Tolan and Rhys: Sentinel and Slayer

    I was first pick up on my first day back--first day back home--first day at high school.  The brakes of the yellow bus squealed to a sudden halt and dust from the dirt road flew up around me.  I shut my eyes tightly, pissed.  I had just showered and put on new clothes.

    The narrow glass doors of the bus flapped opened.

    'Hey, sorry about that kid,' said the middle aged, bleach-blonde behind the steering wheel.  'Forgot you were back.  How the hell have you been?'

    I shook the road dust and nasty attitude off and climbed aboard.

    'Honestly, Debbie, I'm a bit freaked,' I said.  Debbie Kroger had driven my school bus route since I was in kindergarten.  I'd taken riding lessons at her stable three summers in a row.  And probably would have last summer as well if my parents wouldn't have split.

    'Come on over here and give me a hung darlin',' Debbie said, lifting her arms to give me a good old squeeze.  'I was so tickled when I heard that your folks were getting back together.'  Debbie smelled of Newports and Charlie, with a pungent tinge of horse manure.  I saw it on one of her boots as she patted my backpack and released me.  'Will you come out and go ridin' with me soon?' she asked.  'Pinto will crap all over himself when he sees you.'

    'Sure,' I laughed.  Pinto was the docile brown and white gelding that Debbie had paired me with that first summer.  'How is that wild beast these days?' I asked, swinging around the pole of the divider to sit behind her.

    'So damn dapper that you might be the one crappin' all over yourself when you see him,' Dabbie laughed, pulling the lever to close the door.  'He just got new shoes.'  She put the bus in gear, her turquoise rings shining brightly in the early morning sun upon the shifter.

    The furrowed fields of our young, lush, vineyard, row after row of green vines flickered by.  And set back within, the large Victorian house, stark white against the brown and purple backdrop of the mountains beyond.  It was the perfect picture of the beautiful dream that had drained my parents' bank account and strained their relationship until it tore.  But dad had not let go of the dream...not of the vineyard...and not of us.

    Dad had made a huge lump of money to pay down the mortgage on the vineyard when he agreed to let a Hollywood production company use our property to film a movie, and mom had been doing pretty great selling her freelance articles to newspapers and magazines, putting the Tolan dream back on track.

    It felt strange to be back in the valley after living over a year in San Francisco with my mom.  I was glad to be home, but nervous about school.

    'Merlot, don't worry about it,' my best friend Auriel had advised me over the phone, 'same people, different school.  I told you.  You haven't missed a thing.'

    'Auriel, I missed the whole tenth grade here!  I missed a lot!'

    'Hey!' she protested, 'I kept you updated.  Besides, I've told everyone that you're coming back and they can't wait to see you.  It'll be great.  Remember, you're a winter.  Wear dark blue.'  Auriel liked to attach seasons and colors to people.  She planned to be a cosmetologist after high school.

    Debbie stopped the bus three times to pick up Fred Blare, Virginia Hobs, and then Cory and Lorrie Shoemaker before picking up Auriel Racine at the end of her driveway.  The kids (kids I'd known most of my life), did seem happy enough to see me.  They asked a lot of questions about San Francisco and the Hollywood production company.  But, when Auriel boarded she shot right to my side, a blur of blond and pink that landed in my lap and planted a big kiss that left glossy pink petals on my cheek.  Auriel, a natural blond, always wore pink.  She was a summer.

    We all chatted happily while Debbie turned the bus onto the black-top that wove passed a grove of ancient oaks, the old stone church, another older vineyard, and Rhys cattle farm.  I fell silent seeing the expansive field of corn, the gated dirt drive, and the huge red buildings and fenced in pastures beyond the large centennial farmhouse.

    'How is Jamison?' I asked Auriel.

    'What?' she asked distracted by Cory Shoemaker's flirting.

    I cleared my throat, but the lump there wouldn't budge.  'How is Jamison?'

    'Rhys.  Totally gone,' Fred Blare answered shaking his head disparagingly.  Fred, a big guy with a flat-top crew cut, worked at the local feed store, and had played football with Jamison since elementary school.  'We would've won the division championship if Rhys wouldn't have gone a-wall,' Fred said staring over his shoulder at the Rhys cattle farm.  'The flake let us down big time.'

