Table of Contents

Introduction

The Day I Died

Before I Became the Dearly Departed

The Day before the Day I Died

A Party to Die For

Be Still, My Beating Heart

Bill the Vampire

It Sucks To Be a Vampire

Sunday Bloody Sunday

Coming Clean

The Long Road...err, Train, Back Home

How Do We Sleep When Our Beds Are Burning?

One Will Stand, One Will Fall

And Now for a Kung-Fu Training Montage

Back To the Meat Grinder

History Lesson

Date Night

The Dork Tower

Kicking Ass and Taking Names

The Terror That Flaps in the Night

99 Problems and a Bitch is Definitely One

Vampire on Vampire Action

The Road Trip of the Damned

On the Road Again

Grudge Match

Here Comes the Sun...

And, Of Course, There's an Epilogue

About the Author

Bonus Chapter

Bill the Vampire

The Tome of Bill

Part 1

Rick Gualtieri

Wayman Publishing

waymanpublishing.com

P. O. Box 160693

Clearfield, UT

84016

Bill The Vampire

Copyright© 2011 Rick Gualtieri

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author. Your support of author’s rights is appreciated.

All characters in this novel are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead, or undead, is purely coincidental. The use of any real company and/or product names is for literary effect only. All other trademarks and copyrights are the property of their respective owners.

The views herein are the responsibility of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of Wayman Publishing.

Edited by A Step Up Editing and Hercules Editing

Cover by Carl Graves at: http://www.extendedimagery.com/

Visit the author’s blog at: http://www.poptartmanifesto.com

For Spike, a good cat

Introduction

There’s an old saying, “Death is easy, comedy is hard.” Personally, I don’t buy it. I don’t think comedy is particularly hard at all. Why? It’s not because I think I’m some kind of comic genius. Trust me, I’m not that delusional. It’s because no matter how lame a joke you make, or how badly you deliver it, someone, somewhere, will laugh at it. There, comedy - bad comedy, but still. Horror, on the other hand, is hard. Now, I’m not talking about the ‘Jason jumps out of the bushes and you scream like a little girl’ type of horror. That’s fairly easy to do. My four-year-old could jump out of the shadows and get that result if he timed it right. I’m talking about true horror, the type of horror that makes you afraid to turn off the lights at night; the type of horror that makes you think, and not about good things. That’s hard, especially in written format. Of the dozens upon dozens of horror novels I’ve read in my life, I can only think of two that genuinely scared me. That’s not to say the rest were bad, far from it. But only two gave me reason to want to check under my bed before going to sleep.

Being that I’m not a complete prick, I’ll be happy to give credit where credit is due, and tell you which ones: Stephen King’s It, and The Relic by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child. The latter is more of a techno-thriller than pure horror, but it’s pretty damn scary nevertheless.

If that’s the type of book you’re looking for, then I shall save you the trouble, my friend. Put down this book and go pick up one of the above. Of course, when you’re done, please feel free to come back here. It’s okay. I’ll wait. It's not like I have anything better to do. Just don’t take too long. Idle hands are the Devil’s plaything, and all that.

As for this book, it falls into one of my favorite horror sub-genres: the horror comedy. No, I’m not talking about dopey slapstick like Scary Movie, or its legion of increasingly unfunny sequels. I’m talking horror comedy of the type in which a terrifying situation is thrust upon main characters that just don’t give a fuck. We're talking guys who are too busy spouting one-liners or hitting on the babes to notice that the world has literally gone to hell around them. Army of Darkness and Ghostbusters are, in my not so humble opinion, classic examples of this genre. Think about it. The coming of Gozer the Gozarian could easily be construed as a soul-crushing horrific fate for the people of the world, if not for one Dr. Peter Venkman, who just couldn’t be bothered to take it all that seriously.

This is that type of story. So, strap yourself in and prepare for the ride. And feel free to leave most of the lights off while you do so. Sure, there may very well be creatures writhing in the darkness waiting for you, but sometimes the thing they expect least is to be met not with screams, but with attitude.

That being said, all that remains are my hopes that you will enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Rick G.

The Day I Died

*Thud, thud* Okay, somebody needs to turn off their goddamn stereo before I put my foot up their ass. God forbid a guy be allowed to sleep off a major bender without some dickhead blasting their bass to eleven. At least, I think it was a major bender. I know I’m asleep, but I can still feel the room spinning. Yeah, I’ve gotta be drunk off my ass.

The funny thing is, I don’t remember getting shitfaced, although that doesn’t mean anything. The best parties are sometimes the ones you don’t remember. Still, I’m not even sure I went to a party last night. It is morning, right? I can’t see anything. Well, duh, my eyes are closed.

Okay, my eyes aren’t opening. I guess I must be pretty trashed.

*Thud, thud* There it is again. For fuck’s sake! Some days I hate living here. There’s always some little white bread, teenaged douche pumping out Tupac from his daddy’s Beemer because he’s sure he can relate to life on the streets. Although why is it so loud? Maybe the window’s open. I should get up and close it. Oh yeah, that’s right. I’m out cold. I can’t really check the window in my current state. Oh, well, maybe I’ll get lucky and some real gangstas will come cruising down the block and pop a few caps in homey’s upper middle class ass.

*Thud, thud* ARGH! It’s really starting to piss me off now. Huh? What the hell was that? Holy shit, are those voices? Maybe I'm not at home, after all. If that's the case, I must still be at a party. Oh, crap. I hate passing out at someone else's place. I really hope they aren’t drawing dicks on my face. The last time that happened, the fuckers used a permanent Sharpie. Let me tell you how much fun that was to scrub off. Probably took off five layers of skin, and you could still see it. Tom was an asshole about it, too. He kept pretending to be helpful just to get a laugh. “You want me to go to the store for you, dickface?” “I’ll get it. Hello? Oh, Bill? Sorry, he can’t come to the phone right now. He's too busy trying to wipe cock off his face. Can you call back later?” One of these days, I’ve really gotta get my own apartment.

*Thud, thud* Okay, it's getting a little lower now. The song must be ending. I still can’t make out what the voices are saying, but at least it doesn’t sound like laughter. That’s good. Hopefully it means they haven’t started using my face as an easel yet. Maybe I can still wake up before that happens.

Jeez, my body still isn’t responding. Man, what the hell was I drinking? Even passed out, I still feel seriously fucked up. I’m wondering if maybe I was doing a little more than drinking. I vaguely remember Ed saying something about scoring a few joints. Shit! I hope they weren’t laced with Drano or something - although that might explain why I’m lying here, having an internal soliloquy. Hold on, though, didn't that happen last week?

*Thud, thud* Why does that sound so familiar? I don’t usually listen to any shit rap music, but damn if that doesn’t ring a bell. It’s right on the tip of my tongue...UGH! Speaking of my tongue, what the hell is that taste in my mouth? Oh, shit. Please don’t let me have puked. There’s nothing worse than puking at a party and waking up in it. Nobody ever gets laid after that. Well, okay, puke or not, it’s been a while since I scored at a party, but it could still happen...maybe. Although not if I’m lying in a swimming pool of my own spew.

Crap! I hope someone turned me on my side. The last thing I want to do is pull a Hendrix. Okay, okay, relax. No one is that big an asshole. If I can hear them talking, then that probably means I’m all right.

*Thud, thud* It was weird tasting puke, anyway; kind of coppery. Oh, okay. Maybe I didn’t puke. I probably bit the inside of my mouth instead. That makes sense. Hopefully, I just bit the inside of my mouth. Damn! What if this is some kind of seizure? I could have bitten off my own damn tongue, and these assholes are just standing around debating the artistic merits of penises on my face. Maybe that’s why I can’t wake up. I popped a blood vessel in my brain and even now, I’m spiraling into a coma.

Still, I don’t think I’d be quite as lucid if I were in a coma. Then again, I haven’t been in enough comas to know what it'd be like. All right, calm down. I'd probably feel it if my tongue was bitten off. I think that would be a wee bit on the painful side. Okay, I need to try and concentrate. Let's see...I can still taste that crap in my mouth, but I can sorta feel my tongue, too. At least I think I can.

I tried moving it around a bit inside my mouth. Yeah, I still had a tongue...OW! What the hell was that? Had my tongue a second ago, but I’m not so sure now. What the hell? Did someone stick a razor blade in my freaking mouth?

*Thud, thud* Thank God. The music was barely a whisper now. That damn song just went on forever. It’s funny that I can hear the bass, but nothing else, though. It still sounds so familiar. Almost like a...

Oh, no.

That can’t be right.

*Thud, thud*

It can’t be.

Please don’t let that be my heart that I’m hearing.

*Thud*

Oh, shit!

I am choking on my own puke.

Or having a seizure.

*Thud*

Or a goddamn brain aneurysm.

*Thu...*

Ohcrapohcrapohcrap!

Okay, I shouldn't worry. I’m sure someone will start CPR on me.

Any second now.

Any minute now.

Come on, people. I only have a few minutes here before that whole brain death thing.

FUCK!

Please start beating again.

Pretty please.

It’s not fair. I still have so many reasons to live. I was going to go out with Sheila. Well, okay, maybe. One of these days, certainly. Hell, I would have gotten to it eventually. You don’t just walk up to an insanely hot chick like that and ask her out, especially when you look like me. You have to work your way up to it. Sure, it’s been two years, but I was almost there, dammit. Now it’s all gone.

Or it will be all gone.

Any minute now, it’ll be all gone.

Jeez, this death thing isn’t quite like I thought it would be. I can still taste whatever is in my mouth. Yep, I can still move my tongue, too. Can dead people move their tongues? I don’t know. I haven’t Frenched too many corpses.

Okay, this is starting to get a bit odd. Shouldn’t I be seeing a tunnel with a light at the end? Maybe I’ll see Grandma and Grandpa - hell, maybe even Elvis is waiting for me at the end of it.

Nope, nothing.

No, that’s not quite true. Is that...yes. I can feel my left arm now. Do dead people start getting sensation back? Hmmm, I can’t move it much, but it feels like I’m lying on something soft. No, I’m not in my bed. It feels like carpet. Yep, I’m definitely on a floor somewhere. It feels thick...kinda like a...oh, no...a shag carpet. Either I’m stuck in a bad seventies’ flashback, or I’m at that...

Loft!

Oh, fuck! And with that, the fog suddenly clears from my head. I can remember where I am and how I got here. If I’m right about what’s going on, then a face full of dicks isn’t going to sound all that bad in comparison.

Before I Became the Dearly Departed

Okay, let’s back up a little bit. I’m probably getting ahead of myself. Before I bore you with little things, like, say, my death, I should probably fill you in on the basics first. How’s that sound? Okay, then let’s start over, shall we?

My name is Bill, Bill Ryder. William Anderson Ryder, if you want to be formal, although I’m not sure why you’d want to be formal with a dead guy. It’s a pretty cool name, if you ask me, although it did get a little annoying a few years ago when The Matrix came out. For a couple of months, I had to deal with every single person I know ending everything they said to me with, “Mr. Anderson” in a deadpan voice. It was funny the first time, much less so the five-thousandth time. Anyway, I’ve always liked how my initials spell out WAR, kind of like W. Axl Rose, if a bit less cool, maybe. Not that much less cool, at least these days, but a bit. Although, since I go by “Bill,” my friends have always pointed out that BAR might be a better acronym. I can’t really complain about that one either, since under duress I might admit to spending a decent amount of time pounding back cold ones on the weekends.

Now, I’d love to tell you that I’m a private detective, maybe a boy wizard in training, or even a normal Joe by day/superhero by night, but that would be stretching the truth just a bit. As with all things, reality tends to be less exciting than what we would hope it would be. Here are the basics: I’m twenty-four, currently single, and with no real potential hopefuls in sight. Well, there is Sheila, but we’ll get back to her later, especially since I’m not one hundred percent certain she’d be able to pick me out of a police lineup, not that she has any reason to. It’s not like I’ve been stalking her these past few years. Sure, I know where she lives, what time she gets to work, what her favorite perfume is, but I assure you I’m definitely not stalking her. Really.

Oh, yeah, and she has this super cute ass that shakes so nicely when she walks...

Okay, sorry. Sometimes I get caught up in the moment. Where was I? Oh, yeah, the basics...I’m twenty-four; I think I might have mentioned that already. I have short brown hair, brown eyes, glasses, am maybe an inch or two above average height, and about twenty...well, okay, maybe thirty pounds overweight. I’m not quite a hideous mutant, but I don’t exactly have the ladies swarming all over me like pigs in shit, either. That might have something to do with the fact that I probably look like someone who’d be right at home sitting around a D&D game (which I might admit to doing occasionally...or every Sunday, whichever comes first).

I have a degree in Computer Science from NJIT, graduated with honors, et cetera. I like to think I’m a pretty smart guy. Maybe not MIT material (fucking elitist cocksuckers!), but I can hold my own in front of a dual monitor setup. Speaking of which, I work as a game programmer for Hopskotchgames.com. You’ve probably heard of them. You know Jewel Smash? Yep, that was me, baby. That little gem (no pun intended) alone has made the company millions in online revenue. I dare say I got a nice little bonus on that one...emphasis on little. Cheap bastards. But still, I can’t complain, at least not too much. I make more than enough to support my “lavish” lifestyle, I get full benefits, and can work from home pretty much whenever I feel like it. Overall, there are far worse places to be employed. Don't get me wrong, though. The second I win the lottery, those guys can go fuck themselves sideways.

Anyway, my said lavish lifestyle consists of the top floor apartment of a building in the Bay Ridge section of Brooklyn. I share it with my two aforementioned roomies, Ed and Tom. Ed is my partner in crime over at Hopskotchgames. He does graphical design for them, and we’ve partnered on more than a few of their top downloads. We met in college, and he's the one who got me the interview over there. Ed’s a good guy, if a little odd. He’s got a lot of talent, but is absolutely the least passionate artist I have ever met. Life is one big “Meh!” to him. Some days I think you’d need to set him on fire and cut his balls off with a dull hacksaw to get a reaction out of him, not that I fantasize much about setting him on fire...or his balls, for that matter. But you get the idea.

As for Tom, he’s my main bud. I’ve known him for almost twenty years. Of everyone I know, I’d vote him the most likely in the next decade or so to wind up in a twenty-room mansion with a hot trophy wife by his side. Tom’s all about the money. He works over in the Manhattan financial district. Right now, he’s little more than a toady to the higher-ups, but he assures me that’s the way things work there. You latch onto some upwardly mobile VP like a remora (in this case, attaching your lips firmly to their ass) and let them drag you up the ranks. He rounds that part out by also being an obsessive collector. His dad got him into it when he was young, and then Tom’s OCD took over and kept it going in overdrive ever since. He’s got a storage bin back in Jersey, where we grew up, filled to the brim with comic books and action figures. That doesn’t even count the stuff he keeps locked in his bedroom. Most of it is worth shit now, and will probably be forever, but he’s got a few nice pieces. Just don’t let him catch you playing with any of them. Dude is a little psycho about it. I once repositioned his He-Man figure to be giving it to Princess Leia doggy-style and you'd have thought I had poisoned his family. Shit, if I ever did poison his family, he'd probably get over it quicker.

So, that’s me. Not exactly Bruce Wayne, but then again, I’m not a basket case still living at home with Mom and Dad, either. My life is steady if a little dull: get up, get some work done, eat some food, then go back to sleep. Rinse and repeat until the weekend, when it’s more or less collect my paycheck, hang out with my friends, and bitch about the rest of the week. Some day I hope to get married, have a few kids, and then I’ll probably settle into the same routine again. Except then I’ll spend my weekends with my wife, bitching about the rest of the week. You know how it is. My plan is a lot like anyone else's. Maximize my good times, minimize my bad, and leave the larger stuff to people who give more of a shit than I do.

Or at least that was the plan, but then I had to go and fuck it all up by dying.

The Day before the Day I Died

So, let’s get back to my untimely death, all right? Let me start by saying, fuck SoHo! Yeah, that’s what I said. I have never, ever had a good experience there. Every person I know who lives there is a douchebag. Every job interview I’ve ever had there has been conducted by assholes. Every restaurant I’ve ever eaten at there has sucked; and when the food didn’t suck, the service sure as hell did. It is a place where the tragically hip go to die, and people with more fashion sense than brain cells gather like moths to a flame. So, I should have known better than to wind up at a party there. Even more so, I should’ve known that the sweet piece of ass that invited me was far too good to be true.

Saturday had started off well enough. It was a nice day; clear and just cool enough for a light jacket. Tom headed out to spend the day with his parents and his cute little sister (who, in just another two years, is going to be old enough to jerk off to legally...not that I would. Well, okay, talk to me in two years and we’ll see. Just don’t tell him I said that). As for Ed, he was holed up in his bedroom/home office. He was a little behind on the level design of a new project, and wanted to burn off some weekend hours to get it done. The rest of my local friends were busy, so that left me, myself, and I.

I grabbed a couple of Egg McMuffins in the A.M. from the McDonalds on 86th street, and then jumped onto the R train to head into the city. I didn’t really have much of a plan. I figured I’d spend a few bucks, grab lunch, and then head back. Maybe I’d see if anyone was up for some bar hopping in the evening. I gotta admit, dying wasn’t on my to-do list. But hey, live and learn, I guess...or is that don’t live and learn?

Okay, so the first part of my day went pretty much as expected. I popped into the Complete Strategist to grab a few new D&D minis (my current one just wasn’t doing justice to my High-Elf Battlemage) as well as a few new rule supplements that had come out. I plunked down enough cash so that, thanks to me, some executive at Wizards of the Coast could now continue paying their child’s college education. I walked over to midtown and spent a little time at the Apple Store, where for about the hundredth time, I stood around debating the merits of buying myself an iPad, and for the hundredth time, decided that maybe I’d hold off for now. After that, I grabbed a few slices of pizza and then headed down to the subway again. In retrospect, I should have loitered for a while longer. If that had happened, I wouldn’t have met her, and, well...I’d still be alive.

But you’re not here to catch the story about Bill, the guy who went home, met up with some friends, and then spent the rest of his Saturday night drunkenly arguing over who the hottest chick on Smallville was, are you? No, you’re not. So, as I was saying, I went to grab the train back to Brooklyn. Not really wanting to mingle with the weekend crowd, I wandered to the end of the platform where there were only a few people waiting. That turned out to be a big mistake.

The train took its sweet time, and I was just starting to tire of the perpetual stench of hobo urine when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Being a city resident, I reacted naturally. That is, I spun around quickly, sure I was about to get mugged - hoping I looked intimidating enough (doubtful) to give my would-be attackers second thoughts.

“A bit jumpy, aren’t you?” said the petite little thing staring back at me. She was no more than five-three, maybe a hundred and five soaking wet (excuse me while I consider the image of her soaking wet...ah, yes. Quite nice. Now, back to our story...), and totally smoking hot. She had medium-length blonde hair with green highlights, but aside from that little oddity, she looked like she could have just stepped out of a fashion shoot...or a strip club. I’d love to give you something cliché here, like she was dressed all in black, or had an ominous air about her. But the truth is, she was a very good-looking, well-dressed woman. Outside of the fact that she was talking to me, there was nothing about her that was really screaming threat.

Anyway, before things could stretch out to an awkward silence (or, more importantly, before it became obvious that I was undressing her with my eyes), I answered her. “Sorry about that. You just surprised me.”

“Whatever,” she said, obviously nonplussed with my answer. “Have a light?”

“I don’t smoke.” Were people even allowed to do that on the platform anymore?

“Figures. Then, have you got the time?”

