Young Writers Society

“G’evening, Dave,” Frank said, tipping the front of his hat. 

David’s eye twitched, “It’s David.”

Frank shrugged. Joan glanced between the two and quickly smiled, trying to find a way to keep the tension from rising, “Hey y'all! We should get in before the food cools!" Joan said, fiddling with the metal buckles to her overalls. Lucy tugged at Frank's sleeve, but the detective's hatred towards Dr. Beckwith kept him distracted. Joan was quick to notice it. "Hey, Luce! How 'bout I go show you my daddy's collection of junk?"

Lucinda licked her lips nervously, but eventually nodded. The blonde quickly inducted her into home. The interior was… strange. Old paintings and relics haunted each hallway, and although suburbian, Lucy could tell that something was just off about the place. The candles on the table, the rings and jewelry displayed and slung over shelves, the miniature statues of angels, and all the crosses hung about… Something felt sinister about this place. “Everything in this place is a weird ol’ family heirloom! Apparently, grandpaps lived all the way across the sea in this place called Yorkshire, before packing up to live here!” Joan explained, enthusiastically showing off each and every little trinket. “And here’s daddy’s favorites!”

The blonde pointed to the mantle of the fireplace. Lucinda stepped back. Thirteen crows sat perched, staring in different directions. Not a single angle in the living room wasn’t accounted for. Each crow watched with cold, dead eyes. “Ma says that daddy got those from one of his old friends that was into making stone statues and stuff. Pretty nifty, if you ask me. Though, I wish they weren’t so freaky.”

Lucinda stared into the eyes of the thirteenth. One verse repeated in her head over and over, accompanied by a single thought. Why thirteen? She forced out an awkward laugh and turned away, only for a terrible smell to hit her nose. Terrible, horrendous, and so delicious. Touches of a sweet and delicate taste teased her tongue. She looked up from the floor she was staring at. One lonely door between the kitchen cabinets and cushioned chairs in the living room. Lucinda shivered.

“Oh, the basement?” Joan said, bending down to Lucy’s level. The little girl’s stare refused to move. She could barely keep her breath under control. “Yeah, that’s ma’s workshop. She does taxidermy in her free time, I think. Something creepy, that’s for sure,” Joan laughed. Lucy didn’t buy it. No way was that stench from animals. She knew that smell too well, and that wasn’t it. “Now why don’t we go to the table? I bet you’re hungry!” 

She certainly was hungry.

Frank was welcomed in a few minutes after Lucy’s introduction and had the same reaction. Well, except that of the basement door. He simply saw it as a basement door. Ninety percent of Wyoming’s population was hostile winds, after all. David didn’t even bother giving him a tour, instead showing him straight to the table. “Angelica should be out with the food any minute. Just some casserole, but she’s a magician in the kitchen.” Frank nodded.

Yeah, framing Beckwith would be easy, but now that a little blonde boy with a sour face walked around the place while throwing a plastic ball against the wall, it felt harder to do. Now that an eccentric young woman was rattling off to Lucy about the weird gizmos in the room, he knew he’d have to think on it more. “Percival! Stop throwing that damn ball. You’re gonna break something. Go’n get Joanna for dinner,” Angelica waved her hand off and Percy ran, whispering Yes, ma, under his breath.

A woman stood by the table, an oven mitt on her hand. Her hair matched that of her children, but her eyes seemed lifeless and bored. Percy went red under the use of his real name. He quickly nodded and ran to Joan. Frank turned to David. “Percival?”

“It was my great grandfather’s name,” he said. Frank stared at him for a moment, but eventually relented. It certainly made him stand out against the sea of Johns that lived in Wakefield. 

Joan returned with a skip in her step, Percy close behind her, and Lucy was lingering just outside. “Aw, ma! You made my favorite!” She exclaimed, taking a seat right next to Percy and their mother. 

“Joanna, You say that every night,” Angelica said.

Joanna giggled. “‘Cuz my mama’s cooking is my favorite!”

Each member of the family took their routine seat at the table, with David taking his seat at the very end center. Percy laid his head on the table, stubborn and exhausted from the whooping Joan gave him. “Lucinda! Get to the table!” Frank shouted, seating himself across Percival. He sat patiently, but it took the little girl over five minutes to appear. Her eyes were wide and breathing labored, her legs moving more like machinery than limbs. She sat directly next to him, scooting her chair right next to his hip. She tugged Frank’s sleeve, but he nudged her off of him. “Not the time,” He whispered.

“I wish I knew we had guests. I would’ve cooked something fancier,” Angelica said, serving a slice to each party. 

“Tuna casserole mighty fancy,” Percy said. 

