Chapter 12: Allies in the Shadows

Night draped the charred ruins of the Tradant family roadhouse in darkness. A thin wisp of smoke curled from the blackened timbers, the last dying breath of the fire that had gutted the place. JT Tradant picked his way through the debris with a flashlight in one hand and a shotgun in the other, his heart thudding against his ribs. The cool air smelled of wet ash and pine. Every crunch of his boots on charred wood set his nerves on edge. Beside him, his younger brother Mike swept his rifle’s beam over the wreckage, jaw tightly clenched. Adam stayed behind in the safety of the car hiding out of sight. They had to find Nick.

JT’s gut churned with dread. The weight of everything that had happened pressed on him: Kaitlyn was dead, Dad was dead, and now Nick was missing. They’d barely escaped the attack on the roadhouse with their lives last time, now the first time back and Nick was taken. Family first, Dad always said. But JT had let Nick go off alone to check the ruins for clues while he and Mike secured the cabin. Now Nick was gone. JT swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus. Panic could get them killed.

“Nick!” Mike called out hoarsely into the night, keeping his voice low but urgent. There was no response, only the distant chorus of crickets and the crackle of cooling embers. The silence was suffocating. JT moved his light across what used to be the roadhouse’s front lot. The beam skittered over twisted metal and blackened rubble—and then caught a glint of something on the ground.

JT hurried forward and crouched. It was a flashlight, lying on its side in the dirt. He picked it up. The casing was scuffed and one of the batteries had popped out. JT’s pulse spiked; he recognized the sticker on the handle. It was Nick’s flashlight. He must have dropped it. Nearby, the ground was scuffed with footprints and a darker stain spattered across broken concrete. JT’s stomach turned as he realized it was blood, tacky and smeared as if from a struggle. “Mike,” he said tightly, holding up the flashlight. “Nick was here.”

Mike rushed over, saw the blood and the familiar flashlight, and let out a shaky breath that was almost a sob. “Damn it….” He ran a hand through his soot-streaked hair. In the flashlight’s beam, JT saw raw fear in his brother’s eyes.

They pressed on, following a trail of disturbed dirt and broken branches away from the main ruins toward the tree line. At the edge of the clearing, Karen’s SUV—Nick had borrowed their mom’s car—came into view, parked haphazardly as if abandoned in a hurry. The truck’s hood was crumpled against a tree and the windshield had a spiderweb of cracks. JT’s heart sank at the sight. He approached carefully. The driver’s side door hung open, and in the harsh white of JT’s flashlight they saw brownish smears on the inside panel. Blood, unmistakably. Mike sucked in a sharp breath.

JT gritted his teeth. The interior of the SUV was a mess—papers from the glovebox strewn around, the fabric of the seat torn. There were more drops of blood on the steering wheel and floor mat. But no sign of Nick. A cold fury and terror warred in JT’s chest. They were too late; Nick had been taken. We should have been with him. JT banished the thought—self-recrimination could come later. Right now, Nick might still be alive and needing help. Vampires didn’t always kill outright; sometimes they took prisoners for feeding or bait. As long as JT had a sliver of hope, he’d hold onto it.

Mike stood guard, rifle raised, his whole body taut as a bowstring. “This is all screwed up,” he muttered, voice quavering with anger and grief. “Kait’s gone… Dad’s gone… and now Nick….” He trailed off, choking on the last words.

JT placed a steadying hand on his brother’s shoulder. “We’re going to get him back,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “Nick’s tough. If he’s out there, he’ll hang on. But we need to move carefully.” He swept his light around the dark, silent woods that encircled the ruins. His finger rested alongside the shotgun’s trigger guard, ready. The vampires could still be nearby.

The night pressed in around them, thick with the threat of unseen eyes. JT felt exposed standing here in the open clearing. He and Mike had parked their truck a short way up the road and approached on foot. Now JT wondered if that had been wise—if an ambush came, their escape was not immediately at hand. The two brothers stood back to back by the SUV, breathing hard, adrenaline spiking with every rustle of leaves. In the distance, a lone owl hooted.

Mike’s voice was a tight whisper. “Maybe we should fall back, get to the cabin and regroup, then—”

A sudden crunch of leaves cut him off. From the treeline, about twenty yards beyond the SUV, came movement. JT whipped around toward the sound, raising his shotgun. Two silhouettes emerged from behind the charred husk of a cedar. They were humanoid shapes, but in the darkness it was impossible to tell if they were human or something else. After what they’d been through, JT wasn’t taking chances. He racked the shotgun with a clack-clack and barked, “Stop right there!”

Mike swung his rifle to cover the figures, finger on the trigger. The beams of their flashlights jittered across the newcomers—catching a reflection off metal here, the edge of a face there. The two shapes halted. For a heartbeat, no one moved or spoke. JT could hear his own pulse pounding in his ears. Were these vampires returning to finish the job?

Then a deep voice called out from the gloom, authoritative but calm, carrying easily through the night: “Hold your fire, boys! We’re friends. Arthur’s friends.”

JT’s chest constricted in shock. Arthur’s friends? And that voice—it was rough around the edges, with a familiar gravely warmth, stirring memories of late-night stories by the fireplace. JT didn’t lower the gun, but hope flickered through his panic. “Step into the light!” he ordered. “Slowly.”

The taller figure raised his hands in a gesture of peace and stepped forward into the beam of JT’s flashlight. He was a large, broad-shouldered man in his fifties, with close-cropped dark hair streaked with gray. A battered leather jacket hung on his frame, and a pistol sat holstered at his side. His face, weathered and scarred by old battles, broke into a gentle smile as soon as the light hit JT’s face. “By God… you’re Arthur’s boys, aren’t you? JT?” the man said, voice softening with familiarity. “You’ve grown up.”

JT felt his arms tremble. He eased the shotgun’s muzzle a few degrees downward, his eyes wide. “Victor?” he breathed, hardly daring to believe it.

Victor Greaves nodded, a relieved chuckle rumbling out of him. “In the flesh—still a damn ugly mug, too,” he joked.

Mike let out an exhale of disbelief and lowered his rifle slightly. JT’s mind raced. Victor Greaves had been his father’s oldest hunting partner, practically an uncle figure in their lives once. JT hadn’t seen him in years—Victor tended to roam where the hunts took him. That he was here now of all times… it felt like seeing a ghost, but a welcome one.

From the shadows behind Victor, more figures slowly emerged, fanning out in cautious positions at the tree line. JT counted… five in total, including Victor. All armed, but none with weapons raised. They’d heard the exchange and were showing themselves carefully. JT and Mike exchanged a glance. Allies, or at least not immediate enemies. Still, JT kept his guard up—he knew better than to assume anything in the dark.

Victor took another step forward, hands still raised. “Arthur called me two weeks ago, said trouble was brewing. When I heard what happened… I came as fast as I could. I’m sorry I didn’t make it in time.” His eyes flicked to the ruined roadhouse and back to the blood on JT’s sleeve and Mike’s soot-streaked face. The grief in Victor’s expression told JT that he knew—about Arthur, about Kaitlyn.

JT’s throat tightened, but before he could respond, another figure stepped up beside Victor, entering the flashlight glow. It was a woman, around JT’s age, maybe a year younger. She was lithe and fit, wearing a canvas tactical jacket smeared with dirt and soot. A short, light-blonde braid fell over her shoulder from under the baseball cap she wore. JT’s heart skipped. He recognized the angular cheekbones, the determined set of her jaw, and those blue eyes that locked onto him now in disbelief. Lena Greaves.

“JT…” Lena said, almost a whisper. The tough mask she’d been wearing cracked into open relief.

JT’s shotgun nearly slipped from his hands. “Lena?” His voice came out strangled. Lena was Victor’s daughter, and once upon a time she’d been JT’s first love. He hadn’t seen her since they were teenagers—she’d moved away with Victor years ago. Now here she stood, battle-hardened and armed with a compact crossbow slung across her back. Soot smudged her face, and a cut over one eyebrow was freshly bandaged. Yet in her eyes he still saw the girl he used to know.

In two long strides, JT closed the distance between them. He propped his shotgun against the crumpled hood of the SUV and then Lena was in his arms, colliding with him in a fierce embrace. JT wrapped her tight against his chest, lifting her off the ground for a second. She let out a shaky half-laugh, half-sob against his shoulder. The sudden warmth of holding her cut through the cold dread inside JT, if only for a moment. “Lena,” he breathed, his voice thick. Words failed him. He just held her, eyes screwed shut, overwhelmed by relief and a hundred other emotions he couldn’t name.

A pointed throat-clearing from behind made them pull apart reluctantly. JT set Lena back down; both of them suddenly remembered they had an audience. He heard a couple of low chuckles from the other strangers. Lena stepped back, cheeks flushed beneath the grime. JT felt his own face heat up. He hastily retrieved his shotgun, trying to regain some composure. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Victor gave a low, knowing chuckle but mercifully focused on business. He clapped JT on the shoulder, the gesture almost fatherly. “It’s damn good to see you, kid. Wish it were under better circumstances.” His gaze flickered to Mike and his smile faded, sorrow dimming his eyes. “Mike… I’m so sorry about your dad. And Kaitlyn.”