“That I can do,” I said as I brought my watch up to my face, being careful not to take my eyes off her. I had heard on CNN a few years back that some gang members did this to distract a person so they could slash them with a razor. Okay, she didn’t exactly look like a gang-banger per se, but still, it’s best to be careful. She apparently noticed my paranoia because she smirked in return.

“About one-thirty,” I answered, feeling overly self-conscious.

“Thank you.”

And well, that was it. She stepped back and went into that thousand-yard stare mode that is so common of people waiting for a train. And yet, I couldn't help but feel like she was still giving me the once over out of the corner of her eye. However, I dismissed the feeling as nothing more than wishful thinking. After all, what straight guy doesn't have “yeah, she wants me” thoughts running through his head the second a hot babe like her asks him an innocuous question?

Okay, I lied about the “that was it” part. It was just “it” for the platform. Turns out “it” started up again when the train pulled in and we got on. The last car was fairly empty, and the few of us there had the luxury of being able to sit, as well as doing so without being too close to each other. Just to be on the safe side, though, I grabbed a corner seat. Should the population inside the train suddenly swell, I could at least take comfort in knowing that I wouldn't wind up the meat in some smelly, weekend commuter sandwich. If you're thinking that I'm next going to tell you how my stripper “friend” (definitely a stripper - a model probably wouldn't have said a word to me had I been on fire) sat down next to me, then give yourself a prize. You, my friend, are either psychic, or at least not a complete idiot.

Now, just to digress for a moment, I made myself a promise a long time ago. I promised myself that, in my next life, I was going to come back hot. Not just attractive, but Johnny Depp-like (as every woman I have ever known will testify), women's panties will get moist if I even look in their direction hot. Call me shallow, but I don't give a damn what anyone else thinks. The world just has so many more possibilities when you're hot. Case in point: my attractive subway stalker. She sat down next to me, immediately grabbed my shopping bag with no more than a quick, “So whatcha got there?” and started rifling through it. Forget the ugly beasts of the world, if even an average-looking stranger tried that, they'd either get immediately decked, or pointed out to the cops at the next station. But someone hot? They can both get away with it and know that they will. The world is just unfair. On the other hand, I didn't see anyone else in the car with a smokin’ piece sitting next to them, so I figured I'd cut the world some slack...just this once, mind you.

So, there she was, going through my stuff, while I just sat there doing nothing except tensing up in case she bolted when the doors next opened. Yeah, yeah, I know, but gaming minis aren't cheap. I don't care what you look like - get your own goddamned swordmage.

Speaking of which, she pulled it out of the bag and gave me a questioning glance. Okay, there went that fantasy of hooking up with the world’s hottest gamer chick.

“Um. It's for my nephew,” I stupidly blurted out. She, in return, gave another look that told me I had about a zero percent chance of her buying that answer.

I didn't fail to notice the quick eye-roll she made as she put my new mini back in the bag. She then went back to ignoring the basic rules of “don't touch what isn't yours.” Pulling out my new books, she began thumbing through them with an expression that appeared to be a combination of pity and humor. In a bit of foreshadowing that only happens in the most desperate of stories, she happened to stop on one in particular.

“Now, this is cute,” she said, handing me the latest revision to the Manual of the Undead.

“Have to keep up with the rule changes,” I stammered, no doubt continuing my unbroken streak of lowering her initial opinion of me.

“Sure you do.” Then she got a bit of a far away look in her eye. “Rules are important. We all have them. Even me.”

“You play...”

“Not THOSE kind of rules. But rules nevertheless,” she cryptically continued. “There are all sorts of games...some a little more adult than others.”

Okay... it was time to shift a bit in my seat, as my pants were suddenly feeling a tad too tight.

She let the uncomfortable silence stretch a moment longer before her mood lightened. Handing back my purchases, she held out her hand. “Sorry for teasing you. I'm Sally.”

Not quite believing the reality I had somehow stepped into, I mimicked her movement. “No problem. I'm Bill. Bill Ryder,” I said as I shook her hand. (YES! Houston, we have achieved physical contact.)

“Pleasure to meet you, Bill Ryder.”

Now, here I will once more meander from my recollection of my days amongst the still living, and just point out that, no, I didn't notice anything odd about the handshake. I'd love to tell you that her hand was overly cold and clammy, or that perhaps she had a grip that would have made a much stronger man wince. But the truth is...well, okay, the truth is that her hand could have been covered in scales and crawling with hornets and I wouldn't have noticed. I was kind of lost in the moment. You always hear reports on the news about people who have just won the lottery, and they always recount with exact detail what they were doing when they found out. Bullshit, I say. When any major Holy Shit moment occurs, we tend to go a bit numb, and then maybe later we'll try to fill in the details as best we can. Well, that was as close as I've come to one of those moments in a long time. Besides, there were far more interesting things than hands in front of me. Oh, well, maybe next time I hook up with an apex predator with killer cleavage, I'll be a little more attentive.

Anyway, continuing my streak of witty banter, I then asked, “So, come here often?” Yeah, I know, it's amazing I don't get laid every night, isn't it?

Another eye-roll (jeez, did I really sound that pathetic?) and she responded with a banal, “Only when I need to get somewhere.”

Okay, it was time to dig deep down and try to find that little bit of adult dialogue, which I knew was hiding somewhere inside of me. “Sorry, that was kinda lame. What I meant to ask is whether you hang out in Manhattan often?”

“Much better,” she acknowledged with a smile, “And the answer is ‘yes.’ I actually live not too far from here. I have a little place in SoHo. You?”

“Brooklyn, myself. I was just doing a little shopping today.”

“I can tell,” she gestured down at the bags through which she had just finished rifling.

“You?”

“Me what?”

“What are you up to?” I asked.

“Well, besides talking to a very nervous-sounding (and here I thought I was being so smooth) guy on the train, I was just out enjoying the day. Since the nervous-sounding guy I'm talking to also sounds like a fairly decent fellow (bonus!), I'd say it’s going pretty well,” she replied, her tone friendly. Damn, she had a nice smile...amongst other awesome parts.

Sensing an opening, I pounced...figuratively. “There's still plenty of day left.”

“That there is,” she agreed...hot damn, I was a playa.

“Well, it's pretty nice outside. I don't suppose you'd maybe like to take a quick walk through the park? Maybe we could grab a coffee at one of those sidewalk cafes.”

She frowned a bit at that (oh crap, we're losing the patient). “Sorry, I can't.”

I've been there before, so I knew the drill to try to save a little bit of my crushed ego. “No. I didn't mean it like that, I...”

But she cut me off before I could finish. “It's not you, silly. I'm not really up for a bit of sun right now (aha! There's that bit of foreshadowing I should have been paying attention to). Besides, we're almost at my stop. I have some stuff to get done before tonight.”

Okay, the deal wasn't dead yet. The door was still hanging open, so I put my foot in it.

“What's tonight?” I asked.

“A couple of my friends are coming over. I'm throwing a little party.”

“That's cool.” Yeah, I was back to being lame.

“It's nothing big.”

“A little get together with close friends is always fun.”

“You think so?” she turned to look me dead in the eye. “I don't suppose you'd want to come?” she continued, her tone changing, almost becoming shy. “I mean, I know we just met. I don't want to come across as too aggressive.”

Too aggressive? Christ, she could’ve thrown me down and raped me right there on the subway and I still wouldn't have considered that too aggressive. Note to self: remember that little fantasy for later on when I'm alone.

“No, no, it's cool,” I said, trying to reassure her. “I'm not really too busy tonight (an understatement if ever there was one). I could pop by.”

“Really? Are you sure?” She brightened at my answer, sitting straight up - her chest jiggling slightly from the sudden movement. I tried and probably failed to pretend I hadn’t noticed.

“Why wouldn't I be?” I asked, attempting not to sound too desperately excited.

“Well, you seem like a sweet guy, and I'm just warning you now, my friends can get a little rowdy.”

“I can handle rowdy. They raise us tough in Brooklyn,” I fibbed.

“All right then, it's a date.”

A date? As in a “be somewhere together, maybe hold hands, maybe maybe make out, and if things go really well...wake up together” type of date? Hell, yeah! Damn, as soon as I told someone about this, my cred amongst my buddies would automatically shoot up by about ten thousand percent.

“Sounds good,” I casually replied, managing to stifle the part of my brain that wanted instead to shout, “OH YEAH, BABY! MAKE ME YOUR PLAYTHING!”

“Great,” she actually appeared genuinely pleased.

“So, what time does this soiree get started?”

“Show up any time after dark,” she said with a glimmer in her eye. “Here's the address; come up to the third floor,” she removed a pen from her purse, then took my hand and wrote on it. Wow. Didn't think that happened outside of the movies. This was starting to turn into a letter to a smut rag. “Dear Penthouse, I never thought this would happen to me...”

A moment later, the train stopped and Sally popped to her feet, her tight body moving in all the right ways

“This is me,” she said as she walked to the door. “Hope to see you there.” She then stepped out onto the platform and gave a little wave.

I glanced down at the address on my hand, figuring it was best to memorize it, lest my palm get all sweaty. I looked up again, a scant second later, and Sally was gone. I jumped to my feet and stuck my head out the door to give her a quick wave goodbye, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Had I been in a slightly less euphoric mood, I might have noticed that we were at the very end of the station. The nearest stairs were a hundred feet away off to the right. There's no way she could have gotten there in the time I looked away. To the left...there was only the darkness of the subway tunnel.

A Party to Die For

It's amazing how just a few random events can turn things into the perfect shit storm. Under normal circumstances, Tom or Ed (or most likely both) would have been home when I arrived and, between the three of us, we would have probably psyched each other out and just blown the whole damn thing off in favor of going out for pizza. Not that we're allergic to fine women, or anti-social, or anything, but I have no doubt the whole “too good to be true” aspect of it all would have come up and realistic heads would have prevailed. Well, either that or we would have all been enticed by the possibility of some prime pussy, and the three of us would now be lying around, kind of dead. I give it a fifty/fifty shot of either scenario occurring, and, since I'm not a complete asshole, I guess in the end, only one of us biting the big one is better than our families having to throw a triple funeral.

Regardless, none of that came to pass. As I mentioned, Tom was at his family's house for the day. Ed must have taken a break and gone out for a bite to eat, because he wasn't home, either. That left me. Just great. I knew that, with no real voice of reason to turn to, I'd be left with just my own thoughts. The problem was the voice in my head that typically reasons with me pretty much sounds like a harsher amalgam of my two roommates. Where they might have decided on a different course of action for the evening, I knew that if I considered, for even a second, not going to this party, I'd have to contend with my own subconscious mercilessly assaulting me for being a pansy-ass loser with questionable sexual orientation.

Oh, well. At the time, I figured the worst-case scenario would be that I'd be out a few bucks for train fare. At least I would have killed a few hours that otherwise would’ve just been wasted on some online raid with my guild brothers. A definite night of World of Warcraft versus the slight chance of hooking up with some chick straight from the pages of a Victoria’s Secret catalog. Millions of people play the Powerball lottery each week with much worse odds. So, ultimately, I figured, why the hell not?

I nuked myself a couple of pieces of chicken (no point in heading toward probable disappointment hungry) and then proceeded to clean myself up - figuring simple was best. I wouldn't even know what to wear to look “cool” in the Village, so instead opted for business casual. That was usually a safe way to go when in doubt, at least during company meetings. I was just winging it here. It might not be the coolest attire, but at least I wouldn't look scummy. Hopefully, Sally wasn't one of those chicks who was into dating dirt bags. Speaking of which...was this really a date? Sure, the word had come up, but the reality was I had no idea. Hell, I wasn't even sure I'd give her a ten percent chance of being there, so worrying about it being a date or not seemed to be getting a little ahead of myself. Ooh, Sally and a little head. Now there's a possibility I could get behind. Anyhow...

I got myself together as best as I could. I wasn’t a male model by any stretch of the imagination, but not exactly pre-Subway Jared-looking, either. It'd do. I grabbed my keys and wallet (stuffing an emergency $20 into one of my socks...momma didn't raise no complete fool), then stepped out to meet my fate...literally, as it turns out.

* * *

Saturday night trains are a lot like rush hour trains. People are in a hurry to get where they're going and, for the most part, stay out of each other’s way. Even the homeless mostly seem to understand this, and the onslaught of panhandling lessens a bit during these times. After all, getting in front of a determined person headed from point A to point B is a good way to get trampled. Thus, it was that I rode the N train to the stop closest to my destination. It let me off about five short blocks away from where I was headed, which I was able to walk with no problem.

In retrospect, the whole trip was a little underwhelming. If Hollywood has taught me anything, it's that fateful journeys like these are filled with foreshadowing. It should have been storming outside, but it was crystal clear. I should have been accosted by at least one semi-crazed, but mysteriously wizened, stranger on the train, warning me of dire doom, but instead I managed to snag a seat, and nobody even batted an eye in my direction. For Christ sakes, the address I was given should have been some popular, but inexplicably creepy, nightclub with a non-subtle name like Type-O, or maybe The Blud Room, but noooo. Instead, the main floor of the building was a fairly nondescript bar. Loud and full, but not packed, and certainly not crawling with creeps that were practically screaming, “Come in here and we'll drain your ass dry.” It figures. The world can't even deliver me clichés correctly.

My instructions were to use the side door and walk up to the third floor. I pressed the buzzer and was immediately let in. There was no challenge of “Who dares trespass?” No hulking bouncer opened the door, only to give me an evil smirk to let me know I was fresh meat. It was just a stairwell. Jeez!

As I climbed, the sounds changed slightly. The techno-rock music from the first floor was fairly muted by the time I reached the second floor landing. As I continued upward, it was slowly drowned out by a different techno beat. This was SoHo, after all.

Oh, by the way, in case you had forgotten from earlier...fuck SoHo!

Now, where was I? Yeah, yeah, still a fucking corpse, but I'm getting back to that. I'm still doing the whole life flashing before my eyes bit...although it's odd that the majority of the flashback seems to only be from the last twelve hours, but whatever. It’s not like I was an expert in the rules of the afterlife, at least not yet.

Reaching the third floor, the source of the new music, I knocked...and knocked again...and then knocked a third time. Didn't these guys just buzz me in? I was about to turn around and leave, visions of Sally and her friends (hot friends no doubt...and while we're on this fantasy, let's say hot nude friends) standing there, laughing at my idiocy, going through my not-surprised-in-the-least mind, when finally the door opened.

If this were a trashy romance novel, I'm sure the guy standing in the door would be described to the rapidly moistening female reader by his perfect hair, dazzling eyes, and bulging muscles. However, here in the real world, guys like me tend to see dudes like him and automatically assume one thing about them; that they will, in all likelihood, be complete asshole douchebags.

“What?” Douchebag asked in a bored tone (All right. At least one cliché was holding true tonight), looking me over as if I were something unpleasant he had stepped in.

“Sally invited me,” I tried to sound equally as bored as I replied to this fellow who looked uncomfortably like some of the jocks who’d handed me ass-kickings back in high school. At this, though, his demeanor noticeably changed. He straightened up and adopted an easy smile. Sure, he still looked like a douche, but at least now he was a douche who was acting...err... less douchey.

“Cool. Come on in,” he said, opening the door wider, letting out more of the insufferable techno crap that was playing. “Sorry about the attitude, buddy. Never know who's knocking. Gotta watch out for the narcs.” (Narcs? What was this, 1985?)

“No prob,” I answered, following him in. “Bill.”

“Huh?” Obviously he was already losing interest in me.

“I said my name is Bill.” And with that, I held out my hand.

“Oh. That's cool,” he answered, leaving my gesture of friendship dangling there. “Sally's around here somewhere. Just chill and she'll find you.” He turned away toward more interesting fare.

Douchebag or not, I can't say I really blamed him. Once I was dismissed, I took a second to look around. Hmm, it was an interesting place; kinda had a retro feel to it. Not that it was very surprising, considering what part of the city I was in. Every place in this area either was trying to be cutting-edge hip, or latching onto some past decade like it was coming back into style. This place had a definite “groovy” vibe to it, minus maybe the music that was playing. As for the partygoers...whoa...the partygoers. Damn! The only parties I’ve ever seen that looked even remotely like this were all on TV. Every chick could have passed for a swimsuit model, and I doubted any of the guys benched under two-fifty. I tried not to gawk as my brain attempted to process exactly when I had left reality and wandered onto the set of Gossip Girl. Forget the decor; they could have decorated the place as a Black Plague death pit and it wouldn't have mattered one iota.

I was starting to become acutely aware of how much I didn't fit in when I noticed a similarly out-of-place fellow off in a corner being chatted up by a tasty redhead. He was about ten years older than me, nearly bald, and looked like he'd be more at home at an accountants’ convention. Not that I should be judging, but it felt good to know there was at least one other person here who I'd stack up pretty well against. Sorry, but maybe it's a guy thing. Whenever there are women around, the whole Bros before Hoes concept goes right out the window, and I start checking out the situation to see who's higher and lower than me on the food chain, so to speak.

Regardless, he was also the only person in sight that I was not immediately intimidated by. I was thinking about heading over and introducing myself as the only other “normal” guy here, when I began to notice that I wasn't. Scattered throughout the crowd were more “sore thumbs,” guys much closer to geek than chic on the social scale, all being kept company by women way out of their (our) league. Damn, I thought, they must either all be rich or have huge dicks. But that still didn't answer what I was doing here. I do okay, but I'm definitely not rich, and I don't have a huge dick. Err, that is, there's nothing wrong with the size of my dick. Really! I mean, sure I'm not John Holmes, but things below the belt are just fine, thank you very much.

Okay, time to get off my dick...unless you look like one of the babes at this party. Ah, anyway, what was I talking about? Oh, yeah. While I was lost in this reverie of finances and dongs, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Giving my head a quick shake to clear it, I turned around just to be stunned again. There stood Sally. Holy shit! She was wearing a little green strapless dress, and, well...holy shit.

“You came,” she said (not yet, but pretty close, considering how she looked). “I wasn't sure you would. A part of me was hoping you...” she paused, sounding a little uncertain and maybe even...a little sad.

“Hoping I would...?” I tried to get her to finish the thought.

“It doesn't matter. You're here. That’s the important thing.” Whatever made her pause a second ago was now gone. Maybe I had just been imagining it.

“Yeah. I made it. You look great, by the way,” I stammered back, absolutely certain I sounded like a complete social retard.

“Thanks. As I was saying, I wasn't sure you'd actually show up. You sounded a bit nervous on the train.”

“I wasn't. You just caught me by surprise,” I blatantly lied.

“Cool,” she ignored the obviousness of my untruth. “Let me show you around.” With that, she hooked her arm around mine (more physical contact!) and gave me the tour. Turns out the apartment occupied the entire floor of the building (damn, I could only imagine the rent). It was a fairly open floor plan, but not quite a studio. All in all, it was a big space, and I doubt there are too many slumlords who wouldn't have drooled at the chance to get their hands on it. A few subdivisions and a landlord could retire to the Caribbean on the rent alone.

“Whose place is this?” I absently asked as we walked.

“I live here.” Goddamn! Hot and rich. Yes, I am here to tell you with all certainty...life is not fair.

“This is your place?” I asked somewhat incredulously.

“Technically it's Jeff's place (Jeff? Yeah, it was too good to be true), but a bunch of us share it.” (A bunch? Okay, there's still hope.)

“Who's Jeff?” I asked as nonchalantly as I could, hoping to be steered in the direction of someone obviously gay, or at least one of the other average dudes in the room. Sadly not, I realized, as she pointed directly at my douchebag acquaintance from earlier. Figures. Can't say I was overly surprised by this, either. On the other hand, it's not like he was the only scenery in the room. All things considered, douchebag aside, the entire experience was slowly turning out to be a positive.

