Disclaimer: Ghostbusters is not mine; it belongs to Dan Aykroyd, Harold Ramis and Columbia Pictures. John and Eden Spengler and Ray Stantz created by Fritz Baugh. Kaila Zeddemore created by Brian Reilly. Charlene Zeddemore co-created by Fritz and Brian. All other original characters created by me.
Eternal and long overdue thanks to Ash's Tim Wheeler, the wonderful man who writes and performs the only songs that can actually touch me, the only – and I mean the only love songs that move me, including "Vampire Love", which inspired this story. Thanks also to Rick, Mark and Charlotte for comprising the rest of the band.
Ghostbusters: Blood Heat
Part 1
Jennifer Silver was, supposedly, out with her friend, commiserating the end of the summer break. She was a pretty sixteen year old with long auburn hair, brown eyes and a curvaceous figure. She also had imprudent taste in shoes. She had taken off her three-inch stilettos in order to run more effectively. Both of her feet were raw and throbbing by the time she managed to get herself trapped in a darkened alley.
"Baby, c'mon," her pursuer leered sinisterly, as he sauntered casually towards her. "Where are you going?"
"What did you do to her?" sobbed Jennifer.
"She was cramping my style, babe. All I ever wanted was to have you to myself. You're so beautiful, honey." He seemed about to continue, but then stopped short, looking his quarry searchingly up and down. Finally he asked, "What do you think I did to her?"
"I don't know," snivelled Jennifer. "Is she… is she dead?"
"Ah, well," he smiled, moving a few steps closer. "Maybe a little."
"You bastard!"
"Ah sweetheart, don't be like that. I just want you, babe – that's all. You're too gorgeous to resist. And you'll like it, I promise."
Jennifer screamed as he took a step forward, grabbed her roughly by the arms and exposed his long, sharp, already bloodstained canine teeth. She shrieked with pain and fright as she felt two sharp jabs in her neck, but gave up the struggle as she became rapidly too weak to move. She felt her body collapse, her mind go blank, as her eyes started to cloud over.
"Here you go, baby." She was vaguely aware of his voice, and of his warm, damp wrist pressed against her lips. "You'll love it, honey. Trust me."
x x x
Peter Venkman was woken by a sharp tug on his arm. He was about to say something, in order to let whoever it was trying to wake him know that he or she had been successful, but he'd hardly had time to open his mouth before he found himself on the floor.
"Was that absolutely necessary?" Peter mumbled groggily, attempting to drag himself to his feet.
"It's almost eight," his wife Dana returned sharply. "You promised her, remember?"
"She said I didn't have to," Peter pointed out.
"Well I'm saying you do."
"Why? She doesn't need me."
"That's as maybe," Dana, who was already showered and dressed, returned flatly. "But you made a promise and you have to stick by it. Andre used to do that, you know – make promises and then break them at the last minute."
Barely a second later, Peter was through the door to the en-suite bathroom. Dana smiled knowingly to herself. Comparing him to her ex-husband was always the fastest way to get that man moving.
A little while previously, Dana had been doing the mom thing: fried eggs, toast neatly arranged in – what extravagance – a toast rack, freshly squeezed orange juice, that kind of thing. Peter was too late to sample anything but the last of the toast.
"We'll be late if you don't hurry," his daughter Jessica reprimanded him, as she drained the last of her orange juice.
"So how are you feeling, sport?" Peter asked her.
"Fine," she shrugged dismissively.
"Really?" Peter asked, surprised. "You feel fine on your first day of junior high?"
"I was shitting myself when it was me," added his stepson, Oscar Wallance.
"We aren't all as insecure as you, Oscar," his sister retorted.
"Jess, honey, please behave today," begged Dana, as she wandered in from the hallway and started to clear the table. "I don't want a phone call like last time."
The Venkmans had moved to New York from Los Angeles about four years ago. On her first day at her new school Jessica, aged eight, had sneaked into every classroom during the lunch hour and, on each chalkboard, written a variation of the same message:
Would all of Class X please report to Principal Yates in Room Y immediately after lunch.
Every class in the school had swapped rooms with another and waited for fully thirty minutes before someone – one of the teachers, presumably – finally realised it was all a prank. Jessica's handwriting had been matched with that on the blackboards, and her reputation was made for the rest of her elementary school career.
"How about you?" asked Peter, grinning at Oscar. "Just one more year to go and then you'll be free."
"I know." Oscar rolled his eyes despairingly. "I really can't be bothered with this."
"Oscar…" Dana began, in cautioning tones.
"What?"
"I don't want you slacking off again."
"I'll try not to, Mom."
"At least you look fairly reasonable," Dana remarked grudgingly, running her eye over Oscar's ironed jeans and smart-but-casual black shirt. "Jessica…"
"What?" demanded Jessica, who was wearing baggy combat trousers and a grey sweater under a loose-fitting red t-shirt. Her hair, in contrast to her brother's neat ponytail, was its usual mish-mash of untidy curls.
"Won't you at least brush your hair?"
"I don't have time."
Dana was considering her reply when Peter's cell phone started to ring. He whipped it out of his pocket and answered, so Dana looked back to Jessica and said, "Go and do it now while your father's on the phone."
"Oh – yes ma'am," Jessica muttered impertinently, sloping sulkily out of the room and up the stairs.
Oscar suppressed a laugh; he was amused because Dana looked so horrified at being spoken to like that by her daughter. Peter, meanwhile, was caught up in his conversation with Janine Spengler.
"We got a call already?" he asked irritably. "Don't people realise what time it is?"
"It's from a teenage girl over at Central Park West," Janine reported. "She and her parents just had a visit from the police. This girl's sister didn't come home last night, and her friend was found murdered."
"Why call us?" Peter asked immediately.
"Very sensitive, Dr. Venkman," Janine returned dryly.
"Yes, it's terrible, I know. But seriously – why call us?"
"The police gave them a detailed description of the friend as she was found: total blood loss and two puncture wounds in the neck severing major arteries."
"Oh. I see."
"So can you get over there?" Janine asked impatiently. "Soon?"
"Well, sure, I'll get there as soon as I can. But first I have to drive the kids to school."
"You too? Winston said exactly the same thing!"
"It's the girls' first day at junior high," reasoned Peter.
"Look, just do what Ray did: drop 'em at the firehouse and let me take them. I'm already taking the twins and Eric – Egon and Ray are getting ready to go."
"No can do, Janine. Sorry. I promised Jess."
"Does she care?" Janine asked flatly. "Does she actually need you to hold her hand into school? She's the most independent twelve year old I've ever met."
"That's not the point," Peter returned tartly. "I'll be there as soon as I can, ok?"
"Ok," Janine relented. "I'll see ya when I see ya. Wish Jess luck for me."
"Thanks," Peter smiled gratefully. "I will."
x x x
Oscar had barely uttered, "Bye, Dad," before he was out of the car and crossing the street to the high school.
"What are you doing?" Jessica asked suspiciously, as Peter climbed out of the car after her.
"What does it look like? I'm embarrassing you in front of your friends," retorted Peter, waving at a group of boys that had already spread itself imposingly across one of the picnic tables within the perimeter fence.
"Da-ad," grumbled Jessica, as her father pulled her into a hug.
"Be good," Peter said soberly.
"Shut up."
"Do as your teacher tells you."
"Let go of me, you freak."
"And remember that I love you."
"Yeah, I love you too," Jessica smiled crookedly, craning her neck to smack him on the cheek. "Now leave me alone."
She turned round and almost slammed into Charlene Zeddemore, her friend by compulsion and about the only female her own age she really got on with. Charlene was also accompanied by her father, Winston Zeddemore.
"Oh, hi," Jessica reacted.
"Hey, girlfriend," Charlene grinned widely. "So are you ready to ditch these guys?"
"I've been ready to ditch him since before we left this morning," Jessica replied flatly. "He won't leave me alone."
"Are you sure you'll be ok?" Winston asked suddenly.
"I'll be fine," Charlene replied breezily, draping an arm around Jessica's shoulders. "We're two hot New York babes – we can handle it. It'll be like a slo-mo deodorant commercial."
"Sounds more like a tampon commercial to me," remarked Jessica. "Come on," and she grabbed Charlene by the wrist, throwing over her shoulder as they walked through the gate, "Bye, Dad!"
"Bye, Dad!" added Charlene, giving Winston and Peter a comic shrug of helplessness as Jessica dragged her towards her group of friends.
