R. Edinger: Night Kill

Chloe and Roxanne were already in the kitchen when Nick got there. He could smell the fresh brewed coffee. Nick saw the girls eating a breakfast of pancakes, sausages and hashbrowns. His stomach grumbled loudly. Nick was told to help himself and to join them when he was ready. Nick slid into the seat at the breakfast nook across from Chloe and Roxanne.

“Where is Kara?” Chloe asked.

“She had to meet with her publisher in Chicago,” Nick went back to eating.

“In the middle of the night?” Roxanne was curious.

“Okay,” Chloe shrugged.

They all heard the front door open and close. Soon Andrew walked into the kitchen. He didn’t say a word, but walked over to the coffeemaker and poured a cup. Andrew never even acknowledged them and left the kitchen. Chloe and Roxanne looked at each other completely puzzled by Andrew’s odd behavior. They quickly got up and followed. Nick remained and kept eating his food. He just thought Andrew was being weird and nothing more.

The girls found Andrew sitting on the sofa drinking his coffee when they entered the family room. Chloe and Roxanne sat down respectively in the two chairs by the fireplace. Andrew finally nodded his head in acknowledgment that they were there. Storm was still asleep on the other sofa.

Chloe was ecstatic at even this slight progress. She recognized the look etched on her dad’s face. It was the look of him in full deductive reasoning mode. Chloe was sure her dad was pouring over all of the events that had transpired since the Higgins family was murdered. She saw the intensity in her dad’s eyes; as if he were searching for clues at that very moment. Once in a while, Andrew paused to take a drink from his cup. He still said nothing.

Roxanne sat there quietly, watching Andrew drink his coffee. She had never seen such a look of intensity on his face like that before. Roxanne hoped to get some kind of reading off of the psychic energy in the room.

She closed her eyes to concentrate. At first there was nothing, but soon psychic images in the room started to come into focus. Roxanne saw images of bodies in a house. She cringed and her heart started to beat at a quickened pace when Roxanne saw the message written in blood on the wall. Roxanne watched Andrew walk through the house as he discovered the bodies. She sensed the anger that built up inside of him; the despair. Roxanne opened her eyes again. She saw that Andrew stared at her directly. It was as if he had given her the vision.

Andrew finished his coffee and stood up. He looked at the two of them.

“Call Peter and have him put Storm in protective custody,” Andrew finally said. “I have my appointment with Wyatt and will return later.” Andrew gave them a look not to follow him. Chloe and Roxanne remained behind. He left the room.

The room was devoid of any bright colors. The table and chairs were of the same gray that was the room. Even the pitcher of ice water and its companion glasses looked pastey white.

Wyatt entered the room, bound in handcuffs and leg chains, and escorted by two burly looking jailers. One of them pulled a chair out and pushed Wyatt down on it and the other secured the leg chains to a hook on the floor. Wyatt would be going nowhere anytime soon. Now he had to wait.

Andrew entered the room a few minutes later. He shook the jailers’ hands and joked around with them. They spent several minutes in their conversation. Then the jailers left and told Andrew they would be right outside. Andrew thanked them and took his place at the table opposite of Wyatt. Andrew placed his briefcase on the table and opened it. He took out a file folder filled with papers and set it down in front of him. Andrew stood up and removed his overcoat and hung it across the back of his chair. He retook his seat. Andrew opened the file folder.

“You are presently being treated for Renfield’s Syndrome,” Andrew read from the sheet of paper. “Is that correct?”

“Yes,” Wyatt answered. It was an easy question, but not what he had expected.

“And who was your doctor?” Andrew asked.

“Doctor Claudia Straussman,” Wyatt complied.

“How long have you been undergoing treatment?” Andrew continued.

“Since I was very young,” Wyatt replied. He could no longer stand it and asked, “Why are you asking me these stupid questions. What do you really want to know? Huh?” Wyatt gave Andrew a dirty look, “I know what you want to know. You want to know if I did kill Storm’s family, right.” Wyatt leaned closer and folded his arms in front of him on the table. “Well, I didn’t do it and neither did the Knights. But you know that already don’t you? So why are you dancing around?”

“Who told you to get out of the country and go to Gothica?” Andrew closed the folder. He pushed it aside and leaned in the same way as Wyatt had just done. Their faces were just inches apart. Andrew’s eyes were intense, purposeful. “Who was it Wyatt?”

“Doctor Straussman, Claudia, told me she got a call from Ana,” Wyatt explained. “She told Claudia that we did not need that kind of attention for the Knights. She also said that the public had become more aware of our presence and we might have to disappear like back in the 1800’s.”

“Did you know about the Knights of VanHelsing’s book?” Andrew switched the subject.

“Maybe,” Wyatt leaned back now. He shrugged. “It was said that the only one to see the book, if it were real, would be a VanHelsing and no one else. That way only one person knew of our secret identities and the number of ‘kills’ we had.”

“Why were you excommunicated from the clan?” Andrew switched again.

“For not following the laws of the clan,” Wyatt cursed. “They were stupid rules anyway. I mean come on. One of them was we could only feed off the blood of the ones deemed acceptable by the clan. With my disease, I could not always wait for our blood feasts. Sometimes the urge came on so strong I had to have it. Well, when Ravenclaw found out this, he was enraged and so were the ruling council. They met and had me excommunicated. Storm’s father was on the council. Sure I was angry at him, but not enough to kill him or the others.”

“How did you get involved with the Knights?” Andrew asked now.

“One night I was with a group and we were having a blood feast,” Wyatt recounted for Andrew. “Well, all of a sudden the slayers broke in and attacked us.” Wyatt stopped and lowered his head. Andrew gave Wyatt a few minutes to collect himself.

“They killed everyone but you, right?”

“Yeah, even the blood dolls,” Wyatt added.

“So why did you want to become part of them, if it bothered you that they killed all of these young people?” Andrew was curious.

“I had no choice,” Wyatt sniffed. “It was either join the order, or be killed. And well I was angry at Mister Higgins and the others for kicking me out of the clan. Besides, it was way cooler to be a slayer.”

“Do you have any idea who else would want the Higgins family dead?” Andrew asked. He took a glass and filled it with water. Andrew passed the glass to Wyatt, who thanked him and took a drink of the refreshing water. Andrew took the other glass and poured himself some water. It tasted really good.

“I don’t know,” Wyatt answered. “Except for the Knights of VanHelsing, probably no one else.” Wyatt stopped to take another drink. He went on. “The Knights and the descendents of Vlad the Impaler have been enemies for centuries.”

“Were there any quarrels in the clan that you were aware of?” Andrew took another drink.

“No,” Wyatt started, but stopped to think for a moment. He had a puzzled look as he thought deeply. Andrew sat there patiently. Soon Wyatt continued, “There was this one time when this author from Chicago came to interview Ravenclaw and the rest of us for her book.” Wyatt looked at Andrew, “She was the one who flew the copter. What was her name again?”