C.O.T.V.H. (Book 1): Creation by Dustin J. Palmer Page A

family friend."
    "So my name isn't Griffin?  It's Jake Bishop?"
    John nodded. “Bishops have been hunting vampires since the first settlers landed on American shores hundreds of years ago. We’re legends in this business. Which I’m here to tell you, isn't always a good thing. Especially when you’re trying to start a new life. Vampires can read a phone book just as well as a human can, they can infiltrate social security offices, police stations. You name it they can buy their way in, or infiltrate it themselves. That's why everything was in your mother's name, the house, the cars, everything. I can't say it's been easy, but sometimes a man has to do what he has to, to keep his family safe.”
    “ That makes sense,” Jake agreed. “So how smart are they?”
    “ Marty was what we call a Grunt. Dumb as dirt, they only know one thing, hunger. Red eyes, long claws, pale skin, pretty much no way, that they could pass for a human. Now a Maker, that’s something different entirely. They’re stronger, smarter and look just like you or me, right up until they extend those fangs and rip your throat out. They're vicious, incredibly fast killing machines with the mind of a serial killer. These creatures have to feed every single day . They live for . . . hell, far as we can tell they’re immortal. And we really have no clue how many of them there are. Could be hundreds. Hell there could be thousands!”
    John let that sink in for a few minutes while Jake did the math. One vampire plus one kill a day, times three hundred and sixty five days a year. The math didn’t add up. “But Dad that doesn’t make sense. How could they kill that many people over that kind of time span without someone noticing?”
    “ Millions of people disappear every year without a trace. Millions . I’d lay good money that most of those so called disappearances are vampire victims.”
    They didn't talk the rest of the way.  Jake had a million questions but he could see that his dad’s mind was somewhere else. His thoughts returned to his mother. My God what if they turned her into one of them? Panic gripped at his heart. The thought of her sweet, kind eyes, replaced by those terrifying red ones was almost more than he could bear. Then again, so was the thought of her lying dead, drained of blood.
    At 7:38am, they pulled up next to a tan, late 70's model Bronco, parked in the driveway of a white painted house, situated in a nice middle class neighborhood.  Though the area looked safe enough the windows and front door were covered in heavy duty iron bars.
    John grabbed Jake’s suitcase out of the bed of the truck and holding his hand took him to the front door. Taking a deep breath, he rapped on the door three distinct times. After a few seconds a man in his late fifties, with long gray hair hanging down almost to his shoulders, opened the door. Jake was amazed at how much of a resemblance he had to his dad. His hair was longer, he was several inches shorter and about a hundred pounds lighter but the eyes were the same.
    The older Bishop looked at John, looked at Jake, surprise filling his soft brown eyes. Turning a lock with a key, he opened the barred gate. "What the hell?” he asked running a wrinkled hand through his hair. “Johnny?"
    "Hi, Pop," John said, with a smile. “It’s good to see you.”
    The three stood there unmoving for a few seconds before Cort seemed to come to his senses and stepped out of the way ushering them in. "Well come in, come in!" he said, motioning with a newspaper in his left hand. John cleared his throat nervously. "Pop, I want you to meet your grandson.  Jake this is your Grandpa."
    "Hi," Jake said, nervously.
    "Well hi back!" the older man laughed picking Jake up off his feet into a giant bear hug.  "By God boy! Last time I saw you, you were only three!"
    Jake was surprised at his reaction but also warmed by it. Part of him had expected the mean old man he’d heard his parents arguing over, his other