"Janine was right: she doesn't need me," Peter sighed sadly, watching them go.
"Ugh – Janine," muttered Winston, rolling his eyes. He then gave a somewhat poor imitation of their secretary's strident Brooklyn accent: " 'She's going to turn thirteen any minute – surely she can do without you. Why can't Kaila go with her?'"
"So." Peter gestured towards his car. "Vampires."
"Vampires," Winston agreed solemnly.
"Need a lift?"
"Yes please."
They spared one more glance at their daughters before Peter started up the car. Charlene and Jessica both looked happy enough, chatting to the group of boys who were making their presence felt all over the picnic bench.
"Who are all those guys?" asked Winston.
"Well," said Peter, "from left to right: Harry, Josh, Ant, Chris, Ricky, JaeJae and Seb. They're great kids – loads of fun."
"Oh. Right."
"Where are we going again?"
"Central Park West."
"Right."
They finally left.
x x x
"Wow, this place is crawling with cops," remarked Peter, as he and Winston climbed out of the car.
"A girl died, Peter," Winston reminded him. "Come on."
He had spotted their two colleagues, Doctors Egon Spengler and Ray Stantz, some two hundred yards away, a safe distance from the distraught parents and enquiring police officers. With them was a girl of about fourteen with red hair, freckles and a sour expression.
"There you are," Egon greeted his associates flatly. "This is Julia Silver. She's the one who called us."
"Her parents don't know she called us," Ray added helpfully. "So try not to let them see you."
Peter glanced over at the couple in their forties or fifties who seemed to be the centre of attention. They were talking to a police officer, female and un-intimidating, who nodded understandingly with a compassionate expression while the wife sobbed and the husband barked instructions to find his missing daughter no matter what.
"Jennifer is such an idiot," the girl announced suddenly. "It'd be just like her to hook up with a vampire. She's such a stupid whore! Cora didn't deserve that, though. When the police came over and told us about Cora, I said to Mom and Dad that it sounds like a vampire, but they were all like, 'Vampires? Don't be ridiculous!'" She paused, took a deep breath and then asked, "So what can you do?"
"Well, we can try to track down the vampire that did this," Egon told her calmly. "If your sister has been turned, we can probably find her as well. If that is what's happened, I'm afraid we'regoing to have to…"
"Kill her," Julia provided, looking slightly perturbed at last. "I know. Here's a picture," she added, whipping a Polaroid out of her jeans pocket.
Winston took the photograph and examined it. Jennifer Silver was essentially an older, prettier version of her sister, with a confident smile and an hourglass figure.
"Where was Cora found, Julia?" Ray asked carefully. "I think that, wherever it was, that's where we should start looking."
"Somewhere in Central Park," Julia replied at once. "I mean, how dumb do you have to be to go wandering around the park in the middle of the night? I don't know where it was exactly, but it's a crime scene so they'll have like tape up and stuff so you should spot it. They might not even have moved Cora yet."
After Ray had promised Julia that they would do the best they could, the four Ghostbusters moved back towards the two cars: Peter's flash little silver number and the Ecto-1.
"I thought she'd be more upset," remarked Ray.
"I guess she and her sister don't get on," Peter stated the obvious. "Imagine how happy Eddie'd be if he got the chance to stake his brother. Speaking of which, why are we doing this? What's happened to the kids?"
"Garrett's working a shift at the hospital this morning, and I gave him the afternoon off to enjoy married life," replied Egon. "Eduardo and Kylie are home with Rose and her chickenpox."
"Chickenpox?" echoed Ray, clearly concerned. "Poor little thing. When Eric had it he never stopped crying."
"Oscar was like that too," said Peter. "Jess loved the rash so much she didn't seem to care about the itching. So." He looked at Egon. "Did your wife yell at them?"
"I don't think so," Egon replied patiently. "And before you ask, I thought Roland might like to sit this one out, as he's not used to field work without the others. He's back at the firehouse doing some research for me."
"Swell – it'll be just like old times," beamed Ray. "So, Central Park it is."
x x x
"This is so typical of you," was Charlene's reaction to getting lost with Jessica on the way to the girls' toilets at the end of recess.
"Stop complaining," retorted Jessica. "And anyway, it's hardly my fault."
"You're the one who needs to go."
"Yeah, well, I took you with me so I wouldn't get lost."
They found themselves at the top of a flight of stairs. Lost for any other brilliant ideas, they started to descend.
"So why didn't you listen to me when I told you to turn right at the computer lab?" demanded Charlene. "How am I supposed to stop you from getting lost if you -?"
"All right, give it a rest," interrupted Jessica. "Why has it gotten so dark all of a sudden?"
"I think we're in the basement, genius," Charlene deadpanned.
"Do you think anyone would know if I peed in that corner?"
"Jessica!"
"I'm kidding, Char. Mind you, I'm also desperate."
"Go ahead," a new, unfamiliar voice cut in, making Charlene and Jessica jump out of their skins. "Don't mind me."
It wasn't pitch black in there, and when they turned round the two girls saw a lad not less than seventeen or eighteen smiling amusedly at them, half of his pale face illuminated in the weak sunlight from the small window above their heads. He was well built and handsome with dark eyes, thick brown hair and a confident smile.
"A little lost over here, aren't you?" Charlene asked guardedly, noticing the way he was looking at Jessica.
"It's cool, hon," the lad shrugged dismissively. "I came down here for a reason. What about you?" He was still looking at Jessica, his smile directed very much at her. "What are you desperate for, sweetheart?"
"A pee," Jessica replied flatly. "I'm trying to get to a restroom."
"Gee, babe, I wish I could help you," the teenager said apologetically. "It's a while since I last went to a girls' restroom. I'm Will," he added casually.
"Jess," Jessica returned, feeling suddenly compelled to smile back.
Charlene just rolled her eyes. She got the distinct impression that this Will didn't care whether she offered her name or not.
"Jess," echoed Will. "Short for Jessica, right? Pretty name. Pretty girl too," he added, his smile widening as he ran his eyes over her.
"Oh, for…" muttered Charlene, grabbing Jessica's wrist. "Come on, you, or your bladder will stop caring whether we get it to a toilet or not."
"Bye," Will smiled easily, as Jessica felt herself dragged back up the stairs.
"Jessica," Charlene began sternly, once they were back in the lighted corridor. "How old do you think that guy is?"
"I don't know," shrugged Jessica. "Seventeen? Eighteen?"
"Right. And he was flirting with you – you who are twelve. Doesn't that make him a paedophile?"
"Paedophile?" Jessica pulled a face. "Flirting doesn't hurt. Oh yes! Thank God for that!" as she finally caught sight of what she wanted. "Honestly – you'd think they'd put the restrooms where people could find them."
"Yeah," Charlene muttered sarcastically, as she followed Jessica in. "We wouldn't have had any problem finding it if it'd been in the basement."
x x x
Tracking down vampires is generally easier at night, when they are likely to be out and about. However the Ghostbusters were able to pick up this one's PK trail leading from somewhere behind the police tape at Central Park, and follow it – with the help of a few obliging locals, many of whom claimed to have seen a young woman being chased from the park the night before – to the alley in which Jennifer Silver had been attacked.
"They came out again less than five minutes later," a young man who had witnessed the event told Winston and Peter, while Egon and Ray gave the empty alley the once-over. "It was probably just a quickie – no big deal."
"They both left?" Winston asked carefully. "On their feet? And neither of them looked hurt?"
"Well, it may have been fast, but they both looked more than satisfied," the man replied dryly. "The girl was fine. If she didn't go home last night, she probably stayed with him."
"That's probably exactly what happened," Peter said sagely.
"Did you see which way they went?" asked Winston.
The young man indicated his answer by tilting his head to the left. Winston asked him if he was quite sure, and the man answered impatiently in the affirmative. Peter and Winston then caught sight of Egon beckoning them over to the alley.
"Thanks for your help," said Winston, as he and Peter turned towards their companions. Then, as they entered the alley, "What is it?"
"Blood," Egon replied gravely, nodding down to a large, dark stain that had dried into the concrete. "Did that young man happen to mention if the police had been here?"
"He didn't say anything about police," replied Peter.
"Well," Egon went on, "when they do come here – which they should, if there is any competence among them – they'll test this for Miss Silver's DNA. Of course, if the vampire did turn her, some of his blood is likely to be mixed up in this as well."
"It's probably even more his than Jennifer's," added Ray. "He would have pretty much sucked her dry."