Mike swallowed, nodding stiffly. “Thanks,” he managed. Even in the poor light, JT could see the grief welling anew in his brother’s face at the mention of their father and sister. It was a wound still bleeding.

Victor’s jaw tightened. “Arthur was like a brother to me. I swear to you—we’ll make whoever did this pay.” The quiet ferocity in his words resonated with JT’s own rage. JT nodded, grateful beyond words that Victor and these others had come. They might not be Tradants by blood, but they were family in this fight.

JT turned to take stock of the rest of the newcomers. He recognized an older man stepping forward with a pronounced limp—Hank Boyd, an old hunter who’d visited their roadhouse a few times when JT was young. Hank had a scruffy salt-and-pepper beard and kind, tired eyes. He raised two fingers in a little salute. “Couldn’t stay away when I heard the Tradants were in trouble,” Hank said gruffly. “Arthur once dragged my sorry hide out of a vampire nest, and I swore a blood oath I’d return the favor one day. I intend to honor that—for him, and for you.” He thumped a fist to his chest.

JT felt a lump in his throat. He remembered Arthur telling that story—how he’d saved Hank’s life back in the ’90s. He never knew Hank had made a formal oath. “Thank you,” JT said quietly.

“We all came because of Arthur,” said another newcomer—a burly, bald man wearing a camo bandana around his head. He held a shotgun casually across one arm. JT squinted; he remembered this man’s face. Caleb something… yes, Caleb Markham. He ran an arms dealership in a neighboring state and occasionally sold specialized gear to Arthur. Caleb gave a firm nod. “Heard the call and got here as soon as I could, bringing a truckload of toys to play with.”

Beside Caleb hovered a younger man, probably in his early twenties. He was lean and a bit nervous-looking, with glasses that kept slipping down his nose and a heavy backpack full of electronics in his grip. JT didn’t know him, but the way he hovered near Caleb suggested they came together. The young man managed a timid wave. “Um, Ben Sharp,” he introduced himself quickly. “I… I’m sorry for your loss. Arthur meant a lot to hunters like me—kept the community connected, even if he didn’t work with others much.”

JT nodded in acknowledgment, mentally filing away that this must be one of those tech-inclined hunters Kaitlyn was always saying they should collaborate with. Ben shifted his feet and offered, “I run a hunter forum online and radio chatter. When word spread about the attack… well, we coordinated.”

So that explained it—news of Arthur’s death and the roadhouse attack had spread through whatever underground network existed among hunters. These people were Arthur’s old allies and those who respected him, rallying to help the Tradant family in a crisis. It humbled JT deeply. In the span of a few minutes, he and Mike had gone from being utterly alone to suddenly having a half-dozen seasoned hunters at their side. Allies, just when they needed them most.

A brief, stunned silence fell as everyone took in the gravity of the situation. The wind whispered through the pines around the destroyed roadhouse, scattering ash like snow. Mike cleared his throat and stepped forward, extending his hand to each newcomer in turn for a quick shake. “Thank you all for coming,” he said, voice rough but sincere. “Dad always spoke highly of you.”

Hank bowed his head. “Arthur was one of the best. We’re here because we owe him—and because this fight isn’t just yours.” He glanced around at the others. “Vampires declared war on the Tradants, and that means war on all of us hunters if we let it stand.” The group murmured in agreement. Caleb spat on the ground. “Damn right. They messed with the wrong family.”

Lena moved back to her father’s side, though her eyes kept straying to JT. Her presence alone steadied JT’s frayed nerves. He forced himself to stay on task. Later, he promised silently. Later he’d sort out the rush of feelings at seeing Lena again. Right now, Nick was priority one.

“Victor, did you see anything of Nick? Or the ones who took him?” JT asked, cutting through the small talk. The question cast a pall of urgency over everyone again.

Victor grimaced, regret evident. “We didn’t just stumble on you by accident. We tracked the aftermath of an attack here.” He gestured at the ruined roadhouse and the SUV. “Arrived just a few minutes too late. We caught a glimpse of… of something being dragged into the woods, that way.” He pointed north, deeper into the forest beyond the property. “We think it was two vampires hauling a third person. Had to be Nick.” His tone was taut with frustration. “We gave chase, but those bastards vanished into the trees before we could intercept. Too fast.”

Lena’s jaw was tight. “We tried, JT. I swear. We were on foot and they just… melted into the dark.” Her voice wavered, anger and sorrow mingling.

JT felt like ice water had been poured down his spine. He clenched his fists, fighting a swell of guilt and fear. We left Nick to face this alone. “It’s not your fault,” he said automatically, though no one looked convinced—least of all himself. He took a breath, trying to steady the tremor in his voice. “At least we know he was alive when they took him.”

Mike shut his eyes as if pained by the thought of what Nick might be enduring. JT put a hand between Mike’s shoulder blades. “We will get him back,” JT said, raising his voice just enough that all the newcomers could hear the conviction (or at least the determination) in it. “We’ll get Nick, and we’ll make those leeches pay for everything.”

Hank gripped JT’s shoulder firmly. “That’s why we’re here, son. Whatever you need—whatever it takes—we’re in.” A chorus of assent followed: low murmurs of “Count on us”, “All the way” echoed among the hunters. In their eyes JT saw resolve tempered by sympathy. They all knew what Arthur and Kaitlyn’s loss meant, and they understood the stakes now with Nick’s abduction.

Victor straightened up, taking a step back to survey the woods. “This area isn’t safe. The vampires could circle back. We have a camp about a mile from here, but given everything, it’d be better if we regroup somewhere secure—somewhere you trust.” He looked to JT. “Arthur’s old hunting cabin still around?”

JT nodded. “Great minds think alike.” JT said with a slight smirk “ We just came from there.  Mike, Adam and I were working on final prep and inventory when Nick came out here to check for clues. Its stocked and ready”

“Good,” Victor said. “We should get off this exposed ground and fall back there. We can make a plan.”

JT agreed. Every instinct urged him to charge headlong into the forest after Nick, but a small, pragmatic voice (sounding an awful lot like his father’s) kept him in check. They needed a plan and daylight if they were to have any chance of success. JT turned to the group. “Alright. We’ll head to the cabin. It’s remote enough to be safe for now. We can talk on the way or when we arrive, but keep your guard up as we move. They may have lookouts.”

The hunters nodded and swiftly began organizing themselves. Caleb and Ben headed off to retrieve Caleb’s Jeep hidden down the road, while Victor, Lena, and Hank followed JT and Mike to their car nearby with Adam still hiding and waiting safely. In minutes, the vehicles were quietly rolling out onto the dirt backroad, leaving the burned roadhouse and eerie silence behind.

As JT drove the car through the winding forest path toward the cabin, he caught glimpses of the convoy behind him—Caleb’s Jeep headlights bouncing over ruts, Hank’s silhouette on an ATV he had apparently brought, trailing behind like a rear guard. Mike sat in the passenger seat beside JT, staring out the window with a hardened expression. In the backseat, Adam was sitting quietly excited to hear the news of the reinforcements.

JT’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. The night wasn’t over, but for the first time since the nightmare began, he felt a spark of something other than despair: hope. Reinforcements had arrived. Allies, armed and willing, stood with them now. He only prayed they wouldn’t regret throwing in their lot with the cursed Tradant family. I won’t let them down, he vowed silently. I can’t.

The cabin came into view as they rounded the final bend: a modest log structure tucked among tall pines, its windows dark. JT parked the car and, after a quick perimeter check to ensure they hadn’t been followed, ushered everyone inside. The space was cramped with so many bodies, but the familiarity of the cabin’s wood-paneled walls and the presence of allies eased the suffocating fear slightly. They were not alone in this fight anymore.

JT closed the door behind the last of the group and dropped the heavy wooden bar in place to secure it. In the dim lantern light within, he saw expectant faces turned toward him. Arthur had been the family’s leader and their best hunter. Kaitlyn had been their field commander. Both were gone. And now these seasoned hunters—people JT had looked up to—were watching him for direction. Adam hovered near the doorway, looking at JT with a mix of worry and trust.

JT drew in a breath. He was exhausted and scared, grieving and furious all at once. But he was also Arthur Tradant’s son, and he’d be damned if he faltered when his family needed him most. He set his jaw and addressed the group in a low, steady voice that he hoped concealed the quake in his soul. “We’re grateful you’re all here. Truly. We can’t do this alone.” His eyes met each of theirs in turn—Victor, Hank, Caleb, Ben, Lena, and finally his brothers, Mike and Adam, beside him. “But I have to say this up front: none of you are obligated to stay. This fight is personal for us Tradants. It’s going to get uglier before it’s over. I won’t ask anyone to risk their life if their heart isn’t in it.”

For a beat, the only sound was the gentle popping of a log settling in the cold fireplace. Then Caleb let out a snort, a grin breaking his rough features. “I didn’t haul my butt over here for a friendly chat. I came to kill some leeches.” He hefted his shotgun meaningfully. A few of the others chuckled. Lena stepped forward, chin raised. “We’re in this with you, JT. All the way.” The fierce resolve in her eyes left no room for doubt.

