Gidion's Hunt Read online

  “Gid!”

  He turned and saw Seth running to him.

  “Hey, Seth.” Gidion smiled. For once, Andrea wasn’t attached to Seth’s hip. “What’s up?”

  Seth stopped short and winced. “Oh, shit.”

  “What?” There was something in the way Seth was looking at him. Gidion could tell whatever was on Seth’s mind, it was bad.

  “You haven’t heard, have you?”

  “Heard what?” Gidion gripped his shoulder straps again, as if that would somehow hide the sudden panic he was feeling.

  “About Pete? You haven’t heard?”

  Gidion swallowed before he answered. “No, what is it?” But even as he asked, he remembered Grandpa’s words about feeders. He knew what Seth was going to say.

  “Pete’s dead.”

  The rest of the day didn’t feel real.

  The way the teachers and other students were looking at him differently didn’t have anything to do with that. They all knew he’d lost one of his best friends. A few tried to offer their sympathies. He thanked them, insisted he was fine and tried to get away.

  The weather wasn’t to blame either. The sun was shining bright like it had on hundreds of other Mondays in his life, but it was the first time he ever felt like the sun was mocking him.

  The day didn’t feel real, because he didn’t want it to.

  He walked through his personal fog with teachers blessedly leaving him alone. None of them asked him any questions in class. Maybe they had, and he just hadn’t noticed. He wasn’t sure, because he didn’t notice much of anything even after the bell for lunch rang. He walked to their bench, the one they’d “owned” for more than a year now. After five minutes of sitting in silence, he realized he was the only one there.

  Seth had sent a text to his phone right after the lunch bell. Andrea was taking him off-campus for lunch. Seth said he’d call him after school and asked if he was okay. Gidion started to type a reply, but only got as far as, ‘I’m.’

  He put the phone away and walked until he reached Ms. Aldgate’s classroom. She was sitting at her desk with a salad in a plastic container on one side and a pile of papers she was grading in the middle.

  “Gidion.” She stood and walked around to him. “I heard about your friend when I got to school this morning. I’m so sorry.”

  Principal Vermil had mentioned Pete’s “unfortunate and untimely death” in the morning announcements and how they would have counselors available to students who wanted to speak to one. He left out the part about it being a suicide, the part about how Pete had taken his dad’s gun with him into the shower and stuck the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

  Seth had given him the details before that. He hadn’t wanted to. Gidion had grabbed him by the shirt and made him say it. He hadn’t cried then. He didn’t want to.

  “Do you want to talk?” Ms. Aldgate asked.

  He shook his head doing his best not to look at yet another sympathetic face. “Can I just stay here until class?”

  “Of course.”

  Despite his best efforts, he saw her concerned smile as she nodded.

  He went to his desk and sat. He pulled out his world history textbook, but he didn’t open it. That mundane book sat there laughing at him like the sun.

  There were no vampires to hunt and no more souls to save. He wanted to run, and there was nowhere to run to.

  That was when he cried.

  He didn’t see Ms. Aldgate come over to him, but he felt her there when she hugged him. “I’m sorry, Gidion. I’m so sorry.”

  She didn’t ask him any questions. She just held him until the tears slowed.

  “Just stay,” she said. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

  She went to her desk and wrote something on a piece of paper before leaving the room. She closed the door behind her. He was glad to have the privacy. When the bell rang for the end of lunch, he suddenly realized nobody from his class had come into the room.

  When Ms. Aldgate returned, she left the classroom door cracked open and sat in the chair of the desk next to his.

  “Where’s the class?” he asked.

  “They’re in the library,” she said. “I’m making today a research day.”

  He put his book back into his bag. “Do I need to—?”

  She touched his shoulder to keep him from standing and shook her head. “No, you’re going home.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “I know you will, but you’re not fine right now. There’s no reason to be ashamed of that.”

  “I couldn’t save him.” The admission had him close to crying again.

