Chapter 13: House Visits

“Okay you two,” Cassidy called out from her location by the dining room table. “No fighting in there.”

It was half past six in the evening. Cassidy was ironing clothes in the dining room while her children, Cynthia and John, were playing with an electronic learning game when a squabble began. Cassidy was more than two hours into her normal Monday after work routine. The arguing and tussling between her children was a routine part of her day. Cassidy interpreted her kids arguing as a signal that they were getting tired, which was not unique to them for this time of day. Cassidy was looking forward to putting this day to bed so that she could rest up for tomorrow. Her plan was to put the kids to bed in another hour and a half and herself in another three. In the interim she planned to focus her attention on housework. A few minutes after she admonished her kids, her plan was interrupted by a text message to her cellphone from Alexandra.

Come outside.

Cassidy hurried to the front window after reading Alexandra’s text message. It took her a couple of seconds to spot Alexandra and Ryan standing next to their car parked across the street and a few houses down to the left. Alexandra’s enthusiastic waving simplified Cassidy’s visual search. After spotting them, Cassidy raced up to her bedroom closet, retrieved her trench coat, collected her handgun and shoved it into the coat pocket before racing out of the room.

“Stay inside,” Cassidy instructed her kids as she hurried into the living room and toward the front door.

Cassidy hurried out of her house and stormed off toward Alexandra and Ryan with her hands in her coat pockets. She came to a stop several feet away from them.

“What are you doing here?” Cassidy asked in a commanding tone.

Ryan maintained a relaxed stance behind Alexandra with his arms crossed.

“We’re here to see you,” Alexandra responded with a thrilled tone.

“What part of don’t come to my home was unclear?” Cassidy hissed at Alexandra.

“I’m not in your home,” Alexandra defended with an astonished expression. “I’m not even on the porch. I’m on the street.”

Cassidy fumed at the little vampire in front of her. as she held her five-foot distance from her, Cassidy’s dominant hand continued to rest on the gun in her pocket.

“What do you want?” Cassidy grumbled after a long pause.

“Here,” Alexandra cheered as she thrust out the paper in her hand.

“What’s that?” Cassidy challenged.

“We solved the case,” Alexandra announced with a wide smile. “Here,” she insisted while flagging the paper in front of Cassidy.

“What case?” Cassidy asked while taking the paper.

Alexandra withheld her response to give Cassidy time to examine the paper.

“You, see?” Alexandra excitedly queried after a long pause. “There were four of them, but it was that Gabe guy who actually did the stabbing,” she finished pointing to the paper in Cassidy’s hand.

Cassidy continued to read what was on the paper for several seconds more. She recognized two of the names listed on the paper as persons she identified as attendees to the Pier 17 concert when Eric Calder was killed.

“How—what—why? How do you know this?” Cassidy asked with some difficulty.

“We investigated,” Alexandra explained with a look toward Ryan for confirmation.

“It was easy,” Ryan casually supported.

“But how?” Cassidy asked with an accentuation of disbelief.

“We asked,” Ryan returned with a shrug.

“But how did you find him?” Cassidy challenged completely astonished.

“We asked around,” Alexandra coyly answered with a wide smile.

Cassidy was flummoxed by what she was seeing and hearing. She paused to organize her thoughts.

“How do I know that he—that this is correct?” Cassidy spurted after a moment of thought. “I mean, I can’t just go around making accusations.”

“He told us,” Alexandra returned as if speaking the obvious.

“He told you?” Cassidy nearly yelled.

“Mortals tell us things they don’t tell other mortals,” Ryan explained with a confident smile and a nod. “They even tell us things that they don’t even know that they know.”

Cassidy was stunned beyond words. She did not know what she should do or say at that moment. She suspected that everything Alexandra and Ryan were saying was accurate, but she was reluctant to act based upon their word.

“Stop worrying, Detective Tremaine,” Ryan calmly assured. “They did it. Guffey told us with his own mouth, and mortals don’t lie to us.”

“Yeah,” Alexandra agreed with a shake of her head.

Cassidy paused to take in all the information they had given to her.

“I never told you to do this,” Cassidy angrily asserted.

“We just wanted to help,” Alexandra returned with her best innocent guise.

Alexandra’s look of playful naïveté angered Cassidy even more, and she gave her a furious stare.

“Stay away from my investigations,” Cassidy growled at Alexandra and Ryan just before turning away and marching off for her house.

“What do we do now?” Alexandra asked Ryan with a worried look.

“I don’t think she meant that,” Ryan proposed with feigned deliberation.

“So, we’re going to Harlem?” Alexandra queried with wide eyed glee.

Ryan gave Alexandra a sly smile before responding.

