Demon Vampire (The Redgold Series) (3 page)

Zack had to relax, take a breather. Go somewhere that he wasn’t used to, someplace to clear his head. He wanted to be alone for an hour with no one bothering him, that was his short term aim at least. There was a local Gothic night club open at 8pm. It came to Zack's mind because of a flier advertising that it allowed minors. A place where a person could just sit and watch someone else play a game of billiards for the cost of a soda. Zack wanted that kind of solidarity. He wished for it. To be alone in a crowd of people. It sounded nice to him.

Physically, Zack was not mature. He lacked the necessary body to be attractive to the opposite sex. At five foot seven inches, he wasn't tall for his age. He wasn’t muscular, or athletic. Zack was merely lean, thin, and lengthy. A sharp, gaunt face with dark brown eyes and black hair gave him slightly above average looks aesthetically. His chin was broad, making a very masculine face that more older women liked than younger. He was always getting complements from the mothers of the girls in his class. When Zack would wait to be picked up by his dad a few years ago at the car loop at school. Thinking it was purely ironic that their daughters wanted nothing to do with him. Zack was fed up. At the time, he was too young to know what a cougar was. Later, when he was told about it, he still didn't like the idea. Zack's view was that people should be within about a year of each other. It sickened him to think that the girls in his class were dating guys four to five years older than him. Zack thought that if he did that with girls younger than him, John would be the first one to arrest him for doing something weird with a minor. Zack felt the entire dating scene for his age range was stacked against him. Put bluntly, he wasn't planning on meeting anyone any time soon.

“Zack, you didn't fall back asleep, did you?” John called out to Zack.

Zack rolled towards the wall. “No. I'm up.”

Since Zack was six, bad vision had plagued his life. He could barely see his hand in front of his face, or even the detail in his fingertips at arm's length. Unfortunately, Zack had wonderful hearing, a fact John knew well. Eventually, Zack would have to get up. The round silver framed glasses he wore were on the nightstand next to his bed. Not the most stylish pair, it was given to Zack by his dad from when he was younger. It was a hand-me-down pair with the latest prescription in it. It was a family heirloom originally passed down from his grandfather. Zack's father said that they were made of nearly pure silver. Zack considered them priceless and kept them in good condition because of it. Polishing them with a special cloth each day.

When it came to Zack's looks, his complexion was the only thing he was proud of. It was pristine. It couldn't be made fun of. Not that it would have any effect on the outcome of this night. He wasn’t there to put himself out, only to get out of his little apartment. As Zack sat in his bed, trying to remember the name of the night club on the flier his friends had given him the week before school ended. Zack drew a blank.

John finally walked in. “Zack, I know that look. You can't remember the address, can you?”

“Maybe.” Zack wasn't admitting anything.

“You’re going somewhere tonight aren’t you? Do you need a ride?” John offered.

John Giver wasn’t a traditional father. He was more of a friend to Zack than a strict parent. Offering him transportation and money for odd jobs around the house. Doing the dishes or vacuuming the carpet instead of a weekly allowance for mandatory chores was the norm around the Giver household. Regardless of his parenting, John knew his son, perhaps a little too well for Zack’s personal comfort level. They had been there for each other as friends and family since Zack’s mother left when he was two. Zack had helped John out of the deep depression that his mother left him with. Without knowing it, Zack was there for his dad. Later when Zack got older, John always knew what to say to calm him down and stop the tears from whatever had upset him that day. John chose to never speak of his ex-wife, only omitting to her when he needed to answer a question about what she was like. Zack never nagged his father too much about it. Zack’s perception was that he didn’t have a mother, only a dad. Living with a single parent made Zack more self reliant in his own mind. Able to stand tall in the face of events that would normally emotionally damage the average individual.

