A Fire in the Shadows, page 1
A Fire in the Shadows
A Bolingbrook Babbler Story
William Brinkman
Anti-Psychic Kitty Press
Praise for the Bolingbrook Babbler Stories
Pathways to Bolingbrook:
“Two smart women trying to survive in difficult times. Pathways to Bolingbrook captures your imagination and leaves you wanting to know what happens next. Can’t wait for the publication of the novel. Well worth reading.” — Amazon reviewer.
“This is a very short introduction to what is sure to be an entertaining series, if just for ONE THING: Iowa is not boring.” — Amazon reviewer.
“Keep reading. Keep writing, Mr. Brinkman, and all the best with your Anti-psychic Kitty Press. Breathlessly waiting for your next publication. Six stars!” — Amazon reviewer.
The Rift:
“A richly written novel filled with memorable characters. Highly recommended!” — The Wishing Shelf.
“A quick, easy and interesting read that had good writing, a good storyline and well developed characters.” — Goodreads reviewer.
“Every new development in the story surprised me and -- there are weredeer!I don’t usually read fantasy or sci-fi, but this book made me want to take another look at the genre. I highly recommend it!” — Amazon reviewer.
“The Rift is a wild adventure, sprinkled with humor, duplicitous characters, and extraterrestrials. You never know who is working for the good of mankind or creating a rift in the world.” — Amazon reviewer.
For the latest news about William Brinkman and the Bolingbrook Babbler Stories, subscribe at https://bolingbrookbabbler.com/sign-up-for-the-bolingbrook-babbler-newsletter/
Copyright © 2023 by William Brinkman
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact wbrinkman@bolingbrookbabbler.com.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
Book Cover by GetCovers
First edition 2023
www.bolingbrookbabbler.com
For my wife, for being a bright light in the shadows.
Contents
1. A Fire in the Shadows
A Fire in the Shadows
As Steve’s blood warmed her body, Lydia recalled a memory from when she was a human named Miriam. Miriam was merely a high school student in Des Moines. Her new friend, Shelia, had invited her over as Miriam struggled in English, and Sheila offered to help. Miriam also hoped Sheila would teach her to twirl a baton, as Sheila was the baton twirler for the marching band. One of the best in the state. Miriam dreamed of becoming a baton twirler, but her father refused to pay for lessons — one of the countless requests he had denied.
Lydia could almost smell the potpourri in Sheila’s room as she closed her eyes, remembering the vivid colors: the clean yellow walls, her pink leather appointment calendar, and posters of seemingly endless fields of flowers. Lydia’s world faded as she lost herself in that joyous memory. She knew what awaited Miriam, but Lydia wanted to linger in the past for a while.
A hand patted Lydia’s back. Startled, she sunk her fangs deeper into Steve’s flesh. Steve tapped faster, his moaning a mixture of ecstasy and pain. Lydia retracted her fangs and licked the salty blood off his skin as Steve gently stroked her back. Lydia moved away. She felt relieved that the wound was healing, but also ashamed for accidentally hurting him.
She focused on the present as she sat in a booth at Barber’s Corner Bar and Grill in Bolingbrook, Illinois. The customers reflected Bolingbrook’s diverse population. People from different ethnic groups freely mingled with each other. A sharp contrast to Chicago’s ethnic neighborhoods. Executives wearing suits sat at the bar with warehouse workers wearing t-shirts and work shorts.
Her companion, Steve, was the head of Bolingbrook’s Department of Paranormal Affairs. The DPA was the Village of Bolingbrook’s covert department tasked with concealing supernatural activities from Bolingbrook’s residents and policing the local paranormal underworld. In theory, Lydia was one of the supernatural visitors the DPA was supposed to police. In practice, they just kept a cautious eye on her whenever she visited. Except for Steve. Over the years, their relationship evolved into a friendship. When she was with him, she felt alive.
Lydia noticed some patrons avoiding her gaze. They might have assumed Lydia was kissing Steve’s neck. A few onlookers might have felt disgusted by their apparent age difference. Lydia looked like a white woman in her early to mid-20s with short dark brown hair, whilst Steve was a balding white male with graying remnants of hair left, and a scar etched on the right side of his face. He once told Lydia he was 25 years old, but Lydia suspected he was in his late 60s. He would never tell her how he got the scar. Lydia wondered if he would ever trust her with that secret. For now, he leaned into the corner of the bench as he caught his breath.
“Are you okay?” Lydia asked. “I’m sorry if—“
Steve shook his head, then placed both hands on the table to steady himself. “Don’t apologize. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have startled you.”
“I’m just glad I didn’t hurt you.”
Steve sat up, then smiled at Lydia. “Quite the opposite. It felt good.” Steve chuckled. “I guess I got nervous, and that’s why I tapped. I should have said something, but you know how hard it is to talk.”
Lydia relaxed. “I know.”
Steve reached for his glass of orange juice. “So. Thank you, and I mean that. And please tell Marcus—“
“Matthew,” Lydia corrected. “He’s going by Matthew again.”
“Matthew?” Steve carefully drank his juice.