"She must have been changed," reasoned Egon. "Surely no self-respecting vampire would bother to hide a victim's body. But this won't help them find Jennifer. As Ray says, it's probably not even her blood."
"That guy saw them leave," reported Winston. "I guess we need to keep on following the trail and see if we can find where they ended up."
This they did, and approximately half an hour later Peter and Winston were staring, aghast, at the building to which they had been led.
"I'm sure they're both fine," Ray told them optimistically. "Look, it's lunch hour – you could go and talk to them through the fence. Egon, maybe you and I should go to the office and ask if we can…"
"Look for vampires," Egon provided. "It's worth a try, I suppose."
As Egon and Ray approached the main entrance, Winston and Peter made their way to the quad and peered through the perimeter fence. The fence was tall, about nine or ten feet, but it was perfectly easy to see through the generous gaps in the wire mesh. They quickly located Charlene with a couple of friends, and Jessica once again with her gang of boys, and waved them over.
"What are you two doing here?" Charlene asked suspiciously, as she approached the fence.
"Are you checking up on us?" demanded Jessica.
"Actually, yes," Winston confessed. "We were very worried. We think there's a vampire skulking around these parts."
Charlene caught her breath, shocked by this revelation. Jessica was equally shaken, but she managed to remain outwardly calm.
"We got some descriptions from witnesses," Winston went on. "They vary a lot, but most of them agree that he was wearing black and had dark hair. They all said he was in his late teens or early twenties. You seen him?"
Charlene opened her mouth to reply, but Jessica got in first with a very firm, "No. Sorry."
"Don't be sorry," said Peter, visibly relieved. "Just stay where there's sunlight and make sure there's always someone else with you, ok?"
"No problem," Jessica smiled blithely, aware of Charlene's disapproving eyes on her. She silently willed her not to say anything.
"So how's it all going?" asked Peter, his tone brightening.
"Well," began Jessica, "I've signed up for soccer, which is on Wednesdays, so someone will have to pick me up afterwards. The cafeteria food is ok. My teacher doesn't hate me…"
"Really?" asked Peter, pleasantly surprised.
"Miss Sandy was impressed by her charisma during all of the get-to-know-you stuff we did this morning," Charlene provided. "She thinks Jess should run for class president."
"Actually," Jessica cut in, "that's what me and the guys were talking about. One of us is definitely going to run, but I don't think it should be me because we'll be up against Amber and her posse." She glanced towards a large group of girls, in which the pretty blonde Amber Lightfoot was the centre of attention. Jessica then said mockingly, in a syrupy, little-girly voice, " 'A vote for me is a vote for more pep rallies and shorter skirts for the cheerleaders.'"
"Sounds good," remarked Peter. "I'd vote for her."
"DA-AD!" wailed Jessica, appalled, her expression darkening considerably.
"Calm down, sport – I'm kidding," Peter said defensively, taking a step back and holding up both hands. "I don't get it – I thought you and Amber were getting on ok now."
"We are," Jessica agreed. "I just don't think she'd make a very good class president."
"I don't understand," ventured Winston. "Why should she stop you from running?"
"Because I won't steal any votes from the Bitch Patrol," Jessica explained patiently. "Most of the girls in my class don't like me, and even if they do they like Amber more, so we need a guy to run. Whichever one of us does it, it'd be a democracy really – you know, like packing the Supreme Court. We just need a front man to get us in there."
"What about Ant?" suggested Peter.
"Anthill?" Jessica furrowed her brow in thought. Her friend Anthony Hill (his parents couldn't have thought it through) was funny, cute and popular with most of his classmates. But he had his faults. "He's not exactly the brightest daffodil in the bunch, Dad."
"At your age, honey, the election of class president is just a popularity contest," Peter told her matter-of-factly. "People like him. And, like you say, once he's in you can pretty much make all the decisions for him."
"Get him to promise us a party," Charlene cut in. "We were just saying what a rip it is that we're not getting a freshers' ball this year."
"What?" exclaimed Jessica. "I didn't know that! But they have one every year!"
"Yeah, well, money's too tight apparently," Charlene told her. "But the president gets to decide what to do with the class budget, right? You guys can plan a party for us. I know loads of people who'd vote your friend in if he promised that."
Ray and Egon approached as Charlene was talking, both wearing expressions of grim resignation.
"Was it a no?" Winston asked, somewhat unnecessarily.
"Or was it a leave-or-we'll-call-the-police?" added Peter.
"They – er – politely asked us to leave," Egon replied carefully.
"So come after dark when everyone's gone home," Jessica said brightly. "You can kill the vampire, and then spray paint 'Ant Hill for President' all along the corridor."
"I find it very gratifying that you take my advice," Peter smiled at her, taking a step towards the fence. "I think we're probably gonna leave now, honey. Have a good afternoon."
"I will," said Jessica, leaning forward to kiss him through one of the gaps in the fence. "See ya later."
"Bye, guys," added Charlene, beginning to move away from the fence, taking Jessica by surprise when she grabbed her elbow and dragged her along with her. "So, like, don't blame me if your nose starts getting bigger, Jess."
"Huh?"
"Why'd you lie?"
"What?" queried Jessica. "Oh – you mean about the vampire. I just figured they'd go nuts if we told them we were alone with him in the basement for like two minutes."
"Oh. Yeah, I guess you're right," Charlene conceded. "I thought maybe it was because you…"
"What?"
"Well… I don't know… like, maybe you had the hots for him or something."
"Charlene!" exclaimed Jessica, outraged. "How stupid do you think I am?"
"Sorry," Charlene said meekly. "Who are they?"
"Who?" Jessica followed Charlene's gaze to Ant and the rest of her friends, and saw that they were listening with varying degrees of interest to a couple of girls who looked about thirteen or fourteen. "I've never seen them before in my life."
Jessica marched over to the small gathering, Charlene trailing behind, and said loudly, "Hey, guys. Who're your friends?"
"I'm Georgia Rose," the freckled dark-haired girl provided. Then, indicating her less pretty blond companion, "This is Debbie Lancer, a friend of mine. I'm running for president in my class."
"Way to go," Jessica deadpanned. "You do realise we aren't in your class, toots?"
"I know," Georgia returned flatly. "These guys were talking about running for president in your class. I wondered if you'd support my campaign."
"Which is…?" asked Jessica.
Georgia said nothing, but simply nodded at Debbie, who handed Jessica a small homemade leaflet that had been dashed out on Microsoft Word.
" 'Meat is Murder, Cholesterol is Suicide: Students are crying out for a more humane cafeteria menu and healthier options'," Jessica read aloud. "So which students would those be? Besides you, I mean."
"Plenty," Georgia returned irritably.
"There's nothing wrong with the cafeteria menu," Jessica told her firmly. "I think the range of choice is more than ample."
"That's the whole point," Georgia said primly. "There's too much junk and not enough health food."
"There's plenty of health crap," snapped Jessica. "There are vegetarian options too, but they also provide junk food for those of us who want it."
"Read the small print," ordered Georgia. "It explains how bad for you some of the cafeteria food is."
"Ok, great," said Jessica. "If you're just letting us know our options and giving us a few stats about what we choose to eat, I think that's very good of you. So what's all this about changing the menu?"
"I think that the cafeteria should provide healthy food that's totally exempt from animal cruelty," Georgia proclaimed smugly.
"Right," Jessica returned flatly. "You think. So, as class president, you intend to go around imposing your will on people. And you want our class president to impose your will on people too."
"Look, honey, this is important. Do you know how an unbalanced diet can affect your body?"
"Yes, actually, I do. But it's my body and I'll put whatever the hell I want into it! It isn't your job to protect us from the risks we take, and you shouldn't try to deprive us of our choices."
Georgia looked positively shocked. Jessica stared at her, feeling very pleased with herself for apparently having talked this girl down. Georgia's eyes narrowed slightly, her mouth trembled as though she were either about to say something or cry, and then suddenly she turned and flounced away with an indignant, "Hmph!"
"Bitch," remarked Jessica, giving a what-can-you-do shrug in response to Debbie's apologetic smile as the blonde hurried after her friend. "So guys, anyway, I just talked to my dad about the whole class president thing. He suggested Anthill."
"Anthill?" echoed one of the boys, Seb, furrowing his brow in thought. "Yeah, I guess he could do it. People seem to like him. What do you think, Ant?"
Ant didn't answer. He seemed to be in some kind of trance, staring fixedly in the direction Georgia had stormed off in.
