Abandoned

"You're renting on behalf of someone else?"

He nodded. "Guy paid me to rent the unit for him. Gives me cash for the monthly payments, plus a little extra for my trouble. Only, I've been a little behind on child support recently, so ... damn it!"

"It's okay," I said. "These things happen. That's why I'm here. Do you have some way to contact him? A name or address, maybe?"

He shook his head. "Cash comes in the mail every month. No return address. Suppose he likes his privacy."

"What else do you know about him?"

"Not much. Tall fellow. 'Bout your age. But look, he doesn't need to know about this. I'll get you the money, then we'll be all square. End of the month, right?"

I could tell he wasn't going to offer up any more useful information. "Yes, sir. We'd appreciate it."

He closed the door, and I headed back to the car.

Amber tried to hide her disappointment when I told her later that night.

"Well, it was worth a shot," she said, pulling a bottle of blood from the refrigerator and slumping into a chair. "Hey, what if I keep an eye on him at night? He could be lying about having no contact with James. Maybe we'll get lucky."

I doubted we'd learn anything useful from a stakeout, but if it kept Amber occupied and her spirits up, then I didn't see the harm.

"Good idea," I said. "Just be discreet."

I opened a beer and joined Amber at the table. She shook her head. "I can't believe this asshole is going to get away with it."

"He's not. We'll find him."

"I usually love your positivity, but right now it's kind of grating."

It had started to rain. I closed my eyes and listened to the dull thud of raindrops against the roof. I could picture them falling silently through the black sky before exploding against the shingles. I could see it as clearly as if I were standing atop the house.

My eyes opened. "James took you to his house the night of the party, right?"

"Yeah."

"What do you remember about it?"

"Not much. He bit me almost as soon as I walked inside."

"What about outside? The walk to the door?"

She shook her head. "I was staring at my feet, trying not to fall over. I was pretty drunk."

"Okay. Picture that. What did the walkway look like under your feet? Was it concrete? Brick?"

She thought for a moment. "Stone, I think. Yeah. Different shapes and sizes of stone."

"Flagstone probably. Good. Straight or winding?"

"Um, kind of curved. Like an arc leading to the front door."

"Anything else?"

"Nothing specific. It was a big house. Secluded, like this one. Lots of trees."

"How about the ride there? Did you notice anything? Any landmarks?"

"My eyes were closed. We were kissing pretty much the whole time. I only remember the hum of the tires on the road and his fingers on my ..." She slammed her hand on the table. "This is pointless."

"It's not. Close your eyes."

Amber stared at me for a moment, then closed her eyes.

"Good. Now put yourself back in that car. What did the road sound like?"

"What do you mean, 'What did the road sound like?' It didn't sound like anything. It's a fucking road."

"Did it sound like a highway? Any rumble strips?"

"No."

"Repetitive seams in the concrete? Like you might hear crossing a bridge?"

"I don't think so.'

"What about tunnels? The road sounds different inside a tunnel. Did you go through any of those?"

"No."

"Any big bumps?"

"Like potholes?" she asked.

"Like anything."

She paused. "Actually, yeah. Our teeth banged together when we went over one."

"Just one bump?"

"No. Two. Close together." She opened her eyes. "Railroad tracks?"

I nodded. "Railroad tracks. Were they near the beginning of the ride or the end?"

She leaned forward, her brow furrowed. "End, I think. We drove for a bit longer, then the road got crunchy. Gravel?"

"Probably. Did it get smooth again after that?"

"No. We just stopped."

I smiled. "I thought you didn't remember anything."

I grabbed my laptop from the living room and pulled up the location of the bar on the map. We marked all the railroad crossings within a twenty-mile radius. Most of them we could eliminate right off the bat because they were too close to the bar. Others we crossed out because they ran along the river. That left three candidates: two north of the bar, one south of it. All three bordered wooded areas.

We used street view to trace possible routes from the bar to the railroad crossings and beyond. We eliminated one possibility because it didn't have gravel roads nearby. The other two crossings were surrounded by large areas that didn't have street view, either because they were too remote or on privately owned land. We'd have to check out those in person.

"What now?" Amber asked.

"Let's scope it out and go from there. It's a big area to search. It could be a dead end."

"And if it's not?"

