Chapter Text
One.
There were certain rhythms you fell into when you had the care of a small child. Isabel timed their evening meal for 5:30, reading and playing until 7:00, and general winding down for an aimed bedtime of 8:00, though Christopher was wily enough to often stretch it to 8:30. He was a bright boy, always wanting to learn more, and it was hard to tell him no when all he wanted to do was watch another fifteen minutes of a documentary, or read another chapter of his astronomy book. Hard to tell him no when he looked at her, her great-grandson, with his great big pleading puppy eyes.
Yet she was readying herself to deny him. Too many nights past his bed time and Eddito might stop considering her as the first stop on the babysitting rotation.
Chris said to her, “Just a little more,” and she said, “My angel, no,” and then she paused.
Something told her to pay attention. (Pay attention!) Her body snapped alert. A bare instant later, the air pressure fluctuated dramatically, flexing over her skin, causing her ears to pop and then fill with air yet again, painful. The world shivered around her.
“Abuelita?”
“Shh,” she hushed him. “Come here.” She pulled him to her arms then carried him into the doorway of the kitchen. The only thing she could think of was an earthquake. Sometimes her kind felt those early. Though no earthquake had ever felt as this had.
She got her phone from the kitchen counter while holding Chris and herself steady in the doorway, and she called her grandson - the father of her great-grandson - because he was a fireman and he would know what to do.
He picked up on the third ring, so his firehouse wasn’t on a call. Millenial, he wasn’t fond of actually talking on a phone, but he would for her. His voice came through fuzzy. “Abuela?” A thin waver through it. Some kind of interference. Not technological. Not on his end. Something else. Something strange.
“Eddito?” She tried. He said nothing, so she tried again, “Edmundo, can you hear me?” Then again, repeated in Spanish.
Christopher wriggled in her arms, his small flail. “Abuelita, my crutches.” Like he wanted to leave her grip so that he could collect them.
No, her body said. No, in the way she knew to listen to. She had lived in her body over seven long decades. She trusted what it told her.
“Stay with me,” she said instead. To the phone she said, “Edmundo, if you can hear me, call the police-“ and then the front door exploded and a void of wrongness rushed in.
They were too shocked to make a sound, and then Christopher screamed, and Isabel had him behind her in a heartbeat. She put him behind her, in the safe cradle of her home’s kitchen, with her in front of him to guard. Guard against a monster slowly stalking forward, in the vague shape of a human, though all her senses bent around examining it. Him. Something undeniably masculine in that gait.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
But Isabel didn’t ask expecting any answers. She knew enough to know there would be none. She asked only for the moment’s distraction as the monster contemplated her and her words.
Her body told her not to hesitate and she trusted it. While the monster was deciding whether he would toy with them before killing them, Isabel sank into her shift and became not a woman but a wolf, lunging for the throat.
Nothing had prepared Eddie for the adrenaline burst that came when his son was in danger - true, real, life threatening danger. He’d been to active war zones, he worked as a first responder, and still there was no comparison. It had been five hours since the attack and only now was Eddie’s keyed up state calming, and it was only calming because the detective in front of him was saying, with kind certainty, “We caught them. They’re in custody.”
“Who was it? What did they want?” Pepa asked. They were standing together outside of Abuela’s hospital room, Chris asleep in a cot by her bedside. Pepa and Eddie stood guard alongside the actual, official police guard.
“If you’ll come with me and have a seat, we can talk about it,” Detective Ransone said.
Eddie glanced over his shoulder, into the room that held the nucleus of his small family. He didn’t want to leave them, but they were safe and he wouldn’t be going far. Pepa answered for them both, “All right,” and Eddie nodded agreement, and Detective Ransone took him to a more or less private corner of a public waiting room.
“The person we apprehended was caught by a combination of different tracking methods, both mundane and supernatural,” Ransone said. “And then we brought in a lycan tracker to confirm that the scent at the scene-“ at Abuela’s house, he meant, where the attack had happened - “matched the found scent. The lycan tracker confirmed accuracy within 80%, which is enough to be actionable. The person we found was a vampire and she came quietly into custody, though she hasn’t been answering any questions yet.”
Pepa frowned. “A vampire…?”
More upfront, Eddie asked, “Was this a hate crime?” There was old-running animosity between his kind and theirs.
“The motivations are unclear at this point. As far as we can tell, the suspect has no relationship with anyone in your family whatsoever. We aren’t even sure how she became aware of them.”
Eddie huffed a frustrated breath. “What happens next?” He had the urge to fight something. He wanted to fight this vampire.
“She’s being held in special cells designed to contain supernaturals with heightened strength and coercive abilities. All vampires are considered flight risks, so she will be held in custody until the matter is fully resolved. She will be questioned comprehensively. We will keep you updated on how the case progresses.”
“But - you’re sure that it was this vampire?” Pepa asked. “The one who attacked our family, it was this… thing?”
Ransone held direct, steady eye contact, calm and certain. “We are very sure,” he said, nodding.
