Your Nosy Neighborhood Granny

By Beka Gremikova

Young folk these days.

I squint between my window blinds. Amelia has another new beau—a tall, brooding fellow. They walk hand-in-hand down the street toward my house, chatting.

I frown. I haven’t met this one yet. Usually she brings them by for my inspection first, just to be safe.

They stop walking, and he leans down—

I gasp. My cane clatters to the floor.

His lips press against her cheek in a quick, gentle kiss. Not a bite. Still, my intuition tells me to be wary. Lots of things start off small…

Archie runs circles around my ankles, barking.

“Hush!” I snap my fingers at him. He falls silent, but his tiny body quivers, the hair along his ruff bristling. His Uncanny Sense, like mine, is alert. Familiar, slimy unease twists through my mind.

Maybe Amelia’s bringing the boy over right now. Bracing my hips, I crouch to retrieve my cane, careful to avoid triggering its built-in security feature. I shuffle back to the window, Archie a step behind.

Amelia and her beau stop in front of my bungalow. Amelia glances up at my front porch, fiddling with her braid. The boy hunches his shoulders and scuffs his foot along the pavement, muttering something in her ear.

She pats his arm and lets him lead her past my house.

Peaches and dumplings, no you don’t. My nostrils flare, and I grip my cane so tightly my joints ache. If that hooligan thinks he can sweep my sweet Amelia away without so much as a by-your-leave, he’s in for a surprise from this nosy neighborhood granny.

Archie whines and dashes to the front door.

“I’m coming!” I hobble over and together we step outside. Bolstering myself to project my thin, reedy voice, I holler, “Amelia Lawton!”

She stutter-steps—gators and grits, she’d better not pretend she can’t hear me—then stops. She twiddles her braid again as her beau tugs at her hand.

But Amelia’s parents raised her right.

She turns, pulling that boy around with her, and calls, “Good mornin’, Miss O’Hara!” The cheer in her voice sounds forced, but I don’t give a flyin’ hoot as long as I know she’s safe.

I take my time shuffling down the stairs and along my front walk to the street. As I near, I notice that her beau’s teeth are very white. My unease intensifies. Vampires are vainer about their teeth than those Hollywood women on the TV.

The boy’s gaze flicks to me and away. He sees Archie and stiffens.

A delightful shiver trails down my spine. It feels like I’m back in my rookie year on the Supernatural Defense Force, cornering my first Uncanny.

Amelia notices Archie, and the false cheer melts into genuine adoration. “Archie!” she coos. Archie lets her pat him, but he knows his job. His eyes are riveted on the boy. His tail doesn’t wag. His fur stands on end.

Together, we’ll flush out that vamp.

“So, who’s this?” I ask in my most affronted tone.

Amelia bites her lip. “I was going to bring him by after we went to the soda fountain.” She shrugs, avoiding my gaze. “He’s shy and wanted to get to know me better before meeting my family.”

My heart warms. We may not be blood-related, but Amelia and I love each other like any meemaw with her grandbaby. “And what’s your name, young man?” I ask her beau.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Jeremy Rothschild.”

So normal sounding. Uncannies aren’t as obvious these days; they look and act a lot like us. When I was young, they projected a dazzling suaveness, and humans just ate it up. Now, girls prefer crooners with hair greasier than deep-fried chicken wings to centuries-old creatures who’d drizzle blood over buttered popcorn.

“I hope you’re treating Miss Amelia here right.”

He straightens, tossing his hair. The slight movement enflames my intuition. I’ve seen far too many hair tosses in my line of work. Vampires’ obsession with hair is even worse than with teeth—it’s enough to give me the willies.

“I always treat them—” He catches himself. “I always treat her right.”

“Them? I thought I was your first girlfriend!” Amelia frowns.

“You are!” He slips an arm around her shoulder.

Amelia glances down at Archie, whose eyes are trained on Jeremy, then up at me. She steps out from under Jeremy’s arm. “Them,” she mumbles. “If he lied about having girlfriends before…”

“… he probably lied about his age,” I finish. “Behind me, honey.”

Head bowed, she obeys. I shuffle forward, hefting my cane as Archie snarls.

Jeremy flicks a dark lock of hair out of his face as he glares at me. “It’s narrow-minded people like you who suck the free will out of the world.”

“If it keeps Uncannies like you from sucking the blood out of underaged girls, I do so gladly.” I raise my cane, arms shaking slightly, and press the built-in trigger on the handle.

His eyes widen as the cane tip extends, revealing a sharpened end reminiscent of a good ol’ fashioned stake. At least all this new-fangled tech is handy-dandy for something.

I jab at him, but he rolls out of the way. He jumps to his feet, hissing, and lunges for me.

Archie leaps at the vampire. My heart races faster than a Kentucky-born thoroughbred, but I push down the fear. I keep my gaze trained on the vampire’s chest and stab again. This time, my cane finds its mark.

Right through the heart.

The vampire’s body crumbles into powder, and a pair of fangs clatter to the ground.

Breathing heavily, I lower my cane.

Amelia throws her arms around me, sniffling. Poor, sweet darling. I stroke her hair. “How about some apple pie, honey? And some Archie cuddles?”

Her young face brightens. Archie barks, supremely interested in the cuddles.

“And next time,” I croak, “bring the boy home to me first.”

Amelia picks Archie up and hugs him. “Yes, ma’am.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Beka Gremikova lives and dreams from the Ottawa Valley, Ontario, Canada. Her passions include wolves, travelling, folklore and myth, and nerding out over anime, manga, and The Legend of Zelda. She has multiple flash fiction stories published with Havok, including in the Bingeworthy anthology. She’s also published in A Kind of Death from Uncommon Universes Press and the upcoming Faces to the Sun collection edited by S.J. Blasko.

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