For Kurt and Steeve Wilcken,
without whom this series of books
would not have been possible
Copyright 2020 by Catherine Schaff-Stump
All Rights Reserved.
First Edition: March, 2020
ISBN:
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without prior written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles, reviews, social media, and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests please address Catherine Schaff-Stump, PO Box 89, Blairstown, Ia 52209.
Your support of the author’s rights is much appreciated.
Cover Art: Kurt Wilcken
Interior and Cover Design: Michele Maakestad
CHAPTER ONE
Destroy All Vampires
Most people do not understand the danger they are in from the constant and twilight threat of monsters. Yes, monsters. Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, the occasional mad scientist. There are dinosaur throwbacks in the center of the earth too. Okay, I am lying about that one, but chances are if Universal has made a film about it, it exists.
I am Abigail Rath. I am thirteen years old, and I fight the forces of darkness every day, because I don’t want your happy life to become a horror film. Pulling humanity back from the brink of the abyss is what I do. Humanity is welcome.
Most of the time, problems in my life begin with my friend Vince. This time was no exception.
We were at Big Mel’s Skateway. Big Mel’s has a classic rink, concrete with no cracks. For good skating, no cracks is key. The walls and side rails are red-carpeted so kids who can’t skate can catch themselves and pretend to be cool without intense bruising. Mirrors cover one wall. When Mel breaks out the disco ball and turns on the lights, the atmosphere is not only retro, but also magical. Vince and I are Mel’s favorites because we take lessons. I can skate backwards, although Big Mel frowns upon that. He threatens kids who skate backwards with an aluminum baseball bat, in a loving owner kind of way.
On that particular Saturday, I was the undefeated limbo champ for seven weeks running. I watched two new kids on the skate floor. The girl had long red hair and skated more like she was on ice than concrete. I couldn’t get a good look at the boy because he was surrounded by a group of goggling girls. Whatever. Vince sat down by me on the wooden bench while I was unlacing my skates. Most skates at Mel’s are old school. Vince’s skates looked like sneakers, which is an option. Mine were classic white with silver lightning streaks down the sides. Classic, but with a twist of individualism.
“Can we talk?” asked Vince.
“Hmm.” I found a knot and I tried to get it undone with a fingernail.
Vince thrust a thin, dusty book across my field of vision. Go, Trojans! was embossed in gold on the front of
the yearbook.
I blinked away the little dust particles that floated in the air.
“Look at the page I marked,” said Vince.
I dropped the skate into my bag and opened the glossy pages. The book smelled like damp garage. Vince pointed to a picture of his teenaged mom and dad.
“Look at her hair!” I couldn’t help myself. Mrs. Cooper had a topknot that made her look like a poodle.
“Abby,” said Vince, his index finger guiding me through the image. “Listen. That’s my mom. There’s my dad. And this guy, this scrawny guy? That’s Ned.”
I slammed the book shut. “Okay, Vince, where we going with this?”
“I think he’s following me.”
“Ned?”
“Sure. Except he looks just like that, like he did about twenty years ago.”
Since I am a monster hunter, I did not blow this off. Vince isn’t exactly a monster hunter, but his dad met my dad on one of my dad’s cases, so that makes Vince’s family familiar with weird stuff. “Since when is Ned following you?”
“A week ago. I think he might be a vampire.”
“I am sooo sure your parents would have a little vampire friend.”
Vince said in that quiet Vince voice of his, “Your parents know vampires.”
“Big difference. Dad’s—”
“Reginald Rath, vampire slayer.” Vince rolled his eyes, like being a slayer of the spawn of Satan and protector of the waking world was like picking your nose in class. “I know.”
I pulled off my other skate and stuck it in my duffle bag. “Back to Ned?”
“I’ve seen him at the Circle K a couple of times. He said hi once.”
“You’re sure it’s the guy in the year book?”
“Yup. Dad messed up. He said hi back.” Vince waved his hand in a hello arc. “’Hi Ned.’ I asked Dad who he was, and Dad didn’t want to talk about it.”
That was weird. Vince’s dad was a talky guy. “And?”
“I asked Mom if they knew some guy named Ned. She asked me why I asked. I said that Dad told me a story about Ned. She chillaxed and told me about Ned from high school. So I dug out the yearbook. Looks the same.”
“It could be this guy’s son.” I jostled the skates together so they fit into the bag.
Vince waited a beat. “That’s a Mr. Christopher line.”
Yeah, even I didn’t believe that one. “What else you got?”
“He’s stopped showing up at the Circle K. I saw him in the parking lot here.”
“Not good,” I said. “We don’t need vampires hanging around Big Mel’s. We need to investigate.”
“Or we could call the police.”
“You don’t want to do that,” I said, “or you’d be talking to your parents instead of me.”
“You’re right,” said Vince. “I want to know why my parents are so...weird about this.”
Vince had come to a professional. Well, someone who wouldn’t tell on him. I smelled an opportunity.
For
