Grandma Was a Really Cool Vamp

By Pen

James Jacob Chesterfield must live with his Great Grandma Stella Chesterfield. Neither of them is very happy about it.

They get used to each other, even after JJ learns Stella is a vampire.

When JJ is bitten and becomes a vampire himself, it brings an old enemy of Grandma’s into the open.

It becomes a race against time as Grandma’s witch friend, Helene, can perform a transference ritual which will return JJ to his human form. But will they succeed before Count Drzynsky destroys Grandma Stella?

Written in a similar satirical vein (pun intended) as the movie Love at First Bite (1979), you’ll be cheering for the vampires, zombies, werewolves and witches!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pen
• Release date: Oct 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311238139

Pen

Pen was bitten by the writing bug at the age of ten. She has been feverishly writing ever since. A native Georgian she lives in the Atlanta area.

Book preview

New Blood

Chapter 1

Grandma Stella and I didn’t exactly hit it off when we first met. As a matter of fact, we didn’t get along from the moment I first saw her -

Wait a minute. Let me start at the beginning.

I was eight years old when I first met my Great Grandma Stella Chesterfield. I was standing outside her front door with Sheriff Teasdale of Chesterfield County. It was a cool fall evening and the rain was pouring buckets, running in gushes down the storm spouts on this big old Victorian house.

Sheriff Teasdale knocked on the door for the third time and said to me like it was some sort of secret, Your Great Grandma’s kinda old. She probably don’t hear too good.

Sheriff Teasdale was an old backwoods country kinda boy. His grammar ain’t too good, either. He was a tall and slender man with a long dour face. He was the kind of man who rarely ever smiled.

Just as Sheriff Teasdale was about to knock a fourth time, a murky yellow light came on to the right side of the door. It wasn’t enough light to dispel any shadows; it only created more and enhanced the shadows already crawling up the walls.

The door opened just a crack. Yes? a thin, creaky voice from within said.

Sorry to bother you so late, Mrs. Chesterfield. Sheriff Teasdale tipped his hat. But, uh, I have something I need to talk to you about.

Sheriff Teasdale, it is rather late. At least for me, it is. Can’t this wait until tomorrow? The voice was creaky but, nonetheless, smothered in syrup.

I’m afraid it can’t, Mrs. Chesterfield. It’s about your great grandson.

My great grandson?

The door slowly opened.

And Great Grandma Stella and I set eyes on each other for the first time.

She towered over me; a giant of a woman. She was stout. She wasn’t fat but she wasn’t a skinny little old lady, either. Her hair was completely white and cut short. She carried a lantern whose light exposed the penetrating gaze of her brown eyes. I remember thinking that her face had no wrinkles which was odd. I’d known an old Mr. Dowager who wasn’t as old as Grandma Stella but his face and hands were as wrinkled as prunes.

Then Grandma turned those penetrating brown eyes on me.

My great grandson? she asked again.

Uh, yes ma’am. Your grandson, Charles and his wife, Emma?

Oh, yes. Charles and Emma Chesterfield. She smiled, which made her cheeks pooch out, kinda like a chipmunk. It was flattering to her face but it was kinda creepy at the same time.

Yes ma’am. Well, Sheriff Teasdale glanced at me and lowered his voice, like I couldn’t hear him or didn’t have a clue what he was saying. They were both killed last week when their car stalled on the railroad tracks on Gloucester Road.

How tragic! Grandma Stella’s eyes shifted quickly at me then back to Sheriff Teasdale. In that quick of an instant, I could see she knew what was coming. And she didn’t like it one bit.

The boy has no other living relatives, the Sheriff continued muttering, pretending I couldn’t hear.

Now Grandma lowered her voice and pretended I couldn’t hear her. Sheriff, I’m not certain I can take care of a small child.

Uh, Mrs. Chesterfield. The boy will go into foster care and, well, Sheriff Teasdale glanced at me over his shoulder, then back at Grandma, you know some of the horror stories.

Grandma smiled, but there was no warmth in that smile. Indeed. She then peered at me over the top of her glasses. What’s your name, kid?

I refused to answer this woman who, thus far, had given me every indication she didn’t want me anyway.

Uh, his name is James Jacob, Sheriff Teasdale told her. You mean you don’t know your own great grandson’s name?

Charles and I haven’t spoken in years, Sheriff. We had a falling out over, Grandma hesitated, chuckled and said, lifestyle choices. She turned those piercing brown eyes on me again. James Jacob. After my father-in-law and my late husband.

That’s a good thing. Right?

Actually, I didn’t really like either one of them, Sheriff. Grandma looked me up and down. Kind of a scrawny little thing, aren’t you? I hope you have more clothes than what you’re wearing because those are soaked through.

The words she spoke were true. I was small for my age: a skinny little blond-haired kid who would interfere in whatever lifestyle she had. Even so, I steadfastly refused to say anything.

Sheriff Teasdale leaned in closer to Grandma. I think he’s still in shock.

Hmm. Well, he’ll need to get over that, was all Grandma said.

I’ll get his luggage.