"Then maybe it's time we go hunting."

*******

Amber was desperate to come along with me, but she reluctantly agreed it would be better if I did reconnaissance on my own under cover of sunlight. James would be less likely to spot someone snooping around his property during the day while he was sleeping.

It was more than a four-hour round trip to the area near Johnstown where Amber had been abducted. That didn't leave much time for exploration. I could only squeeze in about two hours of searching if I wanted to be back in time for work.

I tried to be meticulous. I'd pick one backroad and stick to it, searching for a gravel road that might lead to a house like the one Amber had described. Once the road ended, or once I'd driven outside the likely radius we'd established, I'd cross the road off the list and move to the next one.

I limited myself to a few trips a week so that my dad wouldn't get suspicious. For three weeks, I searched. For three weeks, Amber would ask me the same question as soon as I got home from work.

"Any luck?"

I'd shake my head. "No. Any luck with Zach?"

She'd shake her head.

I got home from work one night in mid-December, peeled off my boots, and joined Amber in the kitchen. She was browning meat for tacos.

"Any luck?" she asked. She didn't even look up from the pan. We were just going through the motions now.

I paused for a moment. "Jackpot," I said.

Her head shot up. "What? Are you serious?"

I smiled. "I think I found him. But I need you to confirm it."

I was too tired to go back that night, so Amber and I drove down together the following night. We left the car on a side road about a mile away, then crept through the woods until we spotted the house.

"That's it," Amber said. "That's the one." She shook her head. "I can't believe you found it."

I pulled out a pair of binoculars and swept the property. "I don't see any signs of an alarm system. No security cameras. No motion detectors. Nothing. Doesn't that seem odd to you?"

"Not really," Amber said. "If you abducted and murdered people, would you want the police dropping by your house to check on a false alarm?"

We waited at the edge of the woods for an hour, hoping to catch a glimpse of James, but no one entered or left the house.

"C'mon," I whispered. "We have to get back. Dawn's coming."

On the drive home, I decided to take a little detour. Amber caught on immediately.

"I don't want to do this, Hans."

"Just for a few minutes," I said.

I slowed to a stop about a block from her parents' house. Most of the houses on the street were adorned with colorful Christmas lights. Amber's parents' house was dark. The only light came from a Christmas tree, just visible through their front window. Its branches were bare.

"We always decorated the tree together," she said. "After nursing school, I moved back home. Rented my first apartment fifteen minutes from here. They'd always wait to string the lights and hang the ornaments until I came to visit."

"Sounds like a nice tradition," I said.

Amber stared at the tree for a long time. "I know what you're trying to do. But that part of my life is over."

"I don't think you really believe that."

"It doesn't matter what you think. I need to accept it. And this isn't helping."

"Look," I said, "my Uncle Joe, my mom's brother, loved distance running. It was his passion. He was good at it too. Really good. Qualified for the Boston Marathon and everything. Then he was hit by a drunk driver. Paralyzed him from the waist down. It destroyed him. He felt like he'd never be whole again."

"Let me guess," Amber said. "Even though his life was upended, he found new meaning. He learned to accept his disability, and now he does wheelchair marathons or some shit."

"No. He killed himself."

"Jesus. This is a lousy pep talk."

"My point is, it's okay to grieve the part of you that's been lost. But that grief can destroy you if you let it. Don't let it."

I pulled away from the curb. Amber was quiet for most of the drive. As we got closer to home, she refocused on James.

"Now that we know where he lives, what's next?"

"Surveillance. We need to be sure he actually lives there. We also need to know if anyone else lives with him. And we need to establish a pattern of his comings and goings. When does he usually leave? When does he get back? The only way to learn all that is by watching and waiting."

"Great. Consider it done."

"What? No. I didn't mean you should do it."

"Why not? You work until midnight. Your dad will know something's up if he catches you ducking out early. So, after your dad leaves, I'll come get your car, drive to James's, stake it out, then pick you up before dawn. Easy peasy."

"I don't like the idea of you driving alone. You don't have a license. Or even any ID. What if you get pulled over? Or the car breaks down? Or you can't make it back before dawn?"

"I'm a big vampire, Hans. I can take care of myself."

