The Vanquishers: Secret of the Reaping

CHAPTER 1

Mr. Rupert is our resident Vanquisher historian and vampire history expert. The big whiteboard in my basement is filled with his chicken-scratch handwriting. There are timelines and squiggly arrows pointing to clusters of indecipherable words. He’s mad that me, Cedrick, and Jules keep asking him to just tell us what he wants us to know instead of writing it on the board but he doesn’t listen.

You know, Cedrick says, leaning back in his chair and running his hand over the top of his head. We have to take penmanship in school. Like, we get graded on it and everything. Did you take penmanship classes, Mr. Rupert?

I look down into my lap, letting my braids fall across my face like a curtain. Jules pushes their shoulder into mine as we try really hard not to laugh.

Do you know how old I am? Mr. Rupert asks. He scowls so hard the lines on his forehead turn into deep, angry creases. Do you know how long it’s been since I was in grade school?

I just shake my head. Mr. Rupert should know by now not to ask questions like that around Cedrick. It’s an invitation for a roasting of epic proportions. I glance at Ced and he’s grinning so hard he looks like his teeth are about to break. He’s gonna go straight for the jugular. I just know it.

Ooooh! Let me guess! Ced runs his hand over his chin like a movie villain, then narrows his eyes at Mr. Rupert. I’m gonna say … seventy. You’re seventy years old. How close am I?

If looks could kill, Cedrick would be dead and buried. Mr. Rupert presses his lips into a tight line and leans across the desk.

I am fifty-three, he says flatly.

Dang! Cedrick says without missing a beat. I was way off. But maybe you look older than you are? You know what they say.

No, Mr. Rupert says. What do they say?

Problematic people age like spoiled milk. Cedrick says it like it’s a scientific fact and not something he probably heard online somewhere.

So now I’m problematic? Mr. Rupert asks. His voice is too high and his bald head is too sweaty for this to continue.

I swallow a laugh and clear my throat. Mr. Rupert, are we done for the day?

Mr. Rupert glances at his watch, then back to me. Why? You have somewhere to be?

I’m watching the clock, counting down the minutes until Aaron can safely come out and Mr. Rupert knows this. Aaron’s a new vamp and we’ve learned that our theory about him being sensitive to the sun because he’s a fledgling was correct. Mr. Rupert told us during a lesson that older vamps can walk around for hours in the daytime. I hate to admit it, but as much as Mr. Rupert annoys me, his lessons have a lot of helpful information. This little piece about vamps in the daylight is scary but I also hope that means that at some point Aaron can join us in the daytime. For now, I have to wait for him to wake up and climb out of the makeshift crypt his mom had made for him under the shed in their backyard.

Focus, Miss Wilson, and put your attention here. Mr. Rupert points to something he’s written in the corner of the whiteboard. Make sure you are prepared.

Is that an algebra equation? Cedrick asks. I see numbers and letters. Mr. Rupert, I don’t want to learn math in here. I already have enough of that at school.

Mr. Rupert sighs.

I squint to make out the writing in the corner. Does that say ‘quiz’? I ask.

Jules sits up straight. A quiz, Mr. Rupert? Really?

You serious? Cedrick asks. He slouches down in his seat. See, problematic.

Mr. Rupert rolls his eyes and strums his fingers across his desk.

This is way too much like regular school, Cedrick says. When are we gonna learn to throw a stake into a vampire’s neck?

Mr. Rupert rubs his temple like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. The heart, Cedrick. The stake goes in the heart.

Cedrick doesn’t want any part of Mr. Rupert’s lessons about Vanquisher history and vampire lore. He wants to fistfight a vampire and it’s honestly a little weird how eager he is to do that. The thought of being face-to-face with a vampire that isn’t Aaron terrifies me. Not Ced. He’s been hassling Mr. Rupert about teaching us some actual fighting skills but Mr. Rupert dismisses the suggestion every time.

Question, Jules says. My braces are silver. If I bite a vamp, will that kill them? They click their teeth together, showing off their new black-and-purple rubber bands that connect to their shiny braces.

Mr. Rupert stands up and crosses his arms over his chest. I wouldn’t suggest it. Your braces are stainless steel, which is an alloy. It’s mostly chromium and aluminum.