John looked almost nothing like Zack, begging an answer more times than not of what his mother looked like. John was six foot three inches tall, and had naturally light tanned skin. Distant Italian as he described it, ran through his blood. There was barely a trace of it in Zack. No clear feature to show how John was connected to him. Zack did have John’s sharp chin. John had very light brown hair and blue eyes. A stark contrast to Zack. Followed by years of small scars from young to adult acne, John did not resemble anything near to what one would think when picturing Zack’s father.

“So what are you going to wear out?” John walked over to Zack's closet. He opened it wide and thumbed through the many dark shirts and pants in Zack's wardrobe.

“What do you mean? I’m going in th-“ Zack pulled on the chest of the black shirt he had slept in. His voice was a mild lull, innocent sounding. It hadn't dropped to a lower tone yet. A fact that Zack didn't like.

John interrupted Zack. “-That? I know you have no time for a girlfriend right now, but one day you might.” John sat down next to Zack.

“I don’t get it.” Zack didn’t understand what his dad was talking about, what he was trying to talk about. Usually Zack knew John had a solid point to anything he mentioned, so he prepared himself to listen for an eventual result.

John laid it down. “In a few months you’re going into high school for the first time. Over the next four years, there’s a good chance girls will be on your mind. Trust me.”

Zack wasn’t tracking, just nodding.

John continued. “I don’t plan on moving in the next four years, at least not out of town that is. The impression that you make at this school will endure until you graduate. It’s important you make a good one.”

Zack wasn’t nodding anyone, he was completely lost now. Somewhere his dad made a quick left turn in the conversation, and Zack kept driving on forward. “But it's summer.”

John realized the expression and sought to make his final point. “The night club you are going to will probably have some kids from your new high school. Your first impression might be tonight, well before school starts. You need to wear something that will help you to stand out, in a good way.”

“That’s exactly what I don’t want to do. I’m going there to relax, to be able to think. Not to be bugged by random strangers that might like me.” Zack peered down at his clothes. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Zack was wearing a short sleeve black shirt. The same sleeper pants he had slept in, which completed the ensemble. Zack wasn't wearing socks, only white sneakers. He hadn't even thought about taking a shower. He didn't see anything wrong with going as he was.

Thankfully Zack's dad did see a problem with it. “It’s fine if you want everyone there to think you’re homeless.” John partially rolled his eyes. “You have a hole in the left pant leg, Zack. You need to get changed.” John reached into Zack’s closet and tossed out a dark gray long sleeved shirt, black slacks, and a pair of black dress shoes he'd worn once for a funeral last year. “Here, you’re going to wear these.”

“But I'm telling you it won’t matter. I’m not trying to look good, I’m trying to blend in.” Zack’s logic was sound, except that he didn’t realize exactly where he was going. The Gothic night club was all about what you are wearing and what your attitude was. The people there didn't have to approach you. The idea was to blend into the subculture by standing out in a unique way. Going plain was as bad as wearing a dunce hat to a formal dinner party.

“The kids at this club are going to be dressed very well. Some will be in elaborate costumes. To blend in, you need to dress accordingly. Trust me. I was your age once.” John had a smile on his face, a sense that he was steering his son in the right direction. John had his younger days. “How do you think I met your mother?”

“Dad, that was in 1990. Things have changed a bit.” Zack contested.

“Put them on. You'll thank me later.” John told Zack. He stepped out while Zack changed in his room. “Hey Zack.” John said through the door.

“What is it?” Zack answered as he was peeling off his shirt and shoes.

“Why don't you go with your friends?” John suggested.

It was a Friday night. Normally Zack would be out with friends. Last year they both suddenly announced they were moving away so that their dad’s could get better jobs in different cities. Leaving Zack in a lonely situation. Most kids lost a few friends making the transition from middle to high school, in Zack's case, he lost them all. He had no one to hang out with anymore. Bringing someone was impossible.

“You know the answer to that.” Zack sighed.

“Yeah, sorry. I keep forgetting they're not here anymore.” John apologized.

