Blood Ties
by Larry Letemplier

   Five more days before Christmas and Black Rock was a blanket of white. I ran around the yard, shouting and laughing, as Wolf, my German shepherd puppy, ran beside me, yapping playfully. I slipped and fell in the fluffy snow. Wolf plopped himself down beside me. His tongue licked at my face, melting the snow that cooled my cheeks. I
threw my arms around his neck and pulled him down onto my eighty-pounds frame.

   "Shane," Dad, his name is Frank, called from the back porch. "Tie up Wolf. We're going to the mall." I rolled away from Wolf and got to my feet. For weeks I've been bugging Dad for a new pair of ice skates. He told me I would get them for Christmas. I think that's what this trip to the mall is for.

   When I'm not in school and Dad isn't busy with any carpentry jobs, we do a lot of things together. We'd always had a pretty good relationship, but I our father and son bond grew even stronger after my mom, Amanda, disappeared almost eight months ago.

   Her disappearance was uncanny (that's the word Dad used). There wasn't a trace of her to be found. The police suggested that she had likely run out on Dad and me, possibly with another man, they had said to Dad when they thought I wasn't listening.

   I know Mom wouldn't leave us for anyone or anything. We're sure that whatever reason there was for her absence that she had no control over it. What hurts the most is wondering if she is still alive.

   I hooked Wolf's chain onto his collar and followed Dad's tall, lanky frame out to his red pickup in the driveway. Gosh, it's barely 5 p.m. and already darkness has set in.

   Dad and I pushed in through the main doors of the mall and walked down the long blank length that led us into Pelle's Department Store. The store was crowded, people squeezing pass each other, hustling children up and down the aisles. It took me less than five minutes to decide on a pair of skates.

   I followed Dad to the checkout counter and immediately my attention was drawn by the shouts and laughter that drifted over from the toy department. I strode across the store and stood about twenty feet from Santa. He sat on a chair in front of a long line of impatient but happy little faces.

   He wasn't a jolly Santa. His eyes glared, as though he hated everyone around him. His cheeks were almost as pale as his phoney beard. It was easy to see that he used padding to give himself a bulging waistline.

    A little blonde girl stepped up to Santa and dropped her head shyly.

   He reached out and laid his hand against her heart. Gosh, I've never seen Santa do that before.

   "How young and vital you are, little one," Santa said in a hoarse voice. He stared at her with gloating eyes.

   When the girl finished telling him what she wanted for Christmas, he kissed her on the cheek and turned toward me.

   "Come here, boy," he commanded.

   For some unknown reason I couldn't keep from staring into his eyes.

   Though I tried not to, I was compelled to trudge forward and stand before him.

   "What can Santa get you for Christmas, Shane Winters?" he said.

   Gosh, how did he know my name? I wondered. "My dad is buying my skates for me now."

   "Ho! Ho! Ho!" Santa laughed. "A big boy who doesn't believe in Santa."

    He drew back his lips, exposing big teeth like that of some wild animal. His eyes lit up like shiny, red marbles.

   I wanted to run, but my feet wouldn't move. They seemed to be frozen to the floor.

   "You are right, boy," Santa roared. He jumped to his feet and ripped away his beard. There was a loud "ooh" from the kids behind me. Then he threw his cap on the floor and stomped on it.

   He saw the shocked expression on my face and curled his lip into a wicked grin. Adults stared wide-eyed and babbled excitedly, unable to believe the cruelty they were witnessing.

   "That's right, kiddies," he bellowed. "Santa is a load of crap your parents feed you. The silly freak never did exist." A ugly smile spread across his face. "But I, Lancaster really do exist. I have existed for centuries and will for centuries more. Ho! Ho! Ho!"

   The store' employees were running and fussing. A young man in a blue shirt, with a shoulder patch identifying him as mall security, approached Lancaster.

   "Okay, buddy," the security guard said. "You've had your fun. Time to go now."

   When the young man reached out to take Lancaster's arm, Lancaster grasped his wrist and yanked him forward. He drew back his lips, showing those ugly teeth again, then sank them into the young man's neck. There was a loud sucking noise, and when he drew back his head, Lancaster's lips were smeared with blood. He flung the security
guard's slumping body into the Christmas tree behind him; the tall tree went crashing over the platform, carrying the security guard along with it.

   Lancaster ran his tongue over his lips, licking the blood. "My, my," he mused. "That was just yummy!"