Joan slapped him upside the head. “Purse, it’s: I think tuna casserole is fancy. Don’t go using broken English like me.”

David nodded with his daughter, “Exactly. Don’t be like your sister.”

“What?! Oh, y’all stink.” 

That earned a shoulder punch from Joan. “What did I just say?! Especially in front of such fine company. So sorry, Williamsons.”

Frank simply waved his hand and took a bite from his fork, “Please, y’all are fine. You should’ve heard my pop back in the day.” David was right about one thing: Angelica was a magician in the kitchen. Tuna casserole never tasted so delicious. His own mom had some competition now. On the other hand, Lucy sat with her eyes to the floor, her fists scrunched against her knees. She peeked over at Frank, happily chewing on a bit of cheese and fish. “What?” He asked. Lucy watched the rest of the family, waiting for them to be enthralled by conversation. It didn’t take long due to Joan just being herself.

“Frank! It’s serious,” She told him. He finally stopped to listen to her. Lucy only used his real name when it was very important. Lucy got onto her knees and whispered into Frank’s ear. “I smell blood in the basement. I’m… getting hungry.”

Well. That was certainly a new development. “How bad is it?”

“Bad.”

Frank cursed to his breath. Framing Beckwith was getting easier, at least, but not if the entire family saw Lucy become a savage animal. Deal with Lucy, then ponder why the hell there’s blood in Beckwith’s basement. 

“Y’all alright?” Angelica asked. She fed a bite of her food to Percy, waving her fork around his face. Her face was a blank slate, free of expression and wrinkles. 

Frank smiled, “Oh, of course. Lucy is just shy. She says she’s sorry if her manners aren’t right,” He pushed Lucy back down into her chair. She slammed her palm over her mouth. It only worked to block the smell so much. God, that smell. It was so heavenly and tempting. She just wanted to sink her teeth into it and watch her wiggle and squirm in a desperate attempt to flee… Lucy stared at the floor, her stomach rumbling. 

David shrugged, “You’re our guests. You two can make yourselves at home.” Frank took that as a signal to stick his fork into Lucy’s food, specifically the fish, and shove it into her mouth. It wasn’t blood or meat, but something close enough. Anything living seemed to help. Lucy took long, slow chews to savor the taste.

Angelica’s gaze didn’t waiver, glued onto Lucinda. “Are you sure? She looks awfully pale. She might be coming down with something.”

David’s eyes lit up, “Oh, yes! That would be terrible, especially. If you want me to check her, I can do it free of charge.”

Lucy’s eyes widened even more and the Williamsons locked eyes. The vampire brought another hand to her face, this time plugging her nose. She twitched and kicked at her seat. Oh, just the scent was enough to intoxicate her. She could already tell their tastes from here, she could feel their heartbeats through the wooden floors. Angelica was sour, David was a rich chocolate, Joan was a lollipop, and oh, Percy. A rich and creamy cake sat right across from her, his flesh made of icing and lungs a fruity inside. Frank was a smoky whiskey, so she never felt too tempted by him.

She opened her caged mouth for just a moment, mouthing a message to him. ‘We need to go.’ Frank grabbed Lucy’s hand. “Ah, Christ. I just remembered, we’ve got some work we really need to do down at the ranch. I’m so sorry, y’all,” He was already standing by the time he finished talking. Lucinda clung to his leg.

Joan tilted her head, “Oh, um, alright then. If you gotta go right now, I can bring ya leftovers tomorrow.”

“Great,” Frank said quickly. “Nice meeting y’all, Beckwiths.” 

The Beckwith family watched them leave curiously. Even the stone crows on the mantle of the fireplace seemed intrigued and watched them go with their jeweled glare. Percy chewed the inside of his cheek, “Weirdos. Why’d ya invite ‘em over, Joan?”

The older sister laughed awkwardly, “Yeah. Everyone in Wakefield’s a bit weird, though. Maybe she has an allergy she was embarrassed about?” She said, briefly watching her parents. “You’ve never told anyone ‘bout your thing with peanuts, have ya?” She squinted at Percy. He stuck his tongue out, only to receive a light stab with her fork. “And remember, no broke English. Youse gonna speak proper even if it kills ya.”

Percy screeched and pulled his hand back. “Ma! She hurt me!” David and Angelica leaned into each other, whispering. They didn’t pass a second glance to their children. Percy pouted, but he knew by now that nothing would ever get their attention. 

. . .

Frank was quick to shove Lucinda inside their car, locking the door tight. He knew better than to get into a car with a thirsty vampire. “Was it really coming from the basement?” He asked, pacing around the car.