“We've met,” I replied neutrally. “How do you two know each other?” I tried to sound as disinterested as possible.

“That's not important right now. Let's not worry about him. You're here with me. Let's mingle before the festivities get started.” She led me toward an open bar in one corner of the room.

“Festivities?” I asked, trying not to be distracted by thoughts of hot chicks and free drinks.

“You'll see. The night is still young,”

Okay. Whatever that meant. Hey, who knows? Maybe this was one of those parties where it all culminated in a wild orgy at the end of the night. A guy I knew in college claimed to have been at one of those. Personally, I thought he was full of shit, but since it at least sounded better than any of my stories, I kept my mouth shut. Besides which, I needed someone to live vicariously through, bullshit or not.

And so we mingled for a while. What I mean, of course, is that she mingled, while I was content just to devour my fill of eye candy, of which there was plenty. The problem with candy, though, is if you eat too much, you're asking for trouble.

Be Still, My Beating Heart

“May I have your attention, please?” the douchebag...err, Jeff, shouted out. “Midnight is upon us. The time you have all been waiting for has arrived.”

The time I was waiting for? Holy shit, maybe I was right and there was going to be an orgy. As long as I didn't have any dudes trying to rub their junk up against me, this had potential to be the best night of my life. If this actually happened, then from this moment on, my roommates would have to worship me as if I were unto a god. Oh, yeah.

“But first,” Jeff continued, “a few quick words, my children (children? Okay, douche). Judging by the new faces I see, the gauntlet thrown down last month by your brothers has been answered (???). Dread Stalker's is the score to beat,” he said, motioning to a muscular goon of similar douchey appearance off to his left. Dread Stalker? Either this guy was still living out his high school football fantasies, or his parents were a couple of Goth weirdos.

“Bring forth your offerings, my daughters.”

I saw several of the girls, all of them sweet little morsels, step forward, leading some of the men. I immediately noticed the accountant amongst them. I was about to comment when I felt Sally's arm entwine with mine and start to gently pull me forward. I tried to look at her expression to get a sense of what was going on, but she was facing toward Jeff’s direction. Hmm, if this was an orgy, I hoped I wasn't expected, as a new guy, to perform in front of everyone else. Sally was hot and all, but I wasn't quite so sure if a little stage fright might keep me from getting the job done.

She led me through the crowd and we wound up next to the group who’d been singled out. I couldn't help but take note that all the guys that I was now standing with appeared to be of the decisively non-male-model variety I had noticed before. Odd. I was actually starting to wonder if this was about to turn into the hazing scene from Revenge of The Nerds when Jeff began slowly pacing in front of us.

“Very nice. Any that you fancy before we get started, Ozymandias?” he asked toward the direction of the main group.

A bored voice with a vaguely Bostonian accent replied from near the back of the crowd, “Not particularly. Carry on with your silliness. Don't worry about me.” I couldn't help but notice a brief look of annoyance cross Jeff's face at the answer he was given. I tried to scan the crowd for the source, but that was when Jeff's overly smug-looking face stopped in front of me and continued. “So be it. As host, it is mine to offer our hospitality, but as guest, it is yours to refuse (ooh, wonder how many brain cells this ox had to burn off to come up with that). Now, where were we? Oh, yes. Excellent choices, my daughters. But before we can judge the cattle...”

I interrupted, “Did you just call me...*urk*” Make that tried to interrupt. His hand shot out, lightning quick, and grabbed me by the throat with a grip that felt overly strong even for a guy with his build.

“Cattle do NOT speak!” he spat at me. “They are just judged...after we feast.” He flashed a predatory smile. If you're guessing that his eyes turned black as coal, and his canines elongated in front of me, well, you're wrong. Don't be such a pretentious know-it-all.

Just messing with you. That's exactly what happened. It's kind of comforting to know that being a corpse hasn't affected my sense of humor. Unfortunately, it's the, hah-hah, if I don't laugh, then I'll start screaming, type of comedy. But hey, never let it be said I didn't crack wise in the face of a creature that shouldn't exist, right before it lowered its head to tear into my throat.

Bill the Vampire

And that brings us back to where we were. I guess that also explained why I was slowly starting to regain my senses, as opposed to standing in front of the pearly gates with St. Peter reading back to me a list of all the times I masturbated. Unless I was seriously hallucinating, I've seen enough movies to know that I was most likely going to wake up with a serious overbite and a hankering for a hunk of blood. Oh, well, as long as I wasn't also all sparkly, because that would just be fucking weird.

I have to admit, now that the wooziness was starting to clear, I didn't feel half bad. Had I not remembered what had occurred, I’d have never guessed my neck had been chewed out recently. Hell, forget that, I was actually starting to feel pretty goddamn excellent.

I could likewise feel myself coming to. My eyes were just on the verge of fluttering open when the screaming started. Loud screaming - too loud, as if someone were yelling into a megaphone cranked to eleven.

I raised my hands (hey, they worked again) to my ears, when suddenly the scream became a choked gurgle. Almost immediately afterward, there came a *WHOOOSH* noise, followed by a brief wall of heat washing over me.

As I opened my eyes and tried to stammer, “What the fuck?” (which came out a bit slurred, thanks to my new canines...guess that solves the mystery of what I cut my tongue on earlier), I felt powerful hands grab hold and haul me to my feet. That did it. I was finally fully awake. Blinking so as to clear my vision, I took a quick inventory of my surroundings and realized that I had been backed up against one of the walls. Sally was standing next to me, holding my arm in a grip that belied the fact that she was a fraction of my size. Another muscled douche was on my other side, doing the same. It was then that Jeff's voice caught my attention from off to the left.

“Not bad, Starlight, but you lose two points for the screaming. That was just fucking annoying.” With that comment, several other voices, presumably vampires as well, chuckled and expressed their agreement. I craned my head to see what was going on. What I beheld did not exactly lighten my mood.

I was in a lineup of sorts. Most (most!) of the guys that had been singled out with me were likewise being held in place. They were all covered with blood (I hadn't quite built up the courage to look down at myself, yet) and appeared to be in different stages of waking from what I assumed was the same dying-like experience I just did. Jeff was standing at the far end of the line. He was addressing a dark-skinned brunette (Brown sugar...how come you taste so good?) who was giving him a pouty look in return.

Oh, yeah, there were two other quick things I couldn’t help but notice: Jeff was holding what looked like a sawed off, sharpened baseball bat, and, secondly, there was a smoking pile of ash next to the babe. I don't think one need have the entire series of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on blu-ray (it was a gift) to figure out what had just happened.

“No fucking way!” whined the brunette. “That's not fair, Night Razor (Night Razor!?). How was I supposed to know he was going to completely freak?”

“What was that, Starlight?” Jeff, or Night Razor, or maybe Douche Razor, asked in a clear warning tone.

“Nothing...my lord,” the girl, Starlight, I presume, meekly replied.

That seemed to satisfy Jeffy-boy as he moved to the next person in line. His presence seemed to snap the accountant look-alike out of his funk.

“What are you?” he mewled. “Please. I won't tell anybody. Just let me go.” Jeff just smirked at this and started to raise the makeshift stake. “I have money!”

“Hold him.”

The poor dude lost it. He started screaming, “OH GOD! PLEASE! ONE OF YOU, PLEASE HELP ME!” Jeff's arms were extended, and the stake was pointed straight at the accountant's stringy chest. “PLEASE! I HAVE A WIFE AND KIDS, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!”

Jeff quietly answered, “Then you shouldn't be at a party like this,” and brought the stake straight down into his helpless victim's ribcage. The accountant made a strangled noise, but it was cut short. There was a flash, and his body self-immolated from the inside out. Holy shit! It's one thing to see it happen in a low budget movie, but to see it in real life...well, it's a little hard to grasp. I mean, people just don't normally do that.

I was still gawking when Jeff started speaking to the accountant's redheaded companion. “Pretty good. Two points off for the whining, but I'll give you one back for the wife and kid thing. That one always makes me smile.” By the time he finished the sentence, all that was left of her “date” was a pair of eyeglasses sitting atop another pile of ash. Once again he moved down the line.

By now, every one of my recently deceased companions had regained their senses and were all doing some combination of begging or crying, except for one portly fellow who seemed to be in denial, and was chanting over and over, “Not happening. Not happening.”

I was last in line and, seeing how much good begging did the last guy, I decided to use my last few minutes to try and figure a way out of this death trap, or un-death trap, as it were.

I scanned the room, trying to take in any useful details. The rest of the partygoers were off to the side, giving Jeff their full attention and cheering him on. Wait, not all of them. In the far back, I saw one fellow leaning against the wall. He had sandy blond hair and was of slimmer build than Jeff, although he still looked like he could have walked straight out of an LL Bean catalog. He was busy picking his nails and otherwise looking bored. Sensing me staring, he looked up and we locked eyes. He grinned and gave me a shrug before going back to the far more important business of making sure he didn't have any dirt under his pretty little fingernails. Asshole! Okay, no help there, and a quick whoosh of heat told me Jeff was getting closer.

This was not good. I was trapped, alone, dead, and, judging by the idiotic ratings that were being giving out, the unlucky guest of a supernatural pig party. What a fucking weekend, and it was still only half over. Okay okay, I needed to stop feeling sorry for my somewhat both odd and terrifying predicament, and get my head back into the game...the game of saving my own ass.

It was time for me to pay attention again. There were windows in the place, but a quick look confirmed that they all appeared to be painted black. No one was going to be watching. The music was pretty loud. Besides which, if the original screamer didn't attract outside attention, I doubt I would do much better. And besides, who was I kidding? In the middle of the city on a Saturday night, would anyone even think twice if they heard a loud yell? In short, none of it looked good, and my two captors were still holding me in an iron grip with their unearthly, undead strength.

Wait a second...unearthly, undead strength?

Sometimes I am such a fucking idiot. These dipshits were super strong vampires. I was now a vampire, too. Thus, as a newly minted deadly predator of the fucking night, shouldn't I have access to the same powers? Thank you very much, circular logic.

I gave my muscles a quick flex to test that theory, and sure enough, they definitely felt stronger. Okay, that probably doesn't mean much. Kind of like how someone who just started working out will swear they can see results. Tom went through that phase a couple of years back. He had been dating this chick who was into fitness. For an entire month (oddly enough, the full length of the relationship) she managed to drag him to the gym with her, and for that same month, the rest of us had to put up with him flexing his non-existent (to everyone but him) muscles, like he had just stepped out of Pumping Iron. But still, delusions or not, I felt stronger, much stronger, and, bullshit or not, it was all I had to go on at the moment.

I waited until Jeff was staking the guy next to me. Sorry dude, but if only one of us was going to get out of here in something other than a dustpan, I'd prefer it be me. He ashed the poor guy, and then turned to the cheering crowd to give his judgment. At that moment, I stomped down hard on Sally's foot. Okay, so it wasn't the manliest thing in the world to do, but considering the circumstances, I figured the other side threw the rules of fair fighting out the window a long time ago.

She squealed in pain and loosened her grip enough for me to wrench my arm free. Before anyone could react, I balled my free hand into a fist and sent it crashing into the head of the asshole holding my other arm. To both of our surprise, it actually worked, and he went flying back with a grunt. Holy crap, I was a genuine badass.

Unfortunately, that was probably the wrong time to mentally pat myself on the back. The whole scenario played out in just a few seconds, but by the time I turned to run, Jeff had already stepped over to block me.

“Cute,” he smirked, looking to either side of me, “but playtime is over.”

Fortunately, I didn't agree. Before he could advance on me, I crouched down and launched myself effortlessly over his head.

At least that's how it played out in my mind.

In actuality, my legs were up to the task, sharing the same unholy strength as my arms now did, but there was one teeny little problem. In my rush to escape (and look cool doing so) I kind of didn't bother to notice that the ceiling wasn't exactly high enough for that sort of move. So, what actually happened is I launched myself vertically about two feet, until my head crunched into plaster, and then came down to land in a heap at Jeff's feet, along with a good chunk of ceiling. Spider-Man, I was not.

I looked up to find the crowd staring at me incredulously. Perhaps they were all in awe. Probably not, but hey, we all have our own personal delusions. Anyway, for a moment, all was silent, but then a loud chuckle erupted from the back of the room, snapping me out of my daze. Figuring it had worked well a few moments ago, I launched my fist at Jeff as I rose. I was strong and fast. I could do it.

Or not. He was stronger and faster as it turns out.

He caught my fist with his hand. Whatever grip Sally and the other vampire had on me earlier were an absolute joke compared to him. It was like sticking my hand in a fucking vise. He started to squeeze and I could feel my bones begin to bend. Putting on a maniacal grin, he continued to increase the pressure until I was forced to my knees.

“I told you (squeeze) you're nothing but cattle (squeeze). Cattle (squeeze) doesn't (squeeze) fight back (squeeze). Cattle (squeeze) just go (squeeze) quietly (squeeze) to (squeeze) the (squeeze) SLAUGHTER!” (squeeze...*crack*...ow!) He sneered down at me as he continued his rant. “You have the nerve to think you're now our equal, but you are not one of - UGH!”

Just for the record, should you ever find yourself in a similar scenario, the middle of a monologue is the perfect time to send your free fist smashing into the bad guy's crotch. Simultaneously, Jeff released my hand and doubled over in pain as another loud laugh, from the same voice as earlier, rang out from the far end of the room. Oh, yeah, I was comedy gold.

As he sank to my level, I looked him in the eye and quipped, “I am the terror that flaps in the night, motherfucker!” Yeah, it sounded a lot cooler in my head than out loud, but in a stressful situation you take whatever you can get.

I shoved the asshole to the side and made a break for it before the crowd could react. There were too many vamps off to the right where the door was, so I made a dash straight ahead.

The only one standing in my way from that direction was the LL Bean model. As I approached, he smiled at me and then just stepped aside with a quick bow and an “after you” gesture. I distinctly heard him chuckle, “Good luck, Darkwing Duck,” as I passed.

Since the door was out of the question, that left only the window. Normally, diving off the third floor of a building might have given me pause, seeing how there's that whole dying in a messy splatter thing at the end. But that was before. Now I was beyond death. Nothing could stop me. I would swoop out the window on wings of darkness. I would become insubstantial like the wind. I would...*CRASH!*

I would realize that flying was apparently not one of my new powers. Goddamn it. Once more, Hollywood had lied to me. I had just enough time to think Fuck SoHo! before I slammed into the sidewalk below and all went black.

It Sucks To Be a Vampire

I was only out for a few moments; at least I think so. Maybe I couldn’t fly, but my new vampire body was, fortunately, a whole lot tougher than my old non-vampire one. I don't know about you, but trading a pulse for the ability to shake off a thirty-foot face plant onto concrete doesn't sound like too bad of a deal to me. Unfortunately, those few moments of blissful unconsciousness were enough to erase any lead I’d built up. I had only a second or two to notice I’d landed in an alley behind the building (and apparently not awoken any of the neighbors in doing so) when I felt rough hands grab me by the shoulders and spin me around. Jeff's extremely angry-looking face was right there, and then it wasn't as I doubled over from the force of his fist impacting my stomach.

More hands dragged me to my feet. “This time, hold him.” Jeff raised the stake. The fall and the punch had taken the fight out of me. Realizing there was no way to break free in time to avoid becoming ashtray remnants, I thus did the only thing I could think of - I closed my eyes and hoped it wouldn't hurt much.

“Wait!” a voice from above cried out. When no sensation of impalement came, I chanced opening my eyes a bit. Jeff was standing there, frozen in place, a vein throbbing in his forehead (how did he do that with no heartbeat?). He slowly lowered the stake and looked up. I lifted my head to follow his gaze, and saw LL Bean leaning out the window.

“What!?” Jeff shouted to him.

“Bring him back up,” answered my well-groomed benefactor.

“This is none of your concern, Ozymandias.”

“I'm making it my concern. Now, do as I say, and bring him up.”

I had no idea what was going on, but in this pissing contest, the one called Ozymandias apparently had the bigger dick, because Jeff backed down, following the exchange. He lowered the stake and addressed the two thugs holding me.

“Do as he says.” He then glared at me and whispered in a barely audible voice, “This is not over.”

Okay, so I was batting about five hundred. I wasn't a pile of dust, but then again, I was far from free. Still, any reprieve from the reaper was a welcome one, and also meant that another opportunity to escape might present itself.

The goons dragged me, none too gently either, through a back door and up the stairs. I'm not a svelte fellow to begin with, and I wasn't exactly being super helpful toward their effort, nevertheless, I seemed to inconvenience them little more than a bag of groceries might. We quickly made it back to the loft where I was dragged to the center of the apartment and tossed unceremoniously onto the floor.

I looked up to find LL Bean/Ozymandias standing over me with the same bemused grin as he’d worn just before I did my best impression of Greg Louganis diving onto solid concrete. Jeff came charging in the door a few moments later, looking slightly less than overjoyed. Oddly enough, despite the fact that my opinion of his douchebaggyness was growing by the minute, I found my mood closer to matching his. I was finding it hard to enjoy even my momentary reprieve, mainly because I had no freaking clue what Ozymandias' game was. He might be saving my ass, or, for all I knew, he just wanted to kill me himself, for no other reason than to tick Jeff off (it was rapidly becoming obvious that Jeff's annoyance was his amusement).

I got back to my feet just as Jeff got into Ozymandias' face. “What's your game? I gave you a chance earlier to take your pick. You declined. That means you let us finish the ceremony by our rules.”

In this, at least Ozymandias and I were of the same mind, as we both blurted out, “Ceremony?”

Despite our mutual reply, Jeff ignored me and addressed only Ozymandias. “You know what I mean. We bring them, bite them, judge them, then dust them. Those are the rules I created for this. Don't forget, this is my coven.”

I should know better in situations like these (not that I've been in too many like this) to just keep my mouth shut, but I don't, so I interrupted him.

“’Scuse me, but aren't covens for witches?” Jeff gave me a look that said he wanted to punt me into next week, but Ozymandias just kept grinning and answered in a casual tone as if we were discussing the weather.

“Who do you think they stole the idea from?”

Jeff ignored this exchange and continued as if I hadn't spoken. “You seem to forget where you are. I rule this coven.”

Ozymandias immediately lost his casual tone and the temperature in the room seemed to drop a dozen degrees. “And you forget your place. You rule this one little coven. I oversee all the covens for this region. You're under my jurisdiction.”

“You've never pulled rank before,” Jeff sputtered, having apparently been put firmly in his place. You go girl...err dude...vampire, or whatever.

“First time for everything.”

“I'll file a complaint with the Draculas.” (Draculas!?)

“Go right ahead,” Ozymandias continued with the same icy tone. “I represent the Draculas in the Northeast. Your complaint will just wind up on my desk. It's safe to say that investigating it probably won't be at the top of my priority list.”

Okay, did you follow any of that? Because I sure as shit didn't. But I'm guessing that the guy who didn’t want me immediately dead was higher on the food chain than the guy who did. So far, that seemed like a good thing.

Anyway, back to the two guys who were debating whether I'd live through the night or end up looking like something that was dumped out of a Shop-Vac. The whole exchange seemed to deflate Jeff's sails a bit. He took a breath and composed himself, at least as well as a self-absorbed dickhead can do so.

“Fine. What is it you want?”

“That's better,” Ozymandias adopted his former casual tone. “What I'm decreeing is simple enough. I'm putting this fellow under my protection.”

Cool. I must've impressed him with my badass escape attempt.

“Why would you do that?” Jeff asked.

“Because I find him amusing,” Ozymandias replied. “That's a rare thing around your bunch.”

Okay, so maybe impressed wasn't quite the right word.