Vampires that create new vampires are called blood parents. Matthew was her blood father, and she was his oldest blood daughter. Twenty years ago, he gave Miriam part of his vampiric essence. Over several days, Miriam faded away, until she died and was reborn as the vampire Lydia.
Lydia nodded. “He read a book last year and liked it so much, he adopted the author’s first name.”
Steve turned towards Lydia. “What book?” he asked, sounding intrigued.
“The Skeptical Economy? I think.”
Steve’s jaw dropped, and his glass almost slipped out of his hand. “You mean The Skeptical Mind of the Economy? By Professor Matthew Bennett?”
“Yeah. That’s it.”
Steve laughed as he turned towards the table and set down his glass. “Oh my God.” He slapped the table a few times and stopped laughing. “I thought he’d be enthralled with Bennett. His whole thesis is that unregulated markets always result in ethical outcomes.” Steve followed with another laughing fit. “He’s always looking for a way to compensate for his psychopathy. I just didn’t think he would rename himself Matthew.”
“He didn’t take his last name, if you’re wondering.”
“That would be too much for him.” Steve placed his hands on the table and bowed his head. He took a couple of deep breaths, then sat up. He took another deep breath to calm himself. Steve sighed, then let out one last chuckle. “So,” he finally said. “Is he still your CEO?”
“Yes, and we still operate as the Vitalis Corporation.”
“Good. Because if he started calling himself the Knyaz—“
“Never.”
In the vampire kingdoms, the leader takes the title of Knyaz. Matthew despised Knyaz and the whole vampiric monarchy. In the world of vampires, declaring yourself a CEO was akin to calling yourself an anarchist.
Steve drank most of his juice, then tipped his almost empty glass at Lydia. He smiled, but this time it was a polite smile. “Speaking of changes. Will Matthew be changing his terms?”
“No,” Lydia replied. She felt disappointed that the conversation was shifting back to business matters.
Steve finished his juice, then swigged a glass of water. He almost slammed down the now empty glass. “Excellent. The village appreciates his generosity. Please let him know that.”
“I will. The Vitalis Corporation appreciates the village’s timely payments.”
Steve sipped his water. “I also want to assure Matthew that my department is committed to protecting his investments from any unruly weredeer tourists.”
Startled by him openly say the word “weredeer,” Lydia looked for anyone eavesdropping. The patrons were watching the baseball games on the TVs above the bar or chatting with companions. To her surprise, no one seemed interested in a man talking about weredeer.
“Don’t worry. Everyone talks about the Babbler, but nobody believes their stories.”
Lydia chuckled at the mention of Bolingbrook’s sensationalist tabloid. Most people in Bolingbrook didn’t believe the Babbler’s articles about the local shifters, or that Clow Airport was the public façade for the Earth’s largest urban intergalactic spaceport. Lydia smirked. “You know we’re long-time subscribers? They’re one of Bolingbrook’s more reliable newspapers.”
Steve nodded. “You’re right. I meant the people outside of the loop — my apologies.”
Lydia’s smile broadened. “Apology accepted.”
“Unless there’s anything else,” said Steve, as he stood. “I should get going.”
“I have a question.”
Lydia’s abdomen tensed, and her heart started beating. Steve was her only human companion. She worried her question could end their friendship
Steve sat back down and waited a moment. “Go on.”
Lydia’s body tensed. “What about the residents?”
Steve gave her a quizzical look. “The residents?” he asked.
“Will you be protecting them as well?” she asked with a pained voice.
Steve furrowed his brow, then spent a few seconds intensely studying Lydia with his eyes. His gaze unsettled Lydia. He cleared his throat, ending the silence. “We’ll do our job.”
“Do your job?” Despite her anxiety, she couldn’t accept his evasive answer.
“Is that a problem?” he asked in a matter-of-fact tone.
Steve’s stoic face unnerved Lydia. She took a few moments to consider her words. “It—“
She paused as a chill rippled through her; she had fought and faced creatures far deadlier than Steve. Yet she feared his reaction the most. However, she still needed to know his answer.
“Steve.” Lydia continued, “You’re a protector. It’s why I admire you. Yet…” She paused, then took a deep breath. “Sometimes you seem to value institutions over people. Maybe you think you’re serving a higher cause or fighting for the greater good.” Steve shifted awkwardly at her words, but she persisted. “I worry you might sacrifice the residents for what you believe is a higher cause. Like, say, protecting our investments.”
“I gave Matthew my word that I would,” Steve replied.
“I know.” Lydia worked up the courage to continue. “So, I want to remind you we consider Bolingbrook’s residents one of our investments. Not as blood bags, but as people.” Lydia flashed a smile, pressing her teeth against her lower lip. “They’re worth defending, too. I hope you understand.”
Steve remained silent for what seemed to Lydia like several uncomfortable moments. Lifting an empty glass, he pretended to take a swig, and tapped his index finger against the rim five times. Four white males who were sitting in different areas of the bar, simultaneously stood up. Except for their uniform crew cuts, they were indistinguishable from the other patrons. Each one carried a concealed weapon. They exited the bar. Steve waited until the last one left. “Before I answer your questions, I’ll need to explain the situation. I trust you won’t tell the Babbler?”
