Page 83 of Bad Luck Vampire

“A second chance?” she asked with disbelief.

“Yes. Don’t you see?” he asked, taking a step away from the counter. “I could take care of you, and love you, and you would love me back.”

“Was killing Andrew and Beverly your idea of taking care of me?” she ground out, fury pouring through her like acid.

“Yes, of course,” George said as if that should be obvious. “He was no good, Sophie. Just a punk. The kid of a drug addicted mother. He was going to get you in trouble. The boy was luring you into that shut down mall. Don’t deny it, I saw. I followed you guys there several times. He’d do some skateboarding and then lure you into a dark corner and get you to make out with him like some little whore.”

Sophie stiffened. He’d made it sound so dirty, but it hadn’t been. Just kissing and mild petting. They’d loved each other. But it was somewhat tainted now in her memory by the knowledge that he’d stalked and watched them like some pervert.

“Then he gave you that damned ring,” George growled with disgust. “I knew he’d be pushing you to have sex next. Maybe force you. You’d be pregnant before you got out of grade nine. I had to prevent that. So, I waited and watched for my opportunity, and when you girls left him to skateboard at the mall alone and headed away, I knew you were going to the library to do that group project and wouldn’t return. Megan had asked permission to go after school to work on it with you.”

He paused, his eyes growing distant and a smile curving his lips as he recalled. “So, I slipped into the mall, and stuck to the shadows to await my chance. There were other kids there at first. I thought they’d never leave, but then one of them said they’d better get back to the home, it was nearly dinnertime. But Andrew said he just wanted to do a couple more tricks and he’d follow.”

George’s smile widened. “After they were gone, he started doing this really rather impressive trick with his skateboard on the rim of the fountain. He never saw me coming. I pushed him off his skateboard, he hit his head when he fell. Then he sat up with confusion and stared at me asking, “What the hell, man?”

“I told him I was sorry. That I’d just been coming over to ask him something and had tripped and unintentionally bumped into him. Then I stepped into the dry fountain with him as if to help him up, but instead, I bent down and just slammed his head into the stone floor of the fountain a couple of times.”

His smile turned into a frown now, and George admitted, “I thought I killed him too. I should have made sure. I guess I didn’t learn from your mother, because—like her—he wasn’t dead.” He scowled, and then his expression cleared and he shrugged. “He might as well be. He’s little more than a vegetable. But at least I saved you from his impregnating you and ruining your life.”

Sophie was silent for a minute, at first bombarded with feelings, so many she couldn’t clock them, and then she was suddenly just cold and empty inside. But she still needed to know.

“Beverly couldn’t get me pregnant. Why kill her?” she asked flatly.

“Beverly,” George said with a frown. “That was a shame. She seemed like a nice enough girl, but she was a group home kid too, and her mother—again—was a drug addict. I didn’t mind that so much with her. I mean, I thought you were a good influence on her. But after Andrew’s accident, you started talking about maybe you shouldn’t move out of the group home and in with us. That you couldn’t leave Beverly all by herself after what had happened.”

He shook his head. “Sweetheart, you were going to throw your life away for this kid, and I knew you would do it too. Deb kept saying, ‘No. It’s okay, she just needs time. We’ll convince her to move in as planned.’ But I knew she was wrong. Bighearted as you are, you’d have stayed in the group home for Beverly’s sake, and that bleeding-heart caseworker of yours would have understood and recommended allowing it, and the courts wouldn’t force you, because you were old enough that they would have taken your choice into consideration.” He held his hands out to the sides. “Don’t you see? I had to take care of her. For your sake.”

All Sophie could see was that Andrew and Beverly were dead because of her. Somehow this was her fault.

“How did you do it?” she asked, the not knowing gnawing at her. “Beverly didn’t eat anything.”

“She didn’t have to,” he told her with a smile. “Remember that morning? You and Beverly came over early to help Megan get your history project to school. It was a big two-foot-by-two-foot board with miniature buildings and people on it.”

Sophie remembered. Their project had been on the War of 1812. They’d written a speech, dividing it in three parts so each would give a portion of it, and had built a model of Fort York and the surrounding area, including Lake Ontario, and models of the ships on it and such. They’d worked hard on that project.

“You and Beverly left your backpacks by your boots near the front door while you ran upstairs with Megan to put a couple of little last-minute touches on your project and make sure it was all ready. You were all so proud of it.” He smiled faintly.

“Well, while you were upstairs, I went through Beverly’s bag, pulled out her EpiPen and jabbed it into an orange to empty it.” He clucked his tongue with remembered irritation, and told her, “It was only after I’d done it that I saw that the clear window on the pen was now shaded. I was afraid that would give away that it had already been used, but all I could do was hope that in the panic of the moment it wouldn’t be noticed. So, I threw it back in her bag and then went out to the kitchen, pulled out the peanut oil Deb kept for cooking, smeared some all over Megan’s insulated lunch bag, and then kind of half-ass wiped it off so it didn’t look wet, but there were still traces on it. Then I took that and Megan’s school bag and put both in the trunk of the car, and called out for you girls to get moving or we’d be late. I was supposed to be driving you all to school with the model,” he reminded her, as if she could have forgotten.

“Then at the school, I opened the trunk, got the model out and handed it to Megan to carry, gave you Megan’s book bag, and Beverly Megan’s lunch bag. Had Beverly not been wearing gloves, she would have reacted right away. But then that had been part of my plan. It was winter, damned cold that morning. Her gloves protected her. At least, until she took them off and touched the outside of them with her bare fingers to put them away. Then all it would take was rubbing her eyes, or putting her fingers near her mouth and—” George shrugged as if Beverly’s life was of no consequence.

“It was for the best,” he assured her. “She would have dragged you down.”

Sophie didn’t respond to that, she merely stared at him for a minute and then asked, “John?”

“He was no good for you,” George said at once, looking irritated now. “No good at all. The kid was a partier. He was luring you to neglect your university classes. How many times did he convince you to bypass studying to go to some stupid frat party? Time you could have spent studying.”

“So, you ran him down,” she said solemnly.

“It was easy,” he said with a shrug. “I watched your dorm, waited for my opportunity, for a time when he was alone, and there was no one around to see, then boom crash. He wasn’t a problem anymore.”

“Derek?” she growled.

“Derek.” He laughed slightly. “Sweetheart, you guys thought you were so clever sneaking around dating like you did. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? What kind of father would I be if I didn’t notice you whispering in the break room? Or disappearing into the bathroom when you thought no one was looking, and coming out a little disheveled. You forgot about the cameras, sweetheart.” He paused, and then frowned and said, “Or maybe I hadn’t mentioned them to anyone yet.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I knew you two were dating.”

“We dated for a year,” she pointed out angrily. “Why did you wait so long to kill him?”

“Because it was fine. I thought you should get some dating experience. But then the idiot had the balls to ask you to marry him.” George scowled. “He was an insurance salesman, Sophie. They’re the scum of the earth. The only thing worse is a car salesman.”

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