“Oh, and Jeff...” at this, Jeff's face reddened considerably. “Sorry, I meant Night Razor, forgive my rudeness. I'm also decreeing that he's now a part of your coven.” He momentarily turned his head in my direction and said, “Sorry, friend, but, amusing or not, I'm far too busy to babysit.”

“I don't see that you'll have a choice,” Jeff Razor, or whatever the fuck his name was, cut in. “I can't take him. My coven is full. I'd love to make an exception, but as per the Draculas' decrees, I'm maxed out. As their representative, I'm sure you wouldn't want to break the very rules you're charged with enforcing.”

“You're quite right. Silly me.” Suddenly, with a swiftness and ferocity that I would never have expected from someone who looked like he just stepped out of a Harvard prep school, Ozymandias spun around and impaled his fist straight through the chest of the unfortunate vampire who happened to be standing closest behind him. The vamp burst into flames even as Ozymandias was still elbow-deep in him. Within a few seconds, all that was left was a little ash clinging to his arm and a stunned (myself included) crowd of onlookers. Note to self: do NOT fuck with this guy.

He casually dusted himself off and then turned back to Jeff. “Oh, look. It seems you have an opening, after all.”

“You killed Rage Vector!”

“Is that what you called him?” Ozymandias asked with a grin. “Stupid name, if you ask me. Never really liked him much, anyway.”

Another male voice from the back chimed in, “Goddamn it! He owed me fifty bucks.”

“Kindly send the bill to my attention,” Ozymandias continued, his eyes still focused on Jeff. “Anyone else have anything further to add?” Unsurprisingly, he was met with silence. “Good. I thought you might see it my way. As for you,” he turned back toward me, “do you accept inclusion into your sire, Night Razor's, coven, and pledge to abide by his rules? Before you answer, let me just be clear that the alternative is the same fate as your fellow party guests. The Draculas are not fond of uncovened vampires.”

“Is uncovened even a word?” I, for some goddamned stupid reason, blurted out before I could censor myself. I paused for just a heartbeat, mentally berating myself for breaking my “no messing with this guy” rule no more than ten seconds after I made it. I then quickly added, before I found myself a pile of dust, “Err, sorry about that. What I meant to say was, of course, I'll be happy to accept membership.” (At least until I figure out how to get myself out of this freaking mess)

“I thought you would.” Then he addressed Jeff again. “Well, it appears to be all settled. Now if we could just make it official. And do hurry. There are only a few hours ‘til daybreak (guess I was “dead” longer than I thought) and I'd prefer to spend it in my hotel room.”

Judging by Jeff's glare, he was trying to incinerate us both with his mind. When that didn't happen, though, he took a deep breath and appeared to compose himself...a little at least.

“Gather round, my children, and esteemed guest. It is time to welcome a new br...brother in blood into our ranks.”

Since the assembled vamps were already standing around us in a circle (a circle slightly outside of Ozymandias’ reach, I might add) there was only a minor shuffling. I guess there was some order or ranking going on, but I couldn't really tell. Can't say I really cared, either. The only thing that mattered at the moment was that I was still alive, in a matter of speaking. Still, I saw no reason to exacerbate the situation by doing something stupid next.

“Uh, so what should I do?” I asked.

Guess that was a bad move, because Jeff practically jumped down my throat. “The initiate...” he hissed, “will be...SILENT!”

On that last word, his voice seemed to reverberate inside my entire head. Scratch that. I could feel it in my bones. What the fuck? I found myself reeling from the sheer power of it. Even weirder, though, for just a second, I almost felt compelled to obey. Damn, that was pretty fucked up.

Still, for the moment, it seemed like prudent advice, so I zipped it. Jeff, in return, gave me a self-satisfied sneer, a really creepy one too, like he knew something I didn't. Or maybe I was just reading too much into it and it was just another extension of his douchebag nature. Either way, it wasn't doing much to enhance my already low opinion of him. I could probably adjust to being a blood-sucking denizen of the dark, but having to deal with this asshole lording it over me for all of eternity...well, that was going to be a tough pill to swallow.

Jeff continued with his self-important soliloquy. “Does anyone reject our new little brother? Speak now and let your voice be heard.” He paused and glanced around, probably hoping that someone would speak up and point out a couple of good reasons that I needed to have my ass killed. However, all eyes were firmly on Ozymandias. Whatever objections they might have had were very obviously silenced by his earlier example.

“Very well,” Jeff continued as he once more turned to me. “I release you from your earlier compulsion (whatever the fuck that meant). You may now speak. Do you accept the assembled as your brothers and sisters?”

Jeez, it's melodramatic shit like this that kept me from joining a frat in college. Not to mention the fact that I seriously doubted I would ever have sisterly thoughts toward any of the assembled babes. But still, in the interest of staying alive, I merely said “yes,” and then shut it again.

“So be it,” he continued. “Since my time of ascension, it has been the tradition of this coven that all new members must cast off their old selves and assume a name more befitting of their station in the after-death. I have been, am now, and shall forever be Night Razor (aka Jeff...so much for casting off old identities). So, too, must you now forsake your old life. It is over. Choose a new name to take with you into your new existence. As your master (fuck you!) it is my entitlement to SUGGEST (whoa, that weird ringing in my head again) what that name might be. Thus, I say you shall be known as...”

“Hold it,” I interrupted. “I think I'd just as soon choose my own name, thank you very much.”

For some reason, this seemed to surprise Night Razor. He actually appeared at a loss for words at my response. Even Ozymandias seemed a bit taken aback, albeit only momentarily. He quickly composed himself and spoke up before Night Razor could do so.

“I believe your new recruit here is correct. It is ultimately his choice, if he wishes. However, if I may, I find myself favoring the name Darkwing,” he smirked, alluding to my earlier failed attempt at a badass one-liner.

I gave him a withering glare back and said, “Pass. Instead I think I'll be...” Oh, fuck me. I hate being put on the spot. I had no freaking idea what to choose. I mean, it took me a whole frigging week just to come up with a name for my last Dungeons & Dragons character, and, no, I wasn't using that. I had no intention of being Kelvin Lightblade for the rest of my days. And yet, somehow I doubted they'd let me off with an “I'll get back to you on that.”

Think, think, think, stupid.

My email address? No.

Any older characters? Nothing cool was coming to mind.

Someone from a TV show? Hmmm, Cobra Commander had potential...but nah.

One of my online gamer IDs? Sure. Why not? Hell, I had one that was near perfect.

“Call me...Dr. Death,” I said, putting a tough-guy swagger into my voice. I was sure I'd be met with praise and awe at such a kickass name. Instead, there was just silence. Damn, maybe I should have gone with Cobra Commander, after all.

“Dr. Death?” Night Razor blurted out. “You've got to be kidding me.”

“What?” I countered. “It's no stupider than Night Razor,” Oh, fuck. There I go again, talking before thinking.

Another chuckle came from Ozymandias. That was a good sign. As long as he was laughing, I'd probably still be drawing breath. But ole Jeffy sure as shit didn't seem to be amused.

“ENOUGH!” he roared. “Fine, take whatever name you want. In three months, it won't matter.” I was about to question that little detail, but he apparently wasn't finished. “Dr. Death,” he mocked. “Do you pledge your allegiance to the coven and your master?”

“Uh sure, I guess.”

Okay, maybe that answer didn't quite convince him of my undying loyalty, because he did that voice ringing through my skull thing again.

“ENOUGH OF YOUR INSOLENCE! I AM YOUR SIRE, YOUR MASTER! NOW KNEEL! KNEEL AND PREPARE TO RECEIVE MY BLESSING!”

Blessing? I'm not a homophobe or anything, but that sounded just a little too much like a line from this bukake film I sorta accidentally downloaded the other week. Once more, I had this fleeting urge to do as he said, but again, it quickly passed, and I was able to clear my head. Damn, I didn't know what the hell he was doing or how the hell he was doing it, but I was certain I'd need a few aspirin come the morning. On top of everything else, though, it was also starting to majorly piss me off.

“No.”

“What?” Jeff barked, incredulously.

“I said ‘no.’ Screw that. I'll join your club here; doesn't seem like I have much choice in the matter. But no way am I getting on my knees. You can get one of your lackeys to suck your dick, or whatever it is you want, but you can count me out.”

“Unbelievable,” said Ozymandias.

“No fucking way. It can't be,” Jeff spat. “A goddamn Freewill, Ozymandias!? Are you fucking for real?”

“Don't look at me,” he replied, sounding genuinely surprised. “I had no idea he was one. I wasn't even sure they really existed.”

At this, the collective hive of vamps burst into excited whispers. I gotta say, absolutely nothing kills the aura of menace that a room full of vampires exudes faster than them deciding to act like a bunch of twelve-year-old girls. On the other hand, at least I could understand something like that, which was good, because I had no clue what Razor and Ozymandias were talking about.

“Let's not jump to conclusions, Night Razor,” Ozymandias said. “It doesn't take a genius to see he's had you frazzled since you turned him. Who knows, maybe you're just losing your touch. Let me try.” And then he said to me, “Yo, Dr. Death. Gah, and I thought Rage Vector was a stupid name. I COMMAND YOU TO HOP ON ONE FOOT!”

If Night Razor's voice had rattled in my bones, Ozymandias' sounded like someone had plugged a thousand-watt amp straight into my soul. Christ, I was probably going to hear him reverberating around in my skull for a week. Loud as it was, though, that earlier feeling - to obey Night Razor's commands - just wasn't there for this. I was either getting used to it, or I was just getting royally pissed off at all the people trying to tell me what the fuck to do. Either way, I remained standing...on both feet.

“Well, I'll be staked at high noon!” Ozymandias exclaimed, bursting into laughter. “Oh, this is absolutely brilliant. Can I pick ‘em, or what?”

Night Razor was not nearly as amused. “This isn’t cool, Ozymandias. How the hell am I supposed to maintain order with this fucking thing running around in my coven?”

“No idea. But fortunately, that's not my problem.”

“Seriously, you can't leave him here. Take him with you. Maybe the Draculas can dissect him or something.” (that didn't sound promising.)

“Oh, I'm sure the Draculas will want to hear about him,” Ozymandias replied. “But until I get some definitive word from them, he's part of your coven. I can't interfere.”

“Fuck that! You've already interfered.”

Ozymandias shrugged. “Okay, you got me there. I choose not to interfere. Better?”

“No! That still doesn't help me.”

“Well, then assign him a babysitter or something. Just stop whining like a little girl about it.”

Night Razor still wasn't done, though. “James, please.” (James?)

“Enough,” barked Ozymandias, the threat returning to his voice. “My ruling stands, end of discussion. The sun will be up in another hour or so. I need to go. Take a little while and think about things, Night Razor. I'm sure a smart fellow like you can come up with something.”

With that, Ozymandias (or was that James...what was it with these guys?) turned his back on Razor and faced me. “Good luck to you, my amusing and surprising friend. I don't doubt you'll need it.”

He retrieved his coat and went straight for the exit, nobody daring to get in his way. A quick slam of the door, and the one person that I had on my side, sorta, was gone. I was alone in a sea of predators.

The thing is, the predators didn't seem too hungry anymore. Most of them hung back from me, still whispering amongst themselves. After a few minutes of this, Night Razor broke the silence, “Ozymandias is right. Sunrise is right around the corner. You should all be getting back to your nests.” When no one made a move to leave, he put some extra juice into his voice. “NOW, PEOPLE! GET MOVING. I DON'T WANT ANYONE GETTING CAUGHT IN THE SUN! There have been enough dustings for one day. NOW MOVE!” He couldn't have gotten a better response if he’d personally booted each and every one of them in the ass. Whatever was going on that allowed me to resist his voice, the others either didn't have, or chose not to use. So that left a bunch of scrambling vamps with only me and Razor standing still.

“So...um...can I go home now?” I asked as non-confrontationally as I possibly could.

“Even if I wanted to let you go, which I am still debating, no. The sun is coming up soon, and, my personal feelings aside, as one of my coven, I’m bound by our laws to keep you from toasting yourself. Besides which, we are your home now.”

“Yeah, I get it, blood brothers and all. But I have an apartment, roommates, a job that's going to kick my ass if I don't report in...”

“You don't get it. Your life is over. All of that is dust now. We are your new family. We are your new life, for however long that might last (*gulp*). You will stay here for now until I can figure out what to do with you.”

“Yeah, but...”

“I INSIST!” Before I could form another protest on my lips, my field of vision was rapidly filled by an extreme close-up of his fist. Guess the argument was settled after all, especially since I didn't even feel myself hitting the floor.

Sunday Bloody Sunday

“...Ugh! Please tell Gramps not to back his car over me again.”

“What?”

Wait a second. That voice sounded familiar. Female, but definitely not Mom or Grandma. That must mean unrelated, which probably means...oh yeah...got to bump me some uglies last night. Just please don't be a hairy Sasquatch beast when I open my eyes.

“Come on, wake up. Christ! How hard did Jeff hit you?”

Jeff? Oh, shit, Night Razor. Dammit, I'm doing it again. I have got to stop dying around that asshole. Oh, wait, no fading heartbeat this time. Guess I technically didn't die again. Oh, that's right...the fucker punched my lights out. Hope he didn't draw any dicks on my face, too.

“Jesus Christ, Bill, get up or I'm leaving without you,” the voice threatened.

“Dr. Death,” I managed to croak in response as I felt my senses slowly returning.

“No way am I calling you that stupid fucking name. That's Jeff's idiotic rule, and since he ain't here, fuck that shit.”

“Okay, okay. I'm getting up. Just quit your goddamn yelling...” I opened my eyes. “You! You fucking bitch!” I spat, focusing on Sally's traitorous, but still hot -let's not completely forget our priorities here - face. She was staring down at me, wearing a pair of silk pajamas (oh yeah...me likey likey...no. I've got to focus. Bitch got me killed). Judging from how far above me she stood, I guessed I was still lying on the floor. Assholes had just left me where I fell.

“No need to be rude,” she sniffed.

“RUDE!? Because of you, I'm a fucking walking corpse being held prisoner by a bigger, meaner walking corpse.” Glaring at her, I pushed myself to a sitting position.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Wasn't anything personal.”

“That's the best you've got? A pathetic little sorry?”

“Well, yeah,” she countered. “Like I said, it wasn't personal. We were just having a little fun, and you fit the description of what I was supposed to bring. Besides which, you didn't have to come. I didn't exactly force you.” (Touché)

“That doesn't make it better. There are a lot of people dead because you and your coven of shitheads decided to have a little fun. Wait. What do you mean fit the description?”

“You're not going to like it,” she replied sheepishly.

“I doubt I could like it any less than I already do.”

She shrugged and said, “Fine. Dorks, dweebs, geeks. You know the type. That's who we were supposed to bring. Last month, the guys all brought fat girls, and this time it was ladies night. You have to admit a grown man carrying a handful of Castles and Dragons books...”

“Dungeons and Dragons,” I automatically corrected her.

“Whatever. Sorry, but you weren't exactly dripping with coolness. Besides which, it's not like I had much of a choice. Whenever Jeff sends us out on one of his little scavenger hunts, he makes sure to give all of his instructions as a compulsion.”

“Compulsion?”

“Yeah. That thing he and James tried on you last night,” she explained, idly brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “You know, feels like someone is blasting an order into your skull? That's a compulsion. Unlike you, the rest of us hear and obey.” she was a bit snippy with that last part, almost as if she was resentful of me.

“So he commands you, and you have no choice but to do it?”

“For the most part, yeah.”

“And does he do this a lot?”

“Pretty much. Gets off on it, I think. He especially likes to use it on us girls. Has us do all sorts of freaky shit.”

“Like...for example?” I asked, the pervert in me coming to the forefront.

“Like when he first turned me. The asshole had me lap dance him whenever he got in the mood. Wherever we were, I'd have to start shaking my tight little ass (no self-esteem issues with her, apparently). We could be in the middle of fucking Macy's and one word was all he’d need for me to start grinding against him.”

“What about sex?” I asked. Hey, if she was explaining things, I might as well get the dirt.

“Huh?”

“Does he compel you to sleep with him, too?”

“No. I just do that because he's cute.” (Yeah, that figures)

“I see. Ah, anyway. How does it work?”

“Well, when a man and a woman like each other very much...”

“I know how sex works,” I growled, getting to my feet.

She gave me a grin in return. “Just making sure. As for compulsion, pretty much all of us can try to do it, although it mostly works from sire to child. The older ones amongst us, though, can usually get it to work on whomever they please. That's why James was able to try it on you.”

“And it usually works?”

“Mostly. As we get older, we develop resistance to it. But it takes a while.”

“But it didn't work on me right out of the gate,” I pointed out, feeling the need to state what was no doubt obvious to her.

“Yeah. Surprised the shit out of all of us. Most of us thought Freewills were just a myth.” (Vampires thinking something else was a myth...that's a good one)

“And a Freewill is what, exactly?”

“Supposedly every so often, a person is turned who is able to completely ignore being compelled, even by the strongest of masters. There’s more to it, but the bottom line is that it's really rare. In fact, I don't think it's happened in a long time. If even James thought you were a myth, that says something. You're kind of like the vampire equivalent of finding a unicorn in your backyard.”

Okay, that was something potentially useful. On the other hand, if it was as rare as Sally said it was, I could still wind up on a table in some dark dungeon being dissected by vampire mad scientists. Not exactly a fate worth looking forward to. On the positive side, at least they couldn't willingly make me climb onto the table for it. So, I guess that was something.

She snapped her fingers in front of me. “Are you just going to stand there with your mouth hanging open, or can we go eat now?”

“Sorry. This is kind of new to me. I have a lot of questions.”

“Fine. But just a few more. I'm starving. One of these days someone really should write a manual for the newbs.”

I mock bowed, sarcastically replying, “Thank you for your undying compassion, my mistress of the night...speaking of which, why exactly are you here?”

“Actually, it was James’ suggestion. Last night, he mentioned we should get you a babysitter. Jeff said it was my fault we got you dumped on us (oh yeah, feeling the love now), so voila. I'm supposed to show you the ropes, get you fed, keep you from doing something stupid to get yourself killed, et cetera. In short...”

“A babysitter,” I finished. “Great. Remind me to thank...James, was it? Are you talking about Ozymandias?”

“Duh! You didn't think his name was really Ozymandias, did you?”

“Of course not,” I lied. “So why was everyone calling him that?”

“It's tradition.”

“It's tradition to call someone a stupid name?”

“No, idiot! It's tradition that visiting elders respect the rules of each coven. Since one of Jeff's decrees is that everyone takes a new name...”

“Kinda like a fucked up version of the X-men?”

“Who?”

“Never mind,” I replied. “So, James has to respect Jeff's rules, and that means he has to take on an alias while he's here.”

“Pretty much. See, not as dumb as you look.” (Bitch!)

“And not all covens have this rule?”

“None of the others do, actually,” she said, lifting her arms and stretching - exposing a distracting amount of midriff in the process. “Every coven has its own rules and traditions, within limitations, of course. For example, there's this one group up in Cambridge that will only turn people who have their PhDs. Oh, and they have to be published in a journal at least once a decade, otherwise they get staked.”

“Fucking MIT!” I muttered to myself. “Even their vampires are elitist fuckwads,”

“What was that?”

“Nothing important. So, if one of Night Razor's...sorry...Jeff's rules is that everyone takes on a new identity, then why don't you have one? So far, all I've heard people call you is ‘Sally.’ That's downright pedestrian compared to Night GAYzor.”

Sally chuckled for a moment at my joke (hey, she got me killed, but that’s no reason to stop putting the moves on her) and then said, “That is my coven name, or at least part of it.”

