Marek the Vampire (special preview)

There’s a lot of storms in your neck of the woods. Enough that at certain times of year dams have to be raised that cut off parts of the peninsula from the rest of the world. The water rises high and boats are the only means of transportation. If you don’t have a boat, you’re kind of screwed.

The boat you own used to belong to your grandparents. In fact, most of what you own was once theirs. The house, your cookware, your dishes, the cats it all was once your grandparents’. You’re also one of the few properties remaining on the peninsula that has a well, the rest rely on a system of aqueducts and underground piping that comes from the lake. Legends have persisted that something lives in that underground labyrinth. But the peninsula had a lot of strange superstitions.

During the rainy season there isn’t much to do except stay indoors and pray your stock doesn’t deplete before the supply barge comes in. Either that or boat to the nearest town to escape; but during the rain this isn’t a good idea.

One of your cats bats at your water cup so you move it aside and swirl around a paint brush in it. “Not today,” you fuss at them. You look back at your canvas and slouch your shoulders. Nothing is working out quite the way you want it. Hell, even painting your nails was a futile effort the day before.

Your cat continues to try and swat at the water cup despite you having moved it. So you move it again. They swat a paint brush as the cup moves by, sloshing out water as well as flinging the wet brush onto the canvas and causing a smear.

Staring in disbelief at the mess you turn back to the cat who simply shows you their belly and mews sweetly.

“You think that will get you out of trouble?” You stand up, scooping up the cat with you. You toss him onto your bed where he swats around before curling up at the edge of the pillows.

“Yeah! You stay there and you think about what you’ve done.” You storm back out, avoiding your painting area as you go into the kitchen. You take out the cake Mrs. Mulligan made for you and start eating with the fork left on the tray.

You place a kettle upon the stove and just as you’re about to snack some more, there is a knock upon the door. Glancing outside, you see the rain is still a constant drizzle. Not many people go out at this, so you wonder who it could be.

Mrs. Mulligan smiles sweetly as you open the door. “I’m sorry to be a bother, but my water is on the fritz again. Could I take some of yours?” She holds up a pitcher.

You stand aside to wave her in. “You know where the kitchen is.”

She nods and shuffles in. “Thank you so much. I’m so grateful to have a neighbor with a well. What with all the troubles the city piping seems to be having lately. I think all these billowy storms we’ve been having have churned up something in the lake.” She places her pitcher under the faucet and turns the knob.

“I was kind of thinking that myself.” You glanced back out the window. “There’s been more wind than usual. All this buffeting on the water can’t be good. I know you have a filter, but has your water tasted any different?”

“I’ve had to change my filter twice this year. Lucky you. You don’t have to pay monthly maintenance fees and you don’t have to get those fancy filters every year.” She fills her pitcher then sets it aside with a huff. “Must be nice to be blessed.”

You chuckle. “I wouldn’t sya that, Mr.s Mulligan.”

Mrs. Mulligan’s constant soft smile turned back upon you and she pointed. “Your grandparents were blessed, it’s only fitting it would be passed on to you. They always got what they deserved.”

You smirked. “Like you for a neighbor?”

She giggled and shrugged. “Maybe not so blessed.” She picked her pitcher back up. “Thank you again. I’ll have to make you another cake.”

“I won’t argue with that.” You walk her back to the front door and open it for her. “Do you want me to walk that home for you?”