Previously: Aleigha and Godelieve have a private discussion about Ranaan's Black Book. Someone has been inside of Godelieve's house and tampered with the bible.
I spent a lot of time with Seamus. He went to Harvest College. That was informative! I didn't know Rottingham had a college. I've never considered college. "You know Seamus, I've never thought about college. In fact, I thought people went to Yale and Harvard. I couldn't get into a school like that."
Seamus: I'm sure you could. At first, I didn't think I'd get into Harvest.
"What did you do to get there?" We sat in the kitchen sharing a bowl of chips. It was difficult to get him in the chair because of his ongoing arthritis.
Seamus: I worked hard for one thing. Got a scholarship just like you did. Didn't think my life would end this way. Fucking vampires
"Indeed!" Seamus and I have a lot in common. We're both kidnapped. Soon a hear a pair of feet thumping down the stairs next to the entrance. Aleigha's face is hinting that a conversation did not go well. "What in God's halo are you doing?"
"Me and Seamus are friends."
"You can't be friends with the undead!" he mocks. What was our relationship when we were little? I bet he was a dick. "I was not!" he exclaims, "I even helped mama wiped the crack of your vampiric asshole."
How lucky am I. My brother wiped my ass.
Aleigha flutters his eyes and snorts, a puff of smoke exhales from his breath. "I need so much weed..."
"what was that?" mentioning the puff of air. "My very fucking soul. Come on, get in the car, Seamus is driving."
"Where are we going now?"
Golelieve arrives and stands on the side of Aleigha. "Are you going to tell him in the car?" she asks facing him. "Yeah, give the book." She hands off a thick black book with iron clasp around it. On the face of the book is a curious symbol, a Z fused with a large D letter. "Come on Deidre." He goes to the door, "Bring the white bitch. He's driving."
I look at Seamus, "I'm so sorry.
Seamus: I'm sick of driving!
I follow outside and drag Seamus with the chair. I'm not struggling to put him in the car. "Aleigha! Use your magic, I don't Triks!"
"Joni"
Seamus stands up straight and hurries to Aleigha. "Get in the car and drive," he commands. Why can't I do that if I'm his fucking brother? "Because you ain't got no mind!" he yells. "I need to get your memory. To put it simply you just forgot how."
Aleigha pulls out his phone and talks into the microphone, "Give me direction to Newman Glas Street, Royal Oak Causeway, and At Ann's Warren." I get stationed into the truck; I tap Seamus on the shoulder. "You got your driver's license and everything?"
Seamus: I think I'm good.
"I can give one or the other, Aleigha. However, I suggest going down St. Ann's Warren. It is 15 minutes from where you are. Here are the directions," the phone replies in the electronic voice. Can my phone do that?
Aleigha gets in the backseat with me after stuffing his phone in his pockets. "I need my fucking hair done. I look like a goddamn pincone."
"It's nappy as can be," I point out, not that he needed clarification. "Come on Seamus, get there."
What happened to that other guy?
The radio is playing in the car and I have to say, Aleigha has good taste in music. I turn to him next to me, "Do you have Spotify?"
"Nah, at least not with premium, if that's what you mean."
"Oh," that's sad, he's been stealing the whole neighborhood but not Spotify? This nigga listens to ads. "Fuck you." He glowers at me.
"What song is this?"
"I don't know. It's the radio."
I've been all over Rottingham. Apparently, we have a porn store. What could you buy in there? Porn, dildos. Ointments, scented candles, maybe roses if you're romantic. Aleigha chuckles. "What's funny?"
"You wanna go to the porn store? Hmm?" Asshole. "Buy a dildo for yo' gay ass"
I punch him in the arm, "I WAS CURIOUS!" he sits back in the seat tittering with tears in his eyes.
I don't hate him? I don't how to feel. Nigga six-seven feet comes to the window and breaks in. He didn't kill anyone—thank god—this would be the time to ask about him. Who is he? He can read my thoughts.
Aleigha stares at me. I look back at him. The music playing and Seamus being silent and halfway to death's cabin. He blinks, I blink.
"I'm not telling you shit."
"Oh, come on," I whine. "I don't know anything. Who are you as a person—vampire, African?"
"Is it the vampire that you wanna know?"
I want more. Not the size of a dick or anything. He said I ran from home, our mom was murdered and from what it sounds like, she's a civil rights leader? So, I'm the son of Martin Luther King? "Mom used to teach, too." He leans into the window. "She majored in psychology."
"Dad used to talk about Psychology to me." I speak. "Because mom taught him. Our dad is Ashkii Hoffweiss."
"Why isn't our last name Hoffweiss?"
"Mom's idea, she knew we were going to be scattered." It also sounds like she knew she was going to die. That begs the question of why she didn't try and prevent it. Did she want to die?"
"NO!" he shouts, pink orbs shimmering. "Mama didn't want to die! She—" he sinks in the cushion. Aleigha sighs, "Mama had stupid ways. She knew and at the same time, she asked her husbands to stay out of it."
Abby Robson is my adoptive mother, and I can't say she was a smart woman or not because she was mute. "I don't understand, how did she know in the first place?"
"I showed you the letter, The Eye of Sebastian." He looks out the window in thought. "It's an amulet with the eye of a psychic. But rumor has it, it is also the eye of a Fallen or Walker."
More supernatural bullshit. "Walker?"
"They say, vampires come from angels that fell. One fell in India which makes Changany fucking relevant."
"Why?"
"Because sometimes Angels are described with more than two arms and have the heads of animals. It's a crazy fucking thing." Aleigha grimaces. "Changany and vampires have this fetish for Heads." Blowjobs. "No! Stupid!" He slaps my chest. "decapitation."
In novels or old movies. How to kill a vampire is through decapitation, burning, and stabbing the heart. If I think about it, there is nothing special about it. It's a regular human being if that's all you must do to kill them.
But it's supernatural. Some logic would dictate that you need to apply ghostly matters in giving rid of them. "Who's Changany?" I ask.
His eyes widen, musing over the correct answer. "Uncle Michael... maybe."
"Uncle Michael?"
"Yeah," as in the Arch Angel?