Victor nodded solemnly. “Arthur saved my life more times than I can count. Kaitlyn was like family to me. I owe it to them—and to you boys. I’m with you to the end.” A rumble of assent followed: “Damn right,” “To the end.” Hank even raised his right hand as if taking an oath. “I swore to Arthur I’d watch over his family if it ever came to it. So you’re stuck with me, son.” His eyes gleamed with emotion as he said it.

JT’s throat tightened at their words. He fought the urge to spill every ounce of gratitude he felt. Instead, he squared his shoulders and gave a brisk nod. “Then we stand together.” He could almost feel something click into place—like a mantle settling on his shoulders. These hunters were all older than him (aside from Lena), far more experienced in many ways, yet by virtue of blood and circumstance JT found himself at their head. It was as terrifying as it was affirming.

“Alright,” he continued, his voice gaining strength as he slipped into the role of leader. “First things first: we share what we know and figure out where they took Nick. Those vamps didn’t stick around here; they have to have a hideout somewhere nearby, hidden. And we need to find it fast.”

Victor had already moved to the large wooden table that dominated the cabin’s main room. He spread out a map of the region. “There are a few places that come to mind.” He glanced up at JT. “Let’s pool information. What do we know so far about who’s behind this?”

Mike answered before JT could, anger sharpening each word. “We know a vampire coven targeted our family. They murdered our dad, murdered Kaitlyn, torched our home, and now they’ve taken Nick.” His voice cracked with barely contained emotion. “We should have hunted every last one of them down already.”

An uneasy silence fell. Hank cleared his throat, casting a wary eye at Mike. “Easy, son. We all want payback, but rushing in blin—”

“Blind?” Mike snapped, slamming a hand on the table so hard the map jumped. “We’re not blind! We’ve hunted these monsters our whole lives. We know their nests, their habits. What more do we need to know? Sitting here doing nothing is what got my sister killed!” His voice rose, thick with grief and accusation. “Nick’s gone on JT’s watch, and every second we waste could be killing him!”

His words hung in the air like poisonous smoke. JT felt them hit like a punch to the gut. A flash of pain and guilt crossed Mike’s face as soon as he said it, but the damage was done. The room went deathly still. Caleb looked away awkwardly, and Ben busied himself fiddling with a stray bullet. Lena’s eyes went wide with concern as they darted between the brothers. Adam stood off to the side, face pale and stricken at Mike’s outburst.

JT’s chest constricted. He knew Mike was lashing out from fear and heartbreak, but that last barb cut deep. On JT’s watch. It was true—he was the one who’d let Nick go off alone. The failure weighed on him more than anything. But hearing it voiced, and in front of their father’s friends and allies, made anger flare alongside the guilt. He forced it down. Leadership meant keeping it together. He would not explode back at Mike or show weakness before outsiders.

“Mike,” JT said in a low, controlled tone, a warning in itself. But Mike was too wound up. He turned on JT, tears of rage in his eyes. JT saw just how shattered his younger brother was, and it broke his heart even as hot embarrassment pricked at his neck.

Before Mike could continue, Victor interjected gently, “Mike, that’s not fair. Your brother—”

“It’s alright,” JT interrupted, raising a hand. He leveled a firm look at Mike. “Outside. Now.” It wasn’t a yell, but it carried an authority that surprised even JT a little. It certainly surprised Mike; he blinked, mouth snapping shut. After a taut moment, Mike gave a stiff nod and stalked to the door, shoving it open.

As JT moved to follow, Adam instinctively stepped forward as if to go after them. Hank caught the boy’s shoulder and gave a subtle shake of his head. Adam bit his lip and stayed behind, his eyes anxious as the door swung shut behind his brothers.

Outside, the night air was cool and still. The clearing around the cabin was bathed in faint starlight. Mike stood on the porch, back turned, shoulders heaving with emotion he was trying to swallow. JT stepped out and gently closed the door behind him. The muffled lantern glow from inside threw the two brothers into silhouette.

For a moment, JT simply stood there, breathing in the piney air, trying to let the quiet soothe his own raw nerves. Mike was hunched, gripping the porch railing with white-knuckled hands. JT moved beside him, their shoulders nearly touching, and stared into the dark woods. “Go on,” JT said softly. “Say what you need to say.”

Mike’s voice came out choked. “She’s gone, JT. Kaitlyn’s gone. I—I couldn’t do anything. I watched that monster kill her.” A sob hitched in his throat. “And Nick… I let him drive off alone. I should’ve gone with him. I should’ve—” He stopped, swallowing hard.

JT felt tears burn in his own eyes. He reached up and put an arm around Mike, pulling him into a rough embrace. For all his anger a minute ago, Mike now clung to JT, shaking. “We both should’ve done a lot of things,” JT whispered, his voice hoarse. “But blaming each other won’t bring Kait back or help Nick.” His own grief threatened to claw out of his chest, but he forced it down for Mike’s sake.

Mike scrubbed a hand over his face and pulled back, shame and sorrow vying in his expression. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean what I said in there. I’m just… I’m so scared, JT. We lost Dad and Kait, and now if we lose Nick—” His voice broke.

JT gripped Mike by the shoulders, looking him in the eye. “We are not going to lose Nick. I won’t let that happen. And you’re right: we can’t sit around doing nothing. But what we can’t do is fall apart or start blaming each other.” He gave Mike a slight shake, not unkindly. “Dad taught us better. Family unity, remember? We never show cracks in front of outsiders. We can’t afford to.”

Mike took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded. “You’re right. I screwed up.”

JT pulled him into a hug again, briefly. “We’re all screwed up right now,” he said, a sad smile touching his lips. “But we’ll get through this. Together, okay? As brothers.”

Mike nodded against JT’s shoulder. “Together.” He stepped back, wiping his eyes. The anger had drained out of him, leaving only resolve and regret. “I won’t let you down again.”

JT shook his head. “We both just want Nick back. I know you have my back, and I have yours.” He squeezed Mike’s shoulder. “Now let’s go fix things.”

When they went back inside, the others pretended not to have been straining to listen. They looked up casually, concern etched on a few faces. Adam stood near the hearth, trying to look nonchalant but clearly relieved to see his brothers on good terms again. JT cleared his throat. “Sorry about that. We’re okay now.”

Mike stepped forward, squaring his shoulders. “I owe you all an apology,” he announced to the room. “I was out of line. It won’t happen again.” His eyes met Victor’s and Hank’s especially, since they had the most seniority.

Hank waved it off with a gruff nod. “We understand, kid. You’re among family here—blood or not. Emotions run hot in times like this.” A few others murmured agreement. The awkward tension eased.

JT gave Mike a faint, approving nod. Then he crossed to a worn metal box in the corner—the cache of clues and items Nick had salvaged from the roadhouse ruins—and carefully lifted out a heavy leather-bound journal. The cover was scarred and the edges were charred, but it was still intact, the pages within bulging with clippings. JT carried it to the table and set it down amidst the map and weapons. “This was Dad’s hunting journal,” he said, his voice subdued but clear. “He recorded everything—leads, lore, you name it. Nick managed to salvage it from Dad’s safe before… before he was taken. We haven’t had a chance to go through it since the attack. There might be something in here about who’s behind all this.”

Victor’s eyes lit with recognition. “Arthur’s journal,” he said under his breath. He moved closer, alongside JT. Mike hovered at JT’s shoulder now, attentive and solemn. Adam inched forward as well, eyes fixed on the book. The others gathered around.

JT flipped through the later pages by lantern light. Arthur’s tight handwriting filled every margin, sometimes in English, sometimes not. “Some entries are in Romanian,” Victor noted, leaning in. “Arthur used to do that for certain names or phrases.”

“You can read Romanian?” Ben asked curiously, adjusting his glasses.

Victor gave a faint smile. “Spent a year in Transylvania on a hunt with Arthur, back in the day. You pick up a thing or two.” His finger traced a line. He translated aloud, “‘...the Pale Man is more than a mere master vampire. Suspected to be Domnul Palid, if the old tales are true…’”

JT’s heart skipped. The Pale Man. They’d heard that title before—whispered by the vampires that attacked them, and in the warnings Arthur had tried to give. Hearing it in his father’s own writing made the hairs on JT’s arms stand up. “Domnul Palid,” JT repeated, rolling the strange syllables off his tongue. “Kaitlyn mentioned something about a ‘Pale Lord’ from Dad’s lore books. Is Domnul Palid an actual name?”

Victor’s expression turned grave. “It’s Romanian. Literally means ‘the Pale Lord’ or ‘Pale Man.’” He looked around at the expectant faces. “I thought it was just a myth. Some old-country ghost story. An ancient vampire so old and powerful his skin lost all pigment—a creature who’s been orchestrating darkness for centuries. Many covens whisper the name with fear.”