    Fred Blare and Jamison Rhys used to be best friends.

    'What happened?' I asked, the lump staying lodged in my throat.

    'You tell me,' Fred answered gloomily.

    'The rising star quarterback,' Cory Shoemaker, position: half-back, shook his redhead baffled, 'and Rhys just quits going to practice.'

    'I heard it was drugs,' Lorrie said, leaning closer to her twin.  'His mother ditch ya know?'

    'Yeah...that,' Virginia Hobs said flipping back her long brown tresses, 'and fighting.  My dad took him home in his squad car a couple of times.'  Virginia's dad was the local sheriff.  'The last time though he made Mr. Rhys come down to the station and get him.'

    'Auriel, you never told me any of this!'

    'And why would I when you told me not to talk about him?  Melot!  You said that just hearing his name broke your heart!'

    'I just...I just didn't want to hear who he'd been dating.  You know...that he'd moved on.'

    'Oh, Rhys moved on all right,' Fred said whistling through his teeth, 'on to another planet.'



    First period was History in room 105.

    'Good to see you again, Miss Tolan,' the balding, yet handsome Mr. Statham said smiling.  Mr Statham was a lean, muscular Brit.  His accent drove all the girls wild.

    'You too Mr. Statham,' I said stopping by his desk.  Other students filed passed handing in assignments.  'Auriel told me that you'd transferred over from the junior high with them.'

    'I told you that he's in love with me,' Auriel joked winking at Mr. Statham.  'He simply could not go on living if he couldn't see me everyday and mold me like clay.'  She pinched up her pretty painted face and held her arms out pretending to...well, mold clay, pushing hard with her finger.

    Mr. Statham laughed.  'Yeah, it's sometimes like that.  And speaking of molding Miss Racine, have you finished your report on the California gold rush?'

    'I have indeed, Mr. Statham,' Auriel declared, victoriously whipping the report from her shoulder bag in a flash of pink nail polish.

    'Good girl, Miss Racine,' Mr. Statham said, then indicated that we should take our seats with the other students.  The bell rang and he brought me a history book.  'Page 247, people,' he said walking back to the front of the class room to close the door.

    I watched as Mr. Statham stepped out, and looked up and down the hallway.  He closed the door behind him frowning with concern.  I looked around at my classmates, but no one else seemed to notice.

    'Miss Tolan would you begin to read please,'  Mr. Statham said picking up his own history book.



    We were writing out answers to the review questions at the end of the chapter when the door opened and Jamison Rhys entered.

    Jamison was more of everything that I'd remembered: taller, leaner, stronger, and definitely way hotter!  Older, he wore a weary look on his keen features--like he'd been up all night.  His root beer colored gaze sent Mr. Statham a silent message--a message that instantly replaced the history teacher's concern with decided disappointment.

    'Ah, Mr. Rhys, how good of you to join us ten minutes before the bell,' Mr. Statham said.  'Please take your seat and remain in it after the rest of the class is dismissed.'

    Jamison turned to take a seat, the only empty one across from me, and froze.  Despite Auriel's claim that she had told everyone that I was coming back, Jamison was totally surprised to see me.

    'Take your seat Mr. Rhys,' Mr. Statham ordered.  'You've a chapter to read and review questions to answer.'

    Jamison pulled a hand through the thick dark hair that matched his eyes and blew out the breath that he'd been holding.  His hands had small jagged cuts on them.

    The other kids watched Jamison with an air of humorous tension while he walked to his seat, dropped his backpack on the floor, and sat down.

    'Back to work everyone,' Mr. Statham ordered.

    But Jamison only sat, staring at me--his expression as closed as the history book inside his backpack.

    I was nearly ready to scream when the bell rang.

    'Test tomorrow on today's chapter,' Mr. Statham warned as everyone packed up and headed for the door.

    'Merlot,' Jamison said, unexpectedly grabbing my hand.

    'Get moving Miss Tolan,' Mr. Statham said gruffly.  'You and Mr. Rhys can catch up later.'

    'It's great to see you,' Jamison said, reluctantly releasing my hand.