There was some more discussion, some more untangling of facts and events, more questions and anxieties to address. The only thing Eddie really wanted to know, however, was who this asshole even was.
Ransone hesitated a moment, then answered. “She works as a dispatcher. There’s a slim possibility she has interacted with you as a fellow first responder. Her name - is Maddie Kendall.”
There wasn’t a lot to Google about Maddie Kendall. She was originally from the East Coast and young, as vampires went, her registered age putting her at a little over 50. There were no photographs of her, a given due to her vampiric state. The physical description given was that of a petite woman with brown hair and eyes. She could have been anyone. Eddie could have passed her in the street, even now, and not known who she was.
“Stop,” Pepa said, hand on his arm. “You will obsess yourself into a grave.”
Eddie guiltily swiped his phone out of browser mode. “I just want to know why this is happening.”
“Hate has no reasoning,” Pepa said. She looked careworn and tired. “We need to stay strong now. Don’t let yourself weaken.”
“I won’t,” Eddie promised.
She patted him on the back soothingly. Her presence was as warm as ever, bigger than her body. She was a matriarch of the Diaz pack, and that meant something.
“When does Shannon’s flight get in?”
Eddie checked the time, then winced. “Fifteen minutes ago.”
“Ah,” Pepa said. “So we have that to look forward to.”
“She’s his mother,” Eddie said.
Pepa lifted both hands up, palms outward, and ducked her chin down. Appeasing body language. “I say nothing, I say nothing.”
“She was at a funeral, it’s not her fault it took this long to come back,” Eddie said. Shannon had been on the verge of driving back before someone had routed her to a nearby city’s airport which did have an available flight.
“Yes, yes.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. It wasn’t like he wanted to be the one always defending Shannon to the rest of his family. But they always criticized her and so he felt almost like he had to.
Shannon blew in 45 minutes later, smelling of airplanes and airports, hair tied up in a high bun, make-up smeared and rubbed almost all the way off. She was a tall and skinny woman, and recent stress - no doubt exacerbated by Chris being attacked - had made her drop weight she could ill afford to lose. Her tee shirt and sweatpants hung uncomfortably loose off of her body. Shed of any extra flesh, her spirit seemed glaringly bright, burning through her eyes as she speed-walked to where Eddie and Pepa stayed standing sentinel at the hospital room door. “How is he?” she asked immediately.
“He’s sleeping. He’s fine,” Eddie said.
She peered through the window and hissed under her breath. “Was he hurt?”
“No,” Pepa said. “My mother protected him.”
Shannon speared her with a glance. “Good.”
“My mother,” Pepa went on, voice slightly raised, “will also be fine, by the way.”
Shannon didn’t even have the grace to look abashed. “I assumed so.”
The problem the extended family had with Shannon was that she refused to be shamed, for anything. So what that she’d abandoned Eddie and Chris in the middle of the night, disappearing without word and staying absent for almost two years: she had her reasons and she wouldn’t defend them. It didn’t mean she didn’t love her son and now that she was here, back again, she was wholly present. The extended family took issue with this as it was antithetical to the werewolf way of doing things.
No one cared for Shannon, and it grated to them that she remained unaffected by their disdain and quiet shunning. It should have mattered to her; it didn’t. Not much mattered to a witch unless she wanted it to. Eddie had always understood this about Shannon. It was hard not to given his mother was also a witch and he’d grown up under the shadow of this behavior.
“So?” Shannon asked, impatient. “Are you going to tell me more about what happened? You must know now. It’s been hours.”
Then ensued the exhausting process that was relaying all information, pertinent and non. It was gratifying to Eddie that Shannon also immediately took out her phone to run a search on Maddie Kendall upon learning her name, though galling that Shannon managed to unearth slightly more than Eddie had done.
Maddie Kendall, born an American, had never left the continent, apparently, and, when she wasn’t busy being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, worked off and on as a nurse. Most recently in Boston.
“A vampire nurse.” Pepa shook her head.
“There are a lot of vampires in the medical field,” Shannon said dispassionately. “They excel there.”
“I wouldn’t trust them around so much blood,” Pepa sniffed.
It was the kind of thing a werewolf typically would say of a vampire. A casual insult.
Eddie sighed. The threat had passed and his family was gathered close. He was exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to go into that room that held his abuela and his son, and crawl into the cot next to Chris, and just rest with his ear held to Chris’s chest. He actually could not conceive of a single reason why he shouldn’t; and so he made his vague excuses to the two women left behind him, and did.
Chris was warm like a little furnace, his metabolism kicked into overdrive. His heart rhythm was so familiar and dear. Eddie always listened for it when he was in earshot. Hearing it had an immediate calming effect on Eddie.
He held his kid and closed his eyes, and slept.
Abuela’s house was a wreckage. The police hadn’t done much other than cordon off the scene in the vain hope it would keep any lookieloos away. There remained broken glass, splintered wood, a front door that hung grimly on by a single screw, carefully propped up to give the illusion of privacy.