A heavy silence descended on the cabin. JT felt as if a puzzle piece had clicked into place—one that explained the unseen puppeteer behind their misery. Domnul Palid. The name of the monster who’d sent those vampires to murder Arthur and Kaitlyn, who had now taken Nick. The one who had haunted their family from the shadows. JT gritted his teeth. “Dad suspected the Pale Man was Domnul Palid,” he said, more statement than question. He flipped another page. “What else did he say?”

Victor scanned further. “‘...Pale Lord behind Tradant blood curse? All evidence points to him. He must be the source…’” Victor stopped reading and looked up sharply. “Tradant blood curse. What does that mean?”

Every ally’s gaze went to JT and Mike—and Adam. JT felt his mouth go dry. He caught Lena’s eye; she gave the faintest shake of her head, as if to warn him to be careful. But Arthur’s own words were right there. The truth was coming out whether they liked it or not.

JT swallowed. “It means exactly what it sounds like.” He exchanged a glance with Mike, who nodded for him to continue. Adam stood by Mike now, eyes wide; JT saw fear and anticipation mingling in his youngest brother’s face. These were trusted friends of Arthur’s—if they were ever going to tell anyone, these people had earned some truth. “According to family lore, centuries ago one of our ancestors encountered a powerful vampire lord. Instead of killing our forefather, that vampire cursed him… tainted his bloodline with vampire blood.”

A ripple of astonishment passed over the group. Caleb muttered a curse under his breath. Ben looked outright astonished. “So an ancient vampire basically created a line of... half-bleeds? And then sicced his minions on them for generations?”

JT flinched at the term half-bleeds, and he noticed Adam wince too, but JT forced himself not to react defensively. “We don’t know his exact motive,” JT said. “Revenge, maybe. Or some twisted game. But yes—our family has been fighting that vampire and his brood ever since. That’s why the Tradants have always been entangled with darkness. It’s not just random hunts. It’s a war that’s been going on for ages.”

A deep frown creased Hank’s brow. “Damn. Arthur mentioned a ‘curse’ once, but I thought he meant figuratively. Hell of a burden you boys are carrying.” He looked at JT, Mike, and even young Adam with something like sympathy, not scorn.

JT felt tension he didn’t realize he’d been holding ease slightly. He’d expected shock, maybe horror or distrust. Many hunters would kill anything with vampire blood on principle. But these hunters—Arthur’s friends—showed no such revulsion. Instead, JT saw dawning respect, even understanding.

“So that’s why Arthur was always… different,” Caleb said slowly. “And why you Tradant kids fight like hellhounds when cornered.” He let out a low whistle.

Hank thumped his chest over his heart. “Your father saved my life, curse or not. He was a damn good man. And Kaitlyn—she was a ray of sunshine and had a killer right hook,” he added with a bittersweet smile. His voice turned gruff with emotion. “If they managed to turn that curse into something good—to protect people—then so can you.”

JT had to look away for a moment, blinking rapidly. Relief and gratitude warred with the lingering shame he carried about his family’s secret. Seeing these hunters accept them so readily bolstered him in an unexpected way. Mike scrubbed at his eyes and cleared his throat, clearly moved. Adam sniffled once and swiped at his nose, standing a little straighter. Lena caught JT’s eye and gave him a small, supportive smile that made his chest ache.

Victor let out a long breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Well, that confirms what we’re dealing with, then. Not just any master vampire—the one who’s been the bane of your family. Domnul Palid.” He said the name like a curse. “And right now, he has Nick.”

The temperature in JT’s veins seemed to drop at the mention of Nick in that fiend’s hands, but then a steely calm flooded in. For the first time, the enemy had a name, a shape—no longer a nebulous nightmare but a target. “Then we cut off the head of the snake,” JT said quietly, closing Arthur’s journal with a resolute thump. “We take the fight to this Pale Lord. We get Nick back, and we end this curse once and for all.”

Mike stepped up beside him and clapped a hand on JT’s shoulder, solidarity and fury burning in his eyes. “Whatever it takes,” he growled. There was no hesitation now, no doubt about who the enemy was. Adam, standing just behind Mike, nodded fiercely, his face still pale but his expression determined.

Around the table, the allied hunters straightened, spines stiffening with renewed purpose. Caleb bared his teeth in a wolfish grin. “Count me in. Bagging an ancient vampire lord? That’s one hell of a notch on the belt.”

Ben adjusted the baseball cap on his head, his hand trembling slightly not with fear but with adrenaline. “I mean, no one’s ever done it and lived... but hey, I’m game if you are.”

A few nervous chuckles traveled around the room at that. They all understood the risks—an immortal puppeteer pulling the strings of countless nightmares was in a different league than anything most of them had ever faced. But the decision was made. They would stand and fight.

As the initial wave of adrenaline faded, a weary heaviness settled over the group. Plans would need to be made, watches set for the remainder of the night, equipment prepped for the dawn mission to find Nick. JT realized he hadn’t stopped moving or thinking since the roadhouse attack. The exhaustion in his bones was threatening to take over.

They agreed on a rough plan: at first light, a scouting team would set out to search likely hideouts in the area—old mines, ghost town ruins, anywhere a vampire coven might hole up during the day. In the meantime, everyone needed rest if they could manage it. They would rotate a watch through the remaining dark hours.

Lena stepped outside briefly and returned with a few bedrolls from one of the trucks, tossing them to those who didn’t have a place to bunk. Adam helped her wordlessly, spreading one out for Victor on the floor. Mike volunteered for first watch alongside Caleb.

A short while later, as the others settled in or found quiet corners to decompress, JT pushed open the creaky front door and stepped onto the porch. He needed a breath of air and a moment to process everything. To his surprise, Lena was already out there, sitting on the top step in the cool darkness, her arms wrapped around her knees.

She glanced up when JT eased the door shut behind him. “Couldn’t sleep either?” she asked softly.

JT huffed a tired breath as he sat down beside her. “Too wired,” he admitted. In truth, a storm of guilt and worry was still raging inside him, despite the veneer of confidence he’d shown the others.

A lantern hung from a post, casting a gentle flicker across the clearing. Through the window JT could see the silhouette of Mike and Caleb on guard, their figures just visible as they patrolled near the tree line.

Lena nudged a canteen of water toward JT. “Drink,” she said quietly.

JT hadn’t realized how parched he was until that moment. He accepted the cup and drank deeply, cool water soothing his dry throat. “Thanks,” he murmured. They sat there by the low glow of the lantern, shoulders nearly touching, watching the embers in the cabin’s nearby fire pit pulse softly. For a moment it felt like years ago—two teenagers huddled close by a bonfire on a summer night, sneaking chances to be near each other. That memory stirred a mix of sweetness and sorrow in JT. So much had changed.

“You’re doing really well, JT,” Lena said quietly, eyes on the faint glow of the coals. “I know it feels like everything’s falling apart, but… you’re holding everyone together. They trust you. I trust you.”

JT’s chest tightened. He let out a breath. “It doesn’t feel like I’m doing anything except reacting,” he admitted. “I’m terrified, Lena. If I stop to think, I…” He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.

Lena turned her blue eyes on him, earnest and shining in the dim light. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through. Losing Arthur and Kaitlyn… they were like family to me too.” Her voice caught briefly, and JT recalled how Kaitlyn used to rib him mercilessly about Lena when they were all younger. Lena blinked and continued, “But I know one thing: Kaitlyn and your dad would be proud of you right now.”

JT swallowed hard. A lump formed in his throat. “I don’t know about that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “If I’d been smarter, faster... maybe they’d still—”

“Don’t,” Lena cut him off, reaching over to squeeze his forearm. “Don’t do that to yourself. Kaitlyn wouldn’t want that, and neither would Arthur. What happened… it wasn’t your fault.”

JT closed his eyes, absorbing her words. The guilt didn’t vanish, but her touch and her earnest tone were like a balm to his soul. He dared to look at her. In her face he saw compassion, strength, and a glimmer of that familiar warmth that once had meant the world to him. Without thinking, he reached and took her hand. Her fingers intertwined with his, sure and steady.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, hand in hand, drawing strength from one another. Lena eventually gave a soft, crooked smile. “Crazy, huh? Us back here like this, after all this time.”

JT managed a faint smile in return. “I keep thinking about senior year, that night after the homecoming dance when we snuck out to the lake. We laid on the dock watching stars until dawn, remember?”

Lena’s smile grew wistful. “I remember. You told me you were afraid of what life would be like if you left Pine Haven for college. I told you I was afraid of never leaving.” She laughed quietly. “We were so different back then. Worried about such smaller things.”

JT huffed a gentle laugh. “Yeah. Simpler times.” The memory of that night glowed warmly between them. He had kissed her under shooting stars, and for a little while, the hunter life and curses and vampires had felt far away. How naive they’d been. Or maybe just innocent.

Lena nudged him lightly. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad I’m here with you now—even under these circumstances.” Her cheeks colored slightly as she realized how that sounded. “I mean, I hate what’s happened. But there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than helping you end this.”

JT felt an answering warmth and had to fight the urge to pull her into his arms again. He wanted desperately to promise they’d go watch stars again when this was over, that maybe they could have another chance. But he couldn’t afford those thoughts now. So he simply squeezed her hand. “Having you here… it means a lot to me too.” He let the words hang, heavy with everything unspoken.