“What’s the rest?”

“It's stupid. Jeff gave it to me. It's lame, even by his standards.”

“What is it? I promise not to laugh.”

She paused as if debating giving me an answer, but finally replied, “Sunset. My name is Sally Sunset.”

Okay, so I lied about the not laughing part. “You're right. That is stupid.”

“Yeah, very funny. Thank you for your sympathy, Dr. Death.”

“Point taken. But what about...”

“Enough. You need to be taught how to feed, and I need to eat. I already told you I'm freaking starving. I'm surprised you're not. Most people are when they're first turned. I've even seen a few wake up as little more than feral animals until they got some blood in them.”

“I ate some chicken before the party.” I replied, only realizing after the fact that it probably didn’t explain anything. “But I guess I could use a bite...get it? A bite!”

“Yeah, haven't heard that one before,” she said dryly. “Let's go.”

“Are we going out?”

“Don't be stupid. It's only four p.m. Sun's still out. We're not going outside unless you like the idea of being extra crispy. We're going down.”

“FOUR P.M.!? How hard did that asshole hit me?”

“Pretty hard,” she admitted. “But that's not all of it. Once you were turned, your body's natural rhythm reversed itself. You're nocturnal now, so your body is going to want to rest during the day. Jeff's punch just kind of helped you get to sleep faster.”

“I'll be sure to thank him. Hey, where is he and the rest of your merry group, anyway?” I asked, following her and enjoying the view.

She opened the door and started walking down the stairs. “Not here, obviously. We have space in and under almost every building on this block. “

“The rent must be a killer.”

“One of the perks of eternal life is interest compounded annually,” she quipped. “Besides, it's probably a good thing Jeff isn't here. He didn't seem to like you much.” (No shit, Sherlock) I followed her to the first floor and then we continued downward.

“You better hope he changes his mind, or in three months you're gonna be toast.”

That brought me to a screeching halt. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold on a second. What happens in three months?”

“Your protection wears off,” she said matter-of-factly, and kept descending.

“What protection?”

“James'. He put you under his personal protection. Nobody's allowed to mess with you, or they'll have to deal with him.”

“Okay. That's a good thing,” I said, trying to make sense of it.

“Exactly. Otherwise, we wouldn't be having this chat.”

“So, what happens in three months?”

“It ends.”

“Why?”

“That's our law. A vampire can put a newly turned vamp under his or her protection. It's meant as a way to ensure that the recently reborn have a fair chance and don't get preyed upon by others. Sadly, not all of our kind are as civilized as we are (considering Jeff wanted to gak me the second I woke up, I'd hate to see what she meant by that). However, the protection only lasts for ninety days. Once that's done, you're on your own.”

“But I'm part of the coven now,” I pointed out.

“So was Todd, a.k.a. Rage Vector. Being one of us doesn't mean shit. If Jeff decides to stake you at that point, it'll be his business.”

“How comforting, knowing that I have an extra violent tumor that's going to kill me in three months,” I muttered, deducing we were probably down around sewer level.

“Those are the breaks. We're vampires, not the Peace Corps. Ah, finally. Here we are. Time for you to make your first kill.” She motioned toward a large reinforced door that was blocking our path.

“Kill?” I asked, even though I knew exactly what she meant.

“Don't start playing dumb now. Yes, kill.”

“Can't we eat without, well, murdering someone?”

“Of course.”

“Then why do I...”

“Because it's something that you'll have to do at some point. There will be times when there's no bottled blood around and no farm animals to drink from.”

“What about dogs, or maybe rats?”

She sighed as if I were a complete moron. “Ever try sinking your teeth into the neck of an angry German Shepherd? They tend not to be too accommodating. And rats...ewwww! Fucking things are usually covered in fleas and shit. As for the killing part, there's the problem of turning your victims. That's a no-no. Problem is, it usually takes new vampires a couple of years before they get the hang of eating without also infecting their food. If you leave them alive and they turn, well, then you'd better either have an open spot in a coven for them, or stake them quickly.”

“Or?”

“Or it's your ass.”

“So that means...”

“You either drink them dry, or kill them when you're done,” and with that, she unlocked the door and held it open for me. “Dinner is served. Bon appetite.”

I walked into a good-sized chamber, followed by Sally, who then closed the door behind us. Oddly enough, it looked like it better belonged in a hospital (an old one, at least) than a sewer. The place was well lit and about the size of a living room. The floor sloped slightly downward to the center, where there was a large French drain. The walls themselves were lined with what looked like several industrial-sized refrigerators. And that was about it...oh with maybe the exception of the large table off to one side on which a fat, naked dude was chained and gagged. Y'know, just in case that's one of those details you might tend to notice.

Standing next to him was one of the babes from last night, Starlight, I believe. She looked me up and down as I entered. It might have been my imagination, but I sensed a bit of hesitation in her for a moment or two. However, when she finally spoke, there was no hint of it.

“The doctor is in the house. It's about time. Thought you were going to sleep all day,” she said in a saucy little voice.

“Sorry. I had a little issue with someone's fist in my face. Starlight, right?”

She seemed slightly embarrassed by that. “Alice.”

“Bill,” I answered in return.

“Well, Bill, this sumptuous feast is all for you.” She gestured toward the fat, naked, and sweaty...definitely sweaty... dude. “He was supposed to be Ronda's date, but he showed up late. Poor girl didn't get any points from Jeff (oh yeah, poor girl). But oh, well, no point in letting him go to waste.”

“Okay, well, thanks...I guess.” I slowly walked around the table, looking over the unappetizing morsel before me. I felt bad for the guy and wished I could help, but I was still slightly more concerned about my own well-being. Unfortunately, I didn't see any way I was going to get us both out of here alive (especially with the sun still shining. I still didn't have any real proof of what would happen to me, but I've seen enough movies to know that it probably wouldn't be the smartest thing for me to just run out and enjoy the sunshine). Sorry, dude, but I'd have to find some other way to even out my karma. I stopped circling and asked, “So, what exactly am I supposed to do?”

Sally walked over next to Starlight and gave me another eye-roll. Her look said that she wasn't exactly in awe of my presence. “You find an artery or a vein, and then you dig in,” she said. “The throat is always a good place to start. If they haven't already, your fangs should protrude automatically once you bite down. It's that simple.”

Upon seeing that I still wasn't making a move, Starlight cooed to Sally, “You really need to learn to be nicer to the virgins (Virgins? I was starting to feel insulted). Here, Bill, let me help you out a bit.” She stepped over to the guy and nicked the side of his neck with one of her fingernails. A thin stream of blood started to flow. “Now, just close your eyes and smell the blood. Take a few deep breaths of it and let instinct take over.”

Okay. Guess it was better than just standing there looking stupid. I closed my eyes and took a whiff through my nose. Oh, this was idiotic...wait. Holy crap! I could smell it, and it smelled good...damn good. It's hard to explain, but, as the scent of it drifted in, I actually started salivating. I could also feel my canines elongating - weird feeling, by the way. I guess at some point while I was asleep, they retracted. I'd have to practice that, but not right then. At that moment I wanted to...no, I needed to... eat.

I bent over the guy, eyes still closed, letting my senses guide me, and bit into where Starlight had opened the wound. Oh my god! Think of the best plate of nachos you've ever eaten, the tastiest margarita you've ever chugged, the best apple pie you've ever enjoyed...yeah this was all those combined. I had no idea how hungry I’d been until I bit down and swallowed that first taste. It was utterly all consuming, and I wanted to lose myself in it.

That was a mistake.

I tried to open up all my senses as I gorged myself. I tasted, I drank, I smelled...this guy's fucking B.O. This close up, even the glorious scent of the blood couldn't compete with the inglorious scent of this guy. Christ, did no one ever teach this dude about deodorant? That started to pull me back from the bliss I had initially experienced. What ended it was when I opened my eyes and reality came crashing in like an anvil. Was I really sucking on the throat of a fat, naked...and did I mention sweaty, guy?

Suddenly the blood didn't taste nearly as good. In fact, I kind of wanted a drink of something stronger to wash it out of my mouth. I immediately pulled away and started backing up across the room.

“Problem?” Sally asked.

“I'm sorry. I just can't do this.”

“You've got to be kidding me. What are you, a fucking vegan?”

“Aw, I think it's kinda cute,” Starlight cooed. “He can't bring himself to kill someone. That's almost sweet,” she said, completely misinterpreting my actions. While Sally seemed to be pretty much on the ball, this one so far hadn't given me the impression that she was firing on all cylinders.

“Somehow, I doubt Jeff will think it's sweet,” said Sally. “But him liking you even less isn't really going to matter much at the end of the day. You'd have been better off joining one of those hippie covens up north. Still, I guess I can't let you starve. For the next eighty-nine days or so, you're still our problem.” Oh, yeah, I was feeling the love. She walked over to one of the fridges, opened it, and pulled out two liters of what I assumed was blood. I wonder how many donors would be pissed to know they were doing little more than stocking some vampire pantry. More than a few, I'd bet. Of course, this assumed it was from willing donors.

Anyway, she tossed me the blood. “Here. These will get you through the day. Take them and go back upstairs. The door's unlocked. Oh, and maybe clean yourself up a little bit. You look kinda gross.” With that said, both she and Starlight turned back to the fat naked (and now bleeding) dude, and...began undressing?

“What are you doing?” I asked, watching them strip down to their underwear.

I was sort of hoping the answer was going to involve them making out with each other and then asking me to join in, but no such luck.

“We're going to finish your leftovers, obviously,” Starlight answered.

“And you need to be undressed, why?”

“This is a seventy-dollar blouse. Bloodstains are a bitch to remove.”

“Now get the fuck back upstairs,” Sally snapped. “This isn't a peep show.” And with that, she kicked me out and shut the door in my face.

Coming Clean

I did as told, mostly because I didn't appear to have many other options with the sun still shining. I went back to the third floor and let myself in where I tossed the blood packs onto the table - my appetite temporarily quashed due to being unable to vanquish thoughts of mouthfuls of ugly man flesh. So instead, I decided to take Sally's advice and wash up a bit.

I found the bathroom and checked myself out in the mirror. Goddamn! Gross wasn't the word for how I looked. Ignoring for a second that I was covered in fresh blood, I had completely forgotten that I was still in the outfit in which I’d been killed. I looked like a bus had run me over and then dragged me through the street for a mile or two. I doubted I smelled much better. I was beginning to wonder how much of downstairs was naked dude stink, and how much was me. In fact...

Wait a second.

I could see myself in the mirror. Guess that's another one of those things Hollywood fucked up. Well, that's convenient. I would hate to go through eternity not being able to tell if I was having a bad hair day. Guys like me have a hard enough time as it is.

Hold on a second...what was that on my forehead? Didn't notice it before, what with all the blood. Was that a...son of a bitch! Someone drew a dick on my face! ARGH!

* * *

I stripped and filled the sink with cold soapy water. Starlight had a point about bloodstains, but maybe I could soak some of it out. I dunked my clothes in (being sure to retrieve my emergency twenty, first) and climbed into the shower until I felt reasonably non-disgusting. Believe me, that took a while.

By the time I was done, I felt human again...or as close to human as I was going to get any time soon. I was just toweling off when I heard the front door open, followed quickly by a knock on the bathroom door.

“You in there, Bill?” asked Sally from the other side.

Feeling renewed after my long shower, I decided to try my luck, no matter how much of a long shot it might be. I pushed away the thought that her breath most likely smelled of naked, fat, sweaty dude at the moment, and replied, “Why don't you come in here and find out?”

“Keep trying, stud. Maybe in another century or two that'll work,” came her snide remark (but hey, that wasn't an outright “no,” now, was it?). “Put on a towel or something and open the door.”

I did as requested. When I popped open the door, she tossed me a large bundle of clothes and just as quickly closed it again.

“Something there should fit you.”

I picked through the clothing. There were several outfits in all. Nothing was perfect, but I managed to find a pair of pants and a shirt that would do.

“Where'd this stuff come from?” I asked through the door.

“You probably don't want to know,” was all the answer I got. My thoughts flashed back to the naked guy, probably now a naked corpse, downstairs. I doubted that he was the first, nor would he be the last, meal hosted there. Sally was probably right: I didn't want to know. Sometimes ignorance is truly bliss.

I got myself back into presentable condition and stepped out. She was sitting on a couch in what probably passed as the living room. Holding a small mirror, she cleaned the last smudges of blood from her face with a wet wipe. As I approached, I said conversationally, “Gotta say, I was surprised I could still see myself in the mirror.”

“Yep. It would be a pain in the ass to put on makeup otherwise. So, how are you holding up?”

“Surprisingly well, all things considered,” I answered, and then asked, “How badly did I just embarrass myself?”

“Forget Alice. I wouldn't worry too much about trying to impress her. First time she tried to kill a meal, she wound up curling into a ball and crying for three hours. She's not your problem. I wasn't kidding about Jeff, though. I get the feeling he's going to be looking for an excuse to like you even less than he already does.”

“Dudes like him just seem to naturally hate guys like me.”

“Yeah, there's that, and you also turned his balls into mashed potatoes with your fist last night,” she commented with a smirk.

“Oh, yeah, I was kinda hoping he'd forget about that,” I grinned.

“Would you?”

I thought about it for a second, then winced and smiled at the same time. “No, I guess I wouldn't forget that spectacular hit anytime soon. So where does that leave me?”

“In pretty deep shit.”

“What about all the others?”

“Outside of you, he can compel pretty much everyone else in the coven. He probably won't have to, though. Almost all of the other guys are little mini Jeffs.”

“Back in high school, assholes tended to hang with other assholes.”

“Exactly.”

“So I'm fucked,” I said, sitting down next to her, but not too close. I had been hit enough times for one weekend.

“More or less. If you stay here, then definitely. So, if I were you, I wouldn't.”

My head snapped toward her. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Is that even an option?” I probed, not really letting myself sound hopeful, but feeling a bit of it creeping in, nevertheless.

“I'm pretty sure that's what I just said,” she went on. “Besides, Jeff really doesn't want you around...at least until he's allowed to have the type of fun with you that he wants to.”

“But he said last night...”

“Yeah, well, he had a little while to think about it after he knocked you on your ass. He eventually calmed down enough to think things through. Under normal circumstances, he'd probably enjoy fucking up your shit for the next three months. But, this isn't normal. You're actually problematic for him.”

“How? I got in one lucky shot,” I pointed out. “He wiped the floor with me outside of that.”

“Yes, but you're missing the point. You got in that one lucky shot. Nobody else ever has, or would probably even get the chance to. And if you get in one lucky shot, who's to say you won't get in a second or a third? No matter how well Jeff keeps an eye on you, ninety days is enough time for anyone to let their guard down once or twice.”

I finished the thought for her. “Because he can't control me.”

“Give that man a cigar. You're a potential source of embarrassment for him. For starters, you talk back. You saw how quickly Jeff shut up Alice last night. That's par for the course around here...at least before you showed up. From what I've seen of you, I think it's fairly obvious that you're the type that just gets more obnoxious as the beatings go on (she probably had a point. I tend to be strictly of the “If I'm going to get an ass-kicking, I might as well deserve it” mindset). Lastly, you've already shown you're not above taking a cheap shot if the opportunity presents itself.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No, but it makes you unpredictable. It's not like he can just chain you up somewhere for the next three months, either.”

“Because of James’ protection?”

“Yep,” she replied with a nod.

“And if he did, I'd squeal like a pig to James just to fuck him over, no matter what the threat.”

“Bingo! And James knows how Jeff thinks. He'll definitely be paying a few visits between now and then.”

“So?” I asked hopefully.

“So, we compromise a bit. Play with the rules a little.”

“How?”

“The ninety-day protection is supposed to give you a chance to learn how to survive as one of us. What better way to learn than finding your own way? At the same time, as part of the coven, we're honor bound to provide you with basic support, which we will. The fact that you seem to be a wuss (she saw the look I gave her)...have an aversion to killing, that is...actually works in your favor, here. It makes things easier for us since it means we probably don't have to worry about cleaning up any of your messes. So, to cover that, on the weekends you'll report back here and we'll give you enough blood to make it through the week.”

“And what if I don't come back? What if I just make a run for it?” I asked, but she smiled as if expecting this question and got up. She walked over to a desk, opened it, and pulled something out which she then tossed to me. As I caught it, I was not surprised in the least to see it was my wallet.

“If you run, or try to disappear...”

“You know my name and where I live. You’ll hunt down and kill my friends and family, I suppose.”

“Smart boy.”

“I watch a lot of TV.”

“That doesn't really surprise me.”

I ignored the barb. “And Jeff came up with this plan?”

“Fuck no! This was all my idea. He just dumped your ass on me and washed his hands of the whole thing.”

“So you came up with all of this?”

“Don't sound so surprised,” she said, sounding a bit snippy.

“Sorry, I just wasn't expecting it from...”

“From someone who looks like me?”

“Well, yeah,” I said sheepishly. “It's just that, well, this area of the city and all, I kind of had you pegged as...”

“As?” she glared hard at me.

“Well, either a model, or...”

“OR?”

“Or a stripper,” I said in a small voice.

“You know, you call Jeff an asshole, but you're just as big of one!” she exploded. “What would you say if I told you I was a physics major working toward my doctorate when Jeff turned me, huh, asshole?” I turned beet red as she continued to berate me. “I worked my ass off day and night for a perfect GPA. So I really don't appreciate dickheads like you coming along and assuming that all I'm good for is shaking my ass up on a stage!”

“Oh god. I'm sorry,” I stammered. ”I didn't mean anything. It's just that...”

She started grinning again. Before I could question why, she said, “Just fucking with you. I was a stripper.”

Bitch!

The Long Road...err, Train, Back Home

I sucked down the blood packs Sally had given to me earlier (no point in getting hunger pangs on the way home and finding myself contemplating chewing on some dirty homeless person), and then got myself together as best I could. While this was going on, she ran downstairs to fill up a backpack with my week's blood rations. I was still pretty much fucked, but nevertheless, I felt like some of the weight of the previous evening had been lifted from my chest. Sure I was still dead, but once I was back in my own place, I was pretty sure I'd be able to clear my head and think my way through this mess - maybe not the being dead part, but some of the rest of it was sure to resolve itself.

Sally came back upstairs and told me that the sun had set enough for it to be safe to go out. One good thing about the city, the buildings provided plenty of cover from direct sunlight, especially around dusk. She gave me my wallet back and assured me that copies had been made of my IDs before I could get hopeful of the contrary. She also gave me her cell number with instructions to call if I got myself into any messes (oh yeah...I got a phone number. Who's the stud?).

In actuality, I had a ton of more questions. So far, some of the stuff I thought I knew about vampires was true, but just as much turned out to be utter crap. Ignorance of my condition could come back to bite me in the ass. I mean, what if I turned into a bat accidentally and couldn't turn back? What if I discovered I couldn't cross running water while my train was barreling under the East River? What if I got home and discovered I couldn't enter until Tom or Ed invited me in? I wouldn't put it past them to make me sleep in the hall while they laughed their asses off.

Unfortunately, though, now wasn't the time for twenty questions. Freedom had been dangled in front of me...well, okay, not really freedom, but a weeklong furlough, at least. I wasn't about to risk screwing that up because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. Trust me on this. I've fucked up enough things in my life by being unable to shut it when I should have. I was going to have to be mindful not to screw up my death in a similar fashion.

Fortunately, she seemed to be sincere about letting me go. Don't get me wrong, the bitch lured me to my death. It was going to be a while before she was getting any friend requests from me. Still, whatever her motivations, she was either directly or indirectly helping me out now. I'd have to remember that and maybe cut her some slack in the future. A small voice in the back of my head was telling me I was only doing so because of how she looked. If she had been an ugly chick, I probably would have staked her ass myself and rolled around in the ashes to celebrate. Maybe. Hey, I never said I wasn't shallow.

