Jonno pounded on the door to his father's bedroom. "You decent?" he called out impatiently.
Eric Van Helsing opened the door; he was wearing a long, black, curly-haired wig, and was garbed head-to-toe in blue lace. Jonno rolled his eyes.
"This arrived in the mail today," Eric said gleefully. "It's the perfect disguise." Jonno looked him up and down. "Well? What do you think?"
"You shaved your beard," Jonno said, impressed.
"Yes. And?"
"It's just, you don't normally bother."
Eric Van Helsing shrugged. "Do you need me for something?" He leaned closer. "Is it about the Draculas?"
"Actually—yes," Jonno said. "The Branaughs are up to something. Robin pulled Chloe out of class today, acting all secretive." He wiggled his fingers. "And Vlad hasn't shown up to any of his classes."
Eric strode over to the calendar, flipping through the pages. "Yes…. Vlad's birthday should be any day now, if it hasn't come already," he said, stroking his hairless chin. "Mina switched out the calendar again. We'll just have to keep our eye on them." He eyed his son. "Let me know if you see anything suspicious."
"I've got everything under control," Jonno said, a bit smugly. "After Chloe left, I got the two of us partnered together for our term project. She's usually the brains of the operation. I'll try to figure out what they're planning."
"I'm proud of you, Jonno. You've grown so much these past few years." Eric sniffed, looked teary-eyed. "You're going to make a fine slayer one day."
Jonno smiled sheepishly.
Eric stooped under the low doorframe into the kitchen and grabbed a pot. He filled it with water, set it to boil, and shot a guilty look at his son. "I should have told you this earlier; but—your mother found my secret weapon stash a few weeks ago," he said.
Jonno threw his hands in the air. You should have moved it to HQ," he muttered, exasperated, "like I told you to do the first seven times." Eric nodded mournfully.
"You were right. She made me sell them."
Jonno winced. "She didn't…."
"She did—but I think it's going to work out in our favor." He rubbed his hands together. "I managed to sell nearly all of it on Dis-the-Count dot com. But that's not even the best part." He winked. "Guess how much your father made in profits."
Jonno pretended to think. "30 quid."
"Try 300." Eric slapped his thigh, chuckling triumphantly at Jonno's stunned look. "Don't look so surprised." He lowered his voice. "Your father has talents you've never even dreamed of."
"Thanks for that mental picture," Jonno shuddered. Still, he was curious despite himself. "How'd you manage to sell that junk for so much?"
"Well, those cedar-wood stakes were very nice."
"Right…."
Eric was suddenly fascinated with his fingernails. "And… I may have also included some of my great-grandmother's old jewelry and said it was pure argentallium."
"So you lied," Jonno said. The disgust must have shown on his face, because his father was quick to defend himself.
"Anyone who buys rubbish off that site is bound to be some naïve collector looking for interesting oddities for their antique shop. All they really want is old junk with mysterious origins and a good backstory." He gripped Jonno's shoulder. "Besides… your birthday's coming up. I seem to remember a certain son of mine asking for a fancy new long board." Jonno didn't seem convinced. "Hmm? What do you say?"
Jonno sighed. His father was probably right. Though he did feel bad for whatever bastard had fallen for it, and dearly hoped it wasn't a fellow slayer looking for some extra protection while on the job.
Besides: he really did want that long board.