    'You too,' I muttered suddenly not wanting to leave.

    'You better go,' he smiled, nodding toward Statham, making it hard for me to go.  I'd dreamed about that smile.  I'd soooo missed that smile.

    'Go to your next class Miss Tolan,' Mr. Statham ordered.

    'See you later,' I told Jamison easily--but only because I wasn't going far.  There was something more than just the issue of truancy going on between Jamison and Mr. Statham.  And I was going to find out what it was.

    'What the heck, Merlot,' Auriel cried as we nearly collided in the doorway.  'I thought you were right behind me.  Algebra class is this way,' she pointed to the left.

    'Right, room 123,' I said stepping toward my locker.  'I just need to grab something.  I'll catch up.'

    'Right...,' she nodded knowingly, looking in the classroom at Jamison.  'I'll save you a seat near mine.'

    I watched her join the hallway traffic and rushed back to Mr. Statham's door.

    'Like I told you Rob,' I heard Jamison say, 'he went down the demon hole.  Why didn't you tell me that Merlot was coming back?'

    'Don't change the bloody subject Jamison,' Mr. Statham, Rob, said.

    'What more is there to say on the subject?  Count Haraszthy escaped down the friggin' demon hole before I could stake him.  I tried to pry the lid off, but the barbs cut up my hands.

    'Did you see your mother?'

    'No.'

    Count Haraszthy?  Demon hole?  Stakes and barbed lids?  What the hell were they talking about?  Agoston Haraszthy was a Count from Hungaria, the first settler to import grapes to California from Europe in 1858.  The Count's large estate and vineyard had been abandoned, his descendants dead long ago.  Why would Jamison be looking for his mother at the deserted vineyard?

    'Why didn't you tell me that Merlot was coming back from San Francisco?' Jamison demanded.

    'Exactly because of this,' Mr. Statham said.  'You're distracted.'

    The noisy traffic of students in the hallway made it hard for me to hear and I moved closer to the door.

    'Distracted!' Jamison said.

    'Aye.  Distracted.  Unfocused.'

    'Count Haraszthy took my mother into his coven over a year ago, Rob!  She's part of the undead!  What difference does it make if I'm unfocused?  She's immortal...she can wait.'

    'Keep your voice down,' Mr. Statham warned.

    'I'm out of here,' Jamison said walking toward the door.

    'You can't run away from this Jamison.  Your mother is a Van Helsing.  You're a Van Helsing.  The Van Helsing amulet that I gave you can return her life.  For Christ's sake Jamison, don't give up now!  This thing with Merlot can wait.  Think of you dad and sister, boy.'

    There was silence.

    'All right, but I'm going back now...in the daylight.  It's time to take Count Haraszthy's minions out.

    'So much for your being opposed to killing his mortal servants,' Mr. Statham said.  Too bad Merlot couldn't have come back sooner.'

    'Shut up, Rob,' Jamison retorted.  'Get me excused from my classes and get me my assignments.'

    'Don't I always?' Mr. Statham replied.

    I ran to the sophomore parking lot and hid in the backseat of Jamison's vintage 1965 Ford Galzaxy.



    Jamison climbed in behind the wheel, tossing his backpack down beside him on the seat where I used to sit--the place we'd had our first kiss.  The engine roared to life, and the dual exhaust pounded and echoed like a rapided heartbeat in a tin can, as Jamison tore out of the parking area, cranking up Metallic's Whiskey in a Jar.  He swung the Galaxy left out onto the secondary road whipping my body back against the door panel, then a sharp right onto the highway that left town.  A large canvas duffle bag shot at me across the vinyl seat.  Half unzipped, I could see what appeared to be wooden stakes, the stock of a gun, and the jeweled hilt of a peculiar looking sword.

    The sword handle was dragon shaped and dazzled with deep jade jewel scales.  The blood-red ruby of the dragon's eye beckoned me to touch it--telling me to take it.  Unable to resist its call, I glanced up over the back of the seat to watch Jamison as my arm reached out and my fingers curled around the cold jeweled hilt of the dragon's neck.