She walked me to the door and held it open. “Remember, you're back here at the end of the week, no later than Saturday night. If not, there will be people looking for you, and they won't be friendly.”

“Yes, Mom.”

She sighed and began to close the door behind me before adding a quick, “Good luck.”

I was going to need it.

* * *

To say that the short walk to the train station was trippy would be an understatement. Since most of my undead life (is that an oxymoron?) had been spent so far either preoccupied or unconscious, I hadn't realized how much my perceptions of the world had changed. Everything seemed more focused. I could overhear the conversations of the people around me (no small feat in the city). The smells were all sharper and more pronounced (not entirely a good thing). Best of all, everything was crystal clear; even the deepest shadows didn't seem to daunt my eyes. I had a flash of insight and took off my glasses (dinged up, but miraculously unbroken after the last twenty-four hours).

Fuck! Still nearsighted. That figured. Still, I could apparently see pretty damn well in the dark now. I just still needed my glasses to do so. Oh, well, win some, lose some. I wonder if vampires can get LASIK.

I don't know if it was the elation of being free, that I had just recently eaten, or just an overall side effect of being a vampire, but I felt good, damn good for a dead guy. In fact, I was feeling pretty invincible, something that I dare say I haven't felt too much during my lifetime. I couldn't help all of the fantasies that were running through my head. I could ditch the train and outright run, full speed, back to Brooklyn. I could stroll, untouchable, through the worst neighborhoods between here and home. No, fuck that. I could scale a building and stare down upon the alleys, waiting to smite evil doers like the goddamned Batman.

In the end, though, I just got on the train; it seemed less complicated that way.

Sadly, there weren't too many incidents requiring super heroics during my trip. Sure, I got accosted once for spare change, but that hardly seemed a smite-worthy offense. Jeez, in the comic books, Peter Parker can't take a shit without the Green Goblin and Venom trying to take over the city. In the real world, I imagine super heroes would get a lot of downtime to work on the NY Times Sunday crossword. So it was with me. It was late enough on a Sunday for the trains to be uncrowded, but too early for the real weirdos to be out. Thus I just sat and rode to my stop, pretending to be ever vigilant for the danger that I knew wasn't coming.

I got to my destination and walked around the block a few times to try and psych myself out for finally going home. I probably looked like quite the nutball to my nosier neighbors like, for instance, Mrs. Caven. She was this creepy old lady who lived downstairs from us and liked to be in everyone's business. She just barely kept herself from being a complete nuisance by being a sort of self-designated one-woman neighborhood watch. If someone was hanging around the building who wasn't supposed to be there, you could be sure Mrs. Caven knew about it and was telling everyone in the building (those who would listen, anyway) about it. The downside of this was that the crazy old bitch had the cops on speed dial and she was happy to call them at even the slightest provocation, as my roommate, Tom, had found out a few months back.

However, caring what some batty senior citizen thought of my wanderings was pretty low on my priority list at the moment. Now that I was close to my destination, the relief I felt at being set “free” was gone and, in its place, a new form of worry set in. Tom and Ed were two of my best friends (assholes sure, but what good friends aren't?). We all knew each other well and could each count on the other. The problem was that none of us had ever come home as a blood-sucking monster of the night before. What if they freaked? What if they called the cops? Shit, what if they decided to take matters into their own hands and go all Blade the Vampire Hunter on me? I dismissed that last one almost immediately, though, as neither of my roommates would probably have an edge against a couple of angry hamsters, much less a vampire. Still, they could react negatively.

On the other hand, I didn't really have anywhere else to go and deadly creature of the night or not, I still paid a third of the damned rent. If they wanted to give me the Monster Squad treatment, then, by god, I was at least going to get my share of the security deposit back. Thus, I readied myself as I entered the building and walked up to my floor. I unlocked the door, ready for whatever cruelties fate had in store for me, and then stopped dead. Shit! I had completely forgotten about the no-entering-without-an-invitation thing. What if I couldn't even step into my own place? Oh, well, no way to know unless I tried. I took a deep breath and tried to enter my apartment...

And I pretty much stepped in like I normally would. Either that invite thing was more vampire bullshit, or it didn't apply to me since I already lived there. Okay, one great trial down; now for the next. It was time to confront my friends. “I have something to confess. I'm a vampire, and I'm proud of it,” I would proclaim. Hmm, maybe not. That sounded too much like a coming out of the closet speech. Oh, well, I'd ad-lib something.

Or maybe I wouldn't. Now that I had a chance to look around, I noticed the apartment was quiet and I was standing there all alone. Figures! I psyched myself out, and the assholes couldn't even have the good graces to be there to rebuke me for being a monstrous hell beast. Fate, why must thou continue to spit upon me?

I checked the rest of the apartment. Tom's room was open and the lights were out. Ed's door, on the other hand, was closed and locked. I put my ear to the door and my newfound senses clearly heard him snoring away. So he was home, but out cold. Not too surprising. He probably put in a full weekend of work and decided to turn in early. It wouldn't be the first time. Okay, so I could wake him up. My predicament was kind of a big thing. Still it's not like I was dying...at least not anymore. I might be a vampire, but that doesn't mean I have to be a dick about it. Let him sleep. He could always learn I was a bloodsucking denizen of the lower planes come the morning.

Speaking of blood, I unpacked the supplies Sally had given me and stored it all in the fridge. Yeah, that might give them a few questions if they decided to grab a beer before I got a chance to do my big reveal. However, considering that Tom mixed up this big pitcher full of stage blood last Fall, maybe it wouldn't. Yeah, yeah, it wasn't anywhere close to Halloween, but I was grasping at straws. Besides which, when all was said and done, a fridge full of blood was probably going to be the least of their concerns.

Okay, one roommate was out and the other was out cold. My homecoming was turning out to be a little less epic than I had imagined. Oddly enough, I felt a little cheated. Here I was expecting perhaps a standoff, maybe they’d slowly advance upon me, crucifixes held aloft (did either of them even own a crucifix?) while screaming, “Back, unholy demon from the pit!” Instead, I got zilch. Kinda reminded me of my friend from college, Adam. A few years after we graduated, he decided to come out of the closet to his parents. He psyched himself out for a tearful “Not my child!” type of confrontation, but both of his folks pretty much just shrugged and told him “Duh. It's about time you figured that out.” He was actually kind of miffed he didn't get to give the emotional “I'm still your son!” speech he’d been rehearsing in his head.

Oh, well, since I was apparently not going to be giving any “I'm still your roommate!” speeches that night, I figured I should go out and prowl the neighborhood for any unsuspecting victims who might cross my path. At least, that's probably what a cool vampire would do. But what I should do and what I actually wind up doing don't often match, so instead I went into my bedroom/office (can't beat the commute) and turned on my PC. A little online gaming was just what the doctor ordered to help me get back a sense of normalcy. Had it really been only about two days since this had been my life? Now, here I was, grabbing onto it like a drowning man grabs for a life preserver. Hey, at least my sense of melodrama hadn't been affected by this whole ordeal.

Anyway, I checked my email first. There was some spam, the weekly Facebook birthday reminder, an email or two from my boss (which could wait...between the days of Saturday and Sunday, he ain't the boss of me), and a note from my dungeon master, Dave. Oh, shit! It was Sunday. I had missed the fucking game. Not good.

Dave was a second-year resident at some hospital in Newark; Saint Jerome's I think. He worked about a million hours a week and still somehow managed to run our D&D game. We all liked to joke that he had volunteered for some insane experiment while in med school, which allowed him to function without sleep. Anyway, I'd known him since we met up at a gaming convention back in college. In the time since, I'd come to think of him as a close friend. However, friend or not, he wasn't known for being overly forgiving when anyone unexpectedly blew off his game. One of the other party members did so a few months back and subsequently returned to find that his character had fallen into a magical trap, which had removed all of his possessions...not to mention his arms and legs.

Feeling a sense of dread that not even thoughts of Jeff could match, I clicked to read his message.

Bill,

We missed you at the game today. I tried calling, but Ed had no idea where you were. I hope everything is okay.

Dave

P.S. I had to ad-lib in your absence. Your character was captured by a tribe of sexually frustrated ogres who then proceeded to ass rape the shit out of you before you could be rescued.

Okay, that wasn't so bad compared to what he could have done. At least I didn't lose a level or anything. I wrote him back an apology, and also let him know that I'd try my damnedest to be there next weekend, although I was personally doubtful of the fact. Hopefully, if things didn't work out, I'd at least get a chance to give him a heads up. Otherwise, I'd probably better be prepared to roll up a new character.

That being done, I settled in for a few hours of online gaming. After bouncing around a few different games, I eventually settled into one where my teammates and I were trying to fight our way through various scenarios of a zombie invasion. Fucking zombie pieces of shit. If there was anything a decade of role-playing games had taught me, it was that, as a vampire, I could pretty much look down my nose at any other types of undead.

So, that was my night. After all was said and done, I made sure the shades were down and then decided to turn in. All things considered, I was a lot more at ease than I had been. As such, I slept pretty well...at least, that is, until I woke up to find myself on fire.

How Do We Sleep When Our Beds Are Burning?

“Jesus Christ, Bill, wake the fuck up,” was the first thing I heard in an apparently long attempt to rouse me. I pulled the blankets over my head and attempted to turn away from the annoying voice.

“Seriously, dude. Get up,” I felt my shoulder being shaken. Still more blissfully asleep than awake, I stuck one hand out from under covers and tried to wave the pestering presence away. Well, okay, I might have also flipped them off, as well. I've never been a morning person, even during the living phase of my existence.

“Enough of this shit. Get your ass up!” I heard a soft whooshing noise, followed by a few seconds of silence, until the voice started shouting, “WHAT THE FUCK!?” which was immediately followed by an incredible pain in my uncovered hand.

Since that sort of thing tends to jolt a person awake, I threw the covers off, sat bolt upright, and immediately noticed two things: the blinds were up, and my left hand was ablaze.

“I'M FUCKING ON FIRE!” I screamed, grasping the obvious as I then realized the rest of my exposed body was now starting to smoke under the glare of the sunshine streaming through the window.

Thinking quickly, lest I wind up unceremoniously ending my vampire career sooner than anticipated, I dove off the far side of the bed and tried my best to crawl under it.

“Close the goddamned blinds!”

“But...”

“NOW!”

That snapped my roommate back to reality and I heard another quick whoosh as darkness once again descended on my bedroom. Removed from the sunlight, the flames on my hand immediately died down. I stood up, still smoldering a little, and faced the lanky form of my roommate, Ed. At a bit of a loss for words (hey, next time you spontaneously combust, I dare you to be chatty about it immediately afterwards), I waited for him to say something...which he eventually did.

“Dude...holy shit...are you okay?”

Good question. I looked down at my hand. It still hurt like a motherfucker, and was covered in blisters, but I could even now see some of the reddened skin starting to turn back to normal. Oh, yeah, there are definitely perks to the whole vampire thing. Of course, it was the whole vampire thing that caused me to burst into flame to begin with, so maybe this one was a wash.

“I'll live,” I answered, inwardly amused by the irony.

“Good,” Ed replied, recomposing himself quickly. He stood there, thinking for a second, and then shook his head in an apparent attempt to clear it. “We can discuss how you became flammable later. We're already late for the conference bridge.”

“What conference bridge?”

“You didn't read Jim's email, did you?”

“It was the weekend,” I lamely countered.

“And hence why I exist: to save your dumb ass. Come on.” He turned and walked out. Gotta love Ed. Shit just doesn't faze him. I can't honestly say that if our positions were reversed I could turn from holy crap my roommate is on fire to oh, dear, we're late for a meeting on a dime. But, then again, a great humanitarian he is not.

I followed him to his office/bedroom. Sitting down, I became acutely aware of my just woken (and still smoldering) state.

“Skype?” I nervously asked.

“Fortunately not. Just a call, no video,” he put the phone on speaker and began to dial. Thank god for small favors. I was definitely not looking my best (even aside from the few wisps of smoke still coming off me), and, since Sheila, my aforementioned unrequited love, was my boss’s admin, hers would be the first face to see us during any teleconference. Instead, I got to hear her melodious voice picking up on the conference bridge and connecting us with Jim's office. It wasn’t as nice as seeing her, but it was a good enough fix to start my day.

We spent the next hour or so listening to our boss have a near panic attack. The higher-ups had reprioritized several projects (as the higher-ups in companies tend to do) and, since they were now giving us new orders to jump, we had to figure out the “how high” part. Jim, as usual, treated all of this like the end of the world, and had to be reassured by us several times. Our boss sometimes tends to forget that we make games, not cures for cancer. Keeping things in perspective is not his strong suit.

Once he was done giving us our marching orders, we promised him that we'd both leap into things feet first the second we were off the call, and then hung up. Ed and I stared at each other from across his desk for a few seconds before he asked, “Coffee?”

“Definitely. Just...”

“Keep the shades down? Yeah, I kinda figured.”

We went out to our kitchen where Ed threw a fresh filter into the coffee maker and set things brewing. I ran to brush my teeth and throw on a fresh pair of clothes (the ones I had been given went straight into the trash...no amount of detergent washes out dead guy stink). By the time I came back, he was sipping his coffee and had one waiting for me in my Dr. Who mug (the Tardis appears when you put a hot drink in it). I took a couple of slurps and then said, “Much better. I feel human again.”

“Do you?” he asked, nonplussed.

“Yeah, about that. Kind of a funny thing...”

“So... you're a vampire now?” he just blurted out.

“Well, let's not jump to...”

“You burst into flames when I opened your shades.”

“I can explain that.”

“Your hand is already healed.”

I looked down as he said that. Hey, he was right. Despite that, I gave a noncommittal shrug in return. “Vitamins can do wonders for the immune...”

“And the refrigerator is full of blood.”

“Noticed that, eh?”

“Kinda hard to miss,” he said in that same bored tone. “So, that means you're either a vampire, or a psycho, and, to quote George Clooney, ‘Psychos do not burst into flames when sunlight hits them.’ Thus, you must be a vampire.”

“So...” Damn, this was going a lot differently than I imagined it would.

Without warning, he leaned across the table and stared me directly in the eye. “Do you want to confess, or should I just call the cops?”

“WHAT?” I blurted as hot coffee spit from between my lips.

“Tom. He's missing and the fridge is full of blood. It doesn't take a genius to figure out...”

“Dude, I didn't touch him, I swear I don't where he is. He wasn't home last night. You can't think...” I stopped when I noticed that Ed was now wearing a shit-eating grin. “Asshole!”

“Sorry, couldn't resist. Tom stayed over at his parents’. He was heading straight to the office from there.”

“Dick!”

“So says the guy cooling off blood clots next to my diet Pepsi.”

“I'm surprised you're not freaking.”

“I don't freak,” he said bluntly.

“You kinda did when I burst into flames earlier.”

“You caught me by surprise. Next time, I'll just whip out the marshmallows.”

“Touching. So, what now?”

“What now? Obviously we get back to work before Jim calls again and has an aneurysm this time.”

“Good point. But still, we get back to things just like that?” I asked, not quite ready to believe it had been that easy.

“For now, at least. Once Tom gets home, we can sit down and talk about this. At least that way I won't have to listen to your story twice.”

“You're not afraid I might try to...” I put on my best euro-trash vampire accent. “...suck your blood?”

“It's not my blood I'm worried you'll try to suck,” he smirked. I gave him a withering glare in return. “Seriously, though, I’m not. You could have done so last night while I was asleep, and you didn't. That kind of says all I need to know about it. And, besides, it's daylight now. I'm not particularly scared of someone I just need to open the blinds to defeat.”

“What about Tom? Think he'll freak?”

“Are you kidding? We'll both need to be wearing raincoats for the ensuing nerdgasm he'll probably have.” With that, he got up and went back to his desk. He probably had a good point. The three of us were a lot alike. What didn't faze one of us probably wouldn't faze any of us. If Ed and my positions had been reversed, I'd probably be taking it fairly well, too.

On the other hand, I'd probably also excuse myself during lunchtime to go out and stock up on some holy water...just in case. But, hey, maybe I'm just paranoid.

One Will Stand, One Will Fall

The day passed fairly quickly since we both had full plates of work to throw ourselves into. It turned out to be fairly productive, too, as I discovered that I was able to type quite a bit faster now. The whole being a blood-sucking walking corpse thing was going to take some adjusting to, but I wasn't going to complain much if one of the side effects of my newfound abilities was going to help me get a nice bonus at year’s end. Anyway, aside from some work related questions for Ed, I stayed in my respective “office,” with maybe the exception of a quick break at lunch time to grab a liter of blood (and some Cheez-its. What? I was just trying to find out if I could still eat regular food).

We knocked off around six p.m. One of the key skills of being a developer was knowing when enough is enough. One would want to put in enough effort to be a valued asset (always good to be one of those during any layoffs), but not so much that you'd be a sucker doing work above and beyond what you're being paid for. Since the sun was now low enough that I wouldn't run the risk of turning into a tater-tot the second I stepped outside, I accompanied Ed to pick up some Chinese food for dinner, and then we came back to wait for Tom.

I had noticed earlier that, while I was still capable of eating solid food (thank god), it didn't quite seem to satisfy me the way it used to. The taste was fine, but it was like eating a giant salad (for me, anyway) in that it seemed to be missing something. While we ate, I mentioned this to Ed in passing.

“Well, it's not surprising,” he said in between mouthfuls.

“No?”

“Not really. Think about it. Your digestive tract is probably all rewired. It’s kind of like this: I used to date this Goth chick who always kept some cow blood in her fridge to freak out her friends. Anyway, she was telling me one day after sex (thanks for the extra info, Ed), that she tried drinking it a few times. I guess she was trying to walk the walk or some shit. A sip or two was okay, but anything more than that and she'd wind up puking her guts up. The same would have probably happened to you a few days ago. But now you can safely guzzle it down. In fact, I'd bet that whatever it is that you feel you're missing from that,” he motioned toward my low mien, “you probably get from the blood. Am I right?”

“Yeah. That could be it,” I considered. “Like a Snickers, it satisfies.”

“Thanks for forever ruining Snickers for me. Anyway, I'm no nutritionist, but my guess would be that you're probably now getting your daily needs from the blood. As for the rest, it's the nutritional equivalent of eating cardboard.”

I thought about that for a moment. “Okay. I guess that makes sense.”

“Yep. So I'd imagine that feast before you would probably pack a better punch if you poured some blood on it.”

There was definitely some logic to that, enough to make it worth a try. I got up, went to the fridge, and pulled out a pint as Ed watched me. I poured it onto my food and then nuked the concoction for a minute. Sitting back down, I was about to dig in when a bit of self-consciousness hit me.

“Is this going to gross you out?” I asked.

“Probably. But, then again, is it really any weirder than some of the shit Anthony Bourdain eats on his show?”

“Good point,” I took a bite.

“Well?” he asked expectantly.

“Best Chinese food I've ever eaten.”

“That's probably not saying much.”

“Wanna bite?” I held out a forkful toward him with a grin. “You know you want to.”

He sighed disgustedly in response. “Pass. By the way, please tell me that's animal blood.”

“You know, I'm not entirely sure. Kinda forgot to ask on the way out.”

“That's comforting,” he said, oozing sarcasm.

I was about to open my mouth to say more when the front door clicked open and my other roommate, Tom, walked in. He was an inch or so taller than me, of slightly thinner build, and had dirty blond hair - close cropped to disguise the fact that it was already starting to thin on top. His suit was disheveled from a full day at work, and he was carrying both his laptop bag and suitcase.