"Hey!" shouted Jessica, waving a hand in front of Ant's face. "What's the matter with you? You weren't ogling that stupid hippie vegetarian health whore, were you?"
"Huh?" queried Ant.
"That dictator who wants to sensor what we eat for lunch. What's her name? Georgia Something."
"Oh." Ant shook himself out of his trance. "Um… no, of course not. What were you saying, Jess?"
Jessica rolled her eyes despairingly and asked, slowly and deliberately, "Will. You. Run. For. President?"
"Me?" asked Ant, looking extremely surprised. "Um… sure, if you want me to. I mean… it wouldn't all be down to me, right?"
"Of course not," Jessica assured him. "We'll be the brains behind the operation. You'll just be, like, our poster boy. All you have to do is stand there and look pretty."
"And promise us a party," Charlene cut in.
"Right," Jessica nodded officiously. "Smile, wear tight jeans and promise us a party, and then Barbie and her cronies won't stand a chance against you."
x x x
"Just don't get caught," cautioned Janine. "And try not to cause any damage."
"We probably won't even have to go near the school," Egon told her reassuringly, as he loaded a shoulder bag with anti-vampire weaponry. "It's dark – they'll be out."
"And don't get killed."
"I won't." Egon glanced at the clock on the mantel. It was getting on for midnight. "I imagine I won't be out for longer than a couple of hours."
"If you're smarter and quicker than this vampire of yours," Janine retorted. "I wish I could go too and keep an eye on you."
"Well, it's a bit late to get a sitter for the twins," Egon pointed out, zipping up the bag full of wooden stakes and crucifixes. "I'm leaving now. I'll see you later."
They kissed, and then Egon went, leaving Janine in her state of tetchy anxiety. Peter, Winston and Ray were waiting outside in Peter's car. They had decided not to take the Ecto-1 so as not to attract attention, which is always wise if there's any possibility that you might have to break into a school.
As it transpired, this was exactly what they had to do.
"There are vampires down there all right," Egon whispered furtively, his breath spiralling visibly on the light wind. They were standing outside the rear entrance to the basement, having just jumped the perimeter fence. "That's a shame. I was hoping not to have to engage in any breaking and entering."
"At least your kid doesn't go here," muttered Winston, crouching to examine the small hatch leading down to the basement, almost identical to the one in the Psycho movies. "This is already open, guys."
Winston went down first, followed by Egon, and then Ray and finally Peter. They were all wondering why the hatch was open if the vampire or vampires hadn't left. Were they being lured into some kind of trap? It seemed extremely unlikely, as only their families knew that they were there.
They all blinked away the spots that swam in front of their eyes as Ray located and flipped the light switch. Egon immediately dumped his shoulder bag on the ground and began distributing his crosses, crucifixes and pointed shafts of scrap wood between them. There followed a brief but tense silence, until finally Peter broke it by stating the obvious: "I don't see any vampires here, Egon."
"They're here all right," Egon murmured quietly. "I suppose they want to take us by surp- "
He was cut off as a nimble young blonde suddenly jumped out from behind a filing cabinet and succeeded in pinning him to the floor. Winston, Ray and Peter instantly hurried to their friend's defence, or rather they tried, but the former two were both grabbed suddenly by a dark-haired teenage girl while Peter was set upon by an assailant whom he instantly recognised from a picture he had seen some hours before.
"Jennifer!" he exclaimed, feeling slightly encouraged by this success.
Egon's captor was bearing her teeth, descending down upon him with smooth locks of sleek fair hair and a generous cleavage that was seeping from her t-shirt. Janine would have knocked her lights out by now. Egon reacted similarly, bringing his knee up hard between the vampire's legs and catching her in quite a sensitive spot. She shrieked with pain and surprise, which allowed Egon to overpower her and send her falling onto one of his stray wooden crosses. She screamed as the smell of burning flesh filled the room and smoke started to ooze out from underneath her. Once she had come to her senses she made to move away from the cross, but Egon reacted quickly by reaching for the nearest scrap of wood and driving it between her breasts.
"Freya!" Jennifer screamed in dismay, as her comrade began to decay rapidly before their eyes. "You bastard!"
"Sorry about this, Jen," Peter said apologetically, whipping a rosary out of his pocket. "But you're next."
"It's Jennifer," the young redhead pouted, immediately letting Peter go and ducking into the far corner.
The brunette (true to stereotype) apparently had more sense than either of her two companions. She headed straight for the hatch that led outside, followed immediately by Winston and Ray, as Egon and Peter cornered Jennifer.
"Let go of me!" the dark-haired vampire yelled, kicking like a child as Winston and Ray grabbed her ankles.
"Zoë!" a new voice exclaimed, and suddenly Ray and Winston found themselves looking up at the figure of a young man, his hair blowing in the wind and his face in shadow. "Who the hell are these guys?"
"I don't know," Zoë returned petulantly.
"Jennifer, they're armed!" the male vampire called out urgently, as he pulled Zoë free of Winston and Ray's grip and practically threw her onto the ground outside. "Where's Freya?"
"I'm sorry, Will – they got her," said Jennifer, hitting out against Egon's onslaught while Peter headed towards the newcomer.
"Bastards," Will hissed ferally, as he caught sight of Freya's decayed carcass. He lashed out at Winston, Peter and Ray all at once with more force than any of them were prepared for, and actually succeeded in knocking them all to the ground, winding them so that they struggled to get their breath.
"Jennifer!" Will exclaimed urgently, leaping down into the room. "Get out!"
He grabbed Egon, wincing as he snatched the cross from his hand and threw it across the room, his palm hissing and smoking in the half-second that he held the trinket. Still holding onto Egon with one hand, he used the other to hurry Jennifer towards the hatch. She actually walked over the three stunned Ghostbusters in extremely narrow stilettos, evoking a cry of pain from each of them, and hurried to where Zoë was waiting to help her out into the night air. Will threw Egon down on top of his three companions, ran for the exit and had the hatch closed before any of them knew what was happening.
"Son of a bitch!" exclaimed Peter, when he had finally caught his breath. "Egon, get off us!"
"Sorry," muttered Egon, scrambling to his feet once he was over the shock of his sudden fall. "They're sealing us in."
This was quite true. They could see movement through the window in the hatch, though it was gradually disappearing behind… what? The contents of the bins outside the kitchen, apparently, followed by the bins themselves.
"Why?" wondered Ray. "They've nothing to gain by leaving us here. We'll be found in the morning, and they'll have to find somewhere else to stay for tomorrow."
Winston was at the top of the stairs trying the door that led into the main school building, just in case it hadn't been locked. But of course it had.
"We should try to find a way out of here," Winston asserted, making his way back down the stairs. "I really don't want to be found here tomorrow morning."
"Well, the wives know where we are," Peter pointed out. "If Egon isn't home in the next couple of hours, Janine'll be down here with her pickaxe."
"If we're not home in the next couple of hours," Ray said gravely, "they're all going to think we're dead. Come on – we need to try and force that hatch open."
The few steps up to the hatch weren't wide enough to hold all four of them. Winston climbed up first and pushed vainly for a few moments, and then Peter shoved him slightly to one side in order to try and help. They all continued to make such attempts on the hatch for fully ten minutes, until they heard the sound of approaching sirens.
"Shit!" exclaimed Winston, instinctively leaping down to the ground and moving away from the noise. "They must have called the cops and reported seeing a break-in!"
"Ah, great," Ray muttered sarcastically. "No we're for it."
"Charlene's gonna kill me!" Winston lamented.
"If Charlene's gonna kill you, imagine what Jess will do," returned Peter. And then suddenly he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye. "Oh shit! Guys – what the hell are we supposed to do with that dead vampire?"
"Somebody turn off the light," ordered Egon, and Ray obliged. "We need to hide her. Try to find something to cover the body over with while I drag it behind this file cabinet. There's a sentence I never thought I'd say," he added under his breath.
Freya's putrefied corpse was safely concealed under an old tarpaulin by the time the last metal bin was pulled away and a beefy police officer yanked open the hatch.
"NYPD!" he declared dramatically, shining his torch down into the basement. Then, "Oh, it's you," as he saw the four Ghostbusters squinting against the powerful beam of light. "What are you doing down there, guys?"
"Hunting vampires," Egon deadpanned, nodding towards the collection of weapons that lay on the floor.