The living room, formerly cozy and bright, filled with soft fabrics and comforting scents, was similarly visited by carnage. The sofa cushions were torn up. The armchair looked to be in two distinct separate pieces. Two out of five of the dining chairs were broken beyond repair, and the remaining three featured broken legs and fractured spines. The television was knocked over and, when righted, displayed a cracked screen.
“Jesus,” Shannon said from behind Eddie’s shoulder.
They had come to assess the damage the morning after the night before. Pepa stayed back at the hospital because they would be under no circumstances leaving Abuela and Chris without a family guard. Well, Eddie had come to assess the damage. Shannon had come to get a better understanding of the threat that had been faced down.
Eddie had known Isabel Diaz was a grim and mortal enemy to take on, but there was knowing and then there was seeing the disaster and blood spray remnants for himself. “Abuela got her good.”
“I’ll say.”
They didn’t spend much time on the clean up. Eddie got some nails and a hammer out of the tool shed out back and nailed the front door into the frame. It would do for security for now - they’d just use the back door to enter and exit. Shannon, without saying a word, got out a broom and dustpan and was industriously at work clearing safe floor space in the front hallway and in the living room. They worked together in silence for fifteen minutes until the most obvious of the work was done, and then Shannon sighed and left the broom leaning against the wall.
“They can’t come back here. Not until it’s fixed up completely. And if Chris is going to be spending more time here, then I need to put the protection spells down for him.”
Heartwarming, her concern for their son. Chilling, her total disregard for his grandmother.
But still, it wasn’t like Eddie disagreed with her points. “They’ll be either at home with me or at Pepa’s.”
“Drive me to my place and I’ll get my supplies. I can put the spells down at each place today.”
There had been a time when Shannon made requests or phrased things as questions; that had been pre-abandonment Shannon, who Eddie had never thought of as trying particularly hard to be accommodating. That was before his experience with post-abandonment Shannon who was, for all the superficial similarities, a very different animal. She spoke in the form of demands.
“Fine,” Eddie said. He checked his watch. They were at 9:30 am and would be pushing up against lunch by the time Shannon was done. Abuela’s doctor had said she’d be dischargeable some time in the early afternoon, so they should probably set up some kind of food situation at Pepa’s for everyone to come home to. He could handle that while Shannon worked her magic.
Shannon was like any other witch in that she had a small spark of her own power, and an alliance to a member of the gentry of Hell who gave her access to more. As always before beginning a magic working, she spent time communing with her patroness. Eddie’s mother never bothered with communing, but rather did daily offerings and prayers to keep her connection to her patron strong. But then, Eddie’s mother was part of a larger earthly contingent, a coven at least eighty strong. Shannon’s coven was markedly smaller. Her aunt had recently died - the funeral Shannon had flown in from - and her own mother passing a year ago shrunk them down to just three. Maybe four, if Chris grew up to be a witch rather than a wolf.
She set up in Eddie’s living room with her candles and crystals and a bowl of clear water into which she cut the base of her thumb and bled three small drops. Eddie made the mental note to remove that bowl from the kitchen since it was no longer sanitary, then sighed and wandered into Christopher’s room. He got together a quick bag of clothes, toys, and books, then ducked into the bathroom and gathered toiletries.
Chris had been blessedly unhurt by all that happened, more scared than anything. He’d given Eddie some disjointed descriptions of the assault - more interested in talking about how his Abuelita had turned into a huge wolf than anything else, describing her snarls and howls, the way she’d lunged. It had been years since Eddie saw his abuela in full shift; it was hard on the body, and it demanded an extreme amount of energy besides. But it sounded like she was as formidable as ever.
The vampiric attacker had been shrouded in what sounded like shadows, totally obscured by them. She’d come in thinking she could probably do damage on a couple of easy targets and leave without a trace. Abuela had definitely taught her different.
He wandered back to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. Shannon in the living room had moved on to intoning, voice dropped an octave, eyes closed and spine rigid. Trance-like, she rose to her feet like she’d been pulled upward by a string, and began to walk the perimeter of the living room. Eddie stayed out of her way as she moved to the kitchen and did the same, then down the hall and into each bedroom and bathroom. He opened the door for her when she paused to go outside, then followed her as she circled his house three times. On the last round, she held out her hand and seemed to almost be pouring something from it - something Eddie couldn’t see, but could feel. Power. A lot of power.
Shannon never used to be so powerful.
He brought it up on the drive to Pepa’s. A witch got more power by promising more to their patron demon. Shannon had always been careful about her negotiations, as had her family coven as a whole. No one wanted to risk losing their actual soul.
Shannon shook her head, dismissive, when Eddie voiced concern. “It’s not like that,” she said. “My deal with Her hasn’t changed. I haven’t gotten more powerful - She has. There’s been some shifting between the Clans of Hell.”
“I didn’t hear anything about that.”
“Why would you have? Helena never talks about this kind of thing with you guys. It’s not exactly public information, anyway.”
