They Come by Night (6 page)

“Why?”

He came to me and raised his hand. In spite of myself, I flinched. He’d never struck me before, and I couldn’t see him striking me now, but for the past six years I hadn’t liked being touched. More than that, it could be downright painful.

Dad knew that. If he thought it was necessary…. The shake I’d downed felt like it was going to make a return appearance.

He settled his fingers just under my right ear, then lightly ran them down the side of my throat over the mark I’d had since the day I was born.

“Oh. That.” I shivered and backed away a step. No one ever touched that mark—it kind of freaked them out.

“I’m not going to take you to see anyone.” He stared down at his fingers, then closed them in a tight fist.

“Daddy?”

“It’s time for me to explain the facts of life to you.”

I could feel my face going up in flames. “I know them, Dad,” I mumbled.

He didn’t pat my shoulder, even though he might have wanted to. “You may, for the average person.”

I was too embarrassed to question his emphasis of
average
. Much as I loved him, the idea of talking about sex with him—blowjobs, hand jobs, fucking—just skeeved me.

“First off, there’s nothing wrong with you. And I’m not saying that because I’m your dad and it’s my job to tell you things like that. You
are
normal. You’ll go into puberty when your body recognizes the time is right.”

“Then why—”

“Y’see…. The thing of it is….” He didn’t seem to know where to begin, and I felt my gut clench and my sphincter tighten. “You’re just not
a
normal.”

I stood there frozen. Oh God, this was going to be bad. I knew it. I was a freak. I was a—

“You’re a sabor, Ty.”

I’d opened my mouth to scream a protest, but that stopped me dead. “Huh?” I blinked and swallowed again. “A what?”

“A sabor
.
Come and sit down, son.” He tugged on my shirtsleeve until I sank down on a chair beside him.

“Is that, like, French or Italian?” I frowned. “I thought we were Romanian, way back when.” I tried to smile, but it wasn’t successful.

“Oh, Ty.” He was so solemn.

I swallowed for a third time. “What’s a… what’s a sabor, Dad?”

“The literal translation isn’t important—it’s what the word actually represents. Give me a minute to gather my thoughts, okay?” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “You’re going to think I’ve lost my mind,” he muttered. “Okay, this is the way it is. And don’t say anything until I’ve finished, okay?”

“Okay, Dad.”

“Okay. First off—” The doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” I volunteered hastily. I knew it was trick-or-treaters. I’d always thought it was pretty cool to have a birthday on Halloween. I opened the door and faced the usual ghosties and ghoulies, as well as Freddy Kruger, Daryl Dixon, and Darth Vader. I handed out candy bars, chatting with each of the kids about their costumes.

I waited there, hoping more kids would show up, but no such luck. And there was only so long I could delay, so finally I closed the door before Dad could yell about heating the whole neighborhood and went back to the kitchen.

“So, what’s for dinner, Dad?”

He raised an eyebrow, and I sighed.

“Okay. You were saying?”

Before he could resume the conversation, the doorbell rang again. Where had these kids come from? There’d been no one—

“Dammit!” Dad growled.

This time he went to answer it, and he came back too soon for my peace of mind.

“Maybe we ought to hold off on this, Dad? I mean, you’ll just get to the good part, and we’ll have to stop to give out candy.”

“No, I left the bowl on the front steps.”

And the kids in our neighborhood were used to going by the honor system.

“Okay.” I sighed and waited.

“Now, what do you know about the Black Plague?”

I frowned at him. We were having a history lesson? “Um… it was black?”

He shook his head. “What passes for education these days? All right, let me give you a quick recap. It began in China or Central Asia or maybe even Africa in the late 1320s. There are different schools of thought on that. Wherever it started, within thirty years it had traveled from China to the Crimea to Europe, and the population was decimated by almost 60 percent, not only because of the disease, but because those left behind were faced with widespread famine. There weren’t enough laborers to farm the wheat, oats, and hay, and the result was crop failure. Even what livestock was left—well, there weren’t many of them, either.” He took in my wide-eyed expression. “Y’know, your history teacher should have covered this with you.”

“Social Studies, Dad.”

