Brother Randall
July 13, 2009
London, UK
Randall Barris was trying to nap but found himself having trouble sleeping. He had come to Maine to help his brother Elvin and sister-in-law-to-be Terry get things together for their move to London. At the moment, he wished he wasn’t alone. His thoughts kept turning to his late brother Billy. He wanted to cry and wished his wife Moira was here so he could cry on her comforting shoulder. He realized that he could call Moira, but he didn’t want to worry her.
“Miss you, Love, and need you so bad,” Randall whispered, turning his tear-stained face towards his pillow.
He imagined that Moira and the younger children could come out and join him a few days early. The kids enjoyed visiting the States. They liked the lighthouses in Maine. The nineteen-year-old twins, Loran and Yann, and nineteen-year-old Na’zyia, one of Randall’s adopted African children, always had such fun together. Perhaps twenty-year-old daughter Mudiwa’s employer would allow her to get away a few days early too. She could help entertain ten-year-old Wadi, the couple’s adopted Jordanian son. Hell, bring the whole fam-damily, Randall thought. Eldest daughter Scotti and her son Ryan would enjoy the amazing scenery here on the American east coast too. He thought that he might call Melody, his brother’s widow, and ask her if she wanted to come too.
Moira was sometimes jealous of Randall’s friendship with Melody, but there was nothing romantic in Randall’s feelings for his one-time sister-in-law. He felt as if Melody was his own sister and wanted her to continue to feel like she was part of the family, even though Billy had been gone for twenty years. Three years after Billy’s death, Melody married her current husband Francis, an Ethiopian man whom she met through her work with adoptions and with whom she had two children, a fifteen-year-old named Xander and a thirteen-year-old named Gopal.
Francis, Randall, and the other lads in Mood Indigo were fast friends, and Francis was a great contributor to World Wednesdays at Mood Indigo with his drum and dance routines and help in the kitchen preparing authentic dishes. Francis had many talents. He contracted with the diplomatic service as an interpreter and was an artist and a designer of handmade clothing and blankets. He was an excellent cook and taught dance and other classes. Francis was, in Randall’s view, a great addition to the family. It would be nice to see Francis and Melody. Thinking about calling them made Randall feel a bit better. He would call them soon. He rolled on his side and put his hand on the extra pillow, thinking of how nice it would be when he could feel his wife beside him instead of the empty bed.
“I love you, Moira,” he said, wishing that on some level she would hear him and feel his thoughts.
Randall’s mind was full of thoughts of his wife as he fell asleep. When he had first met her twenty-one years ago, she was still married but in the process of divorce. The pub was in its infancy. Billy was still alive. Moira came in inquiring if they needed waitresses, cocktail servers, bartenders or any other help. When Randall saw her, his heart leapt. She had beautiful wavy red hair and a stunning figure. She was holding a very young baby in her arms.
“I’d have me sister or me mum watch him, naturally,” she said in a lovely Irish brogue. “But since I was on me way by I wanted to stop in and see if you might have work. I’ve not worked much in a while, but I have done waitressing and a little barkeeping a few years back. I’ll do whatever you need, even wash dishes or bus or clean. I’m incapable, however, of cooking well for large numbers of people. I do hope you might be able to use my help, even a couple nights a week, anything would be good.”
“Sure,” Randall had said, ignoring Billy’s kick to the back of his leg. “Won’t be much pay at first, like as not, but who knows what could come if we take off. You tell me when you’re available and I’ll give you the work. Sound fair?”
Randall was smitten. He was just coming out of a turbulent five-year, fortunately childless marriage. He wasn’t looking for romance but he couldn’t stop looking at the woman who introduced herself as Moira Nolan. He offered to hold the baby while she wrote out a schedule. He walked her and the baby to the door. And he vowed to find out more about her.
Thirty-seven year old Moira was a hard worker with a lovely personality and a troubled past. She also had two other boys, aged two and five, with her soon-to-be-ex husband, a verbally abusive bisexual man who flaunted his male lovers in front of Moira and the children. And she had a lovely 19-year-old daughter named Scotti from her first marriage to a violent alcoholic who had been a friend of her father’s and who was much older than she. Scotti also began working at the club when she wasn’t watching the children. She was as good and devoted a worker as her mother and Randall vowed that she would one day get the education she dreamed of.