While Sheriff Teasdale did that, Grandma and I just eyed one another, each one trying to determine who would blink or look away first. Neither of us did.

Sheriff dropped my two pieces of luggage onto the porch beside me, their thunk! sounding all the more loud for the storm that blanketed us all around.

Here ya go! the Sheriff said a little too cheerfully. Obviously, he couldn’t wait to get away.

But he took a moment to kneel beside me and place his hand on my shoulder. Hey, he said quietly. Everything’s gonna be okay.

I finally forced myself to break eye contact with Grandma and looked at the Sheriff, even though I kept Grandma within my vision.

You know what they say about Grandmas, Teasdale kept on. Grandmas give lots of hugs and kisses and cookies.

As I raised one of my eyebrows in disbelief, I could see Grandma over Teasdale’s shoulder as she did the same: she wasn’t buying it, either.

Teasdale looked from me to Grandma who quickly plastered a fake smile all over her face, chipmunk cheeks and all.

Okay, then, Teasdale said as he stood up. I’ve got to get going. You two take care. Sheriff Teasdale sprinted down the steps and to his squad car. Maybe it was because of the rain, but my guess is that he was just too much of a coward to deal with the mounting tension between me and Grandma.

All right, Grandma said. You take one bag and I’ll take another. And I’ll take whichever one is lighter.

She bent down and lifted each of my two suitcases in turn and picked up the lighter of the two. Without another word she walked inside the door, the lantern in one hand, my suitcase in the other.

I stood there for a moment, contemplating the possibility of running away. Several things kept me from doing so.

First there was the rain; the cold, pelting, pouring down rain. I was already soaked. If I got any wetter, I may as well swim.

Then there was thirst and hunger. I was suffering from both. Surely Grandma Stella would have something good to eat.

But the most important of all, where the hell would an eight year old kid with no money go?

Grandma appeared in the doorway just then, lantern still in her left hand and her right hand on her hip. If you’re thinking about running away, Jimmyjake, (and that’s just how she said it, too, like it was one word), the nearest neighbor is six blocks in either direction. Atlanta is an hour and a half drive by car from here and you probably don’t have any money on ya, do ya?

I sucked in my cheeks and glared at this woman. She knew very well I had no choice but to stay here.

Grandma reached down and picked up my other suitcase. C’mon, Jimmyjake, unless you want to sleep out in the rain.

I followed her through the door, down a hallway to the right all the way to the end. We stopped in front of a door on the right. Grandma dropped the suitcase and opened the door.

The room was void of any furnishings except a king-size bed beneath a window. To the right of the bed was a closet, beside that a bathroom.

Grandma sighed and eyed me. I suppose you’re hungry?

I occupied myself by looking around the room.

Fine. There’s nothing here to eat anyway. I guess I’ll have to visit a 24-hour Kroger and pick up a few things so you’ll have something to eat. Grandma spun around in a slow circle, looking around the room, until she was looking at me again. I suppose I should find some more furnishings for the room. That way, there’ll be someplace to put the lantern.

I looked towards the doorway where there was a light switch on the wall.

We don’t use electricity in this house, Jimmyjake.

I looked at her, one of my eyebrows raised.

Grandma chuckled. You’ll find your ol’ Grandma Stella has her, shall we say, she hesitated, eccentricities?

I had no idea what she meant by that at the time. And, at the time, I really didn’t care. I was cold, wet and hungry and, in spite of everything, I was already planning my escape.

We have some rules here, Jimmyjake. Grandma bent down so we could see eye to eye. Follow these rules and, not only will you stay out of trouble, again she hesitated, "maybe they’ll keep you alive.

The first rule, and this is the big one, so pay attention, Jimmyjake, is you stay in this room from dusk until dawn. Do not come out of this room until the morning sun hits your window. No matter what you may hear. Or see. Or even smell. You. Stay. In. This. Room. Got it?

I raised both eyebrows to indicate I understood . . . exactly how crazy she was.

Grandma stood up. Fine. As long as you understand that, you’ll be safe.

Safe from what? I wondered.

There was a knock on a door. I could tell it wasn’t the front door from the direction of the sound. I assumed the place had to have a back door somewhere.

At the sound of the knock, Grandma stood up straight. For a fleeting moment, there was a panicked look on her face.

Bed, Jimmyjake. I wanted to be stubborn a minute longer. I didn’t move.

Grandma looked down at me. For about a split second, I swear her eyes turned red.

Now, she said, with a threat in her voice.

I could have stood my ground and really pissed her off. But something told me that might not be such a good idea.

I calmly walked over to the bed and hopped up on it, kicking up all manner of dust.

Hm, she harrumphed. Guess I’ll have to wash the bedclothes, too. Grandma looked at me for several minutes. The knock was repeated and she glanced over her shoulder and smiled. Sleep well, Jimmyjake, she said as she backed out the door.

I sat there for a few minutes after Grandma left, just being miserable. The only light in the room was a murky gray glow filtering in from the curtainless window. I didn’t know where the light was coming from but it cast light on the wall opposite the bed. Shadows of raindrops ran down the wall in the murky light.