"I know, but—"

"I've been cooped up at your house for more than a month, just sitting there, feeling sorry for myself. For the first time, I have a purpose again. A chance to do something. Don't take that away from me."

"Fine. But you're just there to watch. Don't try anything on your own. Not until we have a plan."

Amber nodded. "We'll need some weapons too. I don't think grandpa's tomato stakes are going to cut it."

"I agree."

We were almost home. I pulled into the parking lot of the storage unit.

"Why are we stopping?" she asked.

"C'mon. I want to show you something."

Amber followed me into the office. I snatched a pair of keys from the desk and led her to a large unit with the number 13 stenciled on the siding.

I opened the lock and lifted the door. Amber followed me inside, and I flicked on the light.

"Holy shit," she said. "What's all this?"

I walked the perimeter of the unit and pointed to the various pieces of equipment lining the walls.

"Crossbows. Wooden bolts soaked in holy water. Quivers. Laser sights. Night vision goggles. Locksmith kits. Axes. Molotov cocktails. Just the basics."

Amber pointed to a bola with a silver-threaded cord on my workbench. "You make all this stuff?"

"Make it, modify it, buy it. Whatever my dad needs."

She gave a low whistle. "This is how you spend your nights at work?"

I shrugged. "What did you think I did all night? Shuffle papers?"

*******

Amber's early reconnaissance efforts came up empty. She watched the house for five consecutive nights, but never saw James enter or leave.

"It's like he's invisible," she said. "I don't get it."

"Maybe he doesn't live there anymore," I said. "Maybe after he turned you, he decided it was too risky to stick around."

"Don't say that. If we get this close only to find out he split town, I'm going to fucking lose it."

A light snowfall forced us to cancel surveillance for another ten days. If James was still there, we couldn't risk him spotting unusual footprints or tire tracks in the snow near his property.

By the time the snow melted, Amber was climbing the walls. I was glad when she returned just before dawn with a huge smile on her face.

"Got him. He left the house around 11 p.m. and got back just after 3 a.m. Alone both times."

He followed the same basic pattern for the next two weeks, never leaving or arriving home more than twenty minutes outside his established window. Always alone.

"A creature of habit," I said. "Good. That works in our favor."

I wanted to take out James during the day, while he was sleeping. Amber shot down that idea immediately.

"Are you nuts? Burglars don't break into a house while the homeowners are sleeping; they wait until they're gone! What happens if he wakes up while you're sneaking in?"

"Well, the sunlight should—"

"I'm sure he sleeps in a room without windows, just like I do. It won't matter if it's day or night. But it will matter if I'm there to help. You'll be safer."

"Is that why you want to come? To protect me? Or to get revenge on him?"

"Both. But yeah, I want that asshole to know it was me."

I gave up arguing.

Our plan was simple. We'd wait in the woods for James to leave, then pick the lock, sweep the house for threats, and take our positions. When he got home, we'd be waiting for him.

I considered telling my dad, but I couldn't risk endangering Amber. To my dad, all vampires were evil, no exceptions. The minute he learned what Amber was, he'd view her as a threat to be eliminated. I hoped that learning Amber had killed the vampire who made her might be enough to change his mind.

Still, I'd made my dad a promise, so I left a letter for him on the kitchen counter that explained everything. I hoped he'd never need to open it. With any luck, I'd be home in a few hours to collect it. But if things went sideways, at least he'd know why. And he'd have enough information to finish the job himself.

We picked an overcast night and set up camp in the woods. James left a little after 11:10 p.m. He was tall and thin, just as Amber had described, with a thick mop of curly black hair. He wore black pants with a thick gray sweater and moved with languid grace.

We waited another twenty minutes after his car pulled away, then hurried through the moonlight to the front door. I fumbled with picking the lock for a long time, partly because of the frigid air, but mostly because of my nerves. I was putting too much pressure on the tension wrench, which was causing the pins to bind. I forced myself to take slow, even breaths. I relaxed the tension and finally managed to align the pins with the shear line.

The lock rotated. The door swung open. We were inside.

Crossbows at the ready, we began a methodical sweep using the room-clearing tactics we'd practiced at home. The house was pitch black except for a flickering light emanating from a doorway at the end of the first-floor hallway.

We crept toward the light and discovered a set of stairs behind the door. I nodded at Amber, and we moved quickly and quietly down the steps.