"Vampires," muttered the police officer, rolling his eyes. "Come on out, you guys. You're gonna have to come with us, I'm afraid."
x x x
Groggy and not even half-awake yet, Jessica surveyed her complexion in the bathroom mirror. She had a couple of fresh zits on her chin. She sighed resignedly at them – she realised by now that the odd zit was just something she'd have to put up with. She always washed her face with the same stuff that Oscar used, which seemed to keep his complexion as clear as a baby's bottom – but for Jessica, for about one week every month, there was just no stopping the little bastards.
Then she happened to look down, and noticed the damp spots on her t-shirt. She woke up then and just stared down at herself, appalled. That was impossible, surely. She hadn't even turned a tap on yet! Desperate to get to the bottom of this, Jessica flung open the door and marched downstairs.
Dana was standing in the hallway by the answer machine, and there was a message playing:
"Hi, all of you – it's me," Peter's voice declared, a little flatly. "I've – um – been arrested. Sorry. I don't know when I'll be home, but anyway, don't worry. Oh, hey – Jess, at school today, don't go near the basement. There might be vampires down there. So anyway, I love you all. Sorry about this. See you later… maybe."
"Thank Christ for that," muttered Dana, as the message clicked to an end. Then she caught sight of Jessica on the stairs and said, somewhat dourly, "Morning, honey."
"Um…" Jessica began awkwardly. "Mom…"
"What's up?" Dana asked anxiously, noticing her daughter's worried expression. "Are you ok?"
"I'm…"
She stopped short as she heard a door opening upstairs. Jessica swivelled round at the waist and watched as Oscar wandered from his bedroom to the bathroom. She then made her way to the bottom of the stairs and gestured for Dana to follow her into the kitchen.
"I'm… leaking," Jessica mumbled awkwardly.
"Leaking what?" asked Dana, clearly confused.
"I don't know," shrugged Jessica. "Fluid."
"From…?"
"From my breasts."
"Oh." Dana's expression cleared into one of understanding. "I wouldn't worry about that, baby. As long as it's only a little bit…?"
"Yeah, it is… I think."
"You must be due a period soon. Your body's just getting ready to have a baby."
"How the hell many babies does my body think I want?" Jessica demanded loudly. "And why do I get zits? I don't need them to have a baby!"
"Nor mood swings," muttered Dana. "It's just the price we all pay for being a woman, sweetheart."
"Does everybody get leaky boobs?"
"No, but we all get something that's damned inconvenient. Do they feel sore?"
"No."
"Well, that's something to be grateful for. So did you hear what your father said about vampires in the basement?"
"Yeah," muttered Jessica, shivering at the thought of how close she had been to that Will the day before. "Don't worry – I won't go near it."
"Maybe you should stay home," Dana suggested casually.
"Stay home?" echoed Jessica, extremely surprised. Her mother never encouraged such delinquent behaviour as playing hooky. "It's only my second day there, Mom. And besides, I have to go. We've got class president stuff going on. Ant won't win the election without my help."
"Behind every great man is a great woman," Dana said sagely. "I'm so glad you're taking such a big interesting in the politics at school, Jess. I'm proud of you."
"Thanks," beamed Jessica. "So, like, if Dad's in jail I guess Oscar and I are walking to school."
x x x
When Jessica arrived at the school gates, she was infuriated to see that Ant was talking to Georgia Rose. Not only that: Georgia seemed to have him pinned against the perimeter fence, and Ant even looked like he was quite enjoying the situation.
"What's Bitch Face talking to Anthill about?" Jessica demanded hotly.
Oscar, who had been about to cross the road to the high school, stopped in his tracks and asked interestedly, "Who's Bitch Face?"
"Her," Jessica intoned darkly, nodding towards Georgia. "The one with freckles who's trying to suffocate Ant with her boobs."
"Who is she?"
"Some eighth grader. She wants to be class president, and then she wants to take over the school and force us all to eat nothing but lentils."
"Lentils?" queried Oscar. "Why?"
"Because she's a stupid hippie vegetarian."
"There's nothing wrong with vegetarians, Jess."
"Of course there isn't," Jessica snapped irritably. "Until they start shoving it down your throat."
"Fair enough," Oscar conceded. "I gotta go. I'll see you later."
"Later," returned Jessica, catching sight of Georgia's friend Debbie. She marched over to her and demanded, "What's your autocrat pal talking to my friend about?"
"What?" asked Debbie, visibly surprised. "Oh, hi, it's you. Um… I don't know. Her cafeteria thing, probably."
"You don't agree with what she's doing, do you, Debbie?" asked Jessica.
"I don't know," shrugged Debbie. "I didn't really want to be roped into it, but I'm helping her because you just have to help your friends out, don't you? I'm sorry. I shouldn't think it'll come to anything."
"How likely is she to get voted in?"
"Well, people like her because she's pretty – your little friend over there included, apparently. And, amidst all the stuff about healthy eating, she does tell people what they want to hear, so I think she has a pretty good chance. But I wouldn't worry about it, though. One class president can't change the entire cafeteria menu all by herself."
"I guess you're right," Jessica conceded, as Georgia started to walk over to them.
"Debbie!" shouted Georgia, as though she were calling to a disobedient dog. "What are you talking to her about?"
"What I'm talking to everyone about: class president elections," Debbie returned dryly.
"What were you saying to Ant?" demanded Jessica.
"I was just trying to change his mind about supporting my cafeteria campaign."
"Your cafeteria campaign sucks. No one wants it, and you won't get any support from us!"
"No?" Georgia returned coolly. "We'll just see about that. C'mon, Debbie. Good luck with your lost cause over there, Hollywood."
Georgia marched across the playground towards Amber Lightfoot and her gang, Debbie shuffling meekly along behind. Presumably, then, Georgia had got wind that Amber was Ant's rival for the position of class president. Jessica stared after them, surprised by the feeling of betrayal rising within her. She then looked sharply over at Ant and, scowling, marched towards him.
"Oh – hi, Jess," Ant smiled blithely. "What's up?"
"Why have you been talking to Georgia about me?" demanded Jessica.
Ant looked surprised. "What do you mean?"
"She called me Hollywood. She knows I'm from LA."
"So? It's not like a secret or anything."
"No," agreed Jessica, "but you didn't have to tell her. So why did you?"
"I don't know," shrugged Ant. "It just came up. She was asking questions about you."
"About me?" exclaimed Jessica. "In heaven's name, why?"
"I don't know."
"Anthony, you sap. You should learn to question things occasionally. I saw the way you were looking at her. You're not thinking of backing her up on this vegetarian health food crap, are you?"
"Um… no," Ant mumbled awkwardly.
"Good," Jessica said flatly. "Because when you give your election speech this afternoon, and you promise us a school dance, I want you to mean it."
x x x
"Oh, hi, you're here," Peter smiled blithely, as he wandered into his living room at around eleven o'clock.
"I called in sick," Dana returned irritably. She had been reading a newspaper, which she folded neatly before placing it on the coffee table. "I can't play the cello while I'm mad at you."
"Why are you mad at me?" Peter asked innocently.
"When I woke up this morning and you weren't here, I thought you were dead."
"That's why I called and left a message. You did get it, didn't you?"
"Yeah, I got it," Dana agreed. "Come here."
Peter wandered obediently over the sofa and sat down beside his wife. She kissed him a few times, put her arms around him and then asked, in the tone of a parent used to a difficult child and finally sick of yelling, "What happened?"
"Well," Peter began, "there were vampires in the school basement, so we had to go in. They were three pretty girls – the guy seems to think he's Dracula. Anyway, Egon killed one of them, and we pretty much had the other two cornered. But then the guy vampire showed up. I think he's been doing this kind of thing for a while. He rescued his other two girlfriends from us, knocked us all down and managed to escape. Then he barricaded us in and called the cops."
"Right," Dana sighed resignedly. "Bad luck, honey. So what are you going to do next?"
"Go back and try again, I guess," shrugged Peter.
"Oh, Peter…"
"We have to. Our daughter is currently in the same building as a vampire with a roving eye, remember."
"So she is," Dana realised. "Well… just promise me you'll be more careful this time."
"Of course I will," Peter said automatically.
"I don't understand why none of them killed you."
"Well, we were heavily armed, and there were four of us. I really think that guy could have taken us, but he seemed to want to protect his girlfriends. They weren't doing too well against us. One of them was Jennifer Silver – the girl we were looking for."
"Oh no!" exclaimed Dana.
"Well," shrugged Peter, "at least we found her. There wasn't much chance of her being alive, from what we found out. We all ganged up on Ray – he's going to call the sister and tell her."
