I'll Be Your Last

Extended Family

We pulled up to what looked like an old farm house. The outside showed some wear but the grounds were neat with some colorful flowerbeds and a few items scattered out in the yard. Someone liked to play cornhole here. It was a simple place, a home.

“So, you think this is it?” I asked Rebekah as I shut off the engine.

“Clarice Michaels,” Rebekah told me.

“The last name is Michaels? Really?” I asked.  Subtle much?

“Yes, so it’s worth a shot.”

We got out of the car, stretched. I followed Rebekah to the front door of the house. Rebekah knocked and we listened using our vampire senses to see if we could tell if someone was inside. There was definite movement in there.

The front door swung open and a younger teenage girl stood there staring at us. She had dark hair, dark eyeliner, dark clothes. Emo. And her narrowed green eyes moved over us with suspicion.

A younger girl came up behind her. Her hair was long, flowing blonde. She wore a pink frilly top, jean shorts and her blue eyes were decidedly friendly. She grinned before yelling, “Mom!”

The younger girl was still looking us over. “There are two girls here. They’re dead!”

The older girl rolled her eyes.

“Hi,” Rebekah said to them. “We just wanted to talk with your mother if we could.”

“She’s coming,” the younger girl told us. “So are you guys vampires or zombies?”

I snickered at that, impressed that they knew to ask that. Rebekah scoffed.

“Is your mother here?” Rebekah was snippy.

“Mom!” the older girl yelled.

The blue eyes of the friendly girl met mine.

“Yeah, we’re vampires,” I told her.

A woman came to a stop behind them. She was barely taller than the dark-haired girl, her eyes were blue also. She had blonde hair bobbed off at jaw-length and she looked like any other normal mom with her summer sweater and jeans. She was a pretty lady.

“Mom, they’re vampires,” the younger one told her, excitedly.

“I can see that,” the lady told her daughter. “Go to your room, girls, while I see what our visitors want.”

“What? No,” the younger one said.

“Just go,” she told them, her tone kind.

The older one smirked at us, walking away with a little wave. Yeah, she had to be related to Kol. The younger one didn’t want to go but reluctantly she did. I liked that one. She reminded me of myself at that age.

“Can I help you?” the mother asked us, politely all things considered.

“You’re Clarice Michaels?” Rebekah asked.

“Why are you here?” she asked, her gaze moving over us.

“You don’t want to know who we are?” Rebekah asked.

“I know who you are,” she said to Rebekah. “So again I ask, why are you here?”

“We’re hoping you can help us,” I told the lady, drawing her attention for the first time.

The woman smiled at us but it didn’t reach her eyes. “And why do you need my help?”

“Because we have a problem and we need the help of an all-powerful witch or two,” Rebekah told her, her tone losing its warmth with each word.