Star Pupil

“You’re late. Perfect.”

The comment could only make sense coming from Dr. Thaddeus R. Caylett. The man – clad in an ill-fitting blazer and stained vest - didn’t want his accomplice readily noticed, especially not tonight. Caylett waved the last few students out of the auditorium with a coarse grunt, as he stuffed his notes into an attaché creased and scarred like an ancient tortoise. The curtain had officially fallen on tonight’s presentation of “Fables, Myths, and Superstitions of Post-Renaissance Europe.”

Dmitri nodded, as a pair of sophomores darted past him into the cold night air, paying the freshman little mind as they talked coffee and the weekend parties. The fluorescent lighting gleamed off Dmitri’s wire-rimmed spectacles, framing a face lined with a trimmed beard. The 19-year-old looked distinguished beyond his years, more so when standing next to the pasty-faced scholar whose shirt was untucked, and whose whiskered face still bore crumbs from whatever he had for dinner. Likely some kind of sandwich.

Content that his lecture notes were secured in the mashed clump of papers buckled up and sealed away, the elder scowled at Dmitri, with dreary, red-creased eyes that betrayed his insomnia.

“The accoutrements…you have all of them?” asked Caylett. Even though he and Dmitri were the only ones inside the auditorium now, he still whispered the question as if wary of invisible forces listening in.

With a dutiful nod, Dmitri heaved a suitcase onto the table next to the lectern, and opened it. Caylett looked on, as the student stoically presented object after object: a heavy silver crucifix; a vial of holy water; a string of garlic bulbs; and –

“Magnificent!” cried the professor, “especially the stakes! White oak, marvelous!”

Dmitri tried, but couldn’t suppress his smile. He brandished the stakes in one hand, an iron-knobbed mallet in the other. The greater part of a week had been spent gathering and carving the splendid stakes, all sharpened to a fine point to best penetrate dense flesh. There were six in all, more than sufficient for the coming task.

“It’s getting late,” said the professor, glancing at the clock on the wall. If it gets much darker, no telling if our quarry will be dormant much longer.”

Dmitri drove the powerful Ford down one dirt road after another. The comforting radiance of city lights had disappeared nearly an hour ago. Now they were truly out in the rural maze of meadows, woods, farms, and the occasional covered bridge. The truck’s headlights sometimes reflected off the watching eyes of immense owls, perched upon fence posts or faded road signs riddled with buckshot.

The young man was so absorbed in the night’s mission he found himself holding his breath a bit too long at times. Tension mixed with lightheadedness, his grip cold and sweaty on the steering wheel. Some roads were flanked with tangled branches that scraped and clutched at the vehicle as if trying to capture the pair.

“I’ve been charting this troublemaker for almost two years now,” said Caylett, flattening a county map across his knees. “I’ve marked every disappearance, cattle mutilation, and infant death, and found the epicenter of all that with this place we’re headed towards,” he continued, gravely. “Know that this isn’t like the movies, Dmitri! No lady-killer in a silken cape and suave Transylvanian accent awaits us. No, this son of a bitch is more mongrel than Romeo. You and I will need to be strong, wary. Remorseless. No hesitation.”

The older man pointed a creased and stained finger on that last point, as his student wove onto another dirt road, across a stack of old timbers that formed a crude bridge over a culvert.

Dmitri glanced back at the professor, as the older man then dove his hand into the folds of his overcoat, producing a heavy pistol. Its blue-steel finish gleamed in the moonlight, as Caylett double-checked to see that it was fully loaded.

“No, not for it,” smiled Caylett, reading his student’s expression. “We’ve much better tools in our arsenal. But supernatural beings often have accomplices. Guardians, Dmitri. I’m very sure this one will. It may be necessary to use this. Trust me lad, it’s got the firepower to snap a man’s spine in two.”

Dmitri eyed the handgun, a curdling nerve of dread knotting itself into a lump deep in his throat. He returned his attention back to the shadowy roads, silently praying to a God that seemed absent and weak at the moment.

Ten minutes later, Caylett beckoned Dmitri to pull off outside a long-abandoned weigh station. Turning the pickup’s ignition off, the pair adjusted to the night as the engine cooled, soft pops emanating from the bug-spattered hood. A vast field lit in a pale glow appeared just beyond the station’s curled chain-link fence.

“We have to walk the rest of the way,” said the professor, running a yellowed nail from a thin black line to a fat “X” on the map. “We don’t want to risk being heard or seen, see. Haven’t met a nosferatu yet without the senses of a wolf.”