Their eyes met. In a different time, in a different world, this might have been a moment for a kiss or a confession. But here, on the eve of battle and wrapped in grief, they both knew better. JT gently released her hand, the gesture respectful, and stood up. “I should try to sleep at least an hour,” he said softly. “We’ll need everyone sharp in the morning. That includes you.”

Lena rose with him, nodding. “Yes, boss,” she teased lightly, repeating an old joking title and earning a small smirk from JT. Then her face grew serious. “Be careful out there tomorrow, okay? You might feel invincible or something right now, but… just don’t take stupid risks. Promise me.”

JT gave a half-smile. “I promise to be as careful as I can. And I’ll have a solid team watching my back.” He glanced through the window, where Mike and Caleb could be seen as moving silhouettes on guard. “Including one overly loyal little brother.”

Lena’s gaze softened. “He looks up to you, you know. Always has.”

JT didn’t trust himself to respond to that. Instead, he just nodded and murmured, “Get some rest, Lena. We’ve got a long day coming.”

Lena offered a tired smile, squeezed his arm once, and slipped back inside. JT remained on the porch for a moment, drawing in a deep breath of cool night air to steady himself. Then he followed.

Inside, the cabin was dim and quiet. Gentle snores drifted from Ben, who had conked out on the couch amidst a tangle of wires. The floorboards creaked softly as someone on watch stepped by outside. Mike caught JT’s eye from where he sat by the front window, rifle across his lap—ever vigilant. They exchanged a nod of mutual confidence. The bad blood from earlier had burned away, leaving only brotherly solidarity.

JT moved through the main room. Most of the others were stretched out or propped in corners catching what rest they could. He slipped into the small back bedroom. Nick lay fast asleep on the cot there, his face slack in the depths of much-needed rest. A bit of color had already returned to his cheeks thanks to fluids and some of their mother’s homemade tonic (Lena had managed to pour a dose past Nick’s groggy protests). At Nick’s bedside, wrapped in a blanket on the floor, was Adam—he had refused to leave Nick’s side until he knew his brother was safe. Now the kid was out cold, his face peaceful for the first time in days.

JT watched Nick for a moment, listening to the reassuring sound of his gentle breathing. As much family as any Tradant, JT thought, heart swelling with gratitude. We got you back, brother.

Satisfied, JT eased out of the room and into a chair by the main window. He didn’t bother undressing—just propped his feet up on an old trunk and rested his head against the wall. Through the window, the moon cast a pale glow over the clearing. It reminded him of that word, Palid, and the creature it named. Somewhere out there in the dark, the Pale Man was waiting for them. JT’s eyes narrowed. We’re coming for you, he promised silently, as sleep finally began to drag him under. We’re coming.

Chapter 13: Cold War Tactics

Dawn broke cold and gray over the pines. A mist clung to the forest floor as if the night’s terrors were reluctant to let go. JT woke with a start to the soft sound of footsteps and the clink of weapons just beyond his door. For a disorienting second he didn’t know where he was. He sat up, heart pounding, and reality came rushing back: the roadhouse in ashes, Dad and Kaitlyn gone, Nick taken by vampires, and a motley crew of allies now under his guidance. All of it real, and all of it resting on his shoulders.

He had snatched maybe two hours of broken sleep. It would have to do. JT swung his legs over the side of the cot and laced up his boots, wincing at the stiffness in his muscles. His mind immediately went to Nick—wondering where he was, if he was hurt, if he knew they were coming. Hold on, Nick.

Low voices were murmuring in the main room. JT recognized Mike’s and Victor’s. He pushed open the door and stepped out. The cabin’s common room was already alive with quiet activity. Victor stood by the stove, heating up a dented pot of coffee. Caleb and Ben were hunched over the map spread on the table, discussing possible search areas and marking them with a pen. Lena sat on a stool tightening the straps of a thigh holster around her leg, and Hank was meticulously loading bullets into several magazines, an unlit cigar stub clenched between his teeth. The smell of strong coffee and the sizzle of bacon in an iron skillet lent a surreal touch of normalcy to the scene—like any other hunting trip morning, except it was anything but.

Mike glanced up from cleaning a shotgun when JT emerged. Spotting his brother, he immediately poured a mug of coffee from the pot and brought it over. “Morning,” he said, voice low and slightly unsure. JT could see the question in his eyes: Are we good?

JT took the mug gratefully, the bitter aroma perking him up. “Morning,” he replied, equally soft. He met Mike’s gaze and offered a small, firm nod. They were good. Mike’s shoulders eased a fraction.

“Status?” JT asked, slipping naturally into a businesslike tone to smooth over any lingering awkwardness from a few hours ago.

Mike straightened, soldier-like. “No activity overnight. No sign of any unfriendlies near the perimeter.” A hint of pride crept into his voice. “Caleb and I set up some surprises outside just in case—fishing lines with bells on the western approach, broken glass under the path leaves. If anything came through, we’d have heard it.”

Caleb looked up from the map and added, “And I rigged a couple of silver-nitrate grenades tripwire-style near the main trail. Would’ve given them a nasty sunburn if they tried sneaking up before dawn.” He grinned, clearly pleased with his handiwork.

JT raised his eyebrows. “Remind me not to go sleepwalking. Good work, both of you.” It eased his mind to know their hideout was a little more secure.

Ben tapped on a small laptop he had hooked up beside the map. “I launched a quick drone scan just after first light,” he reported, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Did a one-mile radius thermal sweep. Nothing unusual—just a few deer and a black bear in the distance. No sign of vampires nearby. Looks like we’re clear, for now.”

JT nodded. It was welcome news, though he knew better than to let his guard down. If the vampires had Nick, they likely thought they had the upper hand and wouldn’t expect a daylight counterattack. Fine by him. “Alright. Let’s eat fast and gear up. We’ve got scouting to do.”

Within minutes, they assembled a rough breakfast from supplies—canned beans warmed up with strips of bacon Hank had brought, washed down with strong coffee and cool well water. They ate on their feet or perched on whatever seats were handy, the mood tense but functional. There was little small talk; everyone’s thoughts were on the mission ahead. JT wolfed down a few bites more out of duty than hunger, his stomach knotted too tightly with worry to care about food. Adam emerged from the back room looking bleary but determined, and Lena pressed a tin plate of breakfast into his hands. He picked at it between peeking through the cracked door to check on their still-sedated mother.

By the time the sun crested the treeline, the team was gearing up outside the cabin. The air was crisp, dew sparkling on the ferns, and faint rays of pale morning light slanted through the dissipating mist. JT paused for a second on the porch, taking in the sight: his ragtag band of hunters and loved ones checking weapons and equipment in the golden haze of dawn. It struck him as strangely cinematic—like they were an ensemble cast in some war film. Except this was no film, and what waited for them in those woods was far more terrifying than any ordinary enemy.

JT clapped his hands once to focus everyone’s attention. “Listen up,” he called. “Victor, Hank, Ben—you’re with me on the scouting team. We’ll take the car as far as the logging roads go, then go on foot. We’re focusing on likely hideouts—caves, mines, that old estate in the ghost town. We’ll use Ben’s drone and Victor’s knowledge of the terrain to cover ground quickly.”

Victor nodded, sliding a bolt-action rifle over his shoulder. Hank gave a thumbs-up as he secured a handgun at his hip. Ben double-checked the drone case strapped to his pack with nervous pats.

JT continued, turning to the others, “Mike, you’re in charge here at the cabin while we’re out. That means you coordinate with Lena and Caleb to keep this place secure.”

Mike’s eyes widened slightly. This was the first time JT had explicitly left him in command of anything this critical. He squared his shoulders, accepting the responsibility. “We’ll keep busy fortifying and make sure Mom stays safe. We’ll be ready to move the second you call for us.”

JT grasped his brother’s shoulder briefly. “I’ll radio in every hour. If we’re not back by nightfall—” he began, but Mike shook his head fiercely.

“You will be back by nightfall,” Mike stated, refusing to consider anything else. “Just find him.” The unspoken find Nick hung in the air between them.

JT managed a tight smile. “We will.”

Mike mustered a ghost of his old cheeky grin. “Don’t worry about us. By the time you’re back, this place will be a fortress.” He hesitated, then lowered his voice so only JT could hear. “And JT… be careful out there, okay? You’re… you’re important. To this team,” he added gruffly, though JT sensed he really meant important to me.

JT felt a warmth spread through his chest. He pulled Mike into a quick one-armed hug. “I’ll be careful. And I’ll bring Nick back. Count on it.”

They released each other. Before JT turned away, he found Adam standing a few steps behind Mike, clutching a hunting knife in a small sheath at his belt that Caleb had lent him. The teenager’s face was pinched with worry that he tried to hide behind a brave front. JT stepped over and clapped a hand on his youngest brother’s shoulder. “You stick close to Mike and Lena, alright? Help them with whatever they need. Keep an eye on Mom. We’ll be back soon.”

Adam nodded vigorously, swallowing hard. “I will. Just… just bring Nick home,” he whispered.