"I feel sorry for Ray. You always give him the horrible jobs."
"He's better at that kind of thing than the rest of us. We ask him to do it because he's sensitive."
"Because he can't say no, more like. Do you think Jess will be ok?"
"Jess will be fine," Peter said assuredly. "She can look after herself."
x x x
Jessica didn't feel a hundred percent by the time the lunch hour rolled around, and she decided to grab a few minutes alone in a toilet cubicle. She thought she must feel bad because she was nervous about Ant's election speech. Amber might act like a ditz, but she wasn't as stupid as all that, and she could certainly be persuasive.
When Jessica emerged from the toilet cubicle, she found Charlene washing her hands at one of the sinks.
"Hey," Jessica greeted, as she gave her own hands a quick soak under the tap.
"Hey," Charlene responded. "So, are you getting dirty looks from the teachers as well?"
"Yeah. Does it have to do with the dads being arrested?"
"Didn't Peter tell you why?"
"No," replied Jessica, as she led the way out into the corridor. "I assumed they got caught lurking around here, but Dad didn't actually say that."
"Well, you assumed right," Charlene told her. "Peter must have told you about the vampires as well."
"Vampires?" echoed Jessica. "As in more than one?"
"Yeah. A couple of girl vampires and your boyfriend."
"He's not my boyfriend."
"Who's not your boyfriend?" a new voice cut in, and they turned to see Amber Lightfoot approaching them from a little way down the corridor.
"No one you know," Jessica told her.
"You weren't talking about Anthony, then."
"No."
"Because if he was your boyfriend," Amber went on, "I'd suggest that you think about dumping him. See, the thing is, I'm a little concerned about what will happen if he beats me in the election."
"That's very defeatist of you," remarked Charlene.
"Hey, it could happen," shrugged Amber. "And the reason I'm concerned, Jessica, is because of this Georgia person. You know about her cafeteria thing, don't you?"
"Sure," agreed Jessica. "I wouldn't worry about that, though. She can't change the cafeteria menu without the support of the student council at the very least."
"Well I have no intention of supporting her," Amber declared primly. "But I'm worried about your Anthony friend. He seems quite smitten, and when Georgia cornered me this morning she said that she hopes Ant wins the election, because she's got him wrapped around her little finger. Or something."
"She said that?" asked Jessica, alarmed.
"Maybe she's got it wrong," Charlene suggested calmly. "Or maybe she's lying. Let's not worry about it too much before we even have a class president."
"Right," agreed Amber, smiling coolly. "Anthony hasn't even been elected yet. You two should vote for me, you know. I know you don't necessarily agree with my jocks-and-cheerleaders-first approach to politics, but I would never ever try to change the cafeteria menu."
"Sorry, Princess – I can't do that," said Jessica. "Ant's a friend of mine. And anyway, he's only running because of me. I have to back him."
"Votes are confidential, Venkman. He'd never know."
"Sorry," Jessica said evenly. "No."
"Well, I won't push," Amber smiled serenely. "What about you, Charlene? You're into sports, aren't you?"
"I'll wait for the election speeches before I make up my mind," replied Charlene.
"What?" snapped Jessica. "You mean you haven't decided yet? You're not definitely going to vote for Ant?"
"Just because he's your friend?" asked Charlene. "That's no reason to vote for someone. I only met him yesterday, and he does seem taken with this Georgia."
"I may be a cast-iron right-wing bitch," Amber said solemnly, "but at least I don't pretend to be anything I'm not. Anyway, I'd better go. I have other voters to entice."
With that, Amber bounced away down the corridor, her long blond hair swinging freely in its neat ponytail. Jessica, with her leakage problem and greasy skin, felt particularly unattractive as she watched Amber walk away.
"You're all getting me very worried about Ant," she lamented. "I mean, he is a guy. I assume his dick does at least some of the thinking."
"Yeah, and you do the rest of it," Charlene pointed out. "Have you talked to him about it?"
"Kind of. I don't think I got through to him, though."
"Try again. Listen – I said I'd meet some people for lunch. You wanna come with?"
"No," Jessica replied gravely. "I want to find Ant. I'll see you later."
"Whoa, hey, wait – you're not going that way!" exclaimed Charlene, as Jessica made to move off down the corridor.
"Why not?" asked Jessica, confused.
"Because at the end of that corridor is the Vampire Basement," Charlene pointed out.
"Oh yeah," Jessica realised. "The guys are all playing soccer, Charlene. That's the fastest way out to the playing fields. Obviously I won't go down to the basement."
"Well, just you be careful," cautioned Charlene, as she started to move off in the opposite direction.
"Panic merchant," muttered Jessica, as she made her way down the dimly lit corridor – dimly lit because, for some reason, no one had bothered to raise the blinds.
To get to the playing fields outside, Jessica would have to walk right past the basement door. She was slightly distressed to see that it was open, and even more distressed when, having walked past it, she heard a smooth, charismatic voice close to her ear.
"Hi there, Jess."
"Jesus!" exclaimed Jessica, turning round to see Will standing directly behind her. "Don't sneak up on me like that! And keep the hell away from me," she added, retreating back into the corridor.
"Why?" queried Will, taking a few cautious steps towards her.
Panicking slightly, Jessica thought fast. She could just retreat into a better lit corridor, of course, but she found that she didn't want to leave this young man without being absolutely sure that he was what she thought he was. So Jessica took a step towards the nearest window and tugged on the cord trailing from the blind.
The slats opened only slightly, the narrow slits allowing in just a small trickle of light, but it was enough to produce a few wisps of smoke from Will's hands and face and send him retreating back into the basement.
"That's why," said Jessica, turning to leave.
"Hey, wait, don't go," Will's voice called, and Jessica felt compelled to stop. "How did you know?"
"You killed someone," replied Jessica, going to stand by the blind and pulling the slats apart a little further. "There are people looking for her… and you."
"The people that were here last night?" Will asked carefully.
"Yes," Jessica answered quietly.
"You know them?"
"I might do."
"It's not me they're after, Jess," Will sighed sadly. "I swear to you. I never killed anyone. I'm not the only vampire in this school, but we leave each other alone. It's one of the others they're after."
"What do you mean you never killed anyone?" demanded Jessica. "You're a frickin' vampire, you moron!"
"I know I'm a vampire," sighed Will. "God, but I wish I wasn't, though. You don't know what it's like, Jess… hating yourself… going mad with starvation until you're forced to drink the blood of rats…"
"Rats?" Jessica echoed dryly. "You've been watching Interview with the Vampire or something, haven't you? I'm not falling for it, William."
"It's the truth," Will said pleadingly. "Please don't go. It gets so lonely. I just need someone to talk to."
"Tough. I don't believe you. You want to kill me."
"I do not!"
"Sure you do."
"I don't – I swear to you. How could I hurt anything so beautiful?"
Jessica was not normally susceptible to sweet-talkers, but in that moment she just felt so un-pretty that it was nice to be called beautiful, even if she didn't believe it.
"How can you know if I'm beautiful or not?" she asked slowly. "You haven't seen me properly."
"I see you now. I'm the one in darkness, not you. Stay. I can't go near you, Jess."
"Until the sun goes behind a cloud."
"I wouldn't hurt you. Please just stay and talk to me."
Jessica actually entertained the thought for a few moments, but then she realised that it had been insufferably stupid of her even to stay this long.
"Sorry," she said, moving away from the window and back into the lighted corridor. "My father told me never to trust a vampire."
x x x
It was about an hour after dusk when Will dragged a dishevelled teenage boy, kicking and screaming, down to the basement.
"Is that for us?" Zoë asked eagerly, licking her chops at the delectable looking young man as he was dumped on the floor.
"Oh God – what's happening?" whimpered the terrified lad. He was about the age that Will looked, perhaps seventeen or eighteen, and displayed some of the vampire's basic physical traits, most notably the smooth dark hair and narrow features.
"I need one of you to change him," Will said gravely.
"I'll do it," offered Jennifer, smiling at the lad as he shook with fright on the cold stone floor, now speechless with terror. "I've never changed anyone before."
"No, baby – you're very new to it," Will smiled fondly at her. "Maybe you should let Zoë help you, hon. Timing is everything – he has to be on the point of death when he drinks from you, remember."
This moved the captive to let out a small squeal of alarm.
"Why don't you do it yourself, Will?" asked Jennifer.
"Oh, baby, no," Will grimaced. "Think about it. You wouldn't want to bite a woman, would you?"