Zack wanted to clear his head about it all and get there. He slipped off the sweat pants and old underwear. Popped on the new pair and took his time in putting on the pressed clothing his dad picked out. As busy as John was, he always made sure Zack’s clothes were ironed and put away. Zack even went the extra mile and went to the mirror to put some gel in his hair. A slight spike to his already short black hair cut was the final touch before heading to the night club. Though he still hadn’t remembered what the name of the club was yet. Zack's mind was too scrambled to think of it.

John waited in the space between the bedroom corridor and the kitchen of the apartment. The decoration was minimal. It lacked a woman's touch. Something that hadn't been in the Giver home for many years. The living room was adjacent to the kitchen via a breakfast bar. John had prized his movie collection and its entertainment value over a big screen television. A fat twenty seven inch tube television lay in the center of the room on an old coffee table that had been passed down from John's father. A tan fabric couch situated on the other side of the kitchen bar faced the TV. The carpet was a dark brown, stain-absorbent color. The only appealing feature of the whole apartment were the windows. Four large panes covered the entire gap from the kitchen to the far wall where John's movie shelves were. Their view was of the Gainesville tree line and the surrounding apartment complexes that littered the horizon to the east. The third floor offered sunlight that flooded the living room each morning and a sunset was in perfect view every night.

Zack opened the door. John examined him. Checking all the little details a father could. John noticed Zack's fly was undone. He coughed, looked down at Zack's pants and back to him.

“What?” Zack checked his pants. He immediately found the open zipper. “Oh, right. Thanks.” Zack fixed it and straightened his pants at the belt line.

“You look good son.” John complemented. “What’s the name of the club?”

Zack didn't answer, his face blank. He knew he had the flier somewhere in his room. Possibly under the stack of video games he was playing the day before.

John noticed Zack didn’t really know. “It's Club Sauger.”

“What? How do you know what the name of the club was?” Zack was confused on how his dad knew this obscure and most convenient fact when he didn't.

“Your friend Ron told me to not let you forget when he called recently. He said he had a feeling this might happen.” John told Zack. Everyone seemed to know Zack a little too well. John pulled on Zack's pant leg.

Zack wasn't wearing socks.

“You own socks, I know because I bought a new pack for you last week. Go back and put them on.” John ordered Zack.

Zack turned to finish getting dressed to his father's standards. John whistled a game show theme while waiting. He was quirky that way.

* * * *

On the top floor of a nearby hotel, a tall young woman was lacing up the half-corset of a rather unique outfit. The room was dark, nothing was cast in any great detail. The shadows letting only shades of gray hues escape to the naked eye. Her long back was fully exposed, the shape of a white angel's wing tattooed across the right side. Its detail was soft, due to the cascading distant street lights pouring in from the open windows. A single light from the hall shed a small glimmer of her true figure. She was a vixen in black, if only in shape. She had long black hair gathered over her bare chest, covering any angle from indecency by view of the wide windows amongst the apartment. Her face was beautiful, that of a teenage goddess. Shimmering blue eyes glowed from behind her straight flowing hair. Her oval face that of a movie star. Light, sunless skin, well attuned to the variety of dark hued clothing she was embellishing graced her body. A knock on her open door was answered by no one as a young man in a black suit walked in.

The young man spoke from the shadows that spread from the hallway lights into the apartment. His face shielded in darkness. His voice was young, impatient. “Remember, you were the one that asked me for this assignment. He is a target, nothing more, nothing less.”

The gorgeous half dressed girl answered, now sitting on the edge of the dark living room sofa. “I know he's supposed to be the next incarnation of a demon, but look at him.” Her voice astute yet solicitous. She pointed to a black and white photo partially hidden by the poor ambient light. “He's only a boy. No older than you when you were turned.”

“And look how far I've come in two hundred years. Have you forgotten the story of the child that succumbed and awakened the demon? Seven thousand years meant nothing against merely ten years of pure blood lust in its hands. He holds the polar opposite of a true god in his flesh. Remember why you're doing this, why he needs to die.” The young man spoke with purpose and urgency. He believed what he was saying, that this boy's death was necessary. “He is a monster, remember that.”