Reginald Baxter the Vigilante Vampire (4 page)

"What exactly were you hunting?" Reginald asked. "I would ask you to only kill what you require. The town nearby is still growing and will require meat to survive the upcoming winter."

The man finally broke his silence. "We take only what we must."

Reginald studied him closely. "That is good, that is good, my friend."

"We do hunt a specific type of game," the woman said, smiling again.

"Really?" Reginald asked. "Again, what kind? If it is deer, you will not be disappointed."

The woman gracefully stood and took a couple steps forward, causing Reginald to subconsciously step backwards. "No our game is somewhat more exotic."

Reginald looked confused. "Do you mean gators?"

It was the woman's turn to look confused. "No, our game is rather intelligent at times."

Reginald scratched his head. "Umm, I'm not really sure what you are talking about."

"Perhaps I was wrong, my dimwitted friend," she said, shaking her head,

"There is no reason to call me dimwitted," Reginald said, taking a step backwards towards the trees. "If this is the way this discussion will continue, then I will take my leave. It is far too late for these absurd games." He hoisted the musket back onto his shoulder. "Good night, strangers." He turned and started to step back into the forest. Before his foot could reach the ground again, he felt a powerful force grab the back of his shirt and jerk him backwards. He hit the ground with a heavy thud, letting the musket tumble several feet away.

Reginald grabbed his gut as he tried to breathe in. The world seemed to spin as he struggled to focus on his surroundings. He saw a blurry shadow crouch down in front of him. As his eyesight slowly became clearer, he realized the shadow was from the woman, or at least some sort of beast that closely resembled her. Her face came closer to his, causing a wave of nausea to crash over him. The woman's face no longer appeared as welcoming as before. Now it was twisted into an angry, almost inhuman scowl. He blinked as he saw fangs protruding over her lower lip.

"What are you?" Reginald asked, barely able to speak above a whisper.

"We are creatures of the darkness, and we require blood," she said, her voice now almost a growl.

"Oh," Reginald said. Then a thought dawned on him. "You did mean me earlier."

Despite the fangs, the woman's expression softened slightly. "Yes, we did mean you."

"This should not be real," Reginald said, trying to stay in control.

"Oh, this is absolutely real," she said. She bent down further and smelled of Reginald's neck. "Your blood smells rich." A cold smile formed on her mouth. "And that of your mate. I can tell from her scent that she will be delicious."

Reginald almost forgot that he was scared. "Stay away from her!"

"Or what?" the woman asked.

"I will stop you," he said, not realizing the absurdity of his words.

The woman laughed. Reginald saw something move from the corner of his eye. When he saw the man standing directly beside him, he wondered if somehow he had missed him and he had been there the whole time.

"You will stop us?" the man asked in his stern voice. Reginald noticed that the man had fangs protruding from his lips as well.

"Yes," Reginald said, the stillness of the night finally letting him realize the meaning of his words. "I would try."

The man folded his hands together calmly. "Try does not mean stop."

"I would try," Reginald found himself saying again.

They looked each other in the eyes for a moment before the man said, "Then try, human." As Reginald opened his mouth to respond, he found himself hitting a large tree several feet away with his back. He dropped down onto his knees and struggled to get his bearings. "Try," he heard the man say from beside him. Before he could move another muscle, he found himself flung facedown on the ground.

He forced himself quickly to his feet, but felt himself falling backwards as the blood rushed to his brain. A hand reached out and grabbed his shoulder, stopping him mid-fall. "Is this trying? Try harder."

Reginald reached back and managed a weak punch on the man's abdomen. "This is failure," the man said simply. He held up his free hand and made a fist. "Your attempt is over." Reginald never saw the fist move, but he felt the massive explosion in his gut as it made contact. He found himself flying through the air towards the forest. As he crashed into the leafy ground several feet away, he felt the contents of his stomach empty out. His eyes began to lose focus as everything began to go dark.

"He is yours," the man said, beginning to walk away. "I will not feed on his weak blood. His mate will have to sate me."

The woman hesitated before saying, "Alright, feast well."

As the man was about to enter the shadowy trees, Reginald screamed. The silence hung heavy in the night as if every living thing waited for what might happen next.

The man turned and saw Reginald pushing himself from the ground. One arms hung to the side, dislocated and broken from the impact before. Blood and vomit dripped down the front of Reginald's face onto his shirt and the ground below. His breaths came in ragged gasps with each sounding like it might be his last. He would have looked dead except for his eyes. In the darkness, his angry gaze seemed to shine brighter than the campfire. "I still won't let you touch her!" he screamed.

The man simply shook his head. "You will not stop me," he said simply. In a flash he was standing before Reginald again. His arm darted out and grabbed him by the throat. "Why do you intend to prolong your suffering?"