"Why is it so important for us to change him?" asked Zoë.
"I hope it'll get some people off my back, sweetheart," Will told her. "Oh, and if anyone asks, he sired you." He looked back towards Jennifer and added firmly, "Both of you."
x x x
"From Dusk till Dawn," Peter twittered on, in the back of the Ecto-1, as Ray drove beneath glaring streetlights. "You could cut anything off, but the vampires still didn't die until you put a bit of wood through their hearts. And in Interview with the Vampire, Tom Cruise got totally incinerated and didn't die. But in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, anything goes. That's the trouble with kids today: they think Buffy is gospel. But you can watch any number of vampire movies and come away with totally conflicting advice on how to kill one of the damn things."
"This isn't a movie, Peter," Egon returned dryly. "And besides, vampire-based media productions virtually all agree on two methods: a stake through the heart and exposure to sunlight. We're going to be using stakes tonight. All right?"
"Sorry," Peter smiled sheepishly. "It's just that we really, really need to succeed this time. I worry about Jess. Like she's not worrying enough already without going to school with a bunch of vampires."
"Why is Jess worrying you?" asked Ray. "You don't normally worry about her."
"She seemed weird when she came home from school yesterday," explained Peter. "Sort of… distracted. And don't say 'hormones'."
"Why would I say 'hormones'?" Ray asked innocently.
"Because that's what everyone says," replied Peter. "Tonight I said to Dana, 'Does Jess seem strange to you?' And she said, 'Hormones, Peter.' So I asked Oscar, 'Do you think Jess is acting weird?' And he said, 'It's probably hormones.'"
"She's a twelve-year-old girl, Peter," Egon pointed out. "It probably is hormones."
"That and the whole class president thing," added Winston. "Charlene was telling me yesterday that there's some concern surrounding this Ant's loyalties."
"Yeah, Jess told me about that," said Peter. "Ant's a nice boy, but he's quite easily led. I thought if he was class president, he'd pretty much do what his friends wanted. I didn't bank on this Georgia person."
"Here we are," announced Ray, as he pulled up outside the school. "I sure hope we don't get arrested this time."
"Do you?" Peter asked sarcastically. "I don't."
"Come on," Egon ordered impatiently, climbing out of the car. "Be on your guard, everybody. And if you see either of the females, just stake them. Don't get caught up in light-hearted banter with them like you did last night, Peter."
x x x
Will crouched on the roof and leaned cautiously forward, watching.
He felt almost ashamed of himself. What he was doing was sneaky, underhand, the first trick like this he had played in all his two hundred and seven years of vampirism. But his only other choice was to leave that place. How ironic, he reflected bitterly, that he had been discovered just when he had found something to keep him there.
The hatch leading down to the basement was closed. Will had gone out through the door to the main school building, and used his pilfered set of keys to get up to the roof. He had locked every door behind him because he didn't want those men to think that he had left. He watched as they forced open the hatch – a straightforward task, as the wood was so rotten – and cautiously entered the building.
He could smell their fear, like the scent of blood on the wind, only more bitter than sweet. They feared him. He was afraid too, he realised: he was concerned about what would become of Zoë and Jennifer. Even Zoë, whom he had turned two years ago, was relatively slow and inexperienced. He seriously doubted that, without his help, they would get away this time. He couldn't help them, because those interfering men had to believe that he and his children were no longer a threat to them, or to anyone. Two hundred and seven years. He had lost children before. He would just have to deal with the pain again, and then move on to the next one. The special one, at last.
There wasn't a great deal of noise coming from below. They probably weren't being totally silent, Will reflected, but it was a long way for the sound to reach him. He was suddenly jolted out of his thoughts when he saw a female figure emerging from the basement. It was Zoë. He pursed his lips and willed her silently: Run.
Zoë did run, but the black man was hot on her heels. He caught up to her and grabbed her hair, pulling it hard so that she screamed. He backed her against the wall and produced a sharp object from his pocket. Will guessed easily what it was and looked away, Zoë's dying yell tugging painfully on his still, dead heart.
"I got her," the black man announced, as his three companions emerged from the basement.
"Ray got Jennifer," the dark-haired man replied. "Now where's the guy?"
Will stepped back, out of their line of vision, or rather what wouldbe their line of vision should they happen to look up. He was distressed by the news of Jennifer's demise, but decided not to dwell on it. He hadn't really loved either of them… nor Freya. He had to move on. But first he had to make those men believe that he was dead.
He walked briskly to the door that would take him back down into the school and went through it, locking it behind him. He descended the stairs, and prowled around the school in search of Jake… James… whatever his name was. Like it mattered. He was just some homeless kid, probably a runaway. No one would miss him.
"You can't get away from me," Will intoned darkly, when he finally found Jake or James skulking in the girls' toilets. "Come on."
The newborn vampire struggled vainly against Will's firm grip, kicking and yelling as he was dragged along the corridor.
"Stop that pathetic whining," hissed Will, as he grabbed the young man's collar and waistband and held him up to the nearest window. "You're a disgrace to the name of Vampire, and you were a lousy bum when you were alive. You deserve what's coming to you."
x x x
Egon looked up sharply. He had thought he heard the sound of a door slamming somewhere overhead.
"The PK trails are all over the shop," Ray complained. "Which one do we follow?"
"He probably went out," Peter suggested. "You know – to get a new blonde for his collection."
"No," Egon disagreed. He was studying his PKE meter, but primarily he was thinking of the sound he had just heard. "I think he's on the premises."
Winston, Ray and Peter all looked at him expectantly, waiting for a suggestion as to what to do next. Egon looked pensive – more so than usual – as he knew that they were up against a formidable foe. They had to stick together, locate the vampire and then… well… try to kill it, obviously. It was on its own this time. It would be four against one. They could take it down, surely.
Egon's thoughts were interrupted by a resounding crash: the unmistakable sound of breaking glass. They all looked up sharply and then Egon, Winston, Ray and Peter followed the sound to the side of the building. Their vampire was there: long dark hair, black jeans, narrow features. He was lying on the tarmac at the foot of the broken window, bleeding from multiple gashes, struggling to pick himself up.
"How…?" Egon began.
"Never mind how," asserted Peter, whipping out his sharpened length of wood and marching towards the vampire.
"Peter, be careful!" Ray advised. "Remember that he's very - "
Before Ray had finished speaking, Peter had plunged his stake into the vampire's back, finding its heart. The vampire slumped lifeless on the ground, its features dissolving… surprisingly little.
" – tough," Ray finished weakly. "Wow. Well done, Peter."
"That body has been dead no time at all," Egon remarked disapprovingly. "Look at him. You'd think he died tonight."
"He did," Peter pointed out.
"I mean originally," Egon returned irritably.
"So he hasn't been dead that long," Winston shrugged dismissively. "So what?"
"Well, look at her," said Egon, nodding towards Zoë's decayed corpse. "That carcass must be about two years old. And remember the blonde last night. She looked to have been dead for at least a decade. How could he have sired them?"
"I guess we must have got it back to front," Ray guessed. "The only one we know for sure that he sired is Jennifer, and she only died a couple of nights ago."
"I suppose so," Egon agreed. "That is the vampire we saw last night, isn't it?"
"We didn't get that good a look at him," Winston pointed out. "I'd say this was him, though. But I think you're right to be confused, Egon."
"I'm not confused," argued Egon. "Just concerned."
"Whatever," Winston returned irritably. "My point is that this just seemed a little too easy. Last night the same guy – presumably – took us all out single-handed, but now Pete's killed him just like that. And why did he jump through that window anyway?"
"I'm going to take another look around," Egon decided. "You three had better dispose of those bodies while I do."
"Egon, you are such a panic merchant," remarked Peter, stooping to pick up the vampire he had just killed. "We got 'em – it's over."
"There's no harm in checking," muttered Egon, beginning to scour the school grounds as, some yards away, a dark figure stole unseen into the night, looking for rats.
x x x
"You shouldn't have to avoid the basement anymore, Jess. We got 'em."
Jessica, still half-asleep and not yet dressed, looked up from her half-eaten bowl of cereal as her father walked in. "You got them?" she asked.
"Yes. All three of them, gone."
"And there were no more?" Jessica asked carefully.
"More?" Peter looked puzzled. "I don't think so. Why do you ask that?"
"Well, you can't be too careful," Jessica smiled weakly. "What…?"
Peter stood over her, not moving, and looked at her expectantly.
