat?”

“I’m not afraid. I’m…being respectful.” He doesn’t look away from Cristov. “This is a very unique animal you have here, Constance.”

“Again, dhampyres don’t exist. Dracula was fictional, and even if he hadn’t been, he would’ve been undead far too long to have impregnated a human woman.” I’m a little pleased I know what he’s claiming to be. My private library has seen many late nights of reading as it has grown.

“Apparently he wasn’t, or I wouldn’t exist. I was born, Constance, not turned. I’ve yet to die, so I’m not a true vampire. However, there is one in town, and she’s hunting you.” He finally glances away from Cristov in order to see my reaction to this bit of news.

“Why would she be hunting me?” Aside from the obvious: I’ll kill her first, if I can catch her.

“You, my dear Constance, are the last living human descendent of those who destroyed Dracula. You’re the last human relative of the Harkers and the Van Helsings.”

“Sure.” I nodded in response and started moving again. Where was that stake?

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Tags:

hunter, horror, vampire, slayer, connie, gayla_drummond, short_stories, contemporary_fantasy and librarians