"I would prolong it for eternity, to keep you away," Reginald said, gathering all of his strength. He reached forward with all his energy and landed a punch directly on the man's chin with a loud crunch. The man's head was pushed back by just a fraction from the impact. The pain from Reginald's broken hand brought forth a rage that he had kept hidden his entire life. He punched the man again even harder, feeling more bones break. With each attack, he felt more pain, which made each attack even harder. Reginald screamed into the night as his fist kept grinding against the man's face, until he was barely hanging onto his life.

"Are you done?" the man asked as Reginald's arm had fallen back to his side. He reached up and wiped a small speck of blood from his chin. Licking the blood up, he said, "You are not as weak as I had believed, but you are now about to die."

Reginald felt tears begin run from his eyes. "This isn't fair."

"Who said that this world is fair, weakling human," the man said. "You were put here to die, and that is what your purpose shall be. Now fulfill it."

'This is how it ends,' Reginald thought. 'Somehow I do not feel as surprised as I should be.'

As he felt the man's hand flinch to crush his throat, he saw the woman appear beside them and grab the man's arm. Despite his stern demeanor, the man seemed genuinely surprised. "What is it, Madeline?"

"Perhaps we should approach this one differently," she said.

"How so?"

"Do you remember us speaking of bringing in another soul?"

The man's face twitched. "I remember you speaking of it. I listened to each word."

The woman frowned. "You seemed as if you agreed. You were acting?"

"I did the duty of your mate, to ensure your happiness."

"Saying you agree was supposed to ensure my happiness?"

"Yes."

The woman's face became stern. From Reginald's blurred eyesight, she appeared more frightening than the man holding his throat. "For being insincere, there will be consequences."

"Yes, my dear mate."

"If you wish to lessen those consequences, there is one thing you can do."

The man's eyes twitched disapprovingly towards Reginald, but he simply said, "Yes, dear."

Madeline took Reginald's chin and raised his head so she could stare into his eyes. "He reminds me of my dear brother who gave his life trying to save me so long ago. I've wondered many times how things would have changed if he somehow succeeded." Smiling she let go. "I do not regret anything, but let us let this man save the woman that he loves. He will pay a heavy price in her stead."

The man sighed. "Let it be so."

Reginald smiled weakly. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Madeline. Thanks."

The woman's smile deepened. "That is such a formal way to address me. Please, just call me Mother."

Reginald coughed weakly. "What?"

A silence hung between the three for a moment. As Reginald opened his mouth to ask for clarity, the two vampires bit into either side of his neck. He felt his scream die in his throat as his life slowly melted away.

Reginald sat up screaming. Feeling groggy, he reached up and felt of his neck. He was relieved to feel nothing out of place.

He felt a hand soothingly rub his shoulder. "You seemed to be dreaming quite fitfully," a calm, feminine voice said.

"Oh, Mother, I had the worst dream," he said, reaching and grabbing hold of the hand. "I dreamed I was in the woods and these strangers attacked and killed me."

"That is a harsh dream," she said. Reginald felt his face being dabbed by a cold, wet cloth. "That dream is over and you're safe now in the city."

"Thanks, Mother," he said, smiling as he began to lay back down on the soft mattress. Before his head made contact with the pillow, his eyes darted back open. "Wait, what?"

A light came on and he saw the woman from his dream sitting on the mattress beside him. Without thinking, he tried to get up, but got tangled up in the sheets that were covering him. He saw everything go black again as his head crashed into the concrete.

Reginald opened his eyes again and looked around. Though the room was dimly lit, he could recognize the contents of the storage shed that he had rented. He had never liked throwing away anything that might be useful later, forcing him to rent out one of the larger storage units available in the city. His apartment could easily fit inside with room left over. Sometimes the room felt more like home than his apartment did. He had spent days there reading his old books, and reliving the memories that the various items held for him. Many were happier memories, but others were bitter and brought up emotions he rarely exposed anywhere else.

He stood and walked over to an antique desk nearby. He reached down and opened the top drawer, revealing its single item. He carefully took out an old lantern and placed it on the desk. 'I can still smell her,' he thought, smiling sadly.

"Do you still miss her?" a feminine voice asked.

Reginald glanced over towards the other side of the room to where his mother was sitting on an old-fashioned sofa. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed his mouth after a moment. He nodded instead and put the lantern back in the drawer.

"She represents another future you could have lead," Madeline said. "You have the right to think of such things."

Reginald nodded again. "I suppose you're right," he said, turning and sitting sideways in his chair. "I did not expect to see you again so soon. Is something wrong, Mother?"

"I should ask you the same," she said. Seeing his confused face, she continued. "You don't know what I am talking about, do you?"

Reginald shook his head.

Sighing, she picked up a newspaper beside her and tossed it to him. "Check out the second page."