Eddie frowned. His mom had hoped that at least one of her children would grow up to be a witch. That all three had been werewolves had been a blow to her, and she latched on all the harder to Christopher when he came along, seeming almost certain that he’d be like her. She wanted him to join her covenant and not Shannon’s if he turned out to be a witch, though Shannon’s had the stronger claim. That had been another source of conflict that Eddie had stayed away from, that had ultimately driven Shannon out of their home.
“So what does it mean for you?”
Shannon hummed. “A bit more power, like you saw. A better bargaining position with other covens now. We’ll see how things develop. She might climb higher up the hierarchy, or this might be where She stops.” Shannon never said her demon’s name; it was a secret she held close. She’d shown Eddie the sigil of her demon before, though, a stylized fish leaping out of a wave.
That was early on in their relationship, when Shannon was pregnant with Chris and they were giddy with each other. Not exactly thrilled to be teen parents, but still, excited and happy and wanting to grow as a family. Shannon wanted to know more about being a werewolf and Eddie wanted to know more about being a witch, or, specifically, the kind of witch that Shannon was, given his frame of reference was more for his mom’s style. Shannon and Helena worked magic very differently. Shannon knew a few other werewolves, but had never asked any of them the in depth questions she gave to Eddie, and Eddie had never shown anyone the slow shift of his features as he went into a half transformed state. Shannon loved his full shift as well, fascinated by the size of his teeth, the full yawn of his jaw. They used to lay awake at night with both their hands on Shannon’s full belly, murmuring to each other what their child might become.
Now they were here, a tense couple in a truck on the way to fortify a family home.
Two of Pepa’s four children were at the house when Eddie pulled up. Liliana stood in the front doorway. Eddie could hear Rafael’s heart rhythm further in. Lili narrowed her eyes at Shannon, but gave Eddie a cursory hug.
“Eddito,” Lili said, pressing her cheek briefly to his. “Mami just called. She said they’d be home in an hour or so. Rafa’s going to pick them up.”
“I can do that,” Eddie said immediately.
“Rafa’s not gonna let you drive his SUV, and I don’t think you’re gonna fit everyone in that old trashcan of yours,” Lili said wryly. “Just stay here, huh.”
Shannon brushed past them. Lili glared after her; Shannon was supremely unbothered.
“She’s going to set up some protection magic,” Eddie said.
Lili hissed and made the sign of the cross, but didn’t otherwise protest.
People had a problem with witches and their deals with Hell. Eddie was no theologian and most days barely believed in God, despite the existence of Hell more or less proving God in one form or another must be real. But he also knew Helena was a regular church goer and had never burned upon touching a cross, so he figured whatever God cared about, it wasn’t witches as a whole.
Lili had him out making a grocery run and then had him chopping and stirring and wrapping food while Rafa left to pick up their family and Shannon busied herself with laying down strong protective magic once more. Eddie was antsy. He wanted to be the one with his kid, with his grandma. He wanted to be the one protecting them. Every time he felt himself on the cusp of being too worked up, Lili would put a hand on his arm and calm him. She was the youngest of four and good at that kind of thing.
Shannon finished up ten minutes before their family came home. She slumped tiredly at the dining table, but made a valiant effort at perking up as the front door opened and Christopher clattered in, chirping, “Mom! Dad!”
“Baby,” Shannon breathed, all softness and love, dashing toward him. Eddie followed at a slower pace. It hurt in a good way to see Shannon hugging Chris. Pepa and Abuela, standing in the doorway and looking on, had begrudgingly accepting expressions on their faces, too.
Rafa brought up the rear and nudged everyone forward, bemused expression on his gentle face. “We’re all starving,” he said. “Food ready?”
Lili called an affirmative from the kitchen. Smiles all around. Chris detached from Shannon just long enough to attack to Eddie in a hug, and Eddie cupped the back of his son’s head, so grateful to still have him.
Detective Ransone called mid-afternoon and came by late afternoon with a translator for Abuela. She had English, but Ransone thought she might be more comfortable and would speak more freely in Spanish. She hadn’t given them much before, nearly insensible from the energy expenditure it had taken to defend from the attack. She was still exhausted even now, frail and skin almost gray. But she could give more information.
They’d noticed something was off at 8:00 pm, she said. There was a pressure shift and sounds traveled weirdly. It had made her concerned, which was why she was on the phone to Eddie when the attack began - a figure, bursting through the front door. The figure had been completely covered in shadows, wreathed around it like a costume or a disguise.
Abuela’s initial reaction was to counter-attack, which was likely what saved them. She didn’t run, hide, or scream for help. Instead she immediately went into full shift and lunged for the attacker’s throat.
He was strong, Abuela said. Even knowing their assailant was a woman, Abuela continued to use ‘he’. He threw her into the wall. Strong and fast. And had some sort of magic - he was throwing something around, something that slowed her down. But she could still move and when she snarled or howled, it disrupted the magic and broke its chain on her, which the attacker didn’t seem to expect.
“I ripped out his throat,” Abuela said with grim satisfaction. “That is why he left.” She repeated it in English, pleased with herself, motioning with one hand turned into a claw shape, a quick and dramatic motion over the front of her neck. “I ate his blood. He was a dead thing, but his blood was fresh.”