Randall’s inner Sir Galahad wanted to charge forward and rescue his wonderful employee and her precious brood. He knew there were challenges to having such a large instant family. But the children all took to him. And so, in one of the most nerve-racking moments of his life, he told Moira of his feelings for her and his desire to be part of her family’s life. Initially Moira was reluctant, and Randall had to resign himself to being a friend. His heart ached as if stabbed every time he saw Moira being friendly with a male customer. But she never took up with anyone. And when her ugly divorce was final, she became more receptive to Randall’s kindness. His relatives helped steer her to him as they swore up and down that he was a really good fellow and that he really cared for her. So Moira, who told Randall that she was scared to death of getting hurt again, slowly allowed him to get closer. And two years after meeting, the pair married. Billy, sadly, was not around for the wedding, having killed himself a year previously.
Moira had been true and good as anyone could be in the dark days that followed Billy’s suicide. She had helped Randall’s sister Cordelia care for their mother Amelia, who had a nervous breakdown following her youngest child’s death. She was a friend to Melody, who was heartbroken over her husband’s suicide. Scotti became a special friend to Billy and Melody’s sons, seven-year-old Liam and four-year-old Rodger, taking them to the movies, the zoo, the park, anywhere she thought might make them happy. Moira also became good friends with Randall’s cousin Allan’s wife Mila and her friend Erskina, and began working with them to help facilitate adoptions of African children in Britain. Randall and Moira’s family grew by leaps and bounds. Though biologically they only had their twin sons due to fibroids making it impossible for Moira to have more children, they adopted four more children, bringing their family to a total of ten.
Eleven-year-old Quinton, a Hungarian boy who had been left at an orphanage by his destitute and desperate aunt had, unfortunately, been so traumatically abused early in life that his loving adoptive family couldn’t entirely help him, although his tendency to violent outbursts had diminished. He was severely autistic and currently lived at a boarding school for special needs youth. It broke Randall’s heart when he thought about it, but he realized that Quint’s needs could be better met by the professionals at the school than by Randall and Moira and their loving but chaotic brood. The house was simply too lively for Quint, who desperately needed quiet and order. Yet no matter how many times the kindly family counselor Annie Charles explained this to Randall and Moira, they somehow felt that they had failed their first adopted son.
Moira often took cookies to Quint and the other students and staff at Daylight Educational Institute. Someone from the family visited Quint every day. Their oldest adopted daughter Mudiwa especially enjoyed visiting him. It was a great contrast between DiDi’s warm, loving nature and Quint’s cool withdrawal, but Mudiwa didn’t mind. She gently and quietly read to her brother and stayed with him for hours at a time even when all he would do was stare out the window or rock back and forth.
“Maybe he don’t know in his head that he’s my brother,” DiDi told one of the teachers, “but he knows in his heart. He just has to get well in his own time. And no matter how long that takes, I’ll always be his sister.”
Mudiwa had an amazingly cheerful attitude for a girl that had been through so much. At the age of 11, her village in Zimbabwe had been stricken by smallpox. Both of her parents and all of her younger siblings died. Many of her other relatives perished as well. Mudiwa lived and in fact thrived as she healed, but her face was scarred. Dermatological treatments had helped, but the scars would never be entirely eliminated. Fortunately, the school she was in encouraged children to be supportive of one another and so DiDi had suffered far fewer negative incidents than some children in her position might. Two years ago she’d met her now-husband through her work at the clinic. Imre Gurye was from Haiti. He had been 28 years old when DiDi began dating him a year and a half ago. His age had initially concerned Randall and Moira, but his sunny personality and youthful manner allayed their fears. DiDi swore up and down that he never tried to push her into anything and told them how much fun she had with him. DiDi had always been a girl who wore her emotions on her sleeve, so her parents doubted she would lie to them concerning such matters. They gave DiDi their blessing to see Imre, and hoped that things would turn out well.