   People ran and screamed, ushering their children toward the entrance. Lancaster looked at me, and I shivered.

   "I will be seeing you again, Shane," he growled.

   Honest to God, he shrank, until he was no more than four feet tall.

   Then he changed into a wolf! I turned and ran into Dad's arms before I realized he was near. His wide eyes stared after the wolf. The wolf crashed through one of the glass walls and landed on the roof of a white car in the parking lot. It leapt from one car to the next until it disappeared out of sight.

   Dad and I hurried outside to his pickup as police cars raced in the parking lot. I noticed a piece of paper tucked under the pickup's windshield wiper and pointed it out to Dad. With a puzzled expression he removed the paper, got into the pickup, and read it. His mouth fell open, and his face turned as white as the snow on the ground.

   "What is it, Dad?" I blurted.

   "It-it's nothing," he mumbled. He stuffed the note in his jacket pocket.

   When we arrived home, I jumped out of the pickup and ran toward the backyard to get Wolf. Dad turned on the outside light the moment I came around the corner of the house. I stopped dead in my tracks. Wolf was stretched out on the snow beside his cabin, looking as stiff as a board. I ran over and fell to my knees.

   "What's the matter, Wolf?" I gulped. "Gosh boy, get up."

   I turned his head toward me, and he stared back at me with unblinking eyes. His mouth was slightly open, and frothy. Then I saw the gash across his throat.

   "Dad!" I screamed. "Come quick." I leaned over my best friend and cried.

   "What is it, Shane?" Dad called from the porch.

   "Wolf's dead," I cried.

   Dad vaulted over the railing and ran across the yard. He dropped to his knees and tilted back Wolf's head, exposing the open wound.

   "My God," he groaned. he closed his eyes as if he were struck with a terrible pain. "Let's get back to the house, son."

   "I don't wanna leave Wolf," I sobbed.

   "There's nothing you can do for him now," he mumbled.

   Though I still refused to go, he towed me toward the house.

   "What happened to Wolf?" I cried.

   "It looks like he was attacked by a wild dog," Dad said. "I believe he died from loss of blood."

   "But if he died from loss of blood," I blurted, "how come there wasn't any blood on the ground?"

   Dad turned his back to me and stared out the window. For a minute I   thought he hadn't heard my question. "That's what I don't understand," he finally answered.

   There were only two more days before Christmas, and the memory of Wolf was etched in my thoughts like an engraving on a headstone.

   That night as I drifted into slumberland my eyes flew open with a start. The room was dark and quiet. Then I heard the faint scratching at my bedroom window. I turned my head slowly and swallowed hard. Oh my God, there was something at the window, and the window was at least seven or eight feet above the ground.

   I tried to call Dad, but all I managed was a squeak. The next moment the moon must have eluded a cloud, for it threw its silvery glow upon the form outside my window. Wolf!

   That's impossible, I told myself. Wolf is dead. Gone forever. But I knew my German shepherd puppy when I saw him, and he floated seven or eight feet above the ground, scratching at my window pane.

   I gazed at Wolf and felt giddy. I felt compelled to get out of bed and walk over to the window.

   I marvelled at the sight of Wolf, shrouded in a strange mist, floating in mid-air like some kind of superdog right out of a comic book.

   Wolf's eyes lit up as if they had caught on fire. His mouth opened, snarling at me with teeth that would put any ordinary dog to shame. He scratched at the window furiously, as if enraged by a crazy hunger.

   I lifted the latch, unlocking the window. I raised it. "Come in, Wolf," I invited.

   He floated toward me. Suddenly, a hand, with nails hanging from the fingers, snaked out of the mist and gripped his collar, yanking him back.

   "Devilish beast," a female voice rasped. All I could see was a dark shape. "You are as evil as your master."
Wolf growled in protest, and the hand that didn't grip his collar swooshed through the night air like a sword and cut off his head with one powerful swipe. Wolf's headless body was hurled back into the mist.

   "You killed my dog," I cried, not able to grasp how Wolf could be killed twice in a matter of days.

   "That wasn't really your dog," she said. "Only a vile creature that looked like it."

   Suddenly, blood-curdling howls erupted, like that of a pack of wolves.

   "Hurry, close your window," she ordered. "Don't open it for anyone or anything. Wear a cru-cruci-crucifix. I warned Frank about this." The dark form melted into the mist, away from the approaching howls.

   I slammed down the window and locked it.