Okay, this was it. I had one non-freaking roommate. Just one more and I'd have a complete set. However, he started talking excitedly before either of us could speak.

“Hey guys,” he said, tossing his sports jacket onto a nearby chair. “What a weekend. I scored like a mofo. You won't...”

“Scored?” I interrupted. “How is your sister, by the way?” Sorry, couldn't help myself.

He casually flipped me the finger, continuing as if I hadn't spoken. “Mom wanted me to stay an extra day to drive her around, because Dad had some shit to do. I hate being her chauffeur, but this time it was worth it.”

Ed chimed in, “Dude, we have to talk.”

“Yeah, in a second. So she wanted to go to this flea market - fucking things. Normally you couldn't pay me to root around in someone else's shit, but...”

“Tom, it's kind of important,” I interrupted.

“Not as important as this,” he said, blowing off both our entreaties. “I found this stoner selling a bunch of crap and you wouldn't believe what he had.” He reached into his suitcase and pulled out a wad of bubble wrap, which he immediately started to unravel.

“Tom...”

“Check it out, bitches,” he proclaimed, holding up his prize, a small but easily identifiable toy. “Optimus fucking Prime! Is this cool or what?”

Ed and I both gave each other a glance. We'd seen this before.

“That's great. Really, it is. But I have something important to tell you. I'm a vam...”

He cut me off again, “Are you two always going to be retards? Don't you get it? I paid ten bucks for this. TEN BUCKS! First generation, mint out of the box with all accessories. The sucker didn't have any idea what it's worth.” I could almost see the manic glee in his eye as he continued, unabated. “Christ, in a couple of years I'll be able to send my kids to college with this thing...no, fuck that...I'll be able to send myself to live on some island where the drinks and the pussy flow freely.”

I stood up and walked over to him, knowing that if I didn't stop him now, we'd be listening to this psycho obsessive crap all night.

“Tom...”

“Sorry, Bill. You're my bro and all, but Prime here is the new priority. I just gotta let you know,” he said, only half kidding. “If this place catches fire, I save him first, myself second, and then maybe you guys, if there's time.”

“Okay, enough of this shit,” I grabbed the action figure from his hands. “We have something that we need to talk...ab-OUCH! FUCK!” I yelled as there was a searing flash, and suddenly, for the second time that day, my hand was in flames. I dropped the toy and started waving my arm around in pain.

Tom responded with a panicked, “Don't fucking break it...” and then just as quickly stopped as what happened finally started to sink in.

Speaking of sinks, I immediately raced to ours to douse my hand.

For also the second time that day, Ed was nearly speechless. “What the hell just happened?” he asked numbly.

“You tell me,” mumbled Tom, absentmindedly retrieving his toy, and cradling it like a mother would a small child.

“Goddamnit that hurt!” was the best I could offer as way of explanation.

* * *

A few minutes later, we were all seated around the table. After making sure I was all right, Tom went and locked his action figure (complete with real Kung-Fu death grip, apparently) in his room. I had wrapped a wet dishrag around my hand and taken a seat opposite him.

“So you're saying you've gone insane,” Tom said.

“No, I'm saying I'm a vampire.”

“Uh huh. Prove it.”

“Prove it? Did you not just see...” Okay. Deep breath, I reminded myself. Do this calmly. Tom was having one of his clueless asshole moments. “Fine, I'll prove it. How about this?” I opened my mouth wide to show him my fangs.

He looked nonplussed. “Five bucks will get you a reasonable set of glue-on fangs.”

“They're real.”

“They look fake.”

“They're not. Touch them.”

“I'd prefer to keep my fingers out of your mouth, thanks.”

“I might have something that'll prove it,” Ed chimed in. He stood up and went into his bedroom. The sounds of rummaging could be heard a few moments later.

“What else you got?” asked Tom.

“Well...”

“How about mirrors? Amaze me with your lack of a reflection.”

“That one only works in the movies.”

“How convenient. What about garlic? Does that drive you away, screaming into the night?”

“Actually...I'm not sure.”

Tom got up and went to one of the cabinets, pulling out a jar of garlic hot sauce. “Here, Dracula.”

“Um, okay,” I nervously replied. This was really not how I envisioned testing out my vulnerabilities. I dabbed a little on my finger, hesitated for a second, and then licked it off. I waited a second or two to see if I was going to start convulsing, and then, when nothing happened, said, “Nope. That myth is busted, too, I guess.”

“You're not really helping your case here. I know! Should I try staking you through the heart? Oh, wait, that would kill anyone.”

“Don't be a complete ass,” I shot back. “Hmm, oh yeah. The fridge is full of blood. Explain that.”

He opened the refrigerator and took a quick look. “So? It looked like that last Halloween.”

“Yeah, but this time it's real.”

“If you say so.”

“Found it!” Ed called from his room. I heard his footsteps approaching. As he was just about to pass me, I heard him say, “Sorry Bill, this might sting a bit.” Before I could question what he meant by that, his arm wrapped around my neck and I felt him press something cool against my forehead. “BEHOLD! See how the beast burns before the might of our savior!” he cried in a bad southern accent.

“What the fuck, man!” I shoved him off me.

“That's weird. It didn't work,” he said, showing what he’d just assaulted me with - a small iron cross on a necklace.

“A little warning next time,” I growled.

“Sorry. Didn't think you'd go for it if you saw it coming.”

“You're probably right. Where did you get that thing from, anyway?”

“Oh. It was a gift from that emo chick I was telling you about.” He appeared to consider something, then said, “You know, I should find her phone number for you. If she found out you were a real vampire, she'd have your dick in her mouth faster than you can say 'spit shine.'”

I thought about it for a second. “Has potential. But let's table that one for the moment.”

“Eh hem,” Tom cleared his throat. “Are we done with this idiocy?”

“Oh yeah, sorry. Not yet. I have one more idea,” Ed said, turning toward the dish drain. He quickly spun back around, a steak knife in his hand.

Before I could ask what he was planning to do, he plunged it into the table - the same table my uninjured hand just so happened to be resting on, if you catch my drift. The pain was so swift and instantaneous that I couldn't even scream.

“Holy shit, Ed!” Tom exclaimed. “Time to switch to decaf, dude.”

“Wait!” Ed pulled the knife free. “Bill, before you completely shit a brick, hold up your hand.”

I was about to hold it up in the form of a fist to his face when I noticed that he was right. I lifted my hand and we all watched as the small (but fucking painful) wound almost immediately closed itself.

“I thought that might work,” he said. “Especially after I saw how quickly your hand healed earlier. Speaking of which, take off the towel.”

I pulled off the dishrag as I growled at him, “Thought it might work?” Sure enough, though, he was right about that, too. My twice-burnt hand was once again good as new.

“Okay,” said Tom in a very slow voice. “I'll admit that's maybe a little bit off-kilter from normal.”

“It's about time. Another test or two and one of us,” I glared at Ed, “probably wouldn't survive.”

“Very well, I accept that maybe you're a vampire.”

“Maybe?”

“Yeah, maybe,” he said. “One thing about it still doesn't add up. Since when can vampires touch crosses safely, but old Transformer toys cause them to ignite like rocket fuel? Can you riddle me that, Riddler?”

Unfortunately, on that one, I had absolutely no clue.

And Now for a Kung-Fu Training Montage

Wednesday night found us at a small gym over on Fourth Avenue. It was a dingy place, but they stayed open late and offered a couple of free trial workouts before charging any membership fees. That was really all we needed to test out a few things.

After the initial weirdness of Monday night had been given a chance to settle, I brought my roommates up to speed on Sally (they really didn't believe that part), the party, being turned, and my ninety-day countdown to a more permanent death. After hearing my tale, Tom was initially a little wary about me being around.

“So how do we know the bottled stuff is going to keep you sane?” he’d asked. “Every vampire movie I've ever seen says you'll eventually be overcome by your need for human flesh and become a rampaging animal until your thirst is quenched.”

I patiently explained to him that, so far, the movies weren't exactly sporting an overly impressive record compared to what wound up being total bullshit. However, he wasn't quite satisfied with that explanation. So, I told him the story of how I was unable to kill the fat, sweaty dude. Ed, being the ever-helpful fellow, chimed in on my side of things, sorta, with, “A vampire who's too much of a pussy to kill someone? I guess I can live with that.”

“It isn't like that,” I sighed as yet another person just didn't get it. Maybe it's a guy thing, but it annoyed the hell out of me for people to think I was some sort of defanged little girly monster. I'm not a fucking Elmo doll, for Christ’s sake.

“So, how is it then?” he asked in a humoring tone.

“Okay, how do I explain this?” I asked out loud, rhetorically. “I’ve got it. You both like hot dogs, right?” They muttered in the affirmative to this. “Even though you know what they are?” More nods. “Okay, so what if I handed you a plate of lips and assholes and told you to dive right in because it tasted just like a hotdog?”

“I might refrain from partaking,” Ed murmured after a moment or two. Tom agreed.

“Well, that's how it was for me. No matter how good it tasted, I couldn't get it out of my head that I was giving some naked guy a mega-hickey.” At last, I could see the beginnings of understanding in their eyes.

“That which is seen...” Ed said.

“Cannot be unseen,” I finished.

“So, by that logic,” Tom asked, “wouldn't chowing down on a hot swimsuit model be okay?”

I thought about it for a few seconds. “Yeah, I guess so. Hot chicks would definitely be on the menu.”

Ed shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. That would be a waste of some perfectly good ass. They're too rare (at least in our apartment) to kill. You don't hunt endangered species. Killing a hot chick would be like clubbing a baby seal. Not cool.” Damn, he had me there. Score one for logic.

“What if Bill was drunk and it was a fat chick?” Tom asked.

“Your wisdom is sound, my friend. Nobody loses points for an ugly girl if they're hammered at the time,” Ed agreed.

I concurred. “That's cool. A few shots of tequila and I could see myself getting all up in that shit.”

That important issue being settled, we bullshitted some more until Ed suggested (considering that, so far, we had more questions than answers), that taking some time to chart my new powers would probably be a good idea. Damn, why didn't I think of that? Knowing what I was capable of could potentially help me down the line (like, say, a little less than three months down the line). At the very least, it might keep me from doing something stupid, like jumping out another third story window.

Hence where we were now. Tuesday night was spent testing out some stuff we could do without actually leaving the apartment, including trying to figure out my sudden aversion to Optimus Prime. Unfortunately, despite several retries at grasping the toy (much to my protests against doing so), we were no closer to solving any mystery more complex than whether or not Febreze will cover up the scent of burning vampire (pretty well actually).

Tom had suggested the gym. It would give us some hard numbers to gauge my strength against. Even if it didn’t work, it would still be better than spending another evening charbroiling my hands.

Fortunately, the place was fairly empty. Aside from the counter girl (who couldn't quite suppress a smirk when we came in and told her we were evaluating workout options), there were only a few middle-aged types moving between the treadmills and stationary bikes. That was good. No use calling extra attention to ourselves.

We gravitated toward an old universal machine off in the corner. It'd be more discrete than loading plates much heavier than a person of my stature should be able to lift onto some weight bench. I wasn't too worried about being outed as a vampire, but if we started doing weird ass shit that got noticed, we might find someone calling the cops, thinking we were on PCP. I was pretty sure meth-heads didn't use their manic drug-induced strength for the purposes of working out, but better safe than sorry.

The machine maxed out at three-hundred and fifty pounds, so that's what Tom set it to as I sat down at the bench press. “Shouldn't we start low and work our way up?” I protested.

“Warm-ups are for pussies.”

Okay, I can do this...maybe. I prepared to lift a lot more than I would have ever even considered trying.

“If something happens...” I started.

“You'll heal fast. We already know that,” Ed finished. I was feeling the love, I tell you.

I needn't have worried, though. I started to push and actually felt the bar begin to rise with the effort. Holy crap! I mean, I knew I was stronger after awakening as a vampire, but it was another thing entirely to know how much I was lifting.

“Goddamn, you're doing it,” Ed whispered.

“Yeah,” Tom said in awe. “How does it feel?”

“Badass!”

“No, stupid. How does the weight feel?”

“Heavy, but I could handle some more.”

Ed took a quick look around, saw that nobody was looking, and hopped up onto the weight stack. He wasn't a big guy, but he pushed the total easily past the five-hundred pound mark. I gave a loud grunt and almost lost it, but managed to keep it up...barely.

“Thanks,” I sarcastically wheezed once I had lowered the bar.

“Don't mention it.”

We moved on to other exercises and spent about an hour obtaining similar results. I wasn't going to be casually throwing cars around anytime soon, but the results were definitely impressive. At last, I’d had enough, and we found ourselves alone in the locker room, cleaning up and getting ready to head home.

“That was fucking wild,” said Tom excitedly. “You're like a freaking super soldier. We're talking Captain America here.”

“At the very least, Bruce Willis from Unbreakable,” countered Ed.

“I guess that's cool,” I sighed.

“What?” sniffed Tom. “You were hoping for the Hulk?”

“It's not that. It's just that I can lift all that weight; I can take all sorts of physical abuse. Hell, I could probably kick ass in a dozen Olympic events.”

“Developing a high opinion of ourselves, are we?” Ed quipped.

“You know what I mean,” I stood up and started flexing in front of a mirror. It didn’t look any more convincing than it had before I became undead.

“I can do all this shit I couldn't do before, and I still look like this. I mean, when the hell is it going to happen?”

“When is what going to happen?”

“You know. When am I going to get all...sexy?” I asked in a small voice.

My roommates took a second to give each other a glance, and then Tom responded, “Bill, I ask this with all due sincerity...what the fuck are you talking about?”

“The entire coven,” I said, feeling a rant coming on. “They look like they stepped out of a fashion shoot, each and every one of them. So, I figured eventually it might happen to me. You know, like in Interview with the Vampire. Brad Pitt got bitten and suddenly his hair got all done up and he was a lot better looking.”

“Well, for starters,” Ed calmly explained, “it was just a stupid fucking movie, idiot. Secondly, he looked like that to begin with. Being bitten didn't turn him into Brad Pitt.”

“Yeah, but he at least got Fabio hair,” I pointed out.

“You'd look stupid with Fabio hair.”

“Fine, no Brad Pitt,” I whined. “But what about Antonio Banderas?”

Fully engaged now, Ed took the bait, while Tom sat back to see how this would all play out. “Antonio Banderas? Why the hell would you want to look like him?”

“He was in that movie, too. Also had great hair and seemed to be doing pretty well for himself.”

“Pretty well? He's married to Melanie Griffith. She's definitely seen better days.”

“Well, yeah, now he is,” I agreed. “But back in the day, he nailed Salma Hayak.”

“That was just in Desperado, dipshit.”

“Fuck that. I guarantee he banged her in real life. Even if he didn't, he had a long sex scene with her and was groping her tits throughout the entire thing.”

“I will concede you that point,” he said. “However, your logic has one major flaw. In Interview with the Vampire, he was busy lusting after Brad Pitt. Dude had gone totally homo for him. Shit, pretty much every vampire in that movie did. It was like a giant vampire man-ass festival. If that's what you're going for, you're going to need to rethink that whole sucking-on-naked-dudes-phobia you’ve got going on.”

“Stop right there, because I got you now, motherfucker.” I got all in his face. “Not every vampire lusting after Brad Pitt was a guy.”

“I'm pretty sure they were.”

“What about Kirsten 'I banged Spider-Man' Dunst?” I pointed out.

“Dude, she was like twelve.”

“Originally, yeah. But near the end she was more like sixty.”

“She still looked twelve.”

“Gotta agree with Ed on that one, bro,” Tom piped in.

“Shut up!” we both told him.

I wasn't about to lose this one. “It doesn't matter what she looked like. Before she got turned to dust, she was more than old enough for Brad Pitt to pork.”

“That's fucked up,” he said. “So you're saying his character was a pedophile?”

“Read my lips...SHE WAS SIXTY!”

“That vamp who bit you must have drained all the blood from your brain. She had the body of a kid.”

“And the emotional maturity of an adult,” I countered.

“Her body still looked like a child.”

“So? Some midgets look like kids. Are you saying anyone who nails a midget is a pedo?”

“Not the same thing, asshole. They're physically mature adults.”

“Who just so happen to look like kids. According to your logic, that makes it the same thing.”

“You know,” he threw up his hands in disgust, “sometimes I just can't talk to you. It's like trying to communicate with a retarded bonobo.”

“In other words,” I grinned, “that's point and match, bitch.”

“Fuck you. And you'd still look stupid with Fabio hair.”

Back To the Meat Grinder

Following work Thursday night, we took a field trip, as Tom called it, to a church. There, after seeing that I didn't burst aflame upon entering (I was starting to tire of how most of these tests seemed to be against how flammable I might or might not be), we pretended to pray until we were alone. Then my wonderful roommates took turns either splashing me from the holy water basin, or touching me with the various altar relics. In all cases, nothing happened, except perhaps that I wound up both wet and annoyed.

“We probably shouldn't be surprised,” Tom said on the way home. “I think that was a Lutheran church. According my grandmother, they're already a den of Satanists.”

Assholes, both of them.

* * *

Friday night finally arrived, after what had turned out to be an exceptionally long week. During the days, Ed and I were slaving away at work, and then the nights felt like they were spent with my roommates coming up with new and inventive ways to torture me. Speaking of work, I had managed to do my job from home all week, which was good (considering the crispy fried alternative of going to the office during the day). Unfortunately, that wasn't going to last forever. At some point, they'd expect me in for a face-to-face meeting or status update. I'd have to work on a contingency plan for that. Fortunately for me, though, I had at least a few days before that was going to be an issue.

Friday night was supposed to be a night off for all of us. With the weekend coming, the crowds would be out in force, and there would be little chance of us getting anything done without attracting undo attention. So, the plan was...well okay, the plan was pretty damn close to almost every Friday night prior to me becoming one of the undead: pizza, some beer, lots of bullshitting, and maybe a movie or two. That was just fine with me. Saturday was supposed to be my day to check back in at Vampire Central and to say I wasn't looking forward to it would be an understatement of epic proportions. Well, all right, I was looking forward to some of it, but not a lot. As it turned out, though, the “some of it” part of the equation came looking for me instead.

Around seven o'clock in the evening, there was a knock on our door. This was a little odd, since we hadn't buzzed anyone up. But, then again, the downstairs tenants would occasionally leave the front door open, so it wasn't unheard of either. Ed got up to answer it, leaving Tom and me arguing over the finer points of whether Stargate Universe was superior to Stargate Atlantis. He opened the door and I heard a familiar voice say, “I'm here to see Bill.”

“Sally?” I said loud enough for everyone to hear.

“This is that vampire chick?” Ed blurted out, inadvertently swinging the door open a little wider.

“Good job keeping the family secret, Bill,” she quipped, taking a step in.

“Hold on there,” he stepped in front of her. “I haven't invited you to cross the threshold.”

She just sighed, “Out of the way, dork,” then walked around him. Okay, so that's another thing from the movies that's a total load of crap.

She was wearing a tight black cocktail dress, four-inch heels...and was by far the best-looking thing that our apartment had seen in a long time. As she stepped toward me, Tom lowered his voice and whispered, “You left that to come back home to us? You, sir, are seriously gay.”

Ignoring him, I stood up and faced her. “What are you doing here? I thought we had a deal.”

“Deals, much like underwear, are changed often.” She glanced for a moment at my roommates. “At least for some of us.” There was a momentary silence, during which both my friends gawked at her like a pair of retards, and then she added, “Going to introduce me? Just because I got you killed is no reason to be rude.”