He waved it aside. “Now, the general populace weren’t the only ones to suffer. There were others….”

“Sure, the priests and nobles and whatnot.”

“Uh… not exactly. Okay, there’s no other way for me to say this, so I’m going to come right out and tell you—there really are beings called vampyrs.”

My mouth dropped open and he held up a hand.

“You promised to hear me out.”

I nodded, although my mind was boggling. Dad really expected me to believe vampyrs walked among us? I stared into eyes identical to mine. Well, yeah, I guessed he did, and since he’d never lied to me, and since I knew he wasn’t nuts, I guessed I’d have to believe him.

When he saw I wasn’t going to challenge him, he continued. “By the year 1400, there had been approximately a hundred million deaths. This put a severe crimp in the food supply. For the vampyrs, you understand?”

I nodded again.

“The rege—”

“Huh?”

“I wish your grandmother were still alive. She’d have seen you learned…. King, Tyrell. It means ‘king.’”

“Oh. Thanks for clearing that up, Dad.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, but was satisfied when he realized I was serious. “The king and his council decided they needed to expand their source of food,” he continued. “They began feeding off the remaining livestock. Of course, they couldn’t exist solely on the blood of cattle—it lacked certain elements they required for survival, and so humans couldn’t be completely abandoned.”

“But the people who beat the odds and lived wouldn’t have been able to spare a drop of blood.” In spite of never having been particularly interested in European history, I found myself wondering, “Wouldn’t it make sense for the vampyrs to leave them alone for a couple of generations, maybe feed on the nobility and the clergy instead?”

“Who’s telling this?” He frowned at me.

“Sorry, Dad.”

“All right, then. The problem was those who caught the plague but lived anyway had something in their blood that was fatal, and so the vampyr population shrank too. They were on the verge of dying out completely, at least in Europe, when they discovered that a small number of those men and women who seemed to be immune to the plague remained safe to drink from, a sip here, a few swallows there, the sweetest blood, so sweet that sometimes it was hard for them to remember they needed to be careful not to take too much and lose this resource.”

“Um…. Dad, how do you know this? I mean, it’s not like it’s in history books.”

He sighed. “It was what your grandfather told me the night before a vampyr came for your uncle, and it’s what I would have told your brothers and sisters if I’d been given that opportunity.”

My ears perked up. He never talked very much about my siblings or the time before we lived in Clewiston.

“Well, never mind that. It isn’t something you have to know.”

Shoot. I guessed he wasn’t going to talk about it now, either. Something did puzzle me, though. “If they live on cow’s blood and have the… the buffets on the side, why do they still have such a bad reputation?”

“The human race believes they’re at the top of the food chain. They didn’t take it well when they realized otherwise.”

“I guess that makes sense. Wait!
They
?”

“What?”

“You said ‘they.’ Does that mean we’re not human?”

“I… it… we….” He looked distressed, and he swore under his breath. “The plague continued to come along periodically, so folklore about the vampyrs never died out. Instead the tales were passed down from one generation to another.”

“Oh, I get it.” No, I didn’t get it, but how could I tell him that? It was obvious he wasn’t going to explain. “Gee, Dad, that’s kind of interesting and all that, but what does it have to do with me?”

“There are a few things, Ty. The fact you haven’t entered puberty yet, your inability to tolerate being touched, but most of all….” He sighed and reached out as if to touch the mark on my throat, but folded his fingers in on themselves before he could. “This birthmark…. You’re a sabor, Ty.”

“Well, yeah, you said that. Does it make any diff—” I’d taken three years of Spanish, and two things clicked in my brain. Sabor. Tasty. Tasty. Sweet. “Oh, my God.
I’m a buffet?
Dracula is going to come in one night and chow down on my neck? No, wait a second! He’d have to be invited by someone to enter the house…. Jesus, Dad,
you’re
not going to invite him in, are you?”

“No, Ty. No. Dracula is a fictitious character. The vampyr won’t enter the house. You’ll go out to her. Him.” This time he did run his fingers over my birthmark, and I shivered. This had to be serious. He’d never touch me otherwise. “Most likely, you will be starting puberty soon. Within two years, he’ll come for you. Or she’ll come for you.”