   "What's going on, Shane?" Dad said from behind me.

   "I saw Wolf," I blurted.

   "Wolf is dead," Dad shot back. "You must have been dreaming."

   "No, it was Wolf. And there was a lady. I couldn't see her face, but she told me to wear a crucifix." Dad winced. "She said she warned you about it."

   Dad's eyes focused on the window and widened. "Merciful Jesus," he groaned.

   I turned back toward the window and nearly jumped to the ceiling. Wolves, six or seven of them, cluttered around the window. Snarling, their razor sharp claws raked at the glass.

   I reached out and grasped Dad's sweaty hand. He backed out into the hallway, towing me along with him.

   "Stay there," he ordered, running into his bedroom. Seconds later he returned, clutching the crucifix that hung over his bed.

   He strode into my room, holding the crucifix in front of him like a shield. I stood in the doorway, trembling and admiring my dad at the same time.

   "Go away," he shouted at the wolves. He pressed the crucifix against the window. The wolves howled and yelped as if they were struck by vicious blows. One by one they turned and floated back into the mist.

   When the mist had completely disappeared, a snowmobile approached our yard. Gosh, it was the bad Santa from the mall. Lancaster. He stopped and looked up at us.

   "Ho! Ho! Ho!" he shouted. "Away I go. But I'll be back."

   We spent the rest of the night sitting up in Dad's lighted bedroom. He didn't put aside the crucifix until the sunlight streamed through the window.

   After a breakfast I barely touched, Dad decided that we were going to St. Theresa's Church to get some holy water and rosary beads. He added that he believed Lancaster was a vampire.

   I swallowed hard. I'd seen a movie about a vampire named Dracula. If Lancaster was able to do the things Dracula did, we're in big trouble.

   We left St. Theresa's with two rosaries and a vial of holy water. The priest had been out at the time, but a nun, Sister Lucy, had opened the gift shop where we bought the rosaries.

   Christmas Eve I opened the box with the pretty green wrapper. The thought of Wolf left me with little enthusiasm for my skates.

   "I also have something else for you," Dad smiled. It was good to see that warm smile.

   While Dad went to get the surprise gift, I sat in front of the TV, listening to the Christmas carollers. My head snapped around at the sound of a crashing noise.

   "You knock over something, Dad?" I called. There was nothing but an eerie silence. My heart raced. I took the rosary from my pyjama' pocket and placed it around my neck, making sure the crucified Jesus was clearly exposed.

   I trudged down the hall, my heart racing like a snowmobile. My whole body broke out in a cold sweat.

   When I reached Dad's room, the door was ajar. With a shaking hand, I pushed it all the way open. The first sight I saw made me sick to my stomach. A brown, German shepherd puppy hanged by its rear legs from the blind cord in front of the open window. Blood dripped from its throat onto the carpet floor.

   I turned my head and saw Dad lying on the floor near the bureau. I ran to him, shivering, more from fear than from the cold air rushing in the open window.

   I dropped to my knees and looked down into Dad's pain-stricken face. His neck was twisted to one side, and I noted the rosary twirled around his right hand.

   "Wake up, Dad," I called, feeling the burning tears in my eyes. "Please, don't leave me all alone."

   "Your daddy cannot hear you, boy."

   I whirled and looked up at Lancaster. His eyes were fiery red. He rubbed his hands together gleefully and grinned. Despite the freezing cold outside, he wore only a black dress suit.

   "The little boy is wearing a rosary," Lancaster smirked. "Your stupid daddy thought he could fight me with it." He stepped toward me, his big teeth exposed and gleaming. I tried not to look into his eyes.

   I fumbled for the crucifix on my rosary and extended it toward him.

   His laughter rang out like the clanging of a church bell.

   "I have one too," he mocked. He pulled a gold chain out of his shirt and at the end of it dangled a little crucifix, minus the crucified Jesus.

   "As long as it isn't blessed by those blasted holy men, it won't do you any good. Of course, Daddy did not realize that."

   I felt a warm sensation in my crotch, then pee running down my leg.

   "Ho! Ho! Ho!" Lancaster laughed. "The frightened little boy has just wet his pants."

   "Let him be, Lancaster."

   My head jerked around as I placed the harsh female voice to the lady who had been at my window the night before. When she turned toward me, my heart raced so fast that I thought it might pop right out of my chest. I stood up and nearly stumbled back over Dad's sprawled body.