JT managed what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “That’s the plan. I promise.” He squeezed Adam’s shoulder, then turned to Lena.

Lena was cinching the straps on a backpack filled with medical supplies and food. She had insisted on staying with the cabin group to help fortify and to be an extra set of eyes on their wounded mother inside (Karen was still unconscious from her injuries in a back room, sedated for safety, and stable for now). Caleb, for his part, was already hauling spare ammo crates to reinforce the front door and setting up additional nasty surprises around the perimeter.

“You’ll be alright here?” JT asked Lena. Leaving her behind, even for a few hours, tugged at him unexpectedly.

Lena arched an eyebrow, a hint of playfulness on her otherwise determined face. “I’m not made of glass, JT. We’ll be fine. Just don’t go charging in alone if you find something—radio us for backup.”

JT chuckled softly. “Was that an order, Captain?”

Lena smirked. “A request. I don’t want to have to save your butt and Nick’s.”

JT held up his hands in surrender. “Fair enough. We’ll call.” On impulse, he reached out and squeezed Lena’s hand briefly, a reassuring pressure. “See you soon.”

Her fingers squeezed back before they parted. “Stay safe,” she said quietly, eyes lingering on him. JT nodded, then forced himself to turn away and get to work.

The scouting party loaded up. JT took the driver’s seat of his trusty old sedan, with Victor riding shotgun. Ben wedged himself into the backseat with his gear, and Hank elected to take his ATV separately. “I’ll follow behind you boys,” Hank said, mounting the four-wheeler with a grunt. “Might come in handy if we need to split up or go off-road.”

With a rumble of engines, they set out. JT drove down the rutted track with practiced ease, the car jostling over rocks and potholes. In the side mirror, he watched the cabin recede—Mike, Lena, Caleb, and Adam standing together on the porch, growing smaller. It felt wrong to leave more family behind, but he reminded himself they were safer there, in daylight, behind traps and guns, than stumbling through unknown woods.

Victor unfolded a hand-drawn topo map on his lap as they drove. “Dry Creek mines are this way,” he said, tracing a line on the map that matched the old logging road they were bumping along. “There’s an abandoned coal mine in those hills. Closed up in the 1950s. Arthur and I poked around it once years back but found nothing at the time.” He sighed. “But that was before a vampire lord was in play.”

JT remembered hearing ghost stories about Dry Creek Mine as a kid, how animals refused to go near it. It sounded exactly like the kind of lair a vampire would choose. “It’s a prime candidate,” he agreed. “And what about Ridley’s Bluff, where that old estate is?”

Hank’s voice crackled from the radio clipped to the car’s dash as he followed on the ATV. “Ridley’s Bluff has that old Burnham estate. Place partially burned in the 1800s—only stone walls and a cellar left. Locals say it’s haunted.” He let out a mirthless chuckle. “Which in our experience usually means vamps used it at some point.”

Ben piped up from the backseat, holding his tablet that linked to the drone. “Both the mine and the estate are isolated. If I were an ancient vampire, I’d pick one of those for a base. We should check both systematically.”

JT glanced at Victor, who nodded. “We can hit the mine first, then the estate. They’re only a few miles apart.”

The car encountered a “Road Closed” sign ahead, the dirt path beyond choked with weeds and encroaching trees. “End of the line for the car,” JT said, braking. They were still a good distance from the mine.

Hank pulled up alongside on his ATV as JT parked and cut the engine. The narrow, overgrown trail beyond the barricade was impassable for a regular vehicle, but no problem for the four-wheeler. Hank revved the ATV once and nodded to JT and Victor. “I’ll scout ahead on this thing and keep to the side trails. You three follow on foot toward the mine.”

JT and Victor quickly agreed. Hank maneuvered his ATV around the rusted barrier and onto the rough path, disappearing into the trees with a soft buzz of the engine.

They gathered their gear from the car’s trunk. Victor slung a rifle and took point, leading onto an overgrown trail. JT followed with shotgun and revolver, and Ben brought up the rear, eyes alternating between the tablet feed from his drone and the tangled woods around them.

As they trekked deeper into the forest, JT felt a familiar prickling at the base of his skull. It was that uncanny awareness again, whispering that something nearby was off. His senses stretched out—listening beyond the normal range, sniffing the air. He smelled damp earth, decaying leaves, and faintly… yes, something acrid and rotten carried on the breeze. Not strong enough for the others to notice, but to JT it was like a phantom stench of decay. He exchanged a wary glance with Victor, who must have sensed JT’s tension because he slowed the group’s pace.

They reached a fork in the faint trail after half an hour: one path sloped upward into rocky highlands toward Dry Creek Mine, the other meandered down into a dense, overgrown hollow likely leading toward Ridley’s Bluff and the ghost town. Victor halted and raised a fist for them to stop. “This is where we choose,” he said under his breath. “Mine is up that hill.” He pointed to the right, where the trail climbed into thick brush and boulders. “Estate is down that way maybe a mile.” He indicated the left path, which disappeared into a darker grove of cedars.

JT weighed options quickly. They needed to cover both, but splitting up further would be risky with unknown forces potentially lying in wait. Hank’s ATV had taken the left path toward the estate, but he was just one man.

Hank’s voice crackled over the handheld radio JT carried. “I’m at Ridley’s Bluff,” he reported quietly. “Place looks dead, not even birds around. Gonna take a quick peek into the cellar.”

JT pressed the transmit button. “Copy. Be careful. We’re heading to the mine now. Call out if you find anything.”

“Roger that,” Hank replied. The radio went silent.

JT glanced at Victor and Ben. “Alright. We focus on the mine. Hank will handle a quick recon of the estate and circle back.”

They continued uphill. Ben had already launched the drone to scout ahead; the small quadcopter buzzed skyward, its camera feeding live thermal images to Ben’s tablet. “I’ll keep it low to avoid drawing eyes,” Ben murmured, deftly maneuvering it through the canopy toward the mine site. “Switching to infrared….”

JT pushed aside a tangle of saplings, boots squelching in damp moss. The forest grew denser and darker as they neared Dry Creek. Gnarled roots twisted across what remained of an old wagon trail leading to the mine. It felt as if even the sunlight had trouble penetrating this part of the woods. JT’s senses stayed on high alert. Every birdsong or twig snap had his finger twitching near the trigger.

About twenty minutes later, the mouth of a ravine opened before them, filled with clusters of boulders and overgrown brush. Rusted remnants of mining equipment jutted here and there—old rails, a collapsed wooden cart, the skeletal frame of a small shack. Victor held up a hand and they dropped low behind a thicket of ferns.

“There,” Victor whispered, pointing. Half-hidden behind a sagging chain-link fence was the black yawning entrance to a mine shaft, covered in graffiti and peeling hazard signs. More importantly, the padlocked gate that had once barred the entrance lay on the ground, twisted and broken. The mine’s darkness gaped like an open mouth in the earth.

Ben’s drone circled overhead, its faint hum masked by the breeze. “I’m getting heat signatures,” Ben breathed, eyes glued to the tablet. He tapped the screen. “Three… no, four human-sized shapes just inside the mine tunnel. Keeping to the shadows.”

JT’s pulse quickened. “Vampires?”

“Likely,” Victor murmured. “They’ll be sluggish this close to daylight, but cornered and hungry, they’ll still fight like devils.”

JT carefully eased a silver stake from his belt and tucked it into a ready position in his left hand, shotgun in his right. He glanced at Ben. “Any sign of a prisoner? Human-size but maybe tied up, not moving much?”

Ben bit his lip as he adjusted the drone’s thermal settings. “There’s something… a smaller heat source on the ground near those four. Could be a person, but their body temperature is lower than normal. Could be because they’re injured or in shock.”

JT’s jaw clenched. Nick. It had to be.

Victor’s eyes flashed. “They might have brought him here to feed on slowly or to use as bait. Damn monsters.”

JT’s mind raced. Four hostiles and Nick, in unknown condition. Hank was still a ways off at the estate, and Mike’s group was back at the cabin. It was just the three of them. Three and a half, if Hank returned soon.

He keyed the radio softly. “Hank, status?”

Static, then a whisper: “Found an old coffin and some bones at the estate cellar. Looks like this place was a lair at some point, but it’s empty now. Headed back to you.”

JT exhaled. Hank would be on his way, but they might not have time to wait. The longer Nick stayed in that mine with those things, the worse his chances.

Victor read JT’s expression and gave a fractional nod. “We go in quietly, take them by surprise.”

Ben swallowed hard but nodded too, tightening his grip on a compact crossbow he’d unpacked from his kit.

JT’s heart thumped as they crept closer to the mine entrance, using the underbrush and rusted machinery for cover. At a broken section of fence, Victor went in first, stepping as silently as a ghost. JT was right behind, and Ben followed, surprisingly light on his feet.

Inside the mine mouth, the darkness was nearly absolute save for the red glow of a few embers in a makeshift fire pit. The air stank of mildew, bat guano, and something coppery-sweet that turned JT’s stomach. Within that gloom, shapes moved. Two figures were crouched near the fire pit—one stirring faint coals, the other hunched over a lump on the ground. Another two stood further back in the tunnel, conversing in low, hissing tones that echoed off the damp walls.