  “You saved me. You saved that girl, too.”

  “Her parents were killed.” Much as he was looking forward to seeing Tamara tonight, he knew this wasn’t going to be much of a date. Her parents were going to be buried tomorrow afternoon. Grandpa had made the arrangements, insisting this one was going to be on the house, although he’d said it with more class to Tamara.

  “Gidion, you didn’t kill them, and I’m certain her parents, wherever they are, are grateful to you for saving their daughter.”

  He wasn’t sure if he believed that, but it sounded good.

  “I’m taking her on a date tonight,” he said.

  “Where to?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. My grandpa gave me about two hundred dollars to spend, but I’ve never been on a date. I was going to ask my dad for a suggestion, but I don’t think he’s been on a date in more than a decade.”

  “Do you mind if I offer a suggestion?”

  “I was planning to ask you when I got to school, but then…” He couldn’t say the rest. He didn’t need to and sure as hell didn’t want to.

  She didn’t answer right away. She rubbed the tip of her thumb against two of her fingers, a gesture he’d seen her use when considering difficult questions from his classmates. “There’s a French bistro in Carytown called Can Can. On a Monday night, it probably won’t be too crowded, but I’d still suggest making reservations.”

  “I’ll do that.” He wondered if he ever would have had a conversation like this with his mom, if she’d still been alive. Life would have been a lot different with her around.

  There was a knock at the door. It was his dad.

  “Hi, son.” Going by the concerned look on his face, he already knew about Pete, but then again, why else would he be here?

  “I called him when I stepped out.” Ms. Aldgate stood and shook Dad’s hand.

  “Thank you,” Dad said.

  “I’ll give you two a moment.”

  Dad waited until she walked out to say anything and sat in the chair where she had been. Gidion was scared he’d be upset, but Dad smiled at him. He must have been asleep when she called. He was just in a pair of jeans and a Henrico Police sweatshirt, and there were bags under his eyes.

  “I’m sorry about Pete,” Dad said, “and I’m sorry what I said about him the other day.”

  “No, you were right. Pete was an idiot.”

  “It’s all right to cry.”

  “No, I don’t want to.” He shook his head to fight back the tears that were damn close to getting out again. “I couldn’t save him.”

  “You knew he was having problems.” Dad wasn’t asking. Gidion had told him about as much the other day.

  “I don’t think ‘having problems’ really covers it.”

  “Yeah, I guess not.” Dad got a distant look in his eyes before he continued. “One of the worst calls I ever took while working in the 911 center was from a man whose wife shot herself. She was bleeding out of her chest and her back. He was trying to put pressure on the wounds to stop the bleeding while I got help on the way. The police and the ambulance crew got on scene, but they couldn’t get inside because the doors were locked. I had to make him let her go to open the door. They pronounced her dead at the hospital.” He stopped to take a deep breath. “I still remember how desperate her husband sounded, begging to have the police
just break in the door, and I was terrified I’d done the wrong thing in making him leave her side. I came home and cried.”

  Gidion could see just talking about it had Dad choked up, too, and it was kind of crazy to see that.

  “You never told me about that call.”

  Dad laughed and wiped his nose. “Son, you were twelve or maybe younger than that—far too young for me to be unburdening my woes from work to.”

  “So why tell me now?”

  “Because I didn’t put the gun in that woman’s hand anymore than you put the one in Pete’s. If there’s anything I’ve learned from my job, it’s that you can’t stop someone from hurting themselves once they’ve made the decision to do it. They’ll always find a way.”

  Gidion considered that. “But you’re still upset by that call, and you didn’t even know that man or woman.”

  Dad smiled. “Yeah, I know. The head and heart don’t always work with the same logic.”

  “Is that why you’ve never been on a date since Mom died, because you blame yourself?” He’d wanted to ask this ever since he’d realized her death was probably tied into his dad’s vampire hunting days. Grandpa wouldn’t talk about it, and even if Dad didn’t realize he knew about the vampires, this was probably the best chance he’d ever get to force some kind of answer out of him.