Feeling feeling, Reginald unfolded the paper and glanced over the second page. "Hmm," was all he could utter as he read one particular article. "Hmm," he said several more times as he read and reread it again. "Well, I wasn't expecting that."

"What exactly did you expect?" she asked, leaning back and stroking her chin.

He sat there a moment. "Nothing really. I didn't think anything would happen. It was instincts for the most part."

"To beat up two robbers?" she asked, sounding ill. "What you did was dangerous. Not just to you, but to all of us. You should know that."

"I just did what felt like needed doing," he said, shaking his head. "Besides, it was after dawn. I didn't think it was a good idea to let people see someone sunburn right before their eyes."

"You did look pretty rough last night when I got here."

"Last night?" Reginald asked, looking confused. He glanced at the date and whistled. "Wow, I slept almost two days. I must have been really worse than I thought."

"I've always insisted that you be careful," she said, tossing a bottle at him. "You're not as bad as some, but you do take some damage in sunlight."

"Yes, yes, I know," Reginald said, looking at the bottle of sunscreen. "I have managed before in the past without it. I don't like to use it unless it is an emergency."

Madeline sighed. "Reginald, what am I going to have to do to you? Being sensitive to the sun is just a fact of life to most of us. It isn't a weakness to use it."

Reginald shrugged and placed the bottle in his pocket. Glancing back down to the paper, he said, "This is not an Ottowash paper." He flipped back to the first page. "Texas? I made a paper all the way in Texas?"

"Yes," Madeline said, reaching into her purse and took out a plastic bottle. "Here, drink up."

Reginald paused before taking the bottle. In the darkness, he could barely make out the contents, though he could take an educated guess. Opening it, he wrinkled his nose as he sniffed it.

"Do not worry," Madeline said. "It isn't human."

"Alright," Reginald said. He turned the bottle up and took a deep drink of the dark liquid. He gagged a little as he swallowed, screwing his face up as he tried to force the taste from his mouth.

"How long has it been?"

He looked down at the bottle. "Over a century, I'm sure. I was hoping to never taste the vile stuff again, but then I haven't been as roughed up as I was," he said. He felt a heavy feeling in his gut as the blood began to circulate faster. Though it made him feel sick, he began to feel his energy returning to normal. Taking a small sip, he continued from earlier. "So this made national news?"

"It did," Madeline said. "People like to notice when someone acts heroically. It started as a simple interview with the victims which turned into a huge 'thank you' to an unknown hero who risked his life and didn't stick around for the glory. That is simply against most people's comprehension, and people have to talk about that sort of news. And we know that news can spread fast these days."

Reginald began to feel beads of sweat rolling down his back. "Was I on camera?"

Madeline shook her head. "Thankfully they had older equipment that cannot capture your image properly. Your face was nothing but a blur."

Reginald nodded. "I'm glad I didn't use my card," he said, laughing nervously. "That guy saved me as well."

"More than you would think," Madeline said, leaning forward. "The cops would have found nothing if they had traced your card, since the VAM would block the inquiry and falsify the facts. That would make you quite suspect to the VAM. That would be real bad news."

"Yeah," was all Reginald could mutter.

"Luckily most just thought the hero was exceptionally strong and angry," Madeline continued. "It is more the creative and absurd people who think anything of superpowers. Luckily the coat made it difficult to see that it was a scrawny man and not a built hunk."

"Thanks, I guess," Reginald said. He reached over and picked up the coat that was lying on the mattress. "Sorry, Mother. There's a bullet hole in it now."

She took it and looked at the damage. "I'm glad that it got the hole and not you. You would have bled to death in the sunlight."

Reginald sighed. "That's right. Sorry."

She tapped him on the head. "Quit apologizing. I will make you another coat when I get back."

"Thanks," Reginald said, smiling genuinely. "I appreciate it."

She bent down and kissed the top of his head. "Be careful from here on, Reginald. I only have one child in this world, and don't intend to see him die."

"Yes, Mother," Reginald said, feeling his throat getting tight. "I'll be careful."

Madeline smiled deeply. "That's what I wanted to hear." She stepped over to a coatrack and put on coat that was on it. "I was wondering where I had placed this. You don't mind if I get it?"

"No, not at all," Reginald said, standing.

"I suppose I will take my leave," she said. "You have the rest of the week off, by the way. I called your boss and told him you had a rough case of the flu."

"I suppose that he's happy about the extra payroll," Reginald said, smiling slightly.

"I also bumped into your landlord last night when I stopped by your apartment," she said, making her way to the door. "He was about to issue your eviction notice, but I took care of it."

"How?" Reginald asked, looking at her harshly.

"Nothing too severe, dear," she said innocently. "It was just a little sweet talking." She placed her hands behind her back, causing her chest to protrude further.

Reginald felt his face redden. "Really, Mother?" he asked, embarrassed.