Dmitri nodded, and took a slow, measured breath. He wasn’t sure how Dr. Caylett had come to single him out so early in the school year, or make him an accomplice in this fantastic task. The youth had come to the college to study early European folklore and Forensic Science, so perhaps it wasn’t a reach that he’d appear on the eccentric professor’s radar eventually. Dmitri had struggled to make friends among his classmates, but seemed to bond immediately with this curious man whose reputation was a bit unseemly. He was the only scholar in the humanities department who was still not approved for tenure, despite being one of its earliest hires. Word was however, that Caylett was also a bit of a drunkard.

A lush and a loner, united to make the world safer. Why not? thought the young man. My roommates are shocking lab rats for credit, I’m hunting vampires.

Caylett opened his door and stepped out onto the cracked and weed-choked asphalt outside. Maneuvering past shattered beer bottles and what might’ve once been a baby mattress, he beckoned at the student to retrieve the case.

“Now, Dmitri, follow me. And be prepared for anything. Like I said, no hesitation.”

Their destination was a collapsed barn about a quarter mile beyond the weigh station. A meandering trail through old farm fields was the best route. Petrified corn cobs – picked clean of kernels by birds and mice long ago – littered the path. Misshapen trees flailed their branches high into the starry sky, and Dmitri could see the occasional blinking of red eyes from under stumps and hollows as the pair walked hastily along the desolate landscape.

“You don’t see me as some mad crank,” whispered Caylett, turning to the student. “Or if you do, Dmitri, you’re kind enough not to say it.”

Dmitri grinned, and almost thanked the professor for not saying the same about him, when the older man froze. He upheld one hand, motioning Dmitri to stop, while fishing through his overcoat with the other. A moment later, Caylett removed the pistol and stared off into the distance.

“Sssssshh. We’ve company, boy.”

The air became heavy and charged, like a storm front. Dmitri felt his pulse race, as the electric sensation of primordial evil fell upon him. The two men were no longer alone in this remote patch, and far from any help should trouble come charging upon them.

Caylett slowly scanned the landscape, panning his weapon along as he did so. The distant whir of cicadas was the sole noise, and a beat later, even that stopped.

“It’s coming, Dmitri,” said the professor, in a tone so low and hoarse it may as well have been his dying breath.

As the younger man looked out, he slowly set the heavy case upon the coarse soil. He began to undo its clasps, when several corn stalks ahead of them parted. A large, shambling mass the size of a bear exploded out of the decayed field.

“Dmitri! Behind me!’ screamed Caylett. He fired several shots at a pair of glowing red eyes, the rupturing din piercing the night. The dark beast curdled and twisted mid-air, and collapsed before them.

The two moved in slowly and studied the creature. Black, furry, and bearing fantastically long teeth, it looked like something that had once been a dog, but evolved into something from the depths of Hell itself. The monster gurgled and twitched, before slowly relaxing upon the muddy soil.

“There’s a good chance our quarry knows we’re here now,” growled Caylett, kicking the fallen creature. “This god-damned sentinel smelled us way ahead, maybe from the very moment we arrived.”

Dmitri nodded, recalling the professor’s directions the week before. Silver bullets. Even if you have to melt down your grandma’s cutlery and candlesticks, boy. Bring me a gun with silver bullets, or we’re as good as dead already.

“We need to hurry,” said Caylett, pointing to a splintered roof protruding from an overgrown thicket. “With some luck, the creature we seek is still sleeping.”

The pair wound through the withered crops of yesteryear, past hulking farm machinery that had long surrendered to the ravages of time and weather. The full moon looked to be nearing its apex in the night sky, meaning time was still in their favor…but not indefinitely.

Under a canopy of smashed timbers, a root cellar door dotted with rot beckoned them enter.

“If you’ve prayers to say, Dmitri, say them now. For this is what we’ve prepared for, but we have to stay strong.”

As Dmitri took a deep breath, the old scholar lifted the door, releasing the dank odor of earth and something indescribable. It reminded Dmitri of worms and soggy lumber. Pure decay.

Stifling the urge to cough, the student went through his coat’s oversized pockets for a camping lantern, small but intensely bright. Turning it on, he and Caylett marveled at the intricate lacing of gnarled roots and cobwebs that greeted them. Wonder turned to dread as the first splashes of dried blood and chipped bone began to appear on the floor and walls. The further into the cellar they went, the less civilized it became; dusty shelves of ancient fruit preserves and Farmers Almanacs gave way to odd mounds of earth and clay, often scrawled with curious patterns. Their quest took the men to a wide chamber, which contained a heavy, intricately carved sarcophagus in the center. Fine lichens lined the recesses, outlining runes and symbols that both men knew were pre-Renaissance.

Nosferatu, thought Dmitri. We’ve found it.

Caylett leaned in close to the student, practically pressing his lips against his ears.

“Still time. The stakes.”