Ransone frowned at this, thoughtful.
There was a quick interview with Chris next, mostly just to corroborate what Abuela had said, and then Ransone and his interpreter were packing up their things.
Eddie stopped them just outside of the front door, door shut behind them, wanting a private moment. “Have you figured out why this is happening yet?”
Ransone looked at him quietly a moment, then nodded to the interpreter for her to leave. He waited until they were alone, then said, “We’re working on some things, but no, we’re not entirely sure what the motivations were here.”
“She hasn’t talked? Kendall?”
Ransone shook his head. “She is still in custody. She will be in custody until this is all resolved. You don’t have to worry about that. But no, she has yet to answer any questions.”
“I just want to know what’s going on.”
Ransone hesitated. “We’re looking into whether or not this has anything to do with the string of recent attacks on werewolf-owned businesses. This could have had nothing to do with you or your family at all, Mr. Diaz. Your grandmother could have been targeted purely on the basis of her supernatural status. She might have been considered an easy target as an elderly woman on which to escalate this anti-werewolf rhetoric.”
“That… really doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“It would be surprising if it did. And this is by no means confirmed yet. We’re just trying to put everything together. But I don’t want you or your family to worry too much. We have the suspect in custody. You can feel safe.”
Eddie sighed, tired. “Okay,” he said. “Thank you.”
Despite Ransone’s words of reassurance, however, he didn’t feel safe. He felt hypervigilant and on guard. He felt as if something or someone was still watching him, watching them.
The feeling persisted all the way into the evening and night. His Captain called to check in and offer to drop off food, and they engaged in some brief negotiations to figure out what Eddie’s work schedule was going to look like for the next week. He couldn’t afford to lose too many hours, but he also didn’t want to leave his family just yet. Thankfully, Mehta was willing to work with him to figure something out.
“Take care, Eddie,” Mehta said at the end of the call. “We’re all here for you. Reach out, you hear?”
“I hear, I hear,” Eddie said, laughing. Mehta was a werewolf too. It was one of the reasons Eddie had gone with him after graduating the Academy and receiving multiple offers.
There came a point where Shannon had to go home, but Eddie didn’t want to leave Chris to drive her, and she was visibly reluctant to leave their son as well. Pepa wavered, then broke: Shannon was allowed to stay. They shuffled sleeping arrangements. Shannon and Chris curled up together in Eddie’s cousin Fernando’s childhood bed, and Eddie camped out on the floor next to them. Elsewhere in the house, Rafa slept in his old room and Lili in hers, while Abuela and Pepa shared the master. If Eddie concentrated, he could hear them breathing, fall into the rhythm they made all together, a strange sort of calm.
Instead, he laid on his back and stared at the ceiling in the dark room. Worry gnawed through his stomach. He rested one palm on his chest, over his heart, feeling his own beat. Ready.
Hours passed. Finally he stood on quiet feet. Stealth was something he and his sisters had always been good at, to their mom’s eternal chagrin. Eddie paced closer to his child and child’s mother. Their faces were smooth with sleep.
He creaked the door open and stepped into the hall, padded silently to the living room and glanced at the wall clock. Werewolf vision was good with shadows and darkness, meant for the night. It was just past midnight and Eddie knew something was wrong.
He checked the doors. Locked, unbothered. He hesitated, then unlocked the front door and slipped out. His senses stretched, sharpened. What was it? What was bothering him? He was unwilling to ignore the urge.
Someone was watching them. Something was there.
Something was - there.
On the other side of the garage, hidden in the shadow of Pepa’s lemon trees, a figure. A man in black, tall - taller than Eddie - standing with crossed arms. His eyes found Eddie’s and met him stare for stare.
It was too much. A stranger, a strange man, standing close to where Eddie’s family lay sleeping, after the 24 hours Eddie had already had? He cracked his neck with a deliberate twist and took one, two, accelerating bounds forward, before he was a wolf, shifting smoothly mid-step as his army training had dearly won him, barreling into the stranger and knocking him down and out of breath with a deft execution of momentum.
“Hey, hey!” the man choked out. “I’m not here - I’m safe! I’m not here to hurt you!”
Eddie snapped his jaws at the man’s face and took fierce satisfaction in the way this made him flinch backwards, heading thudding against the ground.
“I’m really not here for, to do anything bad,” the man babbled. “I’m just - I’m just extra insurance.”
This required a mouth capable of human speech. Reluctantly, Eddie began the shift from wolf to man, though he stayed in his half and half state for maximum strength and intimidation. “I don’t know who the hell you are or where you get off-“
“I don’t get off! I’m not-“ the man yelped. He was a big guy, tall, and muscled almost in excess. In the dim streetlamp light, Eddie could see he was pale, white, with black hair and icy eyes.
Pressed chest to chest, Eddie could also feel the lack of a heartbeat.
“Vampire,” Eddie accused.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” the man repeated. “I swear I’m not. I swear it.”
