Rancor: Vampyre Hunter (Rancor Chronicles) by James McCann Page B

expected, the place was in desperate need of a harsh cleaning and restocking. He arrived early in the morning, even though his head pounded with a familiar beat and his dry throat pleaded for quenching. He’d neglected his health to ensure the store would be ready for reopening by midafternoon. But by late afternoon the shelves still had the same dust blanket, the refrigerators still had the same mildew, and his new boxes of stock still remained unopened.
    The only thing that Sam had found it in himself to do was to flip his Closed sign to the Open side.
    “Open for what?” he said aloud, knowing how much rode on this foolhardy decision of his. He wished he hadn’t mentioned anything to Alexandria before he had found success. As though his wife were there in the grocery store with him, he said, “Trina, I so need you now.”
    He collapsed on an unopened crate as though his strength rode on his whispered breath. Sinking his solemn face into his dry palms, he prayed his daughter could forgive him twice.
    At least he recalled where he had stashed his whiskey.
    The faint sound of the door opening and the once-common chime of the bell hadn’t reached his ears. But, a few seconds later when footsteps neared, he called out, “I’m sorry. Store’s closed.”
    “I still expect to get paid,” Rellik’s raspy voice growled, as his footsteps came to a halt.
    Sam could have sworn he heard something snap deep within himself. He wasn’t sure why that remark had bothered him so much, but as he rose to tower over the much shorter young man, his rage grew beyond control. He felt his face blush a painful crimson. When the young man met his angry stare head on with equal force, the show of contention only infuriated him more. Sam tightened his hands into clenched fists and opened them fast. He repeated this gesture several times.
    “Listen to me and you listen good,” Sam whispered beneath his harsh breath. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you work for me and you will address me with respect!”
    “If you do not open the store, then I work for no one.”
    Sam couldn’t figure out why the anger in him burned, but the longer he stared at the teen the more he hated him. It was irrational and he knew that. Yet it was as if he had stepped out of himself and watched helplessly as the fury took over. Sam rammed his index finger into Rellik’s chest and pushed.
    “Get out. Out of my store! And out of my home! I don’t know what kind of mind games you play, but they end right here!”
    Rellik knew it would be best to leave. He wasn’t afraid. After all, Sam was only mortal, and should he choose to strike, he could easily be subdued. But Sam’s suffering was not unlike looking into a mirror image, a reflection of one who has lost a loved one. Rellik had seen the urn of ashes beneath the portrait when he’d been in the den for his interview. He found it discomfiting to watch someone else handle his loss in the same manner as he did: by driving those who might care for him as far away as possible.
    Yet, even in his worst time of despair, Rancor had found kindness. This mortal did not have long to wait until his life would end. Rellik knew that, without compassion, Sam would waste away his remaining days.
    “Please forgive my impudence. I meant you no disrespect. If you wish me to depart, then I shall. But from the look of your store, it appears you are in great need of aid.” His hands made a sweeping motion at the scattered boxes.
    “Would you listen to yourself? Even your apology sounds condescending! You have no right to judge me! You don’t know what I lost!”
    Rellik shook his head and turned toward the door. Self-pity had taken too strong a hold over Sam for reason to reach him.
     
    Rancor sat in a dark, musty tavern, absently looking about himself, slamming back drink after drink. He’d left Ariana alone with Shay, knowing it best not to share this night’s thoughts with either mortal. Tonight he needed to