62: A Sign Of The Days To Come

Caleb is up before me as I wake up to an empty bed. I find him sitting in front of the TV, eyes wide, on the edge of his seat. As I walk up to him, he doesn’t acknowledge me. “What’s so fascinating?” I ask.

His eyes don’t shift from the screen as he speaks, “protests. Anti-vampire protests.”

Now my eyes flash to the screen. The same reporter that made Phillip’s announcement report is back on the screen. “Protests are breaking out across the U.S., mostly in neighboring states to where Phillip Fairswale made his announcement just a few days ago of being one the oldest vampires alive.”

I fall onto the couch. It’s happening. So fast. It’s happening. Only two days after his declaration to the world.

“Hazel? What is it?” He finally turns away from the TV. “What are you not saying?”

My face scrunches up and I shake my head trying to play it cool. And doing an awful job at it.

“What is it?” There’s no teasing or concern in his tone. He’s upset, angry and impatient.

“It gets much worse than this.” I mutter.

“What? What do you mean it gets worse than this? How do you know it gets worse?” He spits out question after question without giving me a chance to answer until every last one is spoken.

“I saw it in the dream realm. Violence. Destruction. Phillip goes to war and the human race doesn’t survive.” I stare at the TV without hearing it, without seeing it. Only the crumbling apocalyptic streets play behind my unseeing eyes.

Caleb doesn’t say another word...to me at least. He jolts up from the chair, phone in hand. He taps a few buttons and puts it to his ear before I can inhale. He repeats what I told him and more into the phone. It has to be Dravon, Scarlet River.

As soon as the phone call is done, Caleb says in a gruff voice, “I gotta go.” The crease between his brow tells me he’s upset.

It only adds to the already heavy beating of my heart. I didn’t tell him what exactly makes it so much worse than he thinks. Because it can get worse...much, much worse.
There’s a small buzz around the streets about vampires and the protests that are growing at a rapid pace. But there’s also the growing obsession of his followers. My feet stumble to a halt when I spot one, single poster of Phillip’s face on a wall of a brick building. I pause to read the words printed on the poster and instantly regret it.
Peace, Love and Blood

I take off almost at a run. Who put that up? Who would put such a thing on it? Peace, love and blood? Was it Phillip himself, his loyal vamps? My mind is racing by the time I reach the shop and my lungs are struggling to get enough oxygen.

Gretchen’s eyes immediately focus on me. I wave her worry away before she has a chance to voice anything. But the rest of the day, I’m darting her glances and unsaid questions of worry.

The rest of the day drags and as I walk the streets home, I notice an increase of posters. If that isn’t bad enough, my apartment is empty. Caleb must’ve gone to Scarlet River to talk things over. Will he back? Probably, but when. I’m sure Dravon has a plan. What it is, I don’t know and I’m sure that Caleb won’t inform me of it until it’s about to go into action.

Sleep is tough to come by. More tormenting nightmares fill my head.

*The street is familiar. It should be, I’ve walked it so many times. I can walk the streets from Mystic Moon to my apartment with my eyes closed. Except tonight I’m not alone. Footsteps step just a fraction of second behind mine.

When my pace quickens, so do the phantom steps. I turn around several times to view the street behind me. No one’s there. My apartment looms just ahead, but no matter how fast my feet go, I never get any closer.

And then a voice stops me. “Little witch.”

My legs become stiff with fear and as I’m stuck in place in the middle of the sidewalk, I see a shadowy figure emerge from behind some shrubs lining the front of a business building.

“Felix.” His name is barely audible from my unmoving lips.

Everything happens so fast. He’s inches from me, hate filled words flow from his mouth, “you’re fair game now, witch.” His hand bolts out to clasp around my arm. “No one here to save you now.”

His hand squeezes harder and harder. The layer of skin quickly melt away under the heat. It’s so hot that a sweat breaks out across my skin. The pain makes me lightheaded, but I fight. It’s a feeble attempt and I never succeed.

It burns, burns through my flesh, my muscle. A scream rips from my mouth filling the eerily empty streets.*

It also fills my empty bedroom. That same sweat that covered my body from the heat still dampens my skin. My arm throbbing.