    'Jesus Christ!' Jamison swore painfully, one hand flying to his chest.  He looked over his shoulder, saw me, and slammed the car to a squealing halt, its rear-end swerving as it left the black-top.  'Let it go!' he cried clawing at the front of his red t-shirt.  But, a strong breeze blew in the opened window from the mountains behind him, blowing his clean masculine scent directly into my face, mesmerizing me as I watched his brownish-red mane tussle like living tentacles around his pain-anguished face.

    'Melot!' he shouted, awakening me from the reverie of allure.

    Our eyes met, and I saw the tearing pain that gleamed like spears, straining his dark eyes.  Then, I felt the bumping rumble of the idling Ford and with extreme effort forced my hand to open and release the dragon.

    Jamison slammed the shifter into park, killed the engine, and leapt out of the car. Stamping and swearing, he tore the t-shirt over his head as if it were on fire.  A ruby that matched the dragon's eye lay at the center of his chest; its boiling red settling inward as it cooled.  Jamison pulled the ruby away from his smoldering chest by the strangely thin, almost invisible wire that suspended it--revealing an ornately branded VH.

    'Never touch that!' he yelled at me.

    I looked at the sword.  The dragon eye was cooling in sync with the jewel that Jamison held out away from his smoking chest.

    Jamison laughed.  'Statham told me that the amulet would warn me if anyone else touched the sword.  The sadistic prick just never said how.'

    'The dragon...it called to me,' I told him, scared.

    All the blood seemed to leave Jamison's body.  'Shit,' he signed looking away, 'is that friggin' Brit ever wrong.'

    'What?  What is it?' I asked climbing over the seat alarmed.  I got out of the Ford and stood beside him.  'What does it mean?'

    'It means that you are like Statham.'  He looked down at me with fear and wonder.

    'Like Statham...what does that mean?!'

    'Statham is a sentinel,' Jamison explained, 'a safeguard of the Van Helsing.  He can hear the sword too.  He said it's a built in mechanism...a linking...to protect it for the Van Helsing he is coded to.'

    'This is a joke, right?' I laughed nervously.  'Van Helsing...that's a character from books and movies...a vampire slayer.'

    'Yeah, a joke,' Jamison said, but he wasn't laughing.  'A deadly serious one.'

    'Statham once told me after Count Haraszthy and his coven got my mother that fiction and fact are almost always intertwined, but not to waste time wondering about which came first, because in the end it dosent' matter.'

      'So your mother is a vampire slayer and Statham is her sentinel?' I asked struggling to believe him and not to stare at his rock hard abs.

    'Was,' Jamison corrected me.  'Statham coded to me when my mom went undead.'

    'Now you're the slayer and Statham is your sentinel.'

    'Yeah, but it doesn't always work that way.  A sentinel is usually just coded to one slayer for life.'  Jamison picked up his shirt from the pavement and pulled it on, covering up his sculped torso even though the brand from the amulet still smoldered.  'Statham's trying to figure how he was re-coded to me.'

    'Look,' he said suddenly, 'I'm sorry for the things I said to you before you left.  It was cruel of me to hurt you like I did.  To tell you that I was glad that you were going.  It's no excuse but I was a friggin' mess, Merlot.  My mom had dissappeared; my dad became an alcoholic over night; and then Statham telling me what my mom really was; who he really was...' his eyes burned like the searing heat of the brand down into mine, '...what I am.'

    He was so close; asking for me to undersstand; asking me to forgive.

    'I hated you for a long time,' I told him recalling the crushing blow of his words.  'Your were more than just my first boyfriend, Jamison,' I choked out.  'It sucked to lose both you and my dad at once.'

    Jamison stiffened and stepped away, his face stricken.

    I grabbed his cut hands and pulled him back to me.  'I'm trying to understand Jamison.  I love you...even when you made me hate you...the love stayed.'

    He kissed me then with a mad fierce passion; like a man in the desert dying of thirst; he drank me.  He dragged his lips across my cheek bone and smelled my long black hair, crushing our bodies together in a staggering embrace.

    'I can't...breathe,' I croaked.

    Jamison laughed and let me go.  'Come on,' he said putting me into the Galaxy, 'I'm taking you back to school.'

    'What?  No!' I protested.  'I'm going with you to Count Haraszthy's estate!'