Gingerly raising the lid to the container, Caylett frowned at the sight of its occupant. Dmitri suppressed a gasp at the hairless, gaunt monster. It looked vaguely human though its pallid skin was a mottled, pale green with fat purple veins. A pair of slender fangs protruded from its upper jaw, while long, tapering ears flanked its slightly pointed head. Instead of elegant clothes befitting a Romanian aristocrat, ragged animal skins adorned its unholy form. It looked more like a deranged Neanderthal than any classic Dracula seen in film.

Neither man could see the moon outside anymore, but they were likely running on seconds now. Setting down the heavy case, Dmitri saw that remnants of the vampire’s victims were scattered along the dirt floor. Some of the bones were slender and fragile, clearly those of small children, perhaps even babies. The student’s mouth went dry, and his hands shook as he reached for the mallet and a stake.

“Dmitri,” coaxed Caylett, “find the nerve! I need you…”

A keening squeal erupted from the sarcophagus, loud and bestial. Dmitri turned and saw the vampire grasping Caylett by the wrists. Its eyes burned silver, its tongue forked and flailing like a snake.

“Hurry! The devil’s awakened!” screamed the professor, leaning away from the monster’s fangs.

Dmitri – possessed by a demon of his own – dutifully rose and grasped the vial of holy water. He splashed its contents against the creature in a cascading arc, the liquid searing into its skin. Howling madly, its eyes glaring, the vampire recoiled, releasing Caylett.

“Good work, boy! Now finish it!”

Dmitri hurriedly grasped the mallet and stake, and lunged at the creature. He pressed the stake’s tip firmly against its blistering chest. The vampire grasped Dmitri’s hands, clammy flesh attempting to crush his fingers.

“Hold on, Dmitri!”

With surprising speed and strength, Caylett thrust another stake at the vampire’s face. It plunged deep into an eye socket, prompting a sickening spray of black ichor that covered the men. The vampire hissed and thrashed, its breath heavy with the stench of sulphur. The pair struggled to hold it down inside the teetering sarcophagus.

“Now, now!” commanded Caylett. The student, seeing their quarry weakening, threw himself into the melee with renewed vigor. He targeted the vampire’s heart with the stake, and hit its butt end squarely with the mallet.

The stake sank halfway into the creature’s chest, causing the monster to curl and hiss. In seconds, its features sank and turned ashen. As its limbs fell limp, the beast let out one final breath, melting into a dense, oily, pulp save for its ribcage and skull.

For a while, the only sound left in the root cellar was the heavy breathing of the two men. Spent yet triumphant, they slowly recovered from the terrifying battle. Caylett curiously ran his fingers through the remnants of the disposed creature, while Dmitri began packing up the case. The holy water was no more; its entirety had been splashed against their foe. The stake used to slay the vampire was blackened and so spongy as to be nearly gelatinous. But the deed was done, and in a most uncharacteristically friendly gesture, the sweaty and weary professor opened his arms to his student.

“My boy, Dmitri, you’ve done me proud!”

Dmitri obliged the gesture, hugging Dr. Caylett. More than ever, the student looked upon the professor as a father.

The rapturous joy was cut off by Caylett’s bestial grasping of Dmitri’s head, followed by the abrupt snapping of his neck. The student fell upon the earthen floor, paralyzed…another victim laid prone amongst the skeletons.

“Sweet, poor Dmitri,” said Caylett, remorsefully. “How you must feel so betrayed. Yes, we killed a monster. But not for keeping this area safe. No, this wretched bloodsucker was my rival, a pain in my side and stronger than I could ever face, alone.

“Haven’t you always wondered why I only taught night classes? Or why I always had you handle the accoutrements? The cross alone would’ve seared me deep, and were we to bring a mirror…heh, well…that’d have been a classic giveaway the moment you held it up to me.

“Probably the hardest part of this ruse was killing my own companion. No, not you. I mean the beast outside. Baal. Faithful to the end, I’ll never forget the look of shock and confusion when I shot him. But…he was nearly 600 years old, and getting long in the tooth, even for a hellhound.

“Anyway, I’m so glad you came into my life, all quiet and unassuming. Sure, this college has its share of loners and outcasts, but you fit the bill best, Dmitri. No one will ask about you, or even miss you. A pity for you that it all ends here.”

Leaning in, Caylett turned Dmitri’s head toward his. The student’s bulging eyes leaked tears down his pale, trembling face.

“But you will nourish me, Dmitri. And for that, I am forever thankful.”

Lunging his fanged, gaping mouth into Dmitri’s neck, Caylett rapturously indulged himself with the first taste of warm blood in weeks, a crimson explosion that quenched the parched lining of the mad professor’s throat.