"Well, that and paying four months worth of rent in advance," she said, smiling.

"I really didn't want the help," Reginald said, annoyed.

"My job as your mother is to help you, whether you want it or not," she said, grabbing hold of the handle. "Do not let it get this bad again, We have millions saved, so there is no need for you to go homeless."

"I know."

"And if you ever get too lonely, you can always come home with me."

Reginald instinctively smiled. "Yes, I know, Mother. I will be fine."

She smiled and lifted the door up. "Bye, my son," she said, stepping through and lowering the door behind her.

Reginald sat there for several more minutes rereading the article two more times. He was surprised that he felt nothing from reading it. He felt numb all over. 'I didn't expect any of this,' he thought. 'What am I supposed to do?' He remembered everything that had happened at the convenience store, but all the colors seemed faded. All the sounds were barely audible. He remembered the shocked faces of the robbers and the customers both. 'How should I feel? Should I feel proud of myself?'

About an hour later, Reginald opened the door to his apartment. The room was dark except for the light shining in from the hallway. He threw an old tattered jacket onto the counter and switched on the light. "Home again," he said out loud, smiling as he leaned against the wall.

"No work to do," he muttered looking around the room. "What to do, what to do?" He tapped his fingers against the wall, trying to think of something to pass the rest of the night away. Glancing at the clock he saw that it was just past four. "No point going out. Too close to dawn and I've had as much of the city as I can take for a while."

Sighing he sat down on the couch and turned on the television. He shook his head as he saw a brand new gadget being advertised on an infomercial. "Why do they have to always make them faster and better? Some things are good as they are."

Turning the volume down, he picked up an open book that was propped open on the couch arm. After several minutes of reading, he glanced up and saw that the early news was already on. He reached for the remote and raised the volume. He felt a strange tingling in his gut as he watched. "I'm sure it has died down already," he muttered.

He frowned as he the first story continued. "There are still no leads in the so called Cannabis Killer. Last night's victim was the tenth in Ottowash. Since this is the third death with a corresponding murder in either Washington D.C. or Los Angeles, officials are certain that we are now dealing with a group of serial killers. The mystery continues to grow as law enforcement cannot find a single shred of usable evidence from any crime scene. As we have urged you for the past three weeks, please do not travel alone at night, and lock all doors and windows. Do not open the door for anyone who you don't know. If anyone has any information on the identity of the killer or killers, do not hesitate to call local law enforcement."

'That is getting bad,' Reginald thought. 'I don't think it is one of us.' For the past three weeks, the city had been on the watch for a vicious serial killer. He would kill his victims brutally, either by knocking them out or maiming them. Then he would devour everything except for their bones and head. The cops had found absolutely no leads in the case. Even worse, there had been similar cases in Washington D.C. and Los Angeles. The initial thoughts was a killer who traveled a lot, though when three victims were discovered in one night in three cities, the cops realized it must be three killers. To make things even more confusing, one of the major newspapers had mis-typed their name for him, calling him the Cannabis Killer instead of the Cannibal Killer. Though that is what most people called him, it did little to downplay the fear that everyone in the three cities were feeling.

"Now to lighter news," the newswoman was saying. "The mysterious hero who showed up at a local convenience store two days ago and stopped a pair of armed robbers is still at large. The experts have been combing over the footage trying to discover the cause for the faulty camera which made the man's face appear blurry and unfocused, but have been unsuccessful. None of the witnesses recognized him, and few could recall specific details of his appearance. The police have been struggling to find his identity and location in order to question him about some of the details regarding the robbery. They also wish to make it known to everyone that vigilantes will not be tolerated in our city, and that crime fighting is to be left to authorized police personnel. We here at Channel Ten news have to agree with that statement. Crime fighting is best left to the professionals, despite the appreciation that we have for heroes of all kinds everywhere. This is Karen Grant for Channel Ten."

Reginald realized he was holding his breath and slowly let it out. He was tingling all over as he felt a strange feeling come over him. "Wow," he said, feeling a smile coming to his lips. His numb feeling was passing as he began to feel excited. He tapped his foot up and down as he sat there, staring into space. He hadn't felt such nervous excitement in a long time. Even when he was contemplating asking out Rachel, he hadn't felt it this strong. Seeing someone speak about him on television felt so much more real than just reading about it.

He jumped as he heard knocking at the door. "Who is here this early?" he asked, muting the television. He walked over to the door and peered through the peep hole. He jumped again and accidentally banged his head on the door.

"Are you alright in there?" Rachel called through the door.

"Ah, umm, yes, yes, I'm fine," Reginald said, rubbing his forehead where he had bumped it. He looked at his hand and noticed sweat on it. "Umm, how are you?"

"I'm fine, thanks," she replied.

Reginald stood there, feeling a dopey grin growing on his face. After a short moment, he slapped himself in the forehead.