12. Table Stakes

Chapter 12

Table Stakes

T he night was dark, the moon mostly engulfed by a layer of dense clouds. Porch lights and the orangish glow of the street lamps lining the Newbury Grove town center provided relief from the darkness creeping over the land. It was quiet. Shops had closed for the evening. People were at home, staying warm and secure in the late autumn cold. The occasional car drove by, winding their way through the town toward their destination.

Ghostly vapor trails were like momentary bread crumbs as Hugo marched toward the town center. His pulse increased with each step. His heart thumped louder and louder in reverberations only his body could hear. His hand twitched. His exhale lingered, trying to calm and steady himself.

Relax. You have to relax.

He paused.

He closed his eyes and took a few more inhales, breathing deeply to fill his lungs. The ghostly vapor trails materialized once again in the frigid air. He opened his eyes and basked in the glow of the moon. The moon was Alice’s anchor, providing her with a sense of joy and comfort. Hugo hoped it would do the same for him. Its whitish-blue glow disappeared behind the clouds, leaving only darkness in the night sky.

He turned his attention to the black and red crimson awning above what was once Antonio’s Italian Ristorante. The restaurant was dark. No light seeped through the glass in the door. The crimson curtains concealed the interior from prying eyes.

This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.

Hugo’s eyes lingered on the gold lettering of the door: Sylvia’s Bistro. That name. That wretched name. He lingered for an eternity, yet it was only a moment. The time had come. It was now or never. He pulled his black leather jacket tight and continued forth.

He opened the door and peered in. Candles scattered across the various tables illuminated the room with a flickering orange glow. There was no movement. There was no one to greet him.

“Come in,” Sylvia’s unseen voice said. “Don’t be afraid. We won’t bite.” She laughed, joined in by Sebastian.

Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fly.

“Before I enter, I want to set some ground rules,” Hugo replied.

“Name them,” Sylvia responded.

“First, I’m entering by myself. Alice is outside. We thought it would ease the tension,” Hugo said.

“So, the witch refuses to meet with her queen face-to-face?” Sylvia responded.

You’re not her queen.

“She sent me to negotiate on her behalf,” Hugo said.

“Fine,” Sylvia answered. “Hopefully, negotiations will go smoother than the last time.”

“Second, if I don’t walk out of here, Alice will level this entire building without hesitation.”

“I already told you, we don’t bite,” Sylvia said.

“Do you accept these terms?” Hugo asked. “It’s the only way I’m walking through this door.”

“How do we know you aren’t armed yourself?” Sebastian asked. “ How do we know you aren’t setting us up? We haven’t forgotten about last time.”

“That’s why I’m alone,” Hugo responded. “I’ll show you I’m unarmed. Do you accept?”

“Deal,” Sylvia said.

Hugo entered the restaurant. Each step was thoughtful and deliberate. He held his arms out waist high. He turned the corner, and sitting in the center of the restaurant at a square table was Sylvia Savino, as he had hoped.

She wore a crimson, Victorian style frock jacket—a far cry from her usual trendy fashion. The collar, lapel, and cuffs were outlined in black with embroidered patterns. The room was too dark to see their ornate details. It hugged tightly against her frame. Three silver buttons adorned both sides of the jacket. The crimson red didn’t close fully; instead, there was a patch of black material which zipped all the way up and hugged her neck.

Sebastian positioned himself behind her. He rested a hand on her shoulder and leaned in to whisper something into her ear. They laughed. He wore his usual tight black dress shirt, vest, and dress pants with a bloodred tie. If not for the red tie, he could have blended into the background. He smiled at Hugo.

Hmm. Must not have had time to change into matching outfits.

“I’m unarmed,” Hugo said.

“Remove your jacket,” Sylvia commanded. “Spin around and show me.”

Hugo unzipped his black leather jacket. He held it in his right hand, hoping the flowing leather would conceal the makeshift stake taped to his forearm as he moved his arms around. The long sleeve of his black Henley shirt was loose enough to hide it, but twirling around the jacket was even better. He turned around, revealing nothing besides his shirt tucked into the waistband.

He faced Sylvia again. “Satisfied?”

“For now,” she answered in a hushed tone. “Please. Have a seat.”

Hugo hesitated. Is Sebastian going to sit ?

Sebastian stepped to the side of the table—Hugo’s right—and pulled out the chair to sit down.

Perfect.

Sylvia motioned for Hugo to take his place. He placed his leather jacket on the back of the chair and sat down. He laid his left arm on the table, while keeping his right at his side.

“Nice jacket. Seems a little over the top, don’t you think?” Hugo asked.