   "Mom!" I screeched. I started toward her, but Lancaster stepped between us, blocking my path.

   Though she wore a navy blazer, belted skirt, and dress shoes, she didn't seem bothered by the cold at all. She did seem afraid, and I got the impression that her fear was for me, not herself.

   "Amanda, my love!" Lancaster exclaimed. "All I want is you. Come back to me and no harm will come to the boy."

   Mom shrank back, then lowered her head and nodded in defeat. She gazed down at Dad and tears of blood-- yes blood-- streamed down her cheeks.

   "It had to be this way," Lancaster preached. "You have only yourself to blame for Frank's death."

   Mom's head snapped up. "No!" she spat.

   "If you had not run out on me," Lancaster declared, "I never would have returned to this pathetic little town. My love, do not weaken yourself and waste precious blood on this wretched soul."

   "Don't go with him, Mom," I cried. "I need you more than ever now."

   "Look at him, Amanda," Lancaster taunted. "A weakling like his father. But you are like me."

   "I may be a vampire because of you," Mom sneered, "but I'm not like you. I still feel love and compassion."

   "I love you more than anything, Amanda. I will not let anyone deprive me of you."

   The realization that this ugly creature had stolen my mom from my life and had made her into a vampire filled me with a rage so great that I completely forgot my fear.

   "Damn you!" I screeched. I rushed at Lancaster with all the force my little body could muster. He snatched me off my feet with one hand and tossed me across the room. Lucky for me the bed broke my fall.

   "How dare you harm my son," Mom snarled.

   "Those who dare meddle in my affairs will suffer the consequences," Lancaster sneered.

   I rolled off the bed and landed feet on the floor. Dad's lifeless body sprawled on the floor increased the rage within me. I snatched the alarm clock off the night table and hurled it at Lancaster... he pulled it out of the air and crushed it in his hand like an aluminium soft drink can. Then he started toward me.

   I backed away until I bumped the bureau. I glimpsed the vial of holy water... I had forgot it in all the frenzy. The rosaries hadn't been blessed, but as an altar boy I knew the priest always blessed the holy water before making it available to the parishioners. With a trembling hand I grasped the vial, unscrewed the cap and stood there, waiting for
Lancaster to come closer.

   "What have you got there, boy?" he grinned. "Another unblessed church relic?"

   "Why don't you come and see you ugly monster," I challenged. "Ho! Ho! Ho!" Lancaster roared. "The little weakling has suddenly found a little courage."

   He took two steps toward me. Then I flung the holy water at his snarling face. A hellish roar erupted from his lips, as he threw his hands over his face and twirled around the room like a drunken dancer. He stumbled back against the wall, moaning some kind of gibberish. When his hands fell away from his face, I thought I was looking at a cartoon
creature. The greater part of his face had burned and shrivelled.

   He stumbled toward me and that's when Mom took over. She grasped the end of the bed and ripped the wooden leg clean off with ease. She drew back her lips and for the first time I saw that her teeth resembled Lancaster's. She bit down on one end of the wooden leg and tore a large piece out with those wild teeth. Gosh! The bed leg was now
a jagged stake.

   The moment Lancaster reached out toward me Mom ran across the room toward him. She plunged the stake through his heart and it came out his back. His screams pierced the night while blood spurted from his heart like paint out of a spray can. He toppled backward onto the floor, his screams now muffled from the blood foaming out of his mouth. He twisted on the floor until his whole face collapsed, and his eyes fell into their sockets. The next second his whole body began to dissolve, first into rotting, stinking flesh; then dust. Only his clothes and gold chain gave evidence that he had ever existed.

   Weeping tears of joy, I ran toward Mom. She held up her hand, stopping me abruptly.

   "No, Shane," she ordered sadly. "I am weak with hunger and must feed. I must go before I dare feed on you."
"Do it, Mom," I cried. Her eyes widened. "You do not know what you say."

   "Dad is dead. I'm all alone. I need you. Please, don't ever leave me again."

   "But, son," she protested, "to never see the daylight, and to feed on others. That is not a life to be desired."

   "I just want to be with you." Tears leaked from my stinging eyes.

   She floated across the room, held my face in her hands, and gazed into my eyes. Then she turned and looked down at Dad.

   "Oh, Frank," she whispered. "If I live for centuries more, I will never forget you." She turned back toward me. "We will never be separated again, Shane," she promised.

©2003 Larry Letemplier