Six months after DiDi and Imre started dating, Indigo Reflection had agreed to play a benefit concert to benefit Alzheimer’s research and treatment prior to the final night of Terry’s cousin Victor’s extremely popular and long-running play “The Day After St. Valentine’s Day.” Randall had been sitting in his hotel room the night before the gig, remembering DiDi and Imre dancing animatedly at the band’s bon voyage party. They were looking into each other’s eyes and laughing. It was a pleasant thought to fall asleep by, and Moira’s warm, curvy body always felt wonderful in his arms as she slept next to him.
“Hope ‘e’s the one, little bird,” Randall thought. “I think ‘e is. Would make it easy on you, that’s cert. And you deserve that.”
Randall’s eyes had no sooner closed than he felt a cold hand on his shoulder.
“Oh, I think he’s the one, Randall,” a cold voice chuckled. “Hope you’re ok with the fact that Immy took your daughter’s virginity last night. But he intends to marry her, so I doubt you’ll have much of a problem with it. She’s a sweet girl. Nice face. The scars don’t detract that much. Shame she has to have them, though. They cast doubts on her self-image. Lucky that fellow Immy isn’t the type to take advantage of such a thing. You know how they smiled at each other when they were dancing, Randall? Well, they smiled that way when they were doing the Horizontal Tango, too.”
Randall jolted upwards. A man with very white skin and very black hair sat beside him on the bed. The man’s eyes were like blue ice. And when he grinned he revealed sharp fangs. He’d been giving the members of Mood Indigo and Metal Mass trouble from the time that Elvin and Terry had become serious about one another, so Randall was already familiar with Prince Jarius Viscu.
“Fuck!” Randall cried. “Where the ’ell did you come from? You fuckin’ undead piece of crap, if I find out you’ve ‘armed me daughter...”
Randall reached for the cross around his neck. Jarius gripped his hand roughly.
“Put that away, Randall,” he said. “I’m not going to mess with you. I’m not even going to suck your blood. I’ve already had my fill tonight. Your cousin Niles’ wife is one hot number, you know. Doesn’t look anywhere her age and will never look any older at all when I’m through with her. As to your daughter, she’ll come around when you come around. She’s always listened to her daddy. You’ve been a good daddy, Randall. I like a man who cares for his children. You’re a good family man. Your wife is a sweet piece of ass, you lucky bastard! I’ll have to grab me some of that sometime. Quit steaming, Randall. Not just now. Like I said, I’m fully satiated in all ways, thanks to your cousin’s wife. She thought she was having erotic dreams. Lucky Niles got to comfort her once I was done and her dream turned into a nightmare. But I do have a message for you to deliver to your brother. That dirty bastard has been fucking a woman who I have more claim to than he does. She was my brother’s bride and I shared her charms. Your brother thinks he can step in and take over. I’m giving him fair warning. Back off or die. Think you can tell him that, Randall?”
“Why don’t you tell ‘im yourself?” Randall demanded.
“Sadly, Randall, I was not able to gain access to the suite he’s sharing with sweet Teresa today, as I was to yours. You recall calling upon maintenance to fix that blasted running toilet that was driving you crazy this morning? Well, when said maintenance man came in to make repairs, I showed up in the guise of cable television repairman. I knocked and asked if I could come in. He said sure. Nice fellow he was. Very accommodating. I’m afraid he’ll be home with flulike symptoms over the next day or so, Randall. But a nice, healthy 40-year-old usually recovers fairly quickly from a hearty draining. I had no desire to harm him, I just needed to feed. And he did give me access to your temporary abode. You can’t reward kindness with death, it wouldn’t be right. Now, Randall, I’ve no truck with you. So please, do me the kindness of telling your brother of my little visit, and tell him if he doesn’t keep his dick out of my property, he’s gonna be one sorry motherfucker. You can do that for me, can’t you, Randall? I thought so. Oh, and when next you see your daughter, try not to let on that you know her Haitian fellow made her a woman. Ta!”
Jarius floated through the window and out into the night.