JT’s eyes adjusted enough to make out the lump on the ground: a body, lying very still. Even without clear light, he knew it was Nick. His brother’s hands were bound with rope, and even from a distance JT could see Nick’s chest moving shallowly. Alive, then—at least for now.

Rage threatened to surge, but JT forced himself to breathe slowly. Careful. One wrong move and the vampires might use Nick as a hostage or, worse, kill him outright.

Victor moved like a wraith along the wall, positioning himself to cover the two in the back. He raised a silver-coated machete in one hand and a pistol in the other, waiting for JT’s signal.

Ben stayed slightly behind JT, crossbow quivering in his grip but aimed steadily at the two by the fire.

JT crept a few yards closer, taking cover behind a splintered timber support. From here, he could see Nick’s face in the dim ember-light—bruised and pale, eyes closed. Anger flared hot in JT’s veins. One of the vampires crouched over Nick ran a clawed finger along Nick’s cheek, as if taunting how close its meal was.

That was enough. In one smooth motion, JT stepped from cover and fired his shotgun at the pair by the fire. The blast erupted in the confined space, lighting up the tunnel with muzzle flash. The closest vampire—the one hovering over Nick—took the full brunt of silver buckshot to the chest and was thrown back with a screech, its body beginning to smolder and disintegrate before it even hit the ground.

Chaos exploded. The second vampire by the fire hissed and leapt to its feet, fangs bared, only to jerk violently as Ben’s quarrel embedded in its throat. It gurgled, clawing at the bolt, and stumbled away from Nick.

The two farther in the tunnel reacted with inhuman speed despite the daylight hour. One lunged toward the entrance, toward JT and Ben, while the other lunged for Victor in the shadows.

Victor met his attacker with a brutal swing of the machete, cleaving clean through the vampire’s arm. The creature shrieked, a spray of foul black blood hitting the wall. It swiped with its remaining claws, catching Victor’s shoulder and tearing his jacket but failing to break skin thanks to the thick leather. Victor snarled and unloaded two pistol shots point-blank into the vampire’s heart. With a strangled howl, it crumpled into ash.

JT pumped his shotgun and fired at the one charging him and Ben. The blast caught that vampire in mid-pounce, shredding its leg. It crashed down, scrabbling on the rocky ground. JT didn’t give it a chance to recover—he racked the next round and fired again. The shell caught it in the head this time, and the vampire burst into a cloud of burning cinders that whooshed past them.

Only one vampire remained: the one Ben had shot through the throat. It had yanked out the crossbow bolt, dark blood bubbling from the wound, and in fury it lunged toward the prone form of Nick—perhaps intending to use him as a shield or revenge. Its clawed hand closed around Nick’s neck as it bared its teeth at JT.

“Drop it!” JT roared, advancing with the shotgun raised. But he couldn’t fire; one blast in that direction might hit Nick.

The vampire hissed, eyes crazed and feral. Its claw began to squeeze. Nick choked, eyes flying open in panic as he was dragged half-conscious into a chokehold.

Suddenly, the vampire stiffened, its red eyes bulging. A machete blade burst through its chest from behind—Victor’s blade. The tip stopped mere inches from Nick’s shoulder. The vampire looked down in confusion, releasing its grip on Nick. Nick flailed free and scrambled back on his elbows, gasping.

JT seized the opening. He darted forward and drove a silver stake up under the vampire’s ribcage, straight into its heart. The creature gave a final, wet screech before collapsing into ashen fragments, leaving Victor standing there breathing hard, machete in hand.

For a heartbeat, the only sound was Nick’s ragged coughing. Then JT was at his brother’s side, on his knees on the gritty tunnel floor. “Nick! Nick, we’re here,” he said, hardly aware of the tremor in his own voice.

Nick blinked dazedly, trying to focus. Recognition sparked in his eyes. “J...T...” he rasped, managing a weak, lopsided grin. “Took you... long enough.”

A wet laugh of sheer relief burst from JT’s chest. He cupped the back of Nick’s head and leaned down, pressing his forehead to his brother’s. “You’re okay. We’ve got you. You’re okay.”

Ben rushed over and used a knife to saw through the ropes binding Nick’s wrists and ankles. In the glow of Ben’s flashlight, JT quickly checked Nick for injuries. He found a nasty bite wound on Nick’s left arm and a deep gash on his leg, but nothing immediately life-threatening—thank God.

Victor retrieved a canteen and handed it to Nick, who drank greedily despite a trembling hand. Footsteps and the rumble of an engine echoed from the tunnel entrance—Hank arrived moments later, panting and wide-eyed.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Hank breathed, taking in the carnage and the sight of Nick in JT’s arms. “You boys did it.”

“We did it,” JT confirmed, smiling gratefully at Ben, Victor, and Hank each in turn. It was a team effort, a win they desperately needed.

Nick tried to push himself up, but winced as pain shot through his leg. JT and Victor were immediately at his sides, easing him back down. “Easy, tough guy,” JT murmured. “You’re hurt.”

Nick grimaced but didn’t protest when Hank knelt to wrap a field dressing around the bleeding gash on his thigh. “I knew you’d come,” Nick said, voice stronger now that he’d had water. He managed to flash that irreverent grin JT knew so well. “Never doubted it.”

JT felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He barked a laugh to cover the surge of emotion. “Maybe next time don’t take so many risks expecting a rescue, huh?”

Nick huffed a breath that might have been a laugh. “Deal.”

Within a few minutes, they had Nick stabilized and fashioned a makeshift stretcher out of a scrap of canvas and two broken rifle stocks Hank carried (always prepared, that man). As they lifted Nick to carry him out, the adrenaline of battle began to ebb, replaced by a profound relief. They had done it. Nick was alive, battered but alive.

They emerged from the mine into full daylight. The sun was climbing higher, filtering bright and warm through the trees—a sun no vampire would dare fight under. For now, at least, they were safe.

JT gently squeezed Nick’s hand as the others prepared to carry him. We saved him, Kait, JT thought, hoping somehow his sister could hear. We got him back.

They had struck a blow today by taking Nick back. Now came the calm before the storm—the time to regroup, heal up, and prepare for the inevitable final confrontation lurking on the horizon.

Chapter 14: Bloodlight

A burnished late-afternoon sun filtered through the trees around the Tradant family cabin, casting long golden beams across the clearing. The day had turned warm and almost peaceful, belying the violent chaos of just hours before. In the clearing behind the cabin, JT stood with arms crossed, watching as allies—old and new—milled about with renewed purpose. By some miracle, everyone had made it back alive and mostly intact from the morning’s mission. They had rescued Nick. Adam had been the first to rush up when JT’s team returned with his brother—he’d nearly tackled Nick in a tearful hug despite Nick’s injuries. They had struck a blow against the enemy. Now came the lull in the war—a chance to regroup, heal up, and prepare for the inevitable final confrontation on the horizon.

Despite the heady relief of having Nick safe, a solemn mood blanketed the group. Kaitlyn’s absence hung heavy over them all. More than once, JT caught someone’s gaze drifting to where she should have been—barking orders, tending to wounds, or cracking a sarcastic quip to lighten the gloom. Each such moment brought a fresh pang, but it also steeled their resolve. They would honor her and Arthur by finishing what was started.

Now, as the sun dipped toward evening and painted the sky in bruised purples and fiery oranges, the yard behind the cabin buzzed with controlled activity. It was an almost cinematic tableau of wartime preparation. This is our training montage, JT thought wryly, recalling how in movies there was always a scene like this. Except there was nothing remotely amusing about the stakes here. This was life and death.

JT took a swig from a water bottle and surveyed the scene with a careful eye. Off to one side, Mike was drilling with Caleb, both of them drenched in sweat and moving with fierce intensity. “Again!” Mike barked. He and Caleb ran through a coordinated maneuver they had choreographed: Mike would unload a (blank) shotgun blast into a practice target—a hay bale propped against a stump—then in the next beat Caleb would hurl a wooden stake at a second target. As JT watched, the stake thudded dead-center into the straw dummy.

Mike grinned tightly. “Bullseye.”

Caleb tipped an imaginary hat. “Couldn’t have lined it up better myself. You’ve got a hell of a throwing arm, kid.”

Mike shrugged, trying to hide how pleased he was at the compliment. But JT saw a spark of pride in his brother’s eyes. Mike had been itching to prove himself useful after last night’s lapse, and throwing himself into training was clearly his way of coping and contributing.

Nearby, Hank was giving Lena pointers in hand-to-hand combat. Despite the stiffness of his injured leg (scraped up a bit during his scuffle at the estate), Hank moved with surprising fluidity as he demonstrated a grapple escape. Lena, hair pulled back and face set in concentration, mirrored his movements. In a blur, she flipped Hank clean onto his back in the grass—albeit gently.

Hank let out a wheezing laugh from the ground. “That’s it! Use their momentum against ’em.” He accepted Lena’s offered hand to get back up, chuckling. “Girl, you fight just like your old man. Victor taught you well.”