“When I hold court, I expect everyone to be properly dressed. You’ll have to forgive my husband as the quickness of your meeting caught him off guard. I have my tailors standing by, ready to make an outfit for your witchy girlfriend when she finally agrees to join us. I could make one for you as well.” Sylvia picked up a wine bottle resting on the table. “I hope you don’t mind if we eat in front of you. You’re free to join in if you wish.”

Four wineglasses were set on the table, two in front of Sylvia and two in front of Hugo. The dark, blackish-red liquid poured out into her two glasses. Not as viscous as wine, it was thicker. He had poured enough glasses of wine in his lifetime; he knew it wasn’t wine they were drinking.

She presented Hugo with the bottle. “Care for some? It’s the mana of life.”

The Savinos laughed. They picked up their glasses, swirled their drinks around, smelled it, and held it up to their mouths. They tilted their heads back and drank.

Now. Do it. Now!

Hugo rubbed his arm against the chair leg. The tape peeled itself from Hugo’s skin. He kept pushing. The stake was freed from one side of the tape, but the other side remained. The stake was almost completely freed when Sylvia returned her half empty glass to the table. She let out an exhale of pleasure as she used her finger to lap up any trailing blood on her lips. She licked her finger, locked eyes with Hugo, and smiled.

“I almost forgot.” Sylvia turned her attention to Sebastian. “Please, my dear, go get our gesture of goodwill.”

Sebastian set his glass down and rose from the table.

No!

He disappeared behind the swinging doors leading into the kitchen. Hugo stopped rubbing the stake against the chair leg.

“We wanted to give you something. Something we hope shows our good faith during the negotiations,” she continued.

Hugo’s eyes shifted back and forth between Sylvia and the kitchen door. There were no other entrances to the restaurant. Nothing Sebastian could use to sneak up on him. He glanced back at the entrance and then to Sylvia.

She once again picked up her glass and offered it to Hugo. Her steel-blue, malevolent eyes locked onto Hugo. “Are you sure you don’t want some? It’s a little stronger than we offer in Red-Hearted Queen.”

“I’m fine,” Hugo replied. “Should we get down to business?”

“All business and no talk with you.” She took a sip of her glass and moaned. “It’s so good. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Anyone I know?”

“An old friend.”

Hugo’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”

She placed her elbow on the table, rested her chin in her free hand, and smiled. She swirled the glass with her other hand. There was a moment of eerie silence which Hugo didn’t enjoy.

“We want you gone,” Hugo said. “Leave Newbury Grove and never return.”

Sylvia sat up. “You’re no fun.” Sylvia set her glass down and raised a finger to her mouth.

In the flickering candlelight, she displayed one of her fangs. She rubbed her finger against the point, no doubt wanting to intimidate Hugo further.

His heart raced. The beating traveled up his body. His breath quickened. He tapped the chair leg with his right hand. His left foot shook. He breathed deeply through his nose to help relax.

Calm down.

“Okay. What are your terms?” Sylvia asked.

“We want you gone—” Hugo started.

“You already mentioned that,” Sylvia said with a flourished hand gesture. “Is there more?”

“No. We want you to never return. To leave the people of Newbury Grove alone. We want you to restore all distribution contracts with Raskin’s Neighborhood Market. No more disruptions.”

“That’s it?”

He’s been gone too long.

“Where did he go?” Hugo asked.

“Don’t worry about him,” Sylvia said. “I told you, it’s in good faith. I’m many things, but I’m also honest. Now . . . my counter offer. I’ll accept your offer, plus the spell, but I want your witchy girlfriend to work for me.”

Hugo’s heart sank at the very thought of Alice working for this monster. “How long?”

“For as long as she’s useful to me. Her skills are exquisite, and I plan on expanding my little empire with her as the backbone. My resources. Her skills. That spell. We’d be unstoppable. We’d have worldwide distribution. It’s the perfect union of vampires and witches,” Sylvia said as she interlocked her hands together. “Together. Peacefully. With me at the helm.”

“Peace as long as you’re in charge?”

“What is peace, but others’ acceptance of defeat.”

“It was never about the spell, was it?” Hugo asked.

“Oh . . . Oh, no,” Sylvia said. “The spell is more powerful than you can imagine. I’ve spent multiple lifetimes searching for it. I almost had it if not for that blundering idiot, Alabaster Sinclair. It was tracked out west. Alabaster sent one of his hired goons to retrieve it before my people could get to the spell. If you want something done right, do it yourself.”

“How do you know that name?”

“You don’t know your history very well, do you, Hugo Dodds? The Sinclair family’s motivations were . . . well, less than altruistic. If I’m not mistaken, this town was founded by a Sinclair. She thought it held a special tree of some sort.”