Randall jerked awake. He nearly fell off the bed diving to turn on the light. As soon as he’d run to the bathroom to avoid pissing himself after his scare, he dialed the number to Elvin’s suite. When Elvin didn’t answer he became panicked and called Elvin’s cell phone. At first Elvin began chewing Randall out about roaming charges. But he quickly realized that his brother was unnerved about something and relented. When Randall told his tale, Elvin was equally unnerved. He left the living area where Terry was talking to Aldon on the hotel phone.
“Ay, God,” Elvin sighed wearily. “Apparently Aldy ‘ad a visit from our friend Jarius too. And Terry ‘ad quite a dream about some poor bird bein’ gang-raped by a bunch of thugs at a ware’ouse in Crouch End. She called the constables and tried to talk ‘em into investigating, but they put ‘er off. I hope I’m wrong, but the girl she was describing sounded a lot like Beth Craig, the little lass who did the illustrations for Terry and Aldy’s collection of short stories last year.”
“Well, you especially must be on your guard, Els,” Randall said. “He wants Tiry, and he wants you gone. Don’t be goin’ nowhere by yourself, arite? Especially at night.”
“Yeah, Randall, I hear you,” Elvin said. “And as soon as we’re done wi’ our good Samaritan act here in Bangor, we gotta do somethin’ ‘bout hunting down this blighter ‘fore he’s able to accomplish his mission. I don’t know the particulars of what he intends to do, but one thing I know dead cert, he’s up to no good, and it’s not just me own life on the line. You take care, old China. Shut your window and keep your silver cross that Aldy gave you on at all times. Call if anything else happens, arite?”
“Will do, Els. ‘Night.”
Randall hung up the phone. He would never again be able to sleep in complete darkness. That was one reason why he’d taken to sleeping in the afternoon when he could. But it wasn’t working today and Randall found himself back in the present, nearly a year after the destruction of the vampire Jarius Viscu, trying to fight off a panic attack.
“He’s dead and gone,” Randall said, hugging his chest to his knees and rocking. “Bloody blighter’s dead and gone. I saw him die, saw him turn to a skeleton, helped the lads smash his bones and scatter them. I saw the fucker die for good. But he ain’t never dead in me mind. All me life he’s gonna come after me in my dreams. So maybe in a way the bastard won after all.”
July 13, 2009
London, UK
Randall Barris was trying to nap but found himself having trouble sleeping. He had come to Maine to help his brother Elvin and sister-in-law-to-be Terry get things together for their move to London. At the moment, he wished he wasn’t alone. His thoughts kept turning to his late brother Billy. He wanted to cry and wished his wife Moira was here so he could cry on her comforting shoulder. He realized that he could call Moira, but he didn’t want to worry her.
“Miss you, Love, and need you so bad,” Randall whispered, turning his tear-stained face towards his pillow.
He imagined that Moira and the younger children could come out and join him a few days early. The kids enjoyed visiting the States. They liked the lighthouses in Maine. The nineteen-year-old twins, Loran and Yann, and nineteen-year-old Na’zyia, one of Randall’s adopted African children, always had such fun together. Perhaps twenty-year-old daughter Mudiwa’s employer would allow her to get away a few days early too. She could help entertain ten-year-old Wadi, the couple’s adopted Jordanian son. Hell, bring the whole fam-damily, Randall thought. Eldest daughter Scotti and her son Ryan would enjoy the amazing scenery here on the American east coast too. He thought that he might call Melody, his brother’s widow, and ask her if she wanted to come too.
Moira was sometimes jealous of Randall’s friendship with Melody, but there was nothing romantic in Randall’s feelings for his one-time sister-in-law. He felt as if Melody was his own sister and wanted her to continue to feel like she was part of the family, even though Billy had been gone for twenty years. Three years after Billy’s death, Melody married her current husband Francis, an Ethiopian man whom she met through her work with adoptions and with whom she had two children, a fifteen-year-old named Xander and a thirteen-year-old named Gopal.
Francis, Randall, and the other lads in Mood Indigo were fast friends, and Francis was a great contributor to World Wednesdays at Mood Indigo with his drum and dance routines and help in the kitchen preparing authentic dishes. Francis had many talents. He contracted with the diplomatic service as an interpreter and was an artist and a designer of handmade clothing and blankets. He was an excellent cook and taught dance and other classes. Francis was, in Randall’s view, a great addition to the family. It would be nice to see Francis and Melody. Thinking about calling them made Randall feel a bit better. He would call them soon. He rolled on his side and put his hand on the extra pillow, thinking of how nice it would be when he could feel his wife beside him instead of the empty bed.