  Dad shifted in his seat, glancing towards the door. Gidion didn’t think Ms. Aldgate was still there, but he thought it was interesting that Dad seemed worried about it.

  “Son, what happened to your mom,” he paused and the way he stared at Gidion almost seemed to question why he would even ask this, how he’d make that kind of connection without knowing about the vampires. Maybe it was just Gidion’s guilty conscience at work, but that’s what it felt like he wasn’t asking. “It’s more complicated than that. I’m not ready to date yet.”

  “It’s been twelve years. That’s longer than you were married to her.”

  Dad leaned back. “I don’t think this is the time to discuss this.”

  “Yeah, and it never will be, will it?” Gidion saw Dad didn’t want to answer that, and he knew that was answer enough, so he decided to go for broke. “I see Grandpa, and I don’t think he even likes himself. I love him, but I don’t want you to end up like that.”

  That got a laugh out of Dad. “I haven’t had enough sleep for this conversation. Do you really think me dating will somehow magically improve my disposition?”

  “Yes.”

  That’s right, Dad, Gidion thought to himself, sarcastic questions will not save you today.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” Gidion said. “If I make all A’s in Ms. Aldgate’s class, you agree to ask her on a date at the end of the school year.”

  That definitely made Dad check the door again.

  “It’s not like I’m asking you to date one of my old hag teachers. At least she’s one of the pretty ones.”

  He held up his hands as if he was agreeing to be handcuffed and hauled off to jail. “Enough. I’ll agree to that, but just remember she might turn me down.”

  “She might not.”

  “Yes, but if she does, you get to deal with my even worse disposition at having been shot down by a beautiful woman.”

  Gidion smiled. “I like my odds.”

  “I’d like to see the report cards first.” They shook on it. “Ms. Aldgate told me you came in here at the beginning of lunch. Have you eaten at all today?”

  He shook his head. “Wasn’t really hungry.”

  “I am. Want to get some breakfast?”

  “Yeah.”

  There was another knock on the door. Ms. Aldgate was back.

  “Hope I’m not interrupting,” she said. “I wanted to make sure you were both all right, and I needed to get a few things from my desk.”

  “Not at all.” Dad stood. “Thank you again for calling me.”

  “You have a unique son.” She smiled at him, and Gidion smiled back. “You have every right to be proud of him. I can tell you are.”

  “Thank you.” He looked back at Gidion as he slipped on his backpack. “Let’s go eat.”

  Ms. Aldgate walked over to her desk, picked up a note pad and wrote something on it. “Mister Keep, before you go,” she turned and held out the small sheet of paper to him, “if there’s anything I can do to help you and your son, this is the number to my cell phone.” Gidion saw a smile tug at her lips. “And you might need that in June.”

  Dad’s face turned red. His lips worked for close to ten seconds before he managed to say anything.

  “Thank you.”

  Gidion covered his mouth, not that it did much to hide he was laughing. Dad took him by the arm and almost dragged him out of the room.

  “I think my odds just improved, Dad.”

  Dad tried to glare at him, but he was smiling too much to pull it off. “Just make sure you get all A’s in her class.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  When Dad found out Gidion was making reservations at Can Can, he handed him an extra fifty bucks and made him get a new dress shirt and tie so he wouldn’t walk into a nice restaurant “looking like a bum.”

  The shirt was royal blue and the tie black. He thought Dad was being a worrywart up until he saw the green dress Tamara was wearing. She looked nice, really nice.

  Dad also came through by making him get some flowers, two purple roses. He said purple roses were Mom’s favorite.

  The restaurant was dimly lit and really cool. It reminded him of the inside of an old subway station with its white tiles.

  “You look really handsome,” Tamara said after they’d ordered dessert. She’d said it about three times, but it hadn’t gotten old to hear her say it.

