Page 82 of Bad Luck Vampire

He sighed. “Deb hesitated before answering, and I was sure she was going to say no, so I said, ‘Sure, sweetheart,’ before she could.”

He lowered his head again to stare at the red and white flowers. “I knew your father would be working late again. He was doing that a lot, trying to get everything tied up at the office here before the move to BC.”

Picking up a piece of glass, he held it in his palm and closed his fingers around it, squeezing until blood began to ooze out between his fingers. “He was a good friend, but I hated him for that. Taking her away from me to BC, I mean. I thought I’d never get to tell her how I felt.”

He opened his fingers and let the crushed glass fall into the sink, then turned on the tap and stuck his hand under it to let it rinse the blood away. “Then Deb mentioned she should have you girls go ask your mother for permission to stay and to get some pajamas for you. But I told her to let you girls play, I’d take care of it. I’d just pop over, see if it was okay, and Jasmine could pack a bag for you that I’d bring back. It wouldn’t take a moment, I assured her.”

George turned off the tap and blood immediately began to bubble to the surface of the cuts on his hand. “But I knew that wasn’t true. I really wanted to go tell Jasmine how I felt. And in the end, I had to pack your pajamas in a bag for you.”

Turning, he peered at her miserably and said, “I loved her, but when I told her that... At first, she tried to laugh it off, as if she thought I was joking. But when I insisted it wasn’t a joke, I really loved her... she got angry,” he said with bewilderment. “Offended even.”

“‘I’m a married woman,’ she said. ‘You’re married too and I love Deb like a sister. What were you expecting here? I’m not going to break my marriage vows, George. I love my husband. I don’t love you.’”

Staring at her solemnly, he said, “She shouldn’t have said that. It made me so angry. I don’t even really remember hitting her. I was just so hurt and angry.” His mouth twitched. “She fell, hitting her head on the table on the way down, and there was so much blood.” His mouth tightened. “I just stood there staring, and the blood just kept coming, circling her head on the kitchen tile.” Meeting her gaze again, George said, “I swear I thought she was dead.”

He closed his eyes miserably. “I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. First, I ran up and packed some pajamas in your little panda backpack, then I rushed back downstairs. At first, I was just going to go back home and pretend nothing had happened. Hoping that when your dad got home, he’d think a burglar had caught her by surprise or something. But then I realized my fingerprints would be everywhere. They’d know it was me.”

His gaze met her cold eyes again and skated away guiltily. “As I was trying to figure out what to do, your dad came home. I didn’t have any choice then. You can see that, can’t you?”

“You killed him,” she said, her voice flat.

George turned away and stared into the sink again as if he couldn’t face her as he admitted, “I made a quick search through the drawers and found a rolling pin. Then I pressed my back to the wall next to the door to the garage, and when your father came into the kitchen, I bashed him over the head. Then I knelt on his back and choked him until he stopped breathing.”

Sophie closed her eyes, her shoulders sagging.

“I almost started the fire then, but it seemed smarter to do it later when everyone would be sleeping and unlikely to notice too quickly. So, I left them there and went back home. I was a nervous wreck all night until we got you girls settled in bed and could go to bed ourselves. But then I had to wait for Deb to fall asleep too. It was so awful. I was in a cold sweat. Felt nauseous. Awful,” he repeated with self-pity.

A strangled sound slipped from Sophie at that. Her parents were dead, by his hands, but it was so awful for him to have to wait to set them on fire?

Mr. Tomlinson didn’t appear to have heard the strangled sound she’d made and continued, “Once Deb finally fell asleep, I slipped out of bed, retrieved the gas can from the garage—it was still full from the summer,” he stopped to explain. “I’d thought I’d get in one more mow back in November, but then we got that unexpected snowstorm. The gas had just been sitting there waiting. Like it was meant to be.”

Sophie turned her head away with disgust.

“I took it and made my way next door, splashed the gas everywhere, but a lot on your mom and dad. Their bodies might have evidence on them, you see.” He frowned, and then continued. “Then I started the fire and hurried back home and got back in bed.”

George fell silent briefly, and then Sophie heard him whisper, “I really thought she was dead.” His voice growing in strength, he complained, “I nearly had a heart attack when she came stumbling out of the house on fire. I really thought she was dead. She should’ve been dead. It really would have been better if she had been,” he added irritably as if she’d stayed alive to spite him.

“Your mother ended up with third-degree burns over sixty percent of her body. She would’ve been scarred for life, probably disabled if she’d survived, and I was afraid she was going to. Jasmine was a fighter. So strong. That’s part of the reason I loved her, but it wasn’t good in this instance. She was suffering, and of course, if she’d lived, she might have told them what I’d done.” His mouth puckered with displeasure at that thought.

“I was beginning to think I’d have to kill her again. She held on for three days, and I was considering smothering her to death, or getting my hands on a syringe and maybe trying an air bubble in her vein. That’s supposed to kill people.” He shrugged. “Fortunately, she died before I had to do anything like that.”

George was silent for a minute, and then said, “I miss her every day.”

Sophie gaped at his back in disbelief, and then stiffened when he turned to face her again.

“I’m sorry, Sophie. I felt terrible when I heard that you ended up in a psychiatric hospital. I know it was all my fault and I am so, so sorry,” he said solemnly. “I didn’t really expect that. I didn’t realize you were that weak.”

She blinked at the insult.

“But you were a child,” he added, excusing her, and then he smiled crookedly. “I was happy when Megan came home from her first day at high school and told us that she’d found you. From what she said you were obviously fine again, and I was glad you’d recovered from your breakdown and were good once more. Everything was fine. I could stop feeling bad.”

Sophie just stared at him with disbelief. So, he thought being parentless and living in a group home with no family was fine and he no longer had anything to feel bad about? What about her parents?

“But then she brought you home,” George commented. “And you’d grown up. Three short years and you had blossomed into womanhood.”

Sophie looked at him sharply as he lifted his head and let his gaze travel over her face and body in a way she’d never seen before. A way that made her feel gross, and want to vomit.

“You looked just like your mother. It was like she was walking in the door and smiling at me, and I knew I had a second chance.”

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