The fairy tree! Alice was right.

Hugo jolted at the sound of the kitchen door swinging open.

Sebastian returned holding a red paper gift bag. “It took me a little longer to find it. It was moved.”

“We’ll deal with the staff member tomorrow,” Sylvia replied. “Besides, it allowed me to give our friend Hugo here a brief history lesson.”

Sebastian moved to the closest chair, to Hugo’s left, and sat down. He placed the bag in front of Hugo. “Your gift.”

Why did he move? Does he know?

With his left hand, Hugo grasped the bag, while his right hand remained still by his side. Hesitantly, he peered inside. The soft glow of the candlelight cast an air of mystery, leaving the contents shrouded in secrecy. It resembled a tangled mess of yarn, all knotted together.

“Please take it out,” Sylvia said.

Leave. Leave now! While you can.

Hugo delved into the bag. He gripped the cotton fibers of something knitted and withdrew it. Awestruck, he examined the red knit hat held in his grasp. While he hadn’t seen it, he knew exactly who wore such a hat—Sam.

“I was hoping to give it to Alice personally, but since she decided to skip out on negotiations, you’ll have to deliver to it her yourself,” Sylvia said.

Hugo shot a glance to Sebastian and then Sylvia with malice in his eyes. “Where did you get this?”

Sebastian replied, “An old friend of Alice’s. She wanted her to have it as a reminder of a life long gone. She begged us to give it to her before . . . What was her name again?”

“It was short for something. Hmm.” Sylvia tapped a finger against her lips, deep in thought. “Ah, I remember. Her name was Sam.”

Hugo lowered the hat back into the bag. He never took his eyes off Sylvia. His eyebrows furled. “What if we call off all deals?”

Sylvia sat upright. She placed both hands on the table and leaned forward with her head tilted down. Her eyes narrowed, and she raised her right eyebrow. Her strawberry blonde, wavy hair, parted to the left, obscured part of her face from the flickering candlelight and cast it into darkness. Her sharp jawline was much more pronounced against the flickering light. She asserted her dominance over the negotiations.

“I would advise against calling off this deal. We can make life, not only for you, but all of Newbury Grove miserable,” she answered. “We’re allowing your friends to live. We only take the blood we need, instead of leaving them bone dry.”

She leaned forward. “We will ruin your friends, the Raskins. They’ll suffer as they watch their life’s work go up in flames. And when it’s complete, I’ll personally rip their heads off,” Sylvia threatened. “But I won’t stop there. The streets will run red with blood as my colony of vampires descends on this town. And I’ll make both of you watch.”

Hugo’s breathing quickened, and his heart raced. The thud, thud, thud, of his heart beats pulsed through his ears, trying to drown out Sylvia’s threats. His eyes darted to Sebastian, whose wicked, ear-to-ear grin sent a shiver down his spine, and then back to Sylvia.

You have to do it.

“And when all is said and done, and you two are the remaining survivors, you’ll watch in horror as the other one bleeds out,” Sylvia added.

Control the sweater . . .

“A toast.” Sebastian stretched out across the table for his glass. He raised it aloft.

Sylvia raised her glass and matched him.

“To our new empire!” Sebastian shouted.

“To our new empire!” Sylvia answered. “You can either join us or be destroyed by us.”

Sylvia and Sebastian leaned their heads back and took a drink.

Control the fight!

Hugo flicked his arm against the chair leg, releasing the last bit of tape. The stake slid down into his waiting hand. He lunged for Sebastian’s black dress shirt. It was tight against Sebastian’s muscular chest, and his fingers struggled to securely grab onto the material. Hugo’s hand slid across the shirt, but he managed to snare Sebastian’s suit vest. With a singular motion, Hugo yanked Sebastian toward him and stabbed him in the chest with the stake.

“Die, you fucker!” Hugo shouted.

Sebastian dropped his wineglass and focused on the wooden mini hockey stick planted directly in his chest. Sebastian glanced up at Hugo in shocked disbelief. Hugo growled at him and pushed deeper with the makeshift stake. It wouldn’t budge. He hit something.

Hugo leaned in, trying to drive it deeper into his chest and nick his heart. The wooden hockey stick cracked and broke in half. Part of it jutted out of Sebastian’s chest. Sebastian’s shock faded into rage. His eyes narrowed. His nose snarled. His fangs jetted out to their fully elongated position.

Sylvia shrieked in anger. She stood up and pushed the table toward Hugo; its remaining contents rained down as the table knocked him and his chair backward. He landed with a thud onto the ground, the ribbed chair back smashing into Hugo’s back. Sylvia pushed on the table to pin him down.