“I love you, Moira,” he said, wishing that on some level she would hear him and feel his thoughts.
Randall’s mind was full of thoughts of his wife as he fell asleep. When he had first met her twenty-one years ago, she was still married but in the process of divorce. The pub was in its infancy. Billy was still alive. Moira came in inquiring if they needed waitresses, cocktail servers, bartenders or any other help. When Randall saw her, his heart leapt. She had beautiful wavy red hair and a stunning figure. She was holding a very young baby in her arms.
“I’d have me sister or me mum watch him, naturally,” she said in a lovely Irish brogue. “But since I was on me way by I wanted to stop in and see if you might have work. I’ve not worked much in a while, but I have done waitressing and a little barkeeping a few years back. I’ll do whatever you need, even wash dishes or bus or clean. I’m incapable, however, of cooking well for large numbers of people. I do hope you might be able to use my help, even a couple nights a week, anything would be good.”
“Sure,” Randall had said, ignoring Billy’s kick to the back of his leg. “Won’t be much pay at first, like as not, but who knows what could come if we take off. You tell me when you’re available and I’ll give you the work. Sound fair?”
Randall was smitten. He was just coming out of a turbulent five-year, fortunately childless marriage. He wasn’t looking for romance but he couldn’t stop looking at the woman who introduced herself as Moira Nolan. He offered to hold the baby while she wrote out a schedule. He walked her and the baby to the door. And he vowed to find out more about her.
Thirty-seven year old Moira was a hard worker with a lovely personality and a troubled past. She also had two other boys, aged two and five, with her soon-to-be-ex husband, a verbally abusive bisexual man who flaunted his male lovers in front of Moira and the children. And she had a lovely 19-year-old daughter named Scotti from her first marriage to a violent alcoholic who had been a friend of her father’s and who was much older than she. Scotti also began working at the club when she wasn’t watching the children. She was as good and devoted a worker as her mother and Randall vowed that she would one day get the education she dreamed of.
Randall’s inner Sir Galahad wanted to charge forward and rescue his wonderful employee and her precious brood. He knew there were challenges to having such a large instant family. But the children all took to him. And so, in one of the most nerve-racking moments of his life, he told Moira of his feelings for her and his desire to be part of her family’s life. Initially Moira was reluctant, and Randall had to resign himself to being a friend. His heart ached as if stabbed every time he saw Moira being friendly with a male customer. But she never took up with anyone. And when her ugly divorce was final, she became more receptive to Randall’s kindness. His relatives helped steer her to him as they swore up and down that he was a really good fellow and that he really cared for her. So Moira, who told Randall that she was scared to death of getting hurt again, slowly allowed him to get closer. And two years after meeting, the pair married. Billy, sadly, was not around for the wedding, having killed himself a year previously.
Moira had been true and good as anyone could be in the dark days that followed Billy’s suicide. She had helped Randall’s sister Cordelia care for their mother Amelia, who had a nervous breakdown following her youngest child’s death. She was a friend to Melody, who was heartbroken over her husband’s suicide. Scotti became a special friend to Billy and Melody’s sons, seven-year-old Liam and four-year-old Rodger, taking them to the movies, the zoo, the park, anywhere she thought might make them happy. Moira also became good friends with Randall’s cousin Allan’s wife Mila and her friend Erskina, and began working with them to help facilitate adoptions of African children in Britain. Randall and Moira’s family grew by leaps and bounds. Though biologically they only had their twin sons due to fibroids making it impossible for Moira to have more children, they adopted four more children, bringing their family to a total of ten.