  “Thanks,” he said, thinking quickly for a different way to repay the compliment. “I needed to. I knew I was going to be with a beautiful girl.”

  “Nice.” She smiled, something she’d done very little tonight. There was no getting past what happened to her parents. He hadn’t intended to tell her about Pete, but the rumors of his suicide had traveled to her school. She hadn’t been to school today, but the friend she was staying with had.

  “I talked to my aunt before you picked me up.” She sipped her sparkling water with lime, which was about the only “bubbly” the restaurant could legally let them drink, according to their server.

  “What did she say?” He figured it couldn’t be good, if she’d waited this long to mention it.

  “Our flight to Phoenix leaves Wednesday morning.”

  “That sucks.”

  “A lot.” She smiled again, but the expression was sadder than before.

  “Well, if we can’t have a second date, then I say to hell with our curfews.”

  They raised their glasses of non-alcoholic bubbly and toasted the idea.

  After they ordered dessert, she reached into her purse and pulled out a small box, covered in silver paper and blue ribbon. He felt bad as soon as he saw, because he hadn’t thought of a gift for her, nothing beyond the flowers.

  “It’s okay.” She smiled at him as she placed it in his hands. “Open it.”

  He ripped off the paper, trying not to be too loud. The gift was nestled inside the box, resting on a layer of white tissue paper.

  “A rabbit’s foot!” That was too cool! The fur was grayish-brown and soft. “Where did you—?” He stopped when he realized the answer to his question.

  “I saw it on my dad’s desk this morning, and I thought of you.” She stopped there, and he could tell she was about to cry.

  “Thank you.” He ran his thumb against one of the tiny toe nails. “I’ll keep it with me every night.”

  “You better.” Having fought back her tears, she smiled at him and reached across the table to hold his hand. “Don’t you dare go hunting without it.”

  Dessert arrived. They’d gone all out with their order, getting three different desserts to split: all chocolate. Now that they knew they’d be staying up really late, they decided to get some
coffee, too.

  “You know,” Tamara said between bites of chocolate crème brûlée, “it’s not like we can’t ever go on a second date.”

  “I’m not sure how easily I can get to Phoenix. That’s one hell of a drive.” He employed some playful sarcasm, but there was some hard truth behind the joke.

  She offered him a bite of the chocolate crème brûlée. “Eat this and be quiet.” He decided it was best to do what the lady said. Besides, that particular dessert was possibly the best thing he’d ever tasted in his life.

  “It occurs to me that I’m a senior. That means in less than a year, I go to college, and Richmond has several universities.”

  She leaned across the table and crooked a finger for him to meet her halfway. “How would you feel about dating a college girl?”

  He answered her with a kiss.

  Acknowledgements

  The desire to write a book hit me in high school, but it wasn’t until I moved to Richmond, Virginia, that I gained the tools to get the job done right. This is a writer’s town, home to one of the best writers conferences in the nation. David L. Robbins brought me into the inner workings of James River Writers, and I will always be grateful for the opportunities he gave me by doing that. JRW made Richmond my home.

  I’ve connected with and befriended many writers here. Katharine and Shawna in the Ten Page Club, you both pushed me for many years to improve. Author Tiffany Trent provided important insights on the opening to this book. I also need to thank Kristi Austin for her thorough critique of the first draft. I don’t know if Kristi will ever realize how much she kept my faith in this book alive with the declaration, “That book needs a home.”

  I also need to thank my parents and mother-in-law. They spent many hours with my son and daughter as I went to coffee houses and wine bars to raise this third, fictional child.

  Most of all, I need to thank the woman who’s been my first reader for almost a quarter century. So many writers don’t have a spouse who can truly appreciate the art of the written word and the dark corners of imagination, but I got lucky. I married another writer. Sheri started me on the path to this book in one of my darkest moments with a simple question. “What is it you want to write?” You’ve now read the answer.