Jules looks disappointed. That sucks.

I find it comical that you think you could get close enough to a vamp to bite it without it biting you first, Mr. Rupert says.

When something’s funny, you’re supposed to smile or laugh, Cedrick chimes in. Just so you know.

Mr. Rupert’s expression doesn’t change at all. Let’s review for our quiz, shall we? He shuffles some papers around on his desk. The Reaping took place on April 28, 2002. The Vanquishers had hunted the undead to near extinction but the last hive had a foothold here in San Antonio. They were dug in, like ticks.

Gross, I say.

The last hive were chased from their hiding spot in the Natural Bridge Caverns just north of downtown San Antonio, Mr. Rupert says. The Vanquishers pursued the hive into the city. The battle was fierce and the Vanquishers suffered heavy losses. Mr. Rupert clears his throat before continuing. Dayside had already perished and as the final battle was fought, Nightside was killed in the Pearl district where the vampires made their last stand.

You were there, too, right? I ask. I’d never heard talk about him actually being there but if he’d been the official record keeper of the Vanquishers for as long as he says he has, he must have been involved.

I was close by, he says. I, of course, tried to do my part but as the three of you don’t seem to understand, vampires are a formidable foe. They are ruthless. They don’t hesitate to inflict pain and devastation everywhere they go. They have no regard for human life and they won’t hesitate to end you and the people you love most. He’s lost in his own thoughts for a second, then he takes three sheets of paper from his briefcase, and hands them to me, Ced, and Jules.

Cedrick groans and slumps down in his chair. Really?

Really, Mr. Rupert says, furrowing his brow so hard I can barely see his eyes. Flip the paper over when you’re finished. Your time begins now.

I read over the first question.

In what year were the Vanquishers officially formed?

I pencil in the answer. 1850.

Mr. Rupert doesn’t waste any time. From day one of what me, Ced, and Jules are calling Vanquisher training academy, Mr. Rupert gets right down to it. The history and origin of the vampires themselves is murky but the history of the Vanquishers isn’t as hard to pick apart. Basic stuff we’ve learned in school doesn’t compare to the level of detail Mr. Rupert goes into and sometimes it makes my brain hurt. I continue my quiz.

In what publication were the slayers who served as precursors to the Vanquishers mentioned publicly for the first time?

I have to think hard. Maybe I’d been passing notes to Jules when Mr. Rupert had gone over this part but the answer wriggles its way to the front of my mind.

Freedom’s Journal said a group of masked slayers killed a hive of three vamps in 1827.

Cedrick nudges the leg of my chair with his foot. I glance over at him as Mr. Rupert turns his back to us. Ced tips up his paper so I can see the hideous little sketch he’s made of Mr. Rupert with wings and little pointy teeth.

Mr. Rupert suddenly spins around and snatches the paper from Cedrick’s hand. He glares down at the sketch and when he returns his gaze to Cedrick, his eyes are narrow and angry.

How dare you depict me as one of those—those monsters! Mr. Rupert says angrily. He takes a red pen from his pocket and draws an F at the top of Cedrick’s quiz.

Good thing this isn’t real school or I’d be upset, Cedrick says with an edge of annoyance in his voice.

We’ll see what your parents have to say, Mr. Rupert says through gritted teeth.

Cedrick crosses his arms hard over his chest and stares down at the table.

Mr. Rupert, I say as I answer the final question. We know you’re taking all of this really seriously—

"Because it is serious, he says, cutting me off. It’s not a joke. Not a game. Your knowledge of the Vanquishers and of vampire lore might save your life one day and if any of you have the courage to see this training through as your parents did before you, you will one day use this knowledge to protect the public at large. You need to think of that."

Despite what Mr. Rupert says, I have been thinking about that. Back in the day, the Vanquishers passed the monikers and the responsibilities down to someone close to them, usually a family member. Later, when that wasn’t always possible, they formed the Wrecking Crew for the training of future Vanquishers. But our parents had made a choice—they didn’t want this life for us, and a part of me can understand why. Ever since we realized that vamps were back, it’s been nonstop chaos.

Jules rolls their eyes and hands Mr. Rupert their quiz. Are we done for the day?

Mr. Rupert looks over Jules’s paper and then collects mine.