That didn’t make me feel any better. And why did he mention a man first this time? Had he found the stash of magazines I had up in the attic? “I have no say in this?”

“It’s your—”

“
Don’t say it’s my fucking destiny
!” I snapped shrilly. How could Dad even agree to let some old guy with fangs bite my neck? Oddly enough, I never even considered it might be a woman.

“Tyrell.”

I wasn’t going to stand still for this. No, sir. I was going to run away.

He pulled me into his arms, and I stiffened. He
knew
I didn’t like being touched!

“I’m sorry, son.” He kissed my temple and released me immediately. “Come on. Let’s go have dinner. I stopped by the bakery on the way home and bought you a cake for your birthday. Chocolate, your favorite.”

Big whoop. Happy birthday to me.

I couldn’t just up and run away, though. I needed to make preparations. And at the top of the list was not making my father suspicious.

“Sure, Dad. That sounds good.”

A
FTER DINNER
,
Dad brought out the cake with eighteen candles. The additional ones were for good luck and happiness. I drew a deep breath, made a wish—
Please let this be a big mistake!
—blew out the candles, and had a piece of cake. I made a big fuss over my present… Nikes… and rinsed the dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher.

“Want to watch some HBO with me, Ty?”

“No, thanks, Dad.”

“When… when your Uncle Phil learned he was a sabor, he threatened to run away.” Dad’s brother was a quiet man who lived alone. I’d met him about eight years earlier, when he’d moved to Clewiston, and he had the most haunted eyes I’d ever seen. We’d never gone back, and it was something else Dad wouldn’t talk about.

And since Uncle Phil lived on the other side of town, and since I had kid things to do, I kind of forgot about him.

“Uncle Phil?” Now that I thought of it, he had a birthmark similar to mine on his neck. “What… uh… what happened?”

“He realized you can’t run away from what you are.”

“Yeah. I guess.” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat. “Well, I’ve got a big test tomorrow. I think I’ll go up to my room and crack the books.”

“Sure, son. Keep your mind occupied. That’s a good idea.” He went into the living room, and I went up to my bedroom on the second floor.

There were two windows in my room, which was at the back of the house, and the one that mattered to me just now was the one that overlooked the patio and lawn. Beyond it was a small preserve filled with trees and scrub.

The back floodlight was on, so I had to wait, but I knew Dad would turn it off before he went to bed.

I usually listened to music while I did my homework or studied; I never used earbuds because they distracted me. Dad knew, so I put my MP3 player in its base and set the music to shuffle. If he passed by he would hear it and wouldn’t get suspicious.

I dumped my backpack out on the bed, scattered my books on my desk to make it seem as if I’d been studying if Dad looked in, and began filling the backpack with what I’d need, including the small pillow I’d had since forever. Dad had had it made for me from the blanket I’d come home from the hospital in.

There was a tap on my door. I pushed everything off the far side of the bed onto the floor and then crossed to open the door.

“Yes, Dad?”

“I just wanted to say good night, son. I’m sorry this has been such a shock to you, but give it a few days. You’ll grow comfortable with the idea. I promise you.”

Never!
I thought stubbornly. “Sure, Dad. Well, g’night.”

He started to raise his hand to run his palm over my hair, but before I could shy away, he dropped it. “I love you, Ty.” He closed the door before I could tell him I loved him too, in spite of what he’d done to me.

Okay, I wasn’t thinking too straight, but it wasn’t my fault I was a sabor, so it sure as hell had to be his. Who else’s blood was in my veins?

The back light went out. To be on the safe side, I waited another half hour before I raised the window sash. Once I got the screen out of the way, I slipped the straps of the backpack over my shoulders and climbed out.

“It’s a cold night to be without a jacket.”

I bit back a yelp and grabbed the windowsill, only just preventing myself from tumbling headfirst down onto the concrete patio below my room.

“What—”

The man sitting on the eave was gorgeous. The color of his eyes was hard to make out in spite of the moonlight, and all I could tell about the color of his hair was it was very light. I was so transfixed by the sight of him that it didn’t even occur to me to ask how he’d gotten up on our roof.