The words flashed silver. That was the only way to describe it. The sensation of the words in the air, in Eddie’s mind as he heard them, seared into reality, a solemn oath. A true and unbreakable promise, one only a supernatural could make.
Eddie leaned back slightly, just enough to give them a sliver of space, and looked the vampire in the face.
Pleading, earnest eyes stared back at him.
Grudgingly, Eddie said, “Fine. Talk.” He slowly shifted his features back to full human, and equally slowly got to his feet, stepping backward.
The vampire stayed on his back, on the ground, staring up at him for a beat, then rolled onto his side and then his knees, climbing upright. He was big - Eddie evaluated him again, and found the first impression to be true. Without adrenaline powering his decisions, Eddie had to admit, if this vampire had fought back in any way, Eddie might have been in real trouble.
“I meant what I said. I’m just here to help, as back up. In case someone tries something again.”
Eddie stared at him, hard. “And why would you be interested in doing that?”
The vampire shifted awkwardly. “Uh, if you guys were attacked again, I think the whole city would explode in some kind of vampire and werewolf war.”
“That was a lie,” Eddie said immediately. It was one of the quirks he and his sisters had inherited from their mom’s witch side. They could almost always sort a truth from an untruth. “Try again.”
“I -“ the vampire hesitated. “Someone asked me to.”
That wasn’t a lie. Eddie narrowed his eyes. “Who?”
“Someone who cares,” the vampire said. “Someone who doesn’t want anything bad to happen to your family. To your kid.”
“You don’t talk about my kid. No one you know talks about my kid.”
The vampire lifted both hands up, instant signal of submission and surrender. “Got it, got it.”
“I want you to get the hell off my aunt’s property, and to stay the hell away from me and everyone else in the house. We don’t need your help. The next time I see you, I’m calling the police.”
The vampire stared at him, lips tightly pursed, posture tense. “I’m just here to help,” he tried again.
“I don’t give a fuck-“
“You guys are still in danger!”
The words obviously were unintentionally spit out. They came out desperate and in a rush.
Eddie crossed his arms over his chest. “Why would you know that?” And, “Who are you?”
“I’m - I just, I heard things. And the person who asked me to come here, they think whatever is going on isn’t done yet. But because the police caught - the person they think is responsible, the police aren’t looking for anyone else who might be a threat. Not really. And they’re definitely not keeping a watch over you.” The vampire licked his lips nervously, then took a step forward, his jaw squaring with determination. “Tell me you don’t think something is going on, something more. Tell me you’re not worried, too.”
“My grandmother and my son just survived a hate crime, of course I’m fucking worried.”
The vampire winced. Then shook it off. “Okay, so you’re worried. Even if you don’t believe me, wouldn’t you feel better if you knew there was someone out here keeping an eye on things?”
“I don’t even know your name.”
The vampire hesitated. “It’s, I’m - Daniel. Daniel Buckley.”
Daniel Buckley, in the registry, was out of Pennsylvania. His details were sparse, but he was somewhere in the late forties age range and reportedly had never been employed, so those were two reassuring characteristics. Sense the sarcasm.
Buckley had sworn another oath that he would do nothing but protect them and Eddie had left him skulking outside like a massively overgrown raccoon. Eddie, back in the house, door locked behind him, had settled in Pepa’s living room with a floor lamp turned on beside an armchair as he did his due diligence background Googling.
Most vampires kept a relatively small digital footprint. It was leftover habit from when they were mostly underground, behaviour passed down from those vampires who had successfully survived centuries of unremarked existence. Some of the more adventurous ones were on socials, now; but not Daniel Buckley.
Eddie stewed over what to do for a restless hour, then turned off the light and went back to Fernando’s room where Shannon and Chris still lay sleeping. He stared at them until it felt creepy to keep on staring, then sighed, and laid back down on his floor nest of blankets.
He should have felt more anxious, not less, knowing there was a strange vampire standing watch outside. But surprisingly, this time sleep came for him. Eddie leaned into it gratefully and rested.
The next day came in relentless from the start. Everyone was awake early, Abuela thankfully looking more restored and less worryingly gray. Then the phone calls began. Eddie’s parents, his sisters, the cousins, Pepa’s other two children, that was the first deluge. Not even Shannon was spared her phone blowing up. And then came the wave of reporter calls. No comment, Eddie rapidly tired of saying.
They somehow managed to get everyone fed a breakfast, and somewhere in the hubbub Rafa left for work, taking his high capacity SUV with him. They lost Lili to her college classes at around noon, and in between reporter calls, Eddie’s phone chirped with a notification of one of Christopher’s physio appointments that he’d forgotten to cancel.
“There’s a late cancellation fee,” Eddie said to Shannon while they debated what to do, and she made an unhappy face back at him. Money was tight for them both and they couldn’t afford to eat much in the way of unnecessary costs.
“I could take him,” Shannon said. “Drive us both back to my place and I can take him in my car while you fix up Isabel’s place.”