“Agreed,” she replied, not expecting this response from Steve.
“After that,” he said, then paused. “I hope you will answer my question.”
Lydia nodded, though unsure of what his question would be.
Steve paused, as if to weigh what he was about to say. “Now, you’re being a bit unfair. I don’t always value institutions over people. Just between you and me, I think there are institutions that should be destroyed for the greater good. Likewise, there are people who should be killed for the greater good.”
Lydia masked her disappointment at his words. She expected better from him than this equivocation. Lydia knew he could act like a politician, but they weren’t talking about garbage toters, or property taxes. They were talking about an army of misogynistic predators gathering near Bolingbrook.
Steve continued. “I bring this up so I can explain why the weredeer are gathering here. You can say they’re mercenaries hired as backup.”
“Backup?” Lydia moved her head back for a moment. “For whom?”
Steve shifted uncomfortably on the bench and looked down at the table. “It’s complicated.” He tapped his fingers on the table, then faced Lydia. “There is an ongoing conflict within a very important institution. You wouldn’t recognize the name. Both sides are coming here — one side inside of the Bolingbrook Golf Club and the other protesting outside. The weredeer will back up the protestors.”
Lydia blinked. “How?” She’d never heard of weredeer working as mercenaries.
“They say they have plans to end the conflict,” Steve answered. “I know very little about their Plan A, and I don’t want to know, to be honest. The weredeer are for their Plan B.” Steve tilted his head for a moment. “They’ve assured me,” he added, “That both plans will have minimal spillover into the community.”
“Minimal?” Lydia asked, perplexed by his answer. She’d never heard of any weredeer with the ability to show restraint. Especially if they were in their alpha deer form. Even with the DPA’s considerable resources, she doubted their ability to contain an army of raging weredeer. “Why not prevent it instead?”
Steve averted his eyes from Lydia. “For reasons I cannot discuss, but if their little conflict gets out of hand, we’ll protect Bolingbrook.” He faced Lydia. “And its residents. You have my word, and you know I can back it up. This goes beyond the weredeer threat as well.” He gave Lydia a forced smile. “Does that answer your question?”
“Yes, but I hope you can find a peaceful end to this.” Otherwise, it wouldn’t end well, she thought.
Steve shrugged. “If the opportunity presents itself, I will.”
Lydia tried to hide her disappointment. “Good to hear.” Part of her wanted to press Steve for a better answer. Another part of her wanted to cling to her only human friend.
Steve looked around the bar. “Now, before I ask my question, I need to know if Aurora or any of your co-workers are here.”
Only her younger blood sister, Aurora, accompanied her to Bolingbrook. Aurora was supposed to be meeting her contacts tonight. Matthew and the rest were staying in the Quad Cities.
“I’m the only one.” Lydia was worried he was going to ask her to keep a secret from her blood family and her coworkers. She couldn’t betray their trust, but she also didn’t want to lose Steve.
“Very well.” Steve paused. “When did it start?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Start?”
Steve shifted closer to Lydia. “Most vampires don’t apologize and, if they do, they’re being sarcastic. They also can’t stop talking about themselves.” He paused, then took a deep breath. “Now, you’ve made some sarcastic remarks over the years, but you’re not selfish. You never have been.”
Lydia tensed. She didn’t hide her feelings from him. Yet, knowing that he was aware of them made her feel embarrassed and vulnerable.
Steve continued. “I don’t pretend to know everything about vampires and, honestly, I don’t want to. I know vampires lose the ability to feel empathy, love, kindness, and even compassion. Someone from one of Chicago’s courts explained it to me. She said becoming a vampire is like setting your soul on fire.” He focused on Lydia’s face as he continued. “A vampire fuels that fire with blood and harnesses the flames to gain power and eternal renewal. But that same fire consumes what she called ‘soft emotions.’”
“You’ve met the Counselor?” asked Lydia. The Counselor was the oldest vampire in Chicago. Someone Lydia had the good fortune of never meeting. Matthew, however, knew her, and could spend an entire night ranting about her. Based on his descriptions of the Counselor, ‘soft emotions’ sounded like something she would say.
Steve nodded. “I know about her rivalry with Matthew; I would never betray Matthew — or you — to her. One of the best ways to protect your investment is to not make her angry.” He paused, surveying Lydia closely. “So, when did you start having feelings again?”
She froze, feeling her heart thunder against her chest as she studied Steve for any signs of deception.
“You don’t have to answer.” He added sympathetically.
Lydia glanced around the bar. None of the patrons seemed to care. They must have found the White Sox game more interesting. “I don’t know.” She looked up for a moment. “Maybe it was five years ago. Maybe longer. It was so gradual at first; at some point, I knew I wasn’t the same. I was different.” Lydia had lost fights in the past, but she never felt as vulnerable as she did now.
Steve reached towards Lydia’s hand, clasping his warm fingers around hers. She put her other hand on top of his and smiled. How long, she wondered, had it been since she’d felt someone’s affectionate touch? She hoped it was a sign that they have a future together. Steve returned her smile for a moment. He continued. “The older ones kill those they suspect of having your condition. Is that correct?”