***

The following days aren’t much better. Caleb is still gone, Avery hasn’t let up on her daily check ins and the news covers more and more protests. They’re growing and in some cities they’re getting violent. The general population doesn’t know that Phillip lives here, but the hysteria is oozing. But where there’s panic there’s worship. Posters Phillip’s face are slowly getting plastered on several buildings. You couldn’t go a block without spotting one. The tagline leaves chills coursing through my body. Peace, love and blood.

The shop is busier than usual. People seeking vampire related items for souvenirs while others gather cleansing merchandise. Monty works the counter ringing up item after item while I wrap and bag them up. Gretchen has been holed up in her office from open to close doing readings or what could be considered as counselling . Defusing the fear is what it is.

An older woman comes directly up to the counter after entering. Her eyes scan the shop before looking over Monty and myself. There’s a fear in her eyes as she wonders if we’re legit or just a bunch of spiritual hippies.

Monty in her best salesperson voice asks her, “Can we help you with something?”

“Do you sell any kind of protection against the vampires? Those vile things are creatures created from the devil.” She howls. She fingers the rosary around her neck. She’s kinda right. They are vile creatures, but they’re not created from the devil. Those would be demons, a second just as vile set of creatures. “Garlic? Holy water? Crucifixes?” She asks rambling off all the superstitious things.

“Umm…” Monty is speechless which doesn’t happen too often. We haven’t had anyone this desperate come in that they straight out asked for something that wasn’t on the shelves. “This one,” Monty’s hand lands on my shoulder, “is excellent with concoctions.” Our eyes meet. “I know you have a repellent.” She says under her breath, her lips unmoving.

“I may have something, but…”

“Anything, I’ll take it.” The woman quickly speaks, filling in my silence.

“Twenty bucks...each.” Monty blurts out. Obviously seeing this as a means of getting revenue and not seeing it as a target being to my back.

My previous thoughts and ambitions of selling the repellent in the shop seems so fickle, so dangerous now that it’s coming to fruition.

“Deal.” The woman agrees.

My mouth drops slightly open. A few stutters come out, but nothing close to words. It takes a couple tries before I can get myself to speak. “A regular vampire repellent doesn’t work against them, you need something...stronger. I have a couple left. Just a minute.” I leave them behind to fetch my purse to dig out the three vials I have stashed in there. I hold it up to her and she stares at it mesmerized. “It requires you to add the teeniest droplet of your blood to it...and anyone who lives in the house, because this will block anyone from entering unless permission is given.”

“I’ll take it. How many do I need?” She’s already digging her wallet out.

“Well, you need to line all exterior doors and window sills, so...depending on the size of your house...maybe three to seven.”

“I’ll take five.” She whips out the cash. A hundred dollars for something her skepticism can’t be sure even works.

“I only have three made up.” I mumble.

“I’ll wait.” The lady says.

I reluctantly walk away with a couple glances back. She’s definitely on edge. Her feet shuffle from side to side and she clutches onto her purse so tightly that her fingertips are white. A loud tap, tap, tap that raps against the window startles her. Her hand goes to her chest desperately trying to calm her heart.

Demons are still lurking.

Instead of making enough to fill her order, I make a big batch to replace the ones that I gave her along with a few others. When I re-enter the sales floor, she rushes over to me eager to get her hands on the bottles and leave.

She mutters a thank you before storming out of the shop. I can sense other’s eyes on me curious about what she bought. When I go back behind the counter with Monty, she whispers, “I hope you made more.” She slaps me with a wad of money. “Your share.”

I count it out. Sixty bucks, more than half. “If it’s going to be as popular as you think it is, then I’ll be taking less soon enough. I only have so much of my own stock before I have to start dabbling into the shop’s inventory.”

“I’ll make a note.” Monty replies.

She must sense my distress and nervousness that comes over me from selling the repellent. It already killed someone, poor Gary. It’s one thing to wish harm to the vampires for everything they’ve done, for all the lies that they’ve told, but actually doing it is a completely different feeling.

By the end of the day there are ten more orders. A sign of the days to come. I can see it now traveling within the human population, the demizen community. Mystic Moon has vampire repellent for sale.