“The game’s afoot.”

~~~~~Line Break~~~~~

“Who’s there?” Aidan Dalby yelled at the front door of his house.

It was well past eleven o’clock Wednesday night when Aidan climbed out of bed to find out who was pounding on his front door. He was not aware that the pounding started as a knock long before he awakened, got out of bed, retrieved his revolver and went to the front door. His delayed responses were a consequence of his alcohol induced sleep.

Aidan Dalby was an alcoholic. His drinking was motivated more by mood than need. Aidan was a 49-year-old single man living in an unkempt and neglected house that was left to him by his deceased mother. Unemployed and living on food stamps, handouts from relatives and Medicaid, Aidan had no prospects of improving his situation. His 22 years in prison for armed robbery provided him with a record that greatly reduced his opportunities for employment that were available to him. A further hindrance to his limited prospects was his confinement to a wheelchair. His lower body paralysis was brought about by a police officer’s bullet when he was arrested for armed robbery, assault and battery, and attempted murder.

“It’s your brother, Ben,” Ben Yelled in response to Aidan’s query. “Let me in.”

Aidan relaxed his posture and put his pistol into his lap. He pushed his chair to the door, undid the locks and opened it. After pushing back from the door, Aidan examined the figure that stepped through the doorway. Aidan was mildly surprised by the look of his seldom seen brother. His youthful appearance immediately caught his attention, but he was not amazed by it. His build was not decidedly different from what it was when he last saw Ben, 18 months earlier. The resurgence of his hairline and the dissipation of age lines is what surprised him the most. He attributed Ben’s new fit look of vim and vigor to some financial change in his situation, and he promptly began despising him for it.

“You’re looking well,” Aidan mumbled. “Life must be going well for you.”

Aidan spun about and started for the bottle of whiskey and glasses on the coffee table in the living room.

“Are you here to share the wealth?” Aidan queried as he grabbed the whiskey bottle and poured himself a drink.

“Yes, I am,” Ben returned as he shut the door behind him.

“Well, you shouldn’t have bothered making the trip. “As you can see, I’m not setup for guests, and your usual care package would have worked just as well.”

“Not this time,” Ben countered as he situated himself in the center of the living room. “This I had to deliver in person.”

“Yeah,” Aidan challenged after gulping down some whiskey. “What makes this time different from all the others?” He continued.

Aidan spun his chair around so that he could look his brother in the eyes.

“There’s nothing you can do for me, Bennie, that’s going to set things right,” Aidan grumbled. “Look around. This is my life. This is all I have. This is all that’s left of my life thanks to you,” he finished emphasizing with outstretched arms.

Aidan’s accusation was a gripe that had been brewing between them for 28 years. Ben doubted that his brother truly blamed him for his situation, but he had no doubt that he resented him, nonetheless. Ben knew that Aidan traced his present state of being back to his decision involving him.

Twenty-eight years ago, a 19-year-old Ben begged his 21-year-old brother to let him be a part of a bank robbery that Aidan and his friends made plans to do. On the day of planned robbery, Aidan was short a man and relented to Ben’s request. It was that decision that shaped the next 28 years of Aidan’s life. Aidan knew that if Ben had not been there, he would not have made the extra effort to make sure the fourth man was safe. He knew that protective act put him in the line of fire of the officer who shot and paralyzed him. The fact that Ben left him behind was salt in the wound. On top of these facts, Aidan’s refusal to identify Ben as an accomplice in the robbery to reduce his prison sentence was just another injury that festered every day since.

“I come with a gift that will outweigh all your past ills,” Ben softly declared.

“What gift could you have that will compensate me for 28 years in a wheelchair and 22 years in a prison cell?” Aidan mumbled before taking another gulp of whiskey. “There’s nothing you can give me that will undo that,” he continued after swallowing the liquor.

“Don’t be so sure, brother,” Ben replied with a slight smile.

Ben’s smile perplexed Aidan. He could not imagine why his brother thought anything he gave him would set his losses right.

“You’ve gone daft,” Aidan returned. “You have no idea what my life is like—what it’s been like for the past 28 years.”

“Maybe not,” Ben responded with a shrug. “But I know what it could be like starting tomorrow.”

Aidan paused, sat back in his chair and examined his little brother with a new understanding of what he thought was happening.

“So, that’s why you’re here,” Aidan spoke with a sigh. “You’re trying to ease your conscious.”

“Don’t go there, Aidan,” Ben softly argued. “What happened to you was not my fault.”

“It was your fault,” Aidan shot back. “You never should have been there.”

“You needed me,” Ben insisted with his temper rising.

“You were too slow,” Aidan sharply countered. “I had to wait for you.”