I got off the bed and fumbled my way around to my suitcases. I needed some dry clothes to sleep in. In the murky gray light, I was able to locate my pajamas. I quickly put them on and left the soggy clothes on the floor. I hoped it would irritate Grandma.

I lay down on the king-size bed, staring up at the ceiling. It’d been a helluva week, what with both my parents being killed at the same time and the funeral and everything. It was sad to learn that I had no relatives to speak of, save for the old woman in this house. Mom and Dad hadn’t exactly been social butterflies, but their small group of close-knit friends was steadfast and loyal. Any one of them would have taken me in, but the court system of Georgia said I had to live with my closest living relative if I had one.

Unfortunately, they found one.

I had always thought Great Grandma Stella Chesterfield was a myth: someone Dad could grumble about to Mom without consequences. I even thought maybe it was a metaphor for Dad’s mother.

But she was real, all right. And weird. Probably more than a little crazy as some old people get crazy with age.

As I lay there thinking about Mom and Dad, I began to realize how much I really missed them. They may not have been the smartest parents in the world, maybe not the greatest parents on the planet, but they were my parents. They brought order and routine to an otherwise chaotic world.

Though I was loathe to do so, I was about to turn onto my side and give vent to a fountain of tears. At that moment, there was a noise at the door.

I figured Grandma must have forgotten something, like maybe leaving me a candle or a flashlight. I wasn’t about to let her see me cry, so I wiped my nose on the sleeve of my pajamas and sat up in bed, waiting for her to come in.

I noticed there was no light around the door. Normally, when there is a light outside a door, some of it seeps through the cracks on the sides and underneath the door. But there was no light.

I got off the bed and took a few tentative steps to the door. From the other side, I heard a scraping sound, followed by hissing, like someone taking a breath between their teeth. Then there was the sound of something tossed against the door; it wasn’t a heavy sound, but it was noisy: it sounded something like rain except that it was not a continuous noise, but periodic.

For only a moment or two, the sweet fragrance of honeysuckle wafted from beneath the door. It was a pleasant smell but it reminded me of long walks with Mom and Dad through the woods behind our house. Honeysuckle grew wild in those woods, their odor as sweet as the taste of the bud.

It made me feel sad but I pushed it away as I didn’t want Grandma to see me sad should she come in.

The noise stopped after a few minutes. I stood there looking at the door, debating about whether or not to grab the handle and jerk the door open.

I had to admit that the image of Grandma Stella on the other side of that door with eyes flashing red was just a little intimidating. So I wasn’t too anxious to open that door.

I stood still and listened for a long time. I finally convinced myself that whoever was out there was gone. I worked up the nerve and reached out and grabbed the doorknob. I turned it. Only to discover it was locked.

That old bat had locked me in my room. I grunted and banged my little fist against the door. How dare she!

I clambered up onto the bed and decided to find out what was making the murky little light. The headboard of the bed was an old-fashioned kind: it was wide with little sliding doors on it for storing things. I slid the doors open with the faint hope of finding a candle or maybe even a flashlight. All I found was dust.

But it was sturdy and perfect to stand on to look out the window.

From far away through the pelting rain, I could see a streetlight at a distance. I figured it must be some streetlight to cut through the pouring rain like that and make it through my bedroom window, no matter how weak or murky it became once it got there. The light appeared to shift and waver but I attributed that to the wind and rain.

I attempted to open the window; after all, it was on the ground floor which would make for an easy escape once I was able to manage it. But it was nailed shut.

All I could do was gaze longingly out the window.

Dark images were flying between my window and that faraway light.

What birds flew at night, I wondered, and in the pouring rain? Owls? Swallows?

I watched for a little while, trying to make out the shapes in the murky darkness. But, as I was unable to determine what they were, I soon lost interest. I sighed and decided my best course of action was to simply settle into my situation, bide my time and wait for an opportunity to escape.

I slept fitfully, tossing and turning, sounds of the storm, other unidentifiable sounds, infiltrating the dreams I had of Mom and Dad. I missed them terribly and my heart ached for the days we were together as a family.

Chapter 2

Grandma Stella Chesterfield stood at the far end of the parking lot, as far from the bright lights as possible.

Grocery shopping? her companion, Rafael said. In the middle of the night? You left the hunt for grocery shopping?

Rafael stood a couple of inches shorter than Grandma but that didn’t deter him from challenging her authority. True to his name, he was of Latino descent, his soft brown skin glistening in the moonlight now that the storm was over and the moon was out. He would have been quite handsome with his squared jaws, round chin and dark features had it not been for the scowl which covered his face.

Yes, well, Grandma said, I have a child to feed now.

Rafael sighed, his scowl deepening. But grocery shopping. How mundane.

Mundane or not, the child requires food.

Should I wait here?

Actually, Grandma turned to her companion, I was hoping you could do some scouting while I shop.

A grin brightened Rafael’s face, a vast improvement over the scowl. Ahh, he breathed. "Two things at once. I like it.