We’re done for now, he says. He stares down at my paper as me, Ced, and Jules stand up and head for the stairs. Miss Wilson, I need to speak with you before you go.

Cedrick doesn’t even pretend like he’s gonna wait for me. Jules lingers on the stairs but Mr. Rupert waves them away and they slowly head upstairs. I turn to face him. He’s now seated behind a desk that’s really just a plastic folding table.

Something wrong with my quiz? I ask.

He marks it with his pen, then holds it up so I can see it. A big A+ is written at the top in red. He hands me the paper.

I got an A-plus? I ask, a little surprised. I thought something was wrong.

"Something is wrong, Mr. Rupert says as he leans forward on his desk. Your friends don’t seem to be taking this as seriously as they should."

I hold my hand up in front of me. Just so you know, anything you tell me, I’m gonna go right back and tell Cedrick and Jules and probably my parents, so yeah. Just want to put that out there.

Mr. Rupert’s face is a mask of annoyance. Right. He leans back in his chair. You have a good handle on the lessons we’ve reviewed so far. You are smart, if not a little naive.

I don’t know what that means but I’m gonna assume you’re being rude, I say. On the very rare occasions that Mr. Rupert has been nice to us, I don’t let it fool me. There’s no way this grumpy old man gets any points with me after everything that has happened since the beginning of the school year. He’s always been rude. He thinks my friend Aaron is a monster and isn’t afraid to tell us that every time he gets a chance. Even when my parents tell him to chill, it doesn’t last long.

Mr. Rupert huffs. You think I’m rude?

Yes, I say.

You have no idea what I’ve been through. You have no idea what I’ve seen. He narrows his gaze at me. I have my reasons for being firm. You’ll come to accept it.

Or not, I say quickly. My mom says I don’t ever have to accept people being rude to me for no reason.

Mr. Rupert almost says something but quiets himself. I bounce gently on the tips of my toes in anticipation.

Please say something about my mom. I’ll run and tell her so fast it’ll make your head spin.

You could be a great slayer one day, Miss Wilson, Mr. Rupert says. Your attention to detail when we review the histories is always spot-on. Your worksheets are always complete and correct. You could put all those skills to use and become a great Vanquisher.

Something about that doesn’t sit right with me. I stare down at the floor.

And of course that means you’ll have to put a stake in Aaron’s cold, dead heart. He shrugs like he’s not talking about one of my best friends, like he’s not talking about Miss Kim’s only son. It will be for the best, he continues. Trust me.

I won’t ever do that, I say. Not ever. You can’t make me. Aaron isn’t a monster. He’s my friend.

You have no idea what he will be capable of, Mr. Rupert says quietly. He has a faraway look in his eyes, like he’s thinking about something that bothers him. He shakes his head. I don’t have to force you to end him, Miss Wilson. There will come a time where he will leave you no other choice.

You’re wrong, I say defiantly. You don’t know everything. Just because you’re always mad doesn’t mean I have to be.

The corner of Mr. Rupert’s mouth pulls up. We shall see, Miss Wilson. We shall see.

I crumple up my graded paper, throw it on the ground, and turn to leave. I wish sunlight would burn your ashy behind to the ground, I mumble under my breath.

What’s that, Miss Wilson? Mr. Rupert asks.

Nothing, I say quickly. I rush upstairs thinking about how if sunlight really could do to Mr. Rupert what it does to vampires, his dusty butt would go up in flames.

I join Cedrick and Jules in the front yard where my dad is putting the finishing touches on our new gate—it’s made of painted silver and closes our driveway off right near the street. It reminds me of the big gate that closes in the Addams Family house. Ours isn’t sentient as far as I know. It doesn’t move on its own or boot out unwanted guests if it feels like it but it’s almost like that, in a way. No vamps are getting past that except Aaron and even for him, it’s dangerous.

Looks good! my dad says as he steps back and admires the glinting flourishes, the swirls of silver painted charcoal black. It’s perfect.

Cedrick gazes in the direction of his house. His dads put up a new gate, too. Solid silver. More modern looking, though, with its straight up-and-down pickets and level crossbeams. Jules’s mom, Miss Celia, opted out of putting up a gate but had a thick band of silver run directly underneath the driveway in