Eleven-year-old Quinton, a Hungarian boy who had been left at an orphanage by his destitute and desperate aunt had, unfortunately, been so traumatically abused early in life that his loving adoptive family couldn’t entirely help him, although his tendency to violent outbursts had diminished. He was severely autistic and currently lived at a boarding school for special needs youth. It broke Randall’s heart when he thought about it, but he realized that Quint’s needs could be better met by the professionals at the school than by Randall and Moira and their loving but chaotic brood. The house was simply too lively for Quint, who desperately needed quiet and order. Yet no matter how many times the kindly family counselor Annie Charles explained this to Randall and Moira, they somehow felt that they had failed their first adopted son.
Moira often took cookies to Quint and the other students and staff at Daylight Educational Institute. Someone from the family visited Quint every day. Their oldest adopted daughter Mudiwa especially enjoyed visiting him. It was a great contrast between DiDi’s warm, loving nature and Quint’s cool withdrawal, but Mudiwa didn’t mind. She gently and quietly read to her brother and stayed with him for hours at a time even when all he would do was stare out the window or rock back and forth.
“Maybe he don’t know in his head that he’s my brother,” DiDi told one of the teachers, “but he knows in his heart. He just has to get well in his own time. And no matter how long that takes, I’ll always be his sister.”
Mudiwa had an amazingly cheerful attitude for a girl that had been through so much. At the age of 11, her village in Zimbabwe had been stricken by smallpox. Both of her parents and all of her younger siblings died. Many of her other relatives perished as well. Mudiwa lived and in fact thrived as she healed, but her face was scarred. Dermatological treatments had helped, but the scars would never be entirely eliminated. Fortunately, the school she was in encouraged children to be supportive of one another and so DiDi had suffered far fewer negative incidents than some children in her position might. Two years ago she’d met her now-husband through her work at the clinic. Imre Gurye was from Haiti. He had been 28 years old when DiDi began dating him a year and a half ago. His age had initially concerned Randall and Moira, but his sunny personality and youthful manner allayed their fears. DiDi swore up and down that he never tried to push her into anything and told them how much fun she had with him. DiDi had always been a girl who wore her emotions on her sleeve, so her parents doubted she would lie to them concerning such matters. They gave DiDi their blessing to see Imre, and hoped that things would turn out well.
Six months after DiDi and Imre started dating, Indigo Reflection had agreed to play a benefit concert to benefit Alzheimer’s research and treatment prior to the final night of Terry’s cousin Victor’s extremely popular and long-running play “The Day After St. Valentine’s Day.” Randall had been sitting in his hotel room the night before the gig, remembering DiDi and Imre dancing animatedly at the band’s bon voyage party. They were looking into each other’s eyes and laughing. It was a pleasant thought to fall asleep by, and Moira’s warm, curvy body always felt wonderful in his arms as she slept next to him.
“Hope ‘e’s the one, little bird,” Randall thought. “I think ‘e is. Would make it easy on you, that’s cert. And you deserve that.”
Randall’s eyes had no sooner closed than he felt a cold hand on his shoulder.
“Oh, I think he’s the one, Randall,” a cold voice chuckled. “Hope you’re ok with the fact that Immy took your daughter’s virginity last night. But he intends to marry her, so I doubt you’ll have much of a problem with it. She’s a sweet girl. Nice face. The scars don’t detract that much. Shame she has to have them, though. They cast doubts on her self-image. Lucky that fellow Immy isn’t the type to take advantage of such a thing. You know how they smiled at each other when they were dancing, Randall? Well, they smiled that way when they were doing the Horizontal Tango, too.”
Randall jolted upwards. A man with very white skin and very black hair sat beside him on the bed. The man’s eyes were like blue ice. And when he grinned he revealed sharp fangs. He’d been giving the members of Mood Indigo and Metal Mass trouble from the time that Elvin and Terry had become serious about one another, so Randall was already familiar with Prince Jarius Viscu.
“Fuck!” Randall cried. “Where the ’ell did you come from? You fuckin’ undead piece of crap, if I find out you’ve ‘armed me daughter...”
Randall reached for the cross around his neck. Jarius gripped his hand roughly.