    Jamison slid in behind the wheel next to me.  'No, Merlot.  You're a sentinel, not a slayer.  Sentinels don't battle unless they're forced.  They have to stay alive to train and guide their Van Halsing.  I'm taking you back to Statham.'

    'No!  I'm going with you.  Even if I am some...some sentinel, I haven't been trained yet.  I don't know what to do.  And if I am a sentinel I should be there to help you.'

    'Melot, Statham is my sentinel.'  He put his arm gently around my shoulders.  'Your Van Halsing will become known to you in time, somewhere else, or if I...' his voice trailed away.

    'If you die...is that it?!' I cried.  'I'm going with you and you can't stop me!'

    Jamison laughed.  'Oh, yeah, I can.'  He reached over the backseat and pulled a rope from the canvas duffle bag.  'I love you Merlot.  And I'll tie you up and put you in the trunk if that's what it takes to keep you safe.'  His eyes did that whole branding thing again.  'I won't lose you.'

    'That's not fair Jamison,' I said.  'I don't want to lose you either.  Give me a weapon.  Let me come and watch your back.  It's daylight.  How dangerous can it be?'

    He signed heavily, and I watched him think as he stared out the windshield toward Count Haraszthy's dead vineyard.  He narrowed his eyes to the glaring sun off the Ford's black hood.  'His minions are not just zombies you know.  They're dangerous too.  Their human--mortals trapped under the Count's trance.'  He looked at me sadly.  'I've killed vamps in his coven, but never a minion.  I've knocked them senseless, unconscious, and had to maim some, knowing that if I ever stake Count Haraszthy and kill him that trance will break.'

    'And the amulet,' I said gently touching his chest, 'it can save your mother?'

    'If I do it right,' he answered slowly.

    I leaned over and turned the key in the ignition.  'Let's do it right then,' I said over the roar of the engine.



    Jamison drove the Galaxy up the weedy gravel road passed the gnarled and barren old vines of the vineyard.

    Count Haraszthy's estate was of European plantation architecture, it's tall vacant windows and towering pillars seemed menacing even in the bright sunlight.

    'Stay behind me,' Jamison warned handing me a crossbow and arrows from the large duffle bag, taking the stakes, and the dragon sword out as well.  He laid the sword on the Ford's roof; its jade scales sparked like ocean water.  The thing hummed sweetly with him near, and I regarded it wary, as he dumped the books from his backpack into the car, put the stakes inside, and threw it over his shoulder.

    'The crypt is underground,' he told me.  'I've been trying to get into it.  The lever is there, in plain sight, but locked somehow.'

    I notched one wickedly sharp arrow along the top of the ancient looking crossbow then clipped the other two at ready along the stocks side.  'This thing looks pretty old,' I said putting my finger on the trigger, 'are you sure it still works?'

    Suddenly the arrow sprang.  It whizzed past Jamison's ear, flew between two, tall, paint chipped pillars, and struck the heavy weathered door.

    'Jesus!' I cried, 'I barely touched the trigger.  I could have killed you!'

    'Come on,' Jamison said trying not to laugh as he took my hand and lead me onto the large veranda between the towering pillars.

    'The crossbow is old, but well maintained,' he said prying the arrow from the door.

    He re-notched it and then flipped a small switch beneath the stock.  A wedge of iron shot out to prevent the trigger from engaging.  'Sorry,' he smiled, 'forgot to tell you about the safety.'

    'This isn't funny Jamison,' I said shaking.

    'I know you're freaked out,' he said discarding the cute smile.  'Let me take you back to school.  Statham can explain things better to you.'

    'No.  We're here now.  Let's do this.  Let's get your mother and free the minions.'

    Jamison kissed me long and hard.  'Damn it girl,' he said kicking the door wide opened, 'you're crazy.'



    Jamison wasn't my Van Helsing, his younger sister Jamie was.

    Jamison staked and killed Count Haraszthy six months later, setting his minions free, when we figured out that the lever needed blood to open the crypt.  But before he could use the power of the amulet to return his mother to this life, she killed him with the dragon sword.



    Jamie and I are on the road now in Jamison's Ford Galaxy...searching for her.