Chris did want to go, which was the deciding factor, so they piled into Eddie’s junky truck a little after lunch. Pepa and Abuela kissed Eddie and Chris goodbye, telling them to come home for early dinner. Shannon stood silently at the side, patiently waiting for the family moment to conclude.
It was the height of daytime and things were feeling like they were trending back toward normal, which was maybe why Eddie felt almost relaxed. His guard was definitely down. That was probably why he didn’t notice the erratic driving from the other driver right away. The jerky movements of the approaching black Escalade. They were only five minutes away from Shannon’s apartment building, turning down the street, when the large SUV bore suddenly down on them, accelerating harshly.
“Eddie-!” Shannon yelled, and Chris wordlessly screamed from the back, and Eddie grimly swore and pulled hard on the wheel to swerve.
His truck just wasn’t maneuverable enough. It was big and old. It couldn’t turn on a dime. The driver’s side front wheel jumped onto the curb as Eddie evaded, and he saw a pedestrian make a startled jump backwards, but he couldn’t spare any attention or care for that. He was too devoted to the task of staying alive.
He managed to get them back on the road and ahead of the Escalade just in time to get rammed by it from behind. There was a yelp from Chris at the shock, but Shannon was quiet. When Eddie glanced at her sidelong, she’d gone into a trance and was muttering voicelessly, working whatever magic she could to protect them. Eddie hoped to God it would be enough. The Escalade rammed them again, and this time Chris made a teary hiccup, the terror and adrenaline getting him emotional.
“Eddie,” Shannon suddenly said. “Go fast. Now.” Her eyes were filmed over with white.
Eddie floored it. His truck miraculously went faster than it had ever done before. He blindly reached over and squeezed Shannon’s knee in thanks. It looked almost like they might have a chance of outrunning murder by SUV.
That was when the other SUV plowed into them on the passenger side in a perfect T-bone, a chaotic explosion of crumpling metal and broken glass.
The world was loud, loud, and very bright. It was sharp and it was pain and it was the vibrant scent of life blood. Life draining blood.
Shannon.
She was staring at him from a halo of shattered window glass. There was something wrong with her skull. Her eyes were so wide and her lips were so red, and then, just like that, just as easy as that, she died.
Between one breath and the next, she no longer existed. The light that was on behind her eyes went out and left only flatness in its place.
Eddie had seen it happen before, too many times to deny it. Still, he said, “No. No, no, no.” He reached for her, but his seatbelt restrained him. He fumbled for the release.
Then, the thin and quiet, quavering, “Daddy?” from the backseat.
Shannon before him and Christopher behind him. Dead wife and living son. It was brutal to leave her, but there was no other choice. Eddie turned into his seat and Christopher’s teary face was there, looking at him and to him.
“Chris,” Eddie said, attempting calm. “Baby, are you okay? Are you bleeding anywhere? Does anything hurt?”
“I think I’m okay,” Chris said. “What about Mom?”
“Mom - Mom isn’t doing great, buddy,” Eddie said. Like him, Chris could broadly tell truth from untruth. Eddie never regretted that more than now. “But she wants you to be safe, so we’re gonna get you clear first, okay?”
“No - I want - Mommy? Can you hear me?”
Eddie blinked once, twice, and shook his head. “Chris, buddy, she can’t hear you right now. Some people are gonna come and help her so we’ve got to make space for them so they can do their work, okay? I’m gonna come and get you, and - and someone will come and get Mommy. They’ll come and get her really soon.”
Christopher’s lips wobbled and he was visibly unhappy, but he ultimately nodded and said a shaky, “Okay.”
Shannon’s side was the one to get hit. Eddie’s door still worked and he popped it open, half sliding and half falling out as he turned to get Chris unbuckled from the safety seat in the back. Christopher’s arms went around Eddie’s neck and Eddie put his hand on the back of Chris’ head, tucking Christopher’s face into his chest. Mostly for the relief of doing it, but also for the surety that this way Chris wouldn’t turn and see Shannon. See her body.
Oh, God.
Eddie made it three paces away, son in his arms, and then abruptly sat on the sidewalk, legs too weak to hold him. He numbly waited for the reassuring sirens of approaching emergency vehicles to sound.
It was anticlimactic after that. First responders arrived. No one that Eddie knew. The police got there. Strangers again. The drivers of the two SUVs were gone, the vehicles abandoned behind them.
“These were both reported stolen this morning,” a police officer remarked in what he probably thought was outside of Eddie’s hearing range. “Looks like they really wanted to kill this guy. Poor wolfie bastard.”
There were few times Eddie was glad that Chris had yet to display any lycan characteristics, but this was one of them.
Christopher: they took him from Eddie’s arms and sat him in the back of an ambulance, two paramedics checking him as Eddie hovered nervously over their shoulders. He wanted to say, I can do that, let me. He had the deep persistent ache to hold his son.
Chris was fine, but needed to go to hospital anyway for a full check over. It was the second time in as many days that he’d been in life threatening danger and they didn’t want to take any chances with him, especially with cerebral palsy in play. So the next five hours were hospital hours. They brought Shannon to the same one. Once Abuela and Pepa got to the hospital, Eddie left Chris with them and went down to the morgue to sit with his deceased estranged wife.