“Put that away, Randall,” he said. “I’m not going to mess with you. I’m not even going to suck your blood. I’ve already had my fill tonight. Your cousin Niles’ wife is one hot number, you know. Doesn’t look anywhere her age and will never look any older at all when I’m through with her. As to your daughter, she’ll come around when you come around. She’s always listened to her daddy. You’ve been a good daddy, Randall. I like a man who cares for his children. You’re a good family man. Your wife is a sweet piece of ass, you lucky bastard! I’ll have to grab me some of that sometime. Quit steaming, Randall. Not just now. Like I said, I’m fully satiated in all ways, thanks to your cousin’s wife. She thought she was having erotic dreams. Lucky Niles got to comfort her once I was done and her dream turned into a nightmare. But I do have a message for you to deliver to your brother. That dirty bastard has been fucking a woman who I have more claim to than he does. She was my brother’s bride and I shared her charms. Your brother thinks he can step in and take over. I’m giving him fair warning. Back off or die. Think you can tell him that, Randall?”
“Why don’t you tell ‘im yourself?” Randall demanded.
“Sadly, Randall, I was not able to gain access to the suite he’s sharing with sweet Teresa today, as I was to yours. You recall calling upon maintenance to fix that blasted running toilet that was driving you crazy this morning? Well, when said maintenance man came in to make repairs, I showed up in the guise of cable television repairman. I knocked and asked if I could come in. He said sure. Nice fellow he was. Very accommodating. I’m afraid he’ll be home with flulike symptoms over the next day or so, Randall. But a nice, healthy 40-year-old usually recovers fairly quickly from a hearty draining. I had no desire to harm him, I just needed to feed. And he did give me access to your temporary abode. You can’t reward kindness with death, it wouldn’t be right. Now, Randall, I’ve no truck with you. So please, do me the kindness of telling your brother of my little visit, and tell him if he doesn’t keep his dick out of my property, he’s gonna be one sorry motherfucker. You can do that for me, can’t you, Randall? I thought so. Oh, and when next you see your daughter, try not to let on that you know her Haitian fellow made her a woman. Ta!”
Jarius floated through the window and out into the night.
Randall jerked awake. He nearly fell off the bed diving to turn on the light. As soon as he’d run to the bathroom to avoid pissing himself after his scare, he dialed the number to Elvin’s suite. When Elvin didn’t answer he became panicked and called Elvin’s cell phone. At first Elvin began chewing Randall out about roaming charges. But he quickly realized that his brother was unnerved about something and relented. When Randall told his tale, Elvin was equally unnerved. He left the living area where Terry was talking to Aldon on the hotel phone.
“Ay, God,” Elvin sighed wearily. “Apparently Aldy ‘ad a visit from our friend Jarius too. And Terry ‘ad quite a dream about some poor bird bein’ gang-raped by a bunch of thugs at a ware’ouse in Crouch End. She called the constables and tried to talk ‘em into investigating, but they put ‘er off. I hope I’m wrong, but the girl she was describing sounded a lot like Beth Craig, the little lass who did the illustrations for Terry and Aldy’s collection of short stories last year.”
“Well, you especially must be on your guard, Els,” Randall said. “He wants Tiry, and he wants you gone. Don’t be goin’ nowhere by yourself, arite? Especially at night.”
“Yeah, Randall, I hear you,” Elvin said. “And as soon as we’re done wi’ our good Samaritan act here in Bangor, we gotta do somethin’ ‘bout hunting down this blighter ‘fore he’s able to accomplish his mission. I don’t know the particulars of what he intends to do, but one thing I know dead cert, he’s up to no good, and it’s not just me own life on the line. You take care, old China. Shut your window and keep your silver cross that Aldy gave you on at all times. Call if anything else happens, arite?”
“Will do, Els. ‘Night.”
Randall hung up the phone. He would never again be able to sleep in complete darkness. That was one reason why he’d taken to sleeping in the afternoon when he could. But it wasn’t working today and Randall found himself back in the present, nearly a year after the destruction of the vampire Jarius Viscu, trying to fight off a panic attack.
“He’s dead and gone,” Randall said, hugging his chest to his knees and rocking. “Bloody blighter’s dead and gone. I saw him die, saw him turn to a skeleton, helped the lads smash his bones and scatter them. I saw the fucker die for good. But he ain’t never dead in me mind. All me life he’s gonna come after me in my dreams. So maybe in a way the bastard won after all.”
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