“I never asked you to wait,” Ben nearly growled back.

“You didn’t have to ask,” Aidan shouted with a point. “You ‘re my brother, and I waited for you. But you didn’t wait for me,” he yelled with resentment.

Ben took a deep breath and softened his demeanor to consider the direction their discussion was going before speaking again.

“You know I couldn’t come back for you,” Ben countered in a soothing voice.

“Right, so you ran,” Aidan begrudgingly acknowledged.

“I thought you were dead,” Ben exhaled regretfully.

“And you didn’t stop to find out,” Aidan murmured spitefully. “I lied for you,” he continued. “When they asked me to testify that you were there, I said no. I wouldn’t betray my brother.”

“And you know I would’ve done the same for you,” Ben retaliated with temper. “Don’t play the pity me game, Aidan. It doesn’t suit you.”

Aidan was instantly overtaken with rage. He gripped his glass like it was baseball and threw it hard against wall to his left. The glass shattered. Aidan snatched the pistol out of his lap and brought it down alongside his wheelchair. Despite his anger, he was reluctant to point the weapon at his brother. The best he could do was direct a furious scowl at Ben while directing the gun down at the floor with his finger on the trigger.

“Are you going to shoot me, brother,” Ben passively asked while holding his stance in front of Aidan.

Breathing deeply, Aidan glared at his brother while his hand fidgeted with the pistol.

“Why are you here, Ben?” Aidan grumbled.

A smile spread across Ben’s face as he extended his arms out to either side.

“Look at me,” Ben instructed with a smile. “What do you see?”

Aidan examined his brother.

“I see a peacock,” Aidan returned with a snarl. “What? Have you turned faggot?”

“No, I haven’t turned faggot,” Ben responded with a slight chuckle. “I’m young again.”

Aidan shook his head and smirked at Ben. He was now seeing his little brother as amusing and stupid.

“Hair plugs and a facelift don’t make you young,” Aidan lectured.

Ben knew that Aidan was referring to his new expanded hairline and the decreased presence of wrinkles in his face. He took a moment to give that insinuation a smile response.

“They’re not hair plugs, Aidan,” Ben pleasantly corrected. “I’m younger, stronger, better than I was just a few days ago. I’m a whole new me, and I’m here to do the same for you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Aidan asked with an angry frown.

“I’m here to give you a whole new life, brother,” Ben answered still smiling.

“Is that right?” Aidan grumbled barely containing his rage. “Can you give me back my legs?”

“Yes,” Ben answered. “I think I can.”

“What the fuck have you been snorting or…” Aidan began and then stopped with alarm just as Ben took a step toward him.

It was not the step forward did not alarmed Aidan, it was the reflection of light that suddenly began appearing in Ben’s eyes did. Aidan stopped in mid-sentence to gape at this visage.

“Are you going to shoot me, brother?” Ben asked as he look toward the gun.

Ben’s question only partially registered with Aidan. His attention was fixed on the fangs that suddenly appeared in Ben’s mouth when he spoke.

“What’s going on with you, Ben?” Aidan asked a little unnerved.

Ben took another step forward. He was now close enough to look down on Aidan. He stood there for a moment and stared into his older brother’s eyes.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Aidan asked with growing distress.

Aidan was now mildly panicked. He knew that the light reflecting off Ben’s eyes was no fluke. He suspected something had changed inside Ben just within the past few minutes, and the change was affecting the composition of his eyes and teeth. In a lurch, Aidan brought the pistol back to his lap.

“You’re not going to shoot me, Aidan,” Ben spoke with a mischievous smile.

Ben stopped to consider his brother’s disposition. Despite the strain that his paralysis and incarceration had put on their relationship, he had little doubt about his brother’s love for him. Ben took another step closer.

“No,” Ben continued with a slight shake of his head. “Not after taking a bullet for me—not after sacrificing 22 years of your life to protect me, you’re not going shoot me now.”

Ben took another step forward, and then another.

“What I’m offering you, brother, is immortality,” Ben continued while leaning forward and extending his hand towards the gun.

Terror began to well up in Aidan when noticed Ben’s newly elongated fingernails. He thought to bring his gun up to an aim, but Ben was the little brother he had spent 22 years in jail protecting. He was also restrained by the belief that Ben would not hurt him.

“What happened to you?” Aidan whispered while staring directly into Ben’s eyes.

As Aidan spoke, Ben’s hand came to rest on the handgun in his brother’s lap. With next to no resistance, he pulled the gun out of Aidan’s hand and set it down on the floor. After standing again, Ben leaned forward with his hands against the arm rests of Ben’s wheelchair. Their faces were just inches apart. For a couple of seconds Ben did nothing but stare into his brother’s eyes. Over that same time, Aidan returned his stare with a mixture of confusion and dread.

“I’ve become a God,” Ben whispered.

An instant later, Ben’s teeth were deep in Aidan’s neck.