“Yes, sir! I know it!” Lucy said, her voice muffled by the car window. “I dunno why!”

Frank rubbed his chin thoughtfully, despite the frantic look on his face. “He’s a doctor. Perhaps there’s equipment down there?”

Lucy scratched her neck in a bid to get her urges to cease. “Joan said their mom did taxidermy, but animal blood ain’t that strong, sir.”

Frank bit his nails. He hadn’t down that in a few years, but old habits die hard. “Well, it’ll be easier to frame him. Blood in the basement, not well liked in the community… Perfect bloodsucker,” That was all he could think about. Lucy was the bloodsucker, but no, actually, David Beckwith was. He had to be. Despite his tendencies to reach the bare minimum, he wouldn’t let Lucinda be taken. She was too useful as a farmhand. Oh, and too young and innocent and sweet… or something like that.

“Alright, Lucy, get in the backseat and stay put. Put somethin’ over your nose,” He explained, “We’re gonna head home and figure it out there, m’kay?” Lucy crawled into the back before pulling her sweater over her face. She looked like an embarrassed turtle. Frank almost smiled, but he knew it was just an act. Lucinda was a bloodsucker; a parasite in human flesh. A parasite that Frank was quite fond of.

For once, Lucinda didn’t worry about the bumpy ride, but instead about keeping away from Frank’s bourbon blood. His blood smelled just like an old, rusty bar. For some reason, it felt warm and familiar. Overwhelmingly sweet and sticky. She couldn’t take it! She needed to feel something sink into her gums, overtake her senses and be oh so delicious and tender! Just imagining it was enough to send her into a craze. So, she tried ignoring it. Think of something else, anything else! Screaming to herself wasn’t working. She started teething on the collar of her sweater.

Frank kept his eyes on the road. She was just hungry. She’s not gonna kill him. Totally. Stay calm, Frank. Lucy’s a good kid. It’ll be a-okay. He looked in the mirror, only to see Lucinda sinking her teeth deep into her own sweater. That wasn’t a good sign. “Lucy, hun, I got an idea for you.”

Lucinda didn’t respond, still chewing her clothes. Her eyes met his. She still recognized him, just a little bit. The world hadn’t gone completely red yet. “Lucy, I want ya to bite your arm. Don’t hurt yourself but…” Frank couldn’t think of anything else, “Just do it.” He’d seen her doing it in her sleep, like a baby teething on their toy. 

With barely any hesitation, Lucy would chomp on her own wrist. It seemed to distill her enough. She stopped flailing in her seat, instead suckling on the small puncture her canines made. As soon as Frank got out onto the backroads, he slammed his foot on the pedal. He couldn’t wait any longer. 

. . . 

Frank slammed the door once both of them were in, quickly closing every curtain and locking every door. “How are you now?” He asked, flushed. Lucy was still nibbling on her wrist. The entirety of it had been stained red from the times she adjusted for a new, sweeter spot. She glanced at him once. That was all the answer Frank needed. She wouldn’t be satisfied with her own blood for long. It was like drinking your own spit. She’d want a better taste soon enough. 

Frank paced around the entire building. He could grab an animal! Of course! Well, no. The moment he let her out, he had no idea what she'd do. She might run off into the woods, for all he knew. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s broken out from sheer hunger.

A metallic glint hit his eyes from the kitchen. Would that be their best option? Frank slowly plucked out the sharp kitchen knife, his mind racing. What would he say? He fell on the steps! No, he was cooking and- No, the mark would be bigger than he wanted it to be. He grabbed a hand towel. He had a cooking accident. 

“Lucy! Get over here,” He demanded, sitting on his knees. This would be the death of him, he was sure. But they did need to practice this, right? Might as well start now. Besides, she wouldn’t kill him… Right? Lucinda scooted up towards him, gnawing her skin. There was that look in her eyes. She was conscious, but not fully there. Something in that sweet little girl had vanished. She wasn’t lusting for blood like before, but she still hungered for something. Leaving her like that would only cause trouble, and letting her outside again might be even worse. 

“Okay, kid, I know you’re in that weird in-between state, so I hope ya can hear me,” Frank said. He wasn’t scared all too often. Frightened, cautious? Absolutely. But scared? He was usually too drowsy to be terrified, but not now. Lucy always brought an adventure, didn’t she? “Listen to me. I’m… You’re gonna sit tight right there until I’m done with this, then I’m gonna hand you the towel ‘til you’ve sucked that thing dry. Suppose we’ll repeat if we’ve gotta.”

Lucy eyed him curiously. Frank rolled his sleeve up and raised the knife to his arm.