The force of the table edge pressed against his abdomen, trying to cut him in half. Hugo cried out in agony as sharp pains cut across his stomach and back. He tried to push the table off, but the chair held him at a decline, so he couldn’t get leverage. He squirmed, but the table dug deeper.

Sebastian leapt from his chair and grabbed the table, forcing it down harder onto Hugo, who roared in anguish.

“Check the door,” Sebastian growled.

“Are you okay, my love?” Sylvia asked.

“I’m fine. Check the door,” he answered as he ripped the broken stake from his chest. His black dress shirt was damp as he bled from his wound.

Sylvia sprinted to the front door. Hugo could hear the door opening and closing moments later. The audible click of the door lock echoed through the restaurant.

“It’s clear. I don’t see anything,” she responded as she returned.

“Where is she?” Sebastian yelled. “Are you alone?”

Hugo struggled to breathe as the weight of Sebastian drove the table further into his stomach. He tried to respond, but could only muster more sounds of torment.

Sylvia moved like a stalking predator at an even, methodical pace, ready to pounce on injured prey. “Would you like to do the honors, my dear?” she asked Sebastian.

“While I’d like nothing more, I think it would be more meaningful coming from you,” Sebastian responded. “Grab the table. I’ll get his arms.”

Sylvia put her weight on the table, and Sebastian let go. He rushed behind the vulnerable Hugo, trying to restrain both of his arms, but Hugo fought back.

“Fuck you,” Hugo said as his arms flared to strike back.

Hugo took hold of Sebastian’s pant leg, yanking, and trying to trip him. Sebastian kicked his leg back, yanking his pant leg from Hugo’s grasp. He reared his leg back, and Hugo winced as Sebastian kicked him in his side.

Hugo let his guard down, and Sebastian trapped both of his wrists. He pulled them back over Hugo’s head and down to the ground. Sebastian kneeled on them, pinning his hands under him. He placed his forearm on Hugo’s head to keep him in place.

Sylvia threw the table to the side, providing Hugo a sense of relief. The relief was momentary, as she yanked the chair out from under him, scraping his back in the process. He howled. She stood over Hugo, her high heels on both sides of his chest, looking down on him. Her black leather pants squeaked as she knelt, straddling his torso. She lowered her body weight on the spot where the table was trying to cut him in half.

Hugo grimaced. His legs kicked and flailed, trying to escape. Sylvia used her hips to grind on his stomach, extruding as much pain as possible. He screamed in agony.

She leaned forward, pushing her left hand into his right shoulder, her face mere inches from his. Her breath washed over his lips as if she were leaning in to kiss him. Although, her kiss wouldn’t be on the lips. Sylvia traced under his jawline to his chin using the lightest touch of her finger. A shiver of both excitement and despair ran down Hugo’s body.

She shifted back and forth on his torso. Hugo winced with each swaying motion of her hips.

She smiled. “Does this excite you?” she whispered as her breath washed over Hugo’s ear.

“She’ll tear your world down, so help me, she’ll destroy you,” Hugo yelled.

She sat up with a pouting scowl on her face. “You really are no fun. I always like to have a little bit of fun before dinner.”

Hugo squirmed and kicked, but couldn’t dislodge her. “Go to hell!”

Sylvia lightly smacked him on both cheeks, batting him like a cat with a small toy. “You know, I’ve beheaded people for a lesser offense than trying to stake me and my husband. It makes it easier to bleed them dry. But today is your lucky day,” Sylvia said, raising her hands in the air in celebration. “You’re more valuable to me undead than beheaded. ”

Sebastian turned Hugo’s head, exposing his neck. Sylvia leaned in and licked it. Hugo tightened at the sensation of her rough tongue dragging across his neck. His heart beat faster and faster. He let out a yell, hoping someone passing by would hear him.

“I can hear your heart beating. I can smell the blood coursing through your veins. It’s exquisite. In time, you’ll learn to appreciate my generous gift I’m giving you. In time, she’ll learn to appreciate it as well,” Sylvia said.

I’m sorry, Alice.

Sylvia’s fangs elongated. She turned to Sebastian. “Darling, please be a dear, and go get a bottle. I don’t want to waste any of this.” She lurched forward and clamped down on Hugo’s neck, piercing his skin with a fiery sting.

It was like a plastic straw pushing into a lid as the fangs slid deeper to find his blood. His blood bubbled and boiled under the skin. His body was on fire, ravaged by what was transpiring. He called out for help, but it never came.

Sylvia moaned with excitement and ecstasy.

Sylvia. Sebastian. The restaurant. They all faded into black as he slipped from his mortal coil. He gave a final thought before disappearing into nothingness.

Alice, please forgive me.