Lena smiled, a bit of the earlier sorrow lifting from her face at the praise. “High praise. You alright?”

“Oh, just dandy,” Hank groaned, stretching his back. “Nothing a vampire’s face won’t feel worse than later.”

Not far off, at a makeshift workstation on the porch, Ben had spread out a veritable arsenal of gadgets. He was carefully soldering something on a small circuit board. Sparks flew as he attached the device to what looked like a modified flashbang grenade. Victor sat across from him, loading bolts into the heavy crossbow that had once been Arthur’s.

“So these will emit a UV blast for a couple seconds?” Victor was asking, genuinely curious.

Ben nodded enthusiastically, wiping sweat and a smudge of grease from his forehead. “That’s the idea. I rigged two of them. Think of them as portable sunbursts. Toss one into a vamp nest, poof—instant sunrise for anything in a small radius.”

Victor grunted in approval. “Resourceful. Arthur would have loved those tricks.”

Ben flushed with pride at that, ducking his head to hide a pleased grin. It was clear the young hunter, though new to fieldwork, was finding his footing in this motley crew by contributing his tech smarts.

Everywhere JT looked, there were these small moments of bonding and purpose. Caleb clapped Mike on the shoulder after a successful drill. Hank and Lena shared a laugh as they traded fight stories between bouts. Ben and Victor tinkered like old friends over their weapons and gadgets. Even Adam—who lacked the others’ combat experience—found ways to help. He trotted between groups with fresh canteens of water, handed tools to Ben when asked, and kept close to Nick to ensure his brother was comfortable.

Despite still being on the mend, Nick had insisted on hobbling out to join them, not about to be left alone inside. He now sat propped up in a sturdy chair on the porch, his bandaged leg elevated on a tree stump and a blanket draped over his shoulders. Adam hovered protectively beside him, one hand always on the chair as if to steady it. The kid had finally stopped buzzing with anxiety now that Nick was safe; he even cracked a smile whenever Nick made one of his trademark sarcastic remarks.

There was even humor creeping back in despite the dire situation. At one point, as the group paused to rehydrate, Caleb tried cracking a joke to ease the tension. “You know,” he drawled loud enough for all to hear, “when this is over, we oughta open a gym. Tradant Slayer Fitness—train like a vampire hunter. Might make some money on the side.”

It was a groan-worthy joke, but a few people chuckled. The real punchline came when Nick, from his seat on the porch, piped up weakly, “I’d subscribe… as long as I don’t have to do any burpees.”

Laughter rippled through the clearing—honest, collective laughter. Adam, perched beside Nick’s chair and in the middle of fussing with Nick’s pillow, let out a laugh of pure relief. It was the first time JT had heard that sound in what felt like ages. He looked over at Nick, who gave a faint, cheeky grin despite the cut on his lip. Trust Nick to lighten the mood even when he could barely stand. If anything, his resilience spurred everyone on further. Nick had been through hell, and here he was cracking jokes; the least they could do was be ready to ensure he (and none of them) had to endure such horror again.

As evening came on, the frenetic pace of training and preparation slowed to a steady hum. Weapons were sharpened and cleaned one final time. Fresh bandages were applied to scrapes and bruises. The group reconvened around a small campfire Hank built in a firepit a few yards from the cabin. They all needed to eat something and take a breather, and the warm glow of flames provided a semblance of normal camp camaraderie.

JT sat on a log, nursing a mug of broth that Lena had pressed into his hands. He wasn’t sure he could stomach food, but the salty warmth felt good. Around him, the others settled into weary but companionable silence, the firelight dancing on their faces. Adam sat cross-legged on the grass next to Nick’s chair, cradling his own cup of soup carefully and making sure Nick drank his.

After a few quiet minutes, Hank cleared his throat. “This reminds me of a night some years ago,” he said, staring into the flames. “Much like this… a fire, a bunch of us bruised and tired, gearing up to fight come morning.” His gravelly voice was calm, drawing everyone’s attention. “Your daddy—Arthur—was with us that time. Saved our hides, truth be told.”

Victor leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I remember,” he said. “Pensacola, wasn’t it?”

Hank nodded. “Pensacola,” he affirmed. “Nasty coven of sea-hags, if you recall. Half-vampires, half-witches. We were outnumbered and half of us injured. Some of the boys wanted to call it quits till sunrise. But Arthur…” Hank chuckled softly. “Arthur got us all ’round the fire, much like this, and he said, ‘Well, if we’re going to die tomorrow, we might as well die doing the right thing.’”

A few smiles flickered around the circle. JT felt his throat tighten; he could almost hear his father’s voice in Hank’s impression.

Hank continued, “And then Kaitlyn—little slip of a thing back then—stands up and says, ‘Speak for yourself, Daddy. I’m not dying tomorrow.’” He laughed, and so did a few others. “Sure enough, we followed those two Tradants into battle at dawn and came out on top. Bruised, battered, but alive. Arthur and Kaitlyn… hell, they made us believe we could win. And we did.”

Silence followed Hank’s story, broken only by the crackling of the fire and a chorus of crickets starting up in the woods. JT saw tears glinting in Lena’s eyes, and Victor wiped at something in his eye as well. Adam listened wide-eyed, looking both proud and melancholy at the mention of his dad and sister.

“They left some big shoes to fill,” Caleb said quietly, poking the fire with a stick and sending a swirl of sparks upward.

“They did,” Victor agreed, his gaze drifting to JT. “And someone’s filling ’em pretty damn well.”

JT felt heat rise to his cheeks and was thankful for the semi-darkness. “I’m just doing what has to be done,” he mumbled.

Lena nudged him. “You’re doing great, JT,” she said firmly, echoing her words from earlier. “We’re all here because we believe in this fight. Because we believe in you.”

A round of low “Hear, hear” went around the fire. Even Nick raised his water flask in a kind of salute, giving JT a tired wink. Adam looked up at JT with open admiration.

JT cleared his throat gruffly, not trusting himself to speak for a moment. Finally, he managed: “Thank you. All of you. For being here—for having our backs.” He paused, eyes traveling across their circle, meeting each pair of eyes in turn. “Tomorrow… tomorrow we finish this. One way or another.”

Nick lifted his chin. “Damn right we do.”

“Hell yeah,” Mike added, slapping a fresh magazine into his rifle.

A ripple of agreement circled the fire. They were as ready as they could be.

Not long after, people began drifting away from the fire to snatch what rest they could. Hank volunteered for first watch of the night, and Caleb joined him, the two older hunters quietly discussing perimeter traps as they walked off into the dark. One by one the others headed inside or to their bedrolls under the porch awning.

Lena lingered by the fire with JT as he banked the flames down to a low smolder. Nick had already been helped inside by Victor and Adam, and JT could hear Adam fussing over getting his big brother comfortable in one of the back bedrooms. Soon it was just JT and Lena under the vast bowl of the starlit sky.

Lena laid a hand on JT’s shoulder. “Get some sleep,” she urged softly. “Big day tomorrow.”

JT managed a small smile. “Soon,” he promised. “You go on. I’ll be in shortly.”

She hesitated, then gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before leaving him to his thoughts. JT watched her disappear into the cabin, then tilted his face up to the stars, drawing in a slow breath of cool air.

Tomorrow would bring blood and chaos, of that he had no doubt. But they were not alone, and they were not weak. They had each other—and for the first time in his life, JT truly felt the strength of that. Whatever came, they would meet it together.

At length, JT re-entered the cabin and quietly shut the door. The interior was lit only by a single lantern turned low. The hush was profound—broken only by the soft snoring of Ben, who was sprawled on the couch with a tangle of wires and gadgets around him. From one of the back rooms came the light creak of a floorboard as someone (likely Hank or Caleb) took a watchful step by a window. Mike was dozing in a rocker by the front window, his chin against his chest and rifle across his lap.

JT padded to the small bedroom where Nick had been placed. He pushed the door open a crack and peered in. In the dim light, he saw Nick fast asleep on the cot, propped up by pillows. Their mother, Karen, still lay unconscious on the bed across the room, breathing steadily with Adam dozing on a makeshift cot on the floor between his mom and Nick—his self-appointed spot to watch over both of them. JT smiled faintly; Adam had finally succumbed to exhaustion, one arm flung over his eyes and gentle snores proving he was truly asleep.

They’re safe, JT reassured himself. For now, they’re safe.

He pulled the door closed and returned to the main room. Easing into a chair near the front window, JT propped his feet up and leaned his head back against the wall. Through the window, the moon hung high, casting silvery light over the clearing. It reminded him of that word in his father’s journal: Palid. The Pale Man. Domnul Palid was still out there, undoubtedly plotting his next move. But for the first time, JT didn’t feel dread when he thought of that ancient evil’s name—he felt resolve.

“We’re coming for you,” JT whispered into the quiet dark, the promise as much for himself as for the enemy. He closed his eyes, the weight of exhaustion finally pulling at him. In his mind’s eye he saw Arthur and Kaitlyn standing beside him, and he felt the presence of his brothers and his friends close around.

We’re coming.