"What did he look like?"
"Who?" asked Peter. "The vampire?"
Jessica nodded mutely.
"Well…" Peter tried to remember. "Dark hair, brown eyes, black jeans… what's wrong?" he asked anxiously, suddenly catching sight of Jessica's forlorn expression.
"He lied to me," she murmured, not loud enough for her father to hear.
"What?"
"Nothing." She snapped out of it. "Sorry. I guess I'm just nervous about the election."
"Are you sure?" asked Peter. "You seem…"
"What?" asked Jessica.
"Upset."
"I'm not upset."
"Ok then." He didn't sound quite convinced, but decided to let it go, at least for now. He stooped to kiss her, saying, "I have to go to work now, sport. Don't walk to school without your brother, ok?"
"Ok." Normally she would have hugged him, but it was that time of the month when she just didn't feel like being touched, so she tapped him lightly on the arm and then wriggled away from him.
"Are you sure you're ok?" asked Peter, as he prepared to leave.
"I'm fine," Jessica insisted. "I'm just in one of my moods, ok? Ignore me."
"Well, if you're sure…"
"Dad, just get outta here. And wish me luck for the election."
"Good luck."
x x x
Ant won by five votes. He looked completely overwhelmed when the result was announced, but this didn't show once he was buried under his friends' congratulatory scrum.
Amber, to her credit, accepted defeat gracefully. She had certainly made the effort to try and win her seat, coming to school in cut-off jeans and a hot-pink tight t-shirt, but evidently this was not enough to secure the position of class president. So, as the seventh grade class filed noisily out of the door at three o'clock, Amber approached Ant with a no-hard-feelings smile.
"Congratulations," she said sweetly. "I still say we need more hockey sticks, but I guess there are worse ways to spend the class budget than a party."
"Er… thanks," Ant mumbled awkwardly.
"Ant!" Jessica's voice cut in sharply, as she appeared at his side. "Don't listen to her. We don't need any more hockey sticks."
"I was just saying well done," Amber told her. "It was a good victory, Venkman – congratulations."
"Why are you congratulating me?" Jessica asked guardedly. "Ant won the election, not me."
"Oh, ok," Amber returned sarcastically. "Just give us a good party, Venkman, ok? And make sure you listen to her, Ant. She may be annoying, but she's not stupid."
"Well, she's not fooled," muttered Ant, as he and Jessica moved away down the corridor. "I don't know why I agreed to this, Jess. I don't think I can do it!"
"Of course you can," Jessica told him firmly. "My brother can help us organise the party, and if there's anything else you get stuck on I can… Ant?"
She had just realised that Ant was no longer beside her. Turning round, she saw him gazing dreamily through the glass in the door to an eighth grade classroom. Jessica thought she knew what he was looking at, but she hoped she was wrong. She backtracked down the corridor and peered cautiously through the glass. Sure enough, there was Georgia Rose, standing on a chair (how ostentatious) as she addressed her peers in grand, officious tones.
"My fellow eighth graders," she declared dramatically. "I promise you that you will not regret electing me as your class president. I will be campaigning for your rights, against the people in this school who would sacrifice our welfare… our happiness at the whim of a hat…"
"I guess the teacher must have left," muttered Jessica, dragging Ant away from the door. "Anthill, were you listening to her? She's even stupider than she looks. She's got more cotton wool in her head than the entire Bitch Patrol put together. She's a complete moron!"
"Yeah, but she's pretty," Ant muttered sulkily.
"Pretty?" Jessica asked dubiously. "You think half-human half-Dalmatian in there is pretty?"
Ant's eyes dropped slightly, and when he opened his mouth Jessica was sure that he was going to make some disparaging remark about the recent zit outbreak on her chin. However he seemed to change his mind, very wisely, and said instead, "There's nothing wrong with a few freckles."
"You're right, I'm sorry – that was very shallow of me," Jessica apologised. "But so what if she's pretty? Amber's prettier – listen to her."
"What makes you think I'm gonna listen to Georgia?"
"Well, are you?"
"I don't know," Ant mumbled quietly.
"Don't," Jessica ordered sternly. "She's a dictator and a manipulative user and she's not even clever about it."
"Jess…"
"What?"
"I have to go to the bathroom."
Rolling her eyes, Jessica returned impatiently, "Go on then."
Ant shuffled off down the corridor, looking very hounded. As it happened, Jessica needed to use the bathroom as well. She went to the toilets that she and Charlene had discovered a couple of days ago, did her business and then went to a mirror to assess the zit situation.
"You look beautiful, baby."
Jessica, to her intense shame, shrieked like a girl and jumped a foot in the air. When she turned round, Will was standing there. In the moment it took her to catch her breath, she thought of the mirror behind her. Why didn't he show up in the…? Oh yeah. Thank goodness she hadn't said that out loud. Vampires couldn't read minds or anything, could they? She'd hate to appear to be anywhere near Georgia's end of the intelligence spectrum.
"I've been waiting for you all day," Will smiled suavely.
"You're dead," Jessica returned shakily.
"I know, baby."
"No, just dead – not undead. Last night… they got you."
"I'm still here, babe."
Jessica's heart rate wasn't slowing. She could feel the blood pumping to her face. Her cheeks burned with shock and fear… and something akin to excitement. She noticed, to her horror, that he had blood on his lips. Will saw that she was staring, and hastily wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. His left hand. She glanced down to his right, and saw that he was clutching something. Oh… eww, she thought. It was a dead rat. It had two puncture wounds in its side.
"What are you trying to prove?" demanded Jessica.
"I gotta eat, Jess," Will replied innocently. "I told you, didn't I? I'm not the one they were after. They got him. There's no reason for you not to trust me now."
"Uh… excuse me – yes there is," retorted Jessica. "You're a vampire."
"Rats eat shit, Jess. Their blood is disgusting. Do you think I'd feed from them if I didn't have to?"
"Why do you have to?"
"I have a conscience, I guess," Will shrugged dismissively. "It happens sometimes."
"No it doesn't," argued Jessica.
"What makes you the expert? Jess, you are an extraordinarily beautiful woman. If I didn't think it was wrong, I would have bitten you the moment I saw you."
Jessica turned her head slightly and glanced in the mirror. Did vampires have zit blindness or something? She was aware of her racing heart, and the blood pumping through her veins, sweet with adrenalin. She even expected to start menstruating soon. He was looking at her, hungrily. She was sure he wanted to feed from her. So… why the hell didn't he?
"How old do you think I am?" Jessica asked carefully.
"Well…" began Will.
He was looking at her breasts now. Astonishingly, this didn't make Jessica feel like punching him. In fact she rather liked it, and blushed even more furiously.
"Since you're still in junior high, I guess you must be about fourteen."
Surprised by Will's answer, Jessica opened her mouth to correct him. However all that came out was a strangled, "Oh."
Her heart skipped a beat as Will smiled softly and asked, "How old do you think I am?"
"You look about seventeen or eighteen, I guess," replied Jessica. "You're not, though."
"That's quite right," agreed Will. "I'm not. I'm two hundred and twenty-five."
"You… um… look very good for it."
Suddenly Will's cold, dead face seemed to light up as a smile split his features. Jessica, entirely unconsciously, smiled back. She caught another look at herself in the mirror, apparently smiling at thin air. Her flaming cheeks contrasted violently against Will's pale complexion, highlighted in the shadows.
"That's quite an age difference," she added slowly. "Maybe you should stop flirting with me."
"You don't like it?"
"I didn't say that."
"You trust me now, then?" Will asked carefully.
Jessica shook her head and said quietly, "Not really."
"You're still here."
"Well, actually, that's because I'm paralysed with terror."
"Are you, hon?" He sounded amused. "You can leave if you want to, babe. I won't stop you."
Slowly, cautiously, Jessica edged towards the door. Will continued to watch her with longing in his dark eyes, but he didn't move.
When Jessica had a hand safely on the door handle, she shook her head slowly and said, in tones of utter perplexity, "What are you doing?"
"I like you, that's all," Will answered gently. "Can I see you again?"
"What?" She was thoroughly confused now. "You're a frickin' vampire, Will."
"Ah, hey, c'mon – don't be such a bigot."
Jessica pulled open the door. Will stepped back as a little sunlight trickled into the room.
"Well," he smiled disarmingly. "Maybe I'll see you around, then."
"Yeah," Jessica mumbled awkwardly, as she retreated out into the corridor. "Maybe."
To be continued…