They’d worked on her on scene. She was DOA but they still got her out and onto the pavement and began CPR in the vain hope of getting her heart back. Eddie had heard them break her ribs. They tried harder, past reasonable measures, because she was a witch and because witches could defy the odds sometimes. Their innate magic spark, or whatever power their benefactor lent them, meant that at times a witch could bend the laws of reality.
That didn’t happen today. Shannon had stayed dead. Eddie had stayed holding their son.
The world hadn’t ended, though it felt like it should have.
Chris still didn’t know. Eddie had no idea how to tell him. What words to string together; what way to make it all make sense.
Her body in the morgue didn’t smell like Shannon anymore. The varied microorganisms that lived on her skin, that lived inside of her, died and were overtaken by other small lives. Lives that already began to decay her, to break her down. The process of a living person become a slab of meat.
Her face, in repose; a face Eddie had loved once. A face he could love again if he looked and saw their son in it. He muffled a sob in a fist, white knuckled against his mouth, staring at her.
But he couldn’t live forever next to her corpse. Eventually he had to stand up and walk away.
Abuela begged and Pepa argued, and someone even got his parents on the line to order him, but in the end, Eddie got his way and took Chris home. Just him, just Chris, just their own house and own beds and no one else. Pack was everything, of course it was, but sometimes being human was more important.
It was a human thing to sit Chris on his bed and surround him with his blankets and his stuffed toys. Christopher looked at Eddie with eyes huge behind his glasses, solemn and already aware. Not of the specifics or the details, but knowing, Chris knew, his mother was gone. That was how Eddie told him. Where Eddie confirmed it.
Forget everything difficult thing that had come before. This was the hardest moment of Eddie’s life.
Chris wept. He was already exhausted, wrung out, so tired from all the things he’d already survived. His cerebral palsy also made him more in need of rest than other children, as it drained his energy and needed to be compensated for on a daily basis, and the added weight of grief visibly impacted him. He was so, so tired, but he couldn’t not cry, and it was like each tear took something vital out of him. He slumped sideways against Eddie and Eddie tried with all his might to give his son strength. Whatever strength Eddie had, he gave it all to Chris as he held him close.
Finally, Chris slept. He didn’t fall asleep so much as transition suddenly and totally from a state of consciousness to unconsciousness. Eddie held him until the whole side of Eddie’s body went numb, and then held him a while longer still.
Eddie even slept himself, for a little while. And then his eyes blinked awake and he craned his neck for Christopher’s desk clock. It was 1:00 AM and his whole body prickled with awareness.
He managed to unroll Chris out of his arms and more securely into his blanket cocoon. Then Eddie got out of bed and walked through Chris’ room, down the hall; through the kitchen, into his own room, then back out. Into the living room, into the entrance hall, to the front door. He opened it and stepped outside, and a voice said, “You really can’t do that anymore.”
“You find me at my aunt’s and now at my own home. What are you, a stalker?”
“I mean it,” Daniel Buckley said. “Whoever is trying to kill you, they could use silver bullets next.”
Eddie snorted. As if he would be taken down by something like a silver allergy. “I really don’t need to be lectured by you. What the hell are you doing here.”
“I’m - I heard what happened.” Buckley was as tall and broad as Eddie remembered, and under the moonlight his skin looked even paler and his hair even blacker. He frowned, sad lines creasing his forehead and around his eyes.
“I guess you were right,” Eddie said humorlessly. “I guess we were still in danger after all.”
“Do you have any idea what happened-“
“You don’t get to ask me questions,” Eddie said. He was so tired and so angry, and underneath that so upset. He was gutted by grief. He had no patience for whatever the hell this was.
Buckley subsided. “Okay.” He shifted from foot to foot. “I meant it, yesterday. I’ll watch your back while you sleep. You and your - you.”
Eddie snorted. “His name is Christopher. Chris.”
“That’s a good name.”
“His mom picked it out.” Eddie swallowed. Ah, fuck. The sadness was too big. It was so big he couldn’t feel it all, all at once. Just slowly. Gradually mapping the edges.
“I’m really sorry,” Buckley said. “I’m really so sorry.”
Eddie snorted. But the hell of it was, he almost believed the vampire. Buckley was earnest in a way that had to be heartfelt. In a way that felt human, and not undead. “My son almost died today. Again. I really don’t care how sorry you are. Nothing makes today okay. Nothing makes today better.”
Buckley turned mournful, the way some vampires could do, sorrow pulled over him like a second skin. “I know. But I’m still sorry.”
“Fine,” Eddie said, abrupt. “Be sorry.” He turned on his heel and opened his front door, stepped back inside, and closed the door behind him. Then he rested against it and just breathed. Once, twice.
The hell of it was, and this should not ever be the case, but. But it really did feel almost reassuring to know that Buckley stood on the other side of the door, watching until morning.
Eddie went back to his kid, laid next to him, and waited, dry-eyed, for the hours to pass.