Teeth: Vampire Tales

“What makes her do that?”

“It’s in the blood. People say it’s a demon, evil spirit, goblin, but this is the twenty-first century. It’s a hereditary germ. It makes gritchino every fifty years or so.”

“If it’s a hereditary germ, how does the diamond get in her leg?” said Luke.

Uncle Sfortunado shrugged. “You ask too many questions. Just shut up and kill the gritchino.”

“Was that a twenty-first-century flying coffin?” asked Luke.

“Gaduche,” said the old man, and shook his head.

Five minutes later, Mr. Cabadula’s black Mercedes pulled into the parking lot. As soon as it stopped, Darene got out of the passenger side and came running toward the bench. Luke stood up to meet her, but she passed him and went to Uncle Sfortunado. “Are you okay?” she asked, leaning down and putting her arms around him.

“Yeah, yeah, I had gaduche to protect me,” he said, staring at Luke over her shoulder.

Mr. Cabadula walked up and began speaking in their language to Sfortunado. Darene went to Luke, took him by the arm, and moved him away from the men to the other side of the church doors.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Are you kidding? She’s some kind of vampire,” he said.

“Once in fifty years out of all the Cabadula. Why Gracie?”

“When do we call the cops and leave?” asked Luke.

“We have to kill it,” said Darene. “It’s our family duty.”

“That’s crazy.”

“You can go home if you want,” said Darene. “I’ll call you a cab.”

“Listen, I’ve seen Gracie and she’s nasty. Come back with me.”

“I can’t,” she said.

“So are we ready?” asked Mr. Cabadula, now standing behind his daughter. He had a wave of graying hair and a mustache. His arms were folded across his chest.

“Luke’s going home,” she said to him.

“Going home,” said her father in a flat voice.

“No. I’ll help,” said Luke.

“Ever shoot a gun?” said Mr. Cabadula.

“Sure,” he said, though he’d never even touched one.

“Come to my car,” said Darene’s father.

As they followed him, she put her arm around Luke and kissed his ear.

“If I get killed, my parents are gonna be pissed,” he said to her.

Sfortunado was already at the trunk of the Mercedes. Mr. Cabadula opened it and stepped aside. “Take one,” he said. Luke looked in and saw a row of six pistols lying on a beige woolen blanket. The guns didn’t look like anything he’d seen in the movies. They were old, with rounded wooden stocks and silver filigree work on the barrels.

“Three shots,” said Darene’s father as Luke reached in and took one in his hand.

“What gun has only three shots?” asked Luke, backing out of the car and lifting the piece to inspect it.

“Three shots,” Mr. Cabadula repeated. “The bullets are made with shards of witch bone.”

Luke held the gun straight down at his side, afraid it might go off from either age or magic. Darene’s father then handed both her and Luke flashlights.

Sfortunado had left the revolver he’d used in the church and took two pistols, as did his nephew. Darene slid hers into the waist of her jeans.

They stood by the church door, and Mr. Cabadula was giving instructions. All Luke heard was the first point, that Gracie could be lurking right inside the front door, and after that he was too scared to concentrate. Darene looked over at him and touched his shoulder. “Do you know what you’re doing?” she asked. He nodded, and then Uncle Sfortunado, one gun in the pocket of his baggy pants, wrapped his fingers around the handle of the church door. Mr. Cabadula crouched slightly and took aim with his pistols. Darene drew the gun from her waist and nudged Luke back a few steps. “Now,” said her father, and the door swung open.

“Flashlights,” yelled Mr. Cabadula. Luke and Darene aimed their beams into the darkened foyer. “All right,” he said. “Let’s go in.” The next thing Luke knew, he was standing in the dark with the old man, and Darene and her father were halfway down the center aisle to the altar. The place stank of death, and the temperature hadn’t risen a degree.

“Gaduche,” said Sfortunado, “sometime before dawn.”

Luke came to his senses and started toward the altar, the flashlight trained ahead. He thought of Gracie floating up by the ceiling or crouched in one of the pews, licking her green lips. He realized his index finger was near to squeezing the trigger of his pistol and tried to relax. The candles on the altar had gone out. The mysterious wind had died.

Sfortunado whispered, “Remember the diamond.”

The skin on the back of Luke’s neck tingled. He spun around and shone the flashlight behind them and then into the pews, up at the ceiling, at Sfortunado, who looked, himself, like he’d just crawled out of a coffin.

The old man laughed and pointed forward with his guns. On their way toward the front row of pews, Luke kept an eye on Darene’s flashlight beam. She and her father had moved off to the left of the altar. Sfortunado said, “Go right,” when they reached the front row of pews. Luke passed the beam of his flashlight over the altar, the fallen coffin, and the rubble around it. They moved on into a more profound darkness at the side of the church, where thick wooden beams arched toward the dome like the rib cage of a monster.

At the opposite end of the church, Mr. Cabadula yelled, “There.” Luke turned to see Darene’s beam aimed upward. Something flitted through it. There was a sudden flash of orange light and then a bang. Luke called, “Darene,” and started back along the front row of pews.

When he reached the center aisle before the altar, he heard Sfortunado yell, “Down.” Luke fell to the floor and felt the sweeping breeze of Gracie pass overhead. Two shots went off, and he winced and covered his ears. The next thing he knew, Darene was lifting him to his feet. He turned and saw Mr. Cabadula on the altar, setting the candles back up and lighting them. A glow grew around them, and even that meager light was a relief.

Out of the shadows shuffled Sfortunado, grumbling. They gathered on the altar with their backs to the wall, their pistols out. Luke said to Sfortunado, “How did you see her? I had the flashlight.”

“I knew in my head that you were screwing up.”

“You’re psychic?”

“Did you duck?” asked the old man.

“I have to go into the back of the church and find the switch for the lights,” said Mr. Cabadula. “It’s stupid to challenge her in the dark. If I get the lights on, we’ll finish this up in a half hour.”

No one said a word. They listened to hear Gracie move, out beyond the candlelight. Luke was standing in front of the crashed coffin, trembling. Darene stood close to him.

“This place stinks,” she said.

“The wind of eternity,” said Sfortunado.

Mr. Cabadula put one of his pistols in his belt, removed the flashlight from Luke’s hand, and descended the altar steps. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said over his shoulder. When he passed into the dark, they followed him by the white beam searching above and below. Then he disappeared behind the altar.

Luke could hear Gracie purring, moving among the distant pews near the front door. Then, in the next minute, she seemed to be just out of sight beyond the glow of the candles.

“Stand back,” said Sfortunado as he took a step forward. “I’ll call her in.”

“What do you want to do that for?” asked Luke.

“Darene, explain,” said the old man in a whisper over his shoulder.

“Uncle Sfortunado is going to use the lamentalata to draw Gracie to us, so we can shoot her,” said Darene. “Stand on that side of him, two feet behind, and have your gun ready. I’ll cover this side.”

Luke took his position and lifted his pistol, his hand trembling.

Sfortunado half turned to look at him. “When you pull the trigger, bullets come out,” he said, and laughed. A