The room was clear. It was also a dungeon.

The walls were made of gray stone blocks streaked with a black, soot-like substance. The flickering light came from wrought-iron candle fixtures bolted into the stone. Also bolted into the stone, on three separate walls, were circular silver shackles. Loose dirt covered the floor. The dirt beneath each set of shackles looked to have been mixed with some type of liquid—blood, I wondered?—creating a dark, thick sludge.

In the center of the room sat an old pine box coffin. It looked exactly like the coffin where I'd found Amber.

We stepped in a slow circle around the coffin, crossbows aimed at the lid.

"The master bedroom is sealed off from light," Amber whispered. "Why the hell would he keep a coffin around?"

"Because it's where I was born," replied a soft voice behind us.

My eyes took in a flurry of movement. It happened so fast that my brain had trouble processing everything.

Amber whirled and fired a crossbow bolt in the direction of the voice. A gloved hand plucked it from the air, then hurled it back at her, impaling her through the shoulder. She screamed and clutched the wound, which sizzled and emanated thick white smoke.

James charged and was on her instantly. Amber used his momentum against him, pulling him backward and hurling him against the stone. As he rose, I fired my crossbow. He swatted the bolt to the ground and advanced again on Amber.

She pulled the bolt from her shoulder and thrust it toward his chest, but he caught her hand and pinned it against the stone wall, then locked a shackle around her wrist. More white steam rose from her wrist where the silver metal touched the skin. She howled in surprise, giving him enough time to seize and bind her other wrist.

He turned and stalked toward me just as I managed to fire a second bolt. He caught it, then swung it at me like a sledgehammer. I raised an arm to block it and felt the wet snap of bone as it hit my forearm.

My vision faded to gray from the pain. When it returned, I found myself chained to the wall opposite Amber. James stood between us.

"I noticed you use a variety of animal snares on your property, Mr. Van Helsing," he said. "As you can see, I also enjoy baiting traps." He smiled at Amber. "You played your part to perfection. I am in your debt."

Amber's eyes locked onto mine. "Hans, I swear. I didn't know."

James strolled to the center of the room and stopped next to the coffin. He traced a finger along the wood. "As I was saying, it's a keepsake. I should have been buried in this coffin. Instead, I was reborn."

"Reborn a monster," Amber said.

"That coffin didn't make him a monster," I said. "He chose to be one."

James regarded me coolly, then walked forward until his face was inches from mine. He brought his lips to my ear. "I'm going to tell you a story," he whispered, "about what it means to be a monster."

He grabbed my broken arm and studied my face as he squeezed. I clenched my teeth so hard I thought my teeth might break, but I managed not to cry out. He smiled and released me, then stepped to the center of the room.

"I met my soulmate more than a century ago at a New York brothel," he began. "She was its madam. I was a patron. The moment her eyes met mine, I forgot the purpose of my visit. I wanted only to speak to her. But she would have nothing to do with me. She simply watched me, her mouth concealed behind a hand fan. She spoke only to ask me to leave, since I was not a paying customer.

"I returned the next night. And the night after that. And again after that. I amused her at first, I think. Or maybe she pitied me. But with each visit, she waited longer before asking me to leave, and she spoke a few words more. Despite my many failings, she grew fond of me. In time she told me her name. Claire."

"No one cares about your love life, fuckwad," Amber said.

James turned to face her. "I've watched you walk with him." He nodded in my direction. "In the woods. Wishing you could be what you no longer are.

"Claire and I walked together too. Almost every night. She asked me why I'd come to her business that first evening, and I told her what I'd never confessed to anyone. I was dying of tuberculosis. Consumption, we called it then. I didn't know how long I had, but I was determined to hasten death by drowning myself in drink and whores. In fact, I'd already purchased my coffin."

He pressed his palms against the wood and closed his eyes, as though offering a prayer.

"I'd been consumed by rage at the injustice of my situation. And filled with shame at my response to it. Telling Claire should have tripled my shame. Instead, it released it.

"After I told her, she was quiet for a long time. Then she shared with me a secret of her own. She showed me what she was. She said she'd understand if I never wanted to see her again. I told her nothing in this world or any other could ever diminish my desire for her.