“Tom, Ed. This is Sally.” I grinned evilly at her and added, “Sally Sunset.”

That elicited a glare from her and the beginnings of a chuckle from Tom. However, before it could evolve into more than that, she said, without taking her eyes off me, “Before anyone laughs, let me just remind you that I'm capable of twisting your heads off like a beer cap.” That pretty much killed my joke dead, right there.

“Pleasure to meet you, Sally,” Ed said, completely deadpan. Tom immediately followed suit.

She nodded slightly, then pretty much dismissed them. “As much as I’d love to stay and play with your pets, we have places to be. Grab your backpack and some things. Oh, and put on something decent too; we do have an image we’re trying to maintain.”

“Not until you tell me what the rush is. For all you know, I had plans for tonight.” She gave me a skeptical look at that one. “What? I occasionally do stuff with actual people...sometimes even women.”

She answered my protest with a roll of her eyes. ARGH! Getting me killed I could tolerate, but if she didn’t stop doing that at me this bitch was gonna get decked.

“If you say so, champ,” she replied. “Oh, and since you’re wondering what the rush is, James called. He’s driving down to see how his favorite Freewill is doing.”

“Freewill?” Ed asked.

“Later,” I assured him, and then, back to Sally, “Why is he coming back so soon?” Despite my surprise at hearing such, I was also damned glad for it. Jeff would probably keep his distance with James around. Of course, this was assuming that he wasn't returning with marching orders for my dissection. That would be a little less than awesome.

“Go figure. Personally, I thought he’d either give it a few weeks or forget about you completely, but apparently not. Who knows, maybe you really touched something deep down inside of him and he’s driving in to profess his undying love,” she giggled. My roommates, sensing this was a joke that was unlikely to get them killed, joined in.

“Perhaps,” I mused. No way was I going to let her win this one. “When I see him, I’ll ask. Don’t worry; I’ll be sure to give you full credit for coming up with that theory.”

As expected, that shut her up. Most of the vampires in the city might be able to kick my ass in a fight, but when it came to verbal sparring, I was Muhammad Ali. Satisfied that I’d gotten the last word (for now), I turned to go gather my things. Hopefully everyone would still be alive when I got back.

* * *

I needn't have worried. I returned to find my roommates no worse for the experience, with maybe the exception of having Sally's cleavage burned into their retinas. I thus went to grab my jacket. Whilst doing so, I quietly slipped a note under Tom's door, listing some quick instructions on what to do if I wasn't back by Sunday night. That finished, I set off into the night, accompanied by the woman who was responsible for my murder.

A short while later, found us on a train speeding back toward Manhattan. I could sense the many male eyeballs in the subway car checking us out. I had no doubt they were all thinking that I was either rich or had a huge dick. Damn, envy feels good when you're on the receiving end.

“Nice friends you have,” she said, apparently looking to kill some time with small talk.

“Yeah. They have their quirks, but they're good guys.”

“They freak out when you told them?”

“Surprisingly little.”

“Really?” she sounded a little surprised. “Most people freak and then we usually have to kill them before they try something stupid.”

“We tend to watch a lot of movies. You'd be surprised how desensitized that makes one. Ed could probably come home, have an alien burst from his chest, and the rest of us would be most concerned with how to clean the carpet afterward.”

“You guys are certainly an interesting bunch. Way different from the crowd I used to hang with.”

“What happened to them?”

“They freaked.”

“Oh,” I said, not wanting to know more. Instead, a memory from the week prior came back to me, giving me an opportunity to change the subject. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“If this has anything to do with third input, you're going right through the side of this train,” she warned.

“Third in...oh, that. No, it doesn't. Although we can save that discussion for another time if you want.” She glared hard at me, so I quickly continued, “What I meant to ask is...well...did you always look like this?”

Not comprehending, she answered, “No. I'm a little dressier on the weekends, and I tend to change my hair color once a year or so.”

“Not what I meant. Forget about clothes or hair. Did you always look like you do now?”

“Well, I used to look like a baby, then a little girl, but eventually I grew these (if you need me to elaborate on her emphasis, then you have even less a social life than I) and well, golly, now I'm all grown up,” she mocked.

“No, no, no. You're not getting it.”

“Enlighten me.”

“It's just that every vampire I've seen so far looks like they could moonlight as an underwear model...”

“Except for you?”

“Yes, except for me,” I snapped.

“And you're wondering if maybe we all started out average looking, then we got bitten and, poof, the vampire whammy transformed us into the seductive creatures of the night you see before you, right?”

“Well, yeah, actually.”

She started giggling again. “They say there's no such thing as a stupid question, but damn, they're wrong.”

“Shall I assume the answer is ‘no’?” I asked icily.

“Sorry. But it's all by design. If the coven looks like a scene out of Baywatch, it's because Jeff wants it to. A lot of coven leaders do the same thing. They figure if they're going to stare at the same faces forever, they might as well be pleasant faces.”

“So, I'm shit out of luck and get to spend eternity sticking out like a sore thumb.”

“Yeah, but that might not be a bad thing.”

“This phrase you say, I do not think it means what you think it does.”

“Look at it this way, Bill. No matter what we may look like to you, after a while, it all starts to blur together for us. It winds up like you're living in a house full of clones. What you think of as 'hot' winds up being dull and normal for us. You, on the other hand, are different from the average vampire.”

“Below average, you mean.”

“No, I mean different. Different isn't always a bad thing. Different can get you noticed in the crowd.”

“Different can get my ass killed by Jeff in a little less than three months.”

“I never claimed different was always a good thing, either,” she pointed out.

After another moment, I asked, “So, if you had a choice, would you pick to be different, like me?”

She thought about it for a second. “I probably wouldn't go that far.”

Bitch!

History Lesson

Rather than go immediately to the loft, Sally took me to a little café in a corner of Little Italy. There we found James, thankfully alone, waiting for us.

“Well, if it isn't the esteemed Dr. Death,” he stood to greet us.

“Considering the alternatives, it's nice to see you again, James.”

He frowned mildly at that. “It's Ozymandias here, I'm afraid. If I'm expected to respect Night Razor's silly rules when I'm in town, then you most definitely have to as well. He is your sire, after all.” I winced visibly at that. This caused James...sorry, Ozymandias...to grin, and then he spread his arms toward the table.

“Enough of the formalities, for the moment. Please sit and order yourselves something. The espresso here is marvelous. Much better than anything up in Massachusetts,” he held up his cup. “I dare say, if we ever run out of blood to drink, I'd be more than happy to subsist on this alone.”

As I had sucked down a liter earlier in the evening, I wasn't particularly hungry. I just went with an appetizer of mozzarella sticks so as not to seem rude. We were in Little Italy, after all.

“You're causing quite the stir, you know,” Ozymandias said after we had placed our order. “It turns out there have been no confirmed freewills mentioned in the archives since before even my time.”

“And when exactly is before your time?” I queried.

“Never ask a vampire his age, my boy. Besides which, the older we get, the more we tend to lie about it. There are plenty of vampires, most of them far less than a millennium old, who love to go around bragging about how they were present at the Crucifixion. If you believed every one of them, the whole gathering would have been the size of the Super Bowl.”

“Okay, then let me rephrase the question. How long has it been since there have been people like me (I saw Sally’s smirk out of the corner of my eye)...freewills I mean, running around?”

“Over six hundred years, at least.”

Whoa! Here I was, sitting with someone who might have personally known Christopher Columbus. It kind of put things into perspective for me.

He turned to Sally. “Did you tell him what's been happening?”

“No,” she replied. “I didn't want his head to swell, or anything.”

“Tell me what?”

At Ozymandias' nod, she started explaining. “The rest of the coven. You’re all anyone's talked about this whole week. It's driving Jeff bugshit...sorry...Night Razor. There are some wild rumors flying about. Freewills can walk in the sunlight. Freewills can fly. Freewills can feed off of other vampires. Y’know, that kind of stuff.”

“All bullshit as far as I'm aware,” I confessed.

“No, really?” She gave me another fucking eye-roll. Gah! It was all I could do to keep from stabbing her with my fork. “The point is, you've become a mystery to them. The fact that you disappeared for the past week has just fed the rumor mill.”

“Disappeared?”

“Escaped might be a better word,” she replied with twinkle in her eye.

“That's a good thing,” Ozymandias cut in before I could further question her. “It means that, in their minds, you've become greater than the sum of your parts. You're mostly likely going to garner respect from them that's far outside of your age or deeds. More importantly, it means that there will be just enough doubt in them to probably keep them off your back.”

“But I thought I was under your protection.”

“That only lasts so long,” he said almost dismissively. “Besides which, it's not a sure thing. Accidents happen. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't put it past Night Razor to sacrifice a few of his children to take you out. As coven head, if he claims they acted on their own, then we'd have no choice but to believe him.”

“But now...”

“But now, that's less likely to happen,” he cut me off. “If they believe just enough, and Sally here seems to think they do, then that, coupled with my protection, might be enough to make it difficult for Night Razor to even compel them to act against you for the time being. Maybe even after that.”

“And Night Razor?”

Sally answered that one. “He doesn't believe a word of it. No matter what, you'll still have him to contend with.”

I thought for a second and then said, “Okay. But that doesn't explain why you're both telling me this.”

“My motivations will have to remain my own, I'm afraid,” Ozymandias replied. “However, suffice to say at the moment, I'd prefer to keep you alive, even if only for amusement purposes. It gets better, though. The Draculas have expressed an interest in seeing you continue to draw breath...in a manner of speaking, of course. Unfortunately, though, they refuse to take a more active stance, for now at least. And as for my dear Sally, here...”

“Where do you think most of this gossip started?” she added, a saucy little grin on her face.

Okay, that one surprised me a bit. Still, I wasn't exactly convinced of anything. I turned toward her and said, matter-of-factly, “I thought you were Night Razor's little plaything.”

She let my barb roll right off her. “Perhaps. But if, say, a senior, more powerful vampire, were to give me a compulsion to play along and keep my mouth shut, well, even Night Razor couldn't undo that.” She nodded in Ozymandias' direction. “If you catch my drift.”

Goddamn it! That didn't really make me feel any better. If I knew she really had an interest in keeping me alive, that would be one thing. But this compulsion bullshit left me uneasy. If that was all that was behind this, then I wasn't sure I trusted it to be enough. Then again, I really had no idea how powerful, outside of its loudness, a compulsion truly was.

My hesitation to believe her was apparently obvious, as she quickly added, “It probably also doesn't hurt your cause that I can't stand the asshole.”

“Hold on. Then what was that you were telling me about you and him?”

“What? You've never slept with someone you disliked before? Hatred sex is pretty goddamn intense,” she purred.

I decided to ignore that last bit. I had enough to chew on at the moment. The whole thing was maddening. I shook my head for a second and then gave a little laugh as the irony of what they were doing hit me.

“The hilarious thing is, not only do I not have any of these bullshit powers that they think I do, but I might have even picked up a few extra weaknesses.”

“Eh?” Ozymandias grunted, sipping from his third cup of espresso.

“Unless, that is, the rest of you have a major allergy to Optimus Prime.”

He just gave me a blank look in return. “And what exactly is an Optimus Prime?”

“The patron saint of eternal virgins,” replied Sally without missing a beat.

“Bite me.”

“Not even in your sickest dreams, doughboy.”

“Enough, children!” Ozymandias interrupted. “I believe I asked a question.”

I brought him up to speed on the timeless (since the 1980's, at least) tale of the Transformers and their associated toy lines. When I was finished, Sally's look told me I had gone into far greater detail than probably necessary. Ozymandias' pained sigh likewise indicated I had done nothing to raise his opinion of me.

“Thank you for that fascinating diatribe,” he drolled. “However, of greater importance to me is the value your friend places on this doll.”

“Action figure,” I corrected. Noticing the momentary silence, I quickly added, “There's a difference.”

“I'm sure there is, but once again, I asked a question. I know it's difficult, but please try to focus.”

“Sorry. Well, I think it's safe to say Tom, my friend, places a fairly high value on it. He told me that if there's ever a fire, this thing gets saved long before I do.”

“Ah, that explains it, then,” he replied. “Don't worry. This isn't some bizarre affliction or anything. The same thing would happen to any of us.”

“Toys from the eighties burn vampires?”

“It's faith, stupid,” Sally groaned.

“This is a toy, not the Holy Grail. I've never been much of a church goer, but I'm pretty sure faith is all about...”

Ozymandias leaned forward and held up a hand. Having an inkling of what he was capable of, I immediately shut up. “Forget what you know. Faith has nothing to do with Jesus, Muhammad, Odin, or whomever. Faith is a form of magic - protection magic, to be precise. As a matter of fact, it's probably one of the last forms of real magic that most humans can tap into.” Seeing my look of confusion, he continued. “Tales of vampires have been around for millennia. Obviously, by now, you realize that the reason there have been stories about us is because we're real. It's not much different with wizards, sorcerers, and the like. Mankind has legends about magic dating back thousands of years, and that’s because some forms of magic are real.”

“Most of the real stuff is lost to history. That's why you don't see people shooting lightning at each other on the freeway during rush hour,” Sally added.

“Exactly,” he agreed. “Personally, I blame the Christians for that. Once they decided to equate magic with the devil, which is completely idiotic by the way, it was all downhill. All it took was a few short centuries for most of it to be completely forgotten. But forgotten doesn't mean it's entirely gone. Faith is one example of that.”

“Okay, so how does faith translate into a vampire-burning action figure?” I asked between bites of my appetizer.

“Faith is all about belief. All religions have that part right. What they have wrong is that it doesn't have to be related to God or angels. It can be in anything. If you believe in something enough, you can actually invest it with a portion of your life force, energizing it with a bit of white energy. This energy, in turn, has an effect on our kind that is not dissimilar to that of the sun. The whole myth about crosses burning vampires is actually just a misunderstanding. People assume they're calling upon the wrath of God, when, in actuality, it's their belief in the symbols of the church that's doing it. It doesn't matter the vessel. A person could empower a cross, a star of David, or a ham sandwich if they believed in it enough.”

“I think I get it. That certainly explains Tom's toy.”

Ozymandias nodded. “Yes. It also explains that your friend has some seriously messed up priorities.”

I thought about the whole thing for a moment and then asked, “So, how far could a person take this?”

“Therein lies the potential problem for us. The stronger the faith, the stronger the effect. Fortunately, most people can do little more than empower trinkets, if even that. However, in the past, there have been individuals...” he trailed off for a moment. “Problematic individuals, with a belief in themselves so great that they became walking, talking weapons against us.”

At that, I gave my best Keanu Reeves impersonation. “Whoa!”

“Indeed. We, as a people, have not always lived in the shadows. In the past - several times, as a matter of fact - there has been both open relations and outright warfare between vampires and humans. Some of history's legendary heroes were actually those of great faith who waged war against us. They were known as Icons, short for Icons of Faith, obviously.”

“Icons? Okay, so like...” I egged him on. No way was he telling me a story like this and weaseling out of the details.

“Achilles would be a good example,” he said after a moment's thought.

“Achilles? Didn't he fight at...”

“Troy,” he finished the thought for me. “Yes, this much just about everyone knows. What people don't know is that Troy was a vampire city.”

“No way. Really?”

“Oh, yes,” he went on. “Some of our kind had to go to great pains to convince Homer to leave out certain details from his tale. Anyway, as the story goes, this was a bit before my time, mind you, there actually was a Helen of Troy who sparked things off. However, she was just a lesser mistress to the head of one of the Greek city-states. The Greeks had apparently been looking for an excuse to wage war on us. Nothing silly like 'kill the demons,' of course. Troy was a major trade rival to Athens and Corinth. When one of our ambassadors made the mistake of turning Helen, the Greeks just used it as an excuse. Forget any claptrap you learned in school. Nobody sieges a city for a decade over just one woman. This was all about gold and jewels.”

“And Achilles?”

“A raging egomaniac, but also one of their best warriors. Since his belief in himself was genuine, though, he was all but untouchable to our kind...an Icon. Over the years, his lethality to our people has been twisted into a legend of semi-divinity.”

“That's...pretty badass,” I had to admit.

“Badass, unless it was your ass he was frying,” said Sally.

“Exactly,” Ozymandias took another sip from his cup. “Fortunately for us, persons like him are every bit as rare as you, Dr. Death, which brings us back to what I was trying to tell you earlier. If you want to have a chance in Hell of surviving, you need to play that up. There isn't a vampire within five hundred miles who is old enough to have met another freewill. There’s no reference point, thus you're an unknown. Amongst an ageless people who are used to seeing and knowing all, that's a frightening thing. It is in your best interest to become the thing that’s hiding under the monsters' beds.”

“So, how do I do that? The entire coven practically saw me piss myself with fear last week.”

“Practically?” quipped Sally. Bitch! “Don't sweat it. Everyone freaks out when they're first turned...especially those who immediately have a stake shoved in their face. The fact that you had enough sense to fight back actually impressed the hell out of a lot of them, not that they'd admit it to Night Razor. They're also aware that you got away, as opposed to being kept under lock and key. That stirred the gossip pot even more.”

“About that 'got away' part...”

“I may have exaggerated a few of the details to the rest,” she flashed me a sly grin. “Night Razor had me tracking you down all week.”

“You have my driver's license. What did you need to track?” I asked, amazed at how differently my return to the vampire fold was playing out than I had expected.

“As I just said, I fudged the truth on a few things. You're still my problem, as far as Jeff's been concerned, so I've been tasked with the job. Thus, who's to say you haven't disappeared into the bowels of the city for the last several days?”

Ozymandias stepped in. “And now you've had a whole week to adjust and get used to your powers. The vampire who returns to them tonight will certainly not be the same one who escaped them out of desperation last week,” he said that last part with a wink.

“I think I get it,” I replied, not getting it in the slightest.

“Good. After this weekend, your reputation will only spread.”

“How?”

“You'll see,” he flashed me a predatory grin. “For starters, though, you're going to have an eventful night tomorrow.”

“I am?”

“Indeed,” he confirmed. “I have arranged for a little hunting expedition for you, having reminded Night Razor that, as your master, it's his job to make sure you're able to survive. Now that you've been found again, he can do just that.”

“He's done a pretty shitty job so far.”

“Which I have also mentioned. Thus, you and he will be going hunting together tomorrow night.”

Uh oh. Jeff kicked my ass fairly easily last time. I wasn't really enjoying the idea of a little alone time for a repeat performance.

“Just the two of us?” I asked.

“Building castles in the sky...” Sally sang.

“Yes,” said Ozymandias, ignoring her asshole remark. “You've been rogue all week. That’s problematic for him. Any carnage you caused could come back to haunt him. At the very least, you’ll need to learn to find and hunt prey in a way that's subtle...or as subtle as we get. As your sire, it’s his duty to show you this. If you're alone together, then anything that happens will be open to speculation amongst the rest of the coven.”

“If we're alone, he can also drag me into an alley for an all night ass kicking,” I protested.

“Doubtful, since he knows I'm in town. However, it’s possibly a necessary evil that you'll have to endure.”

“At least he can't compel you to just stand there and take it,” Sally added, the look on her face telling me she wouldn’t lose any sleep regardless of what happened.

She did have a point, though. In such case, all I’d have to do was somehow spin running away from him like a pussy into a positive story for the rest of the coven, and I'd be all set.

Goddamn, this was going to be a long weekend.

Date Night

Sally and I left James sitting there, drinking espresso - damn that was going to be one wired vamp - and walked back to the village. As we got to within a few blocks of the loft in which I’d been turned, she informed me that we were about to enter their (our) territory, and that there would, no doubt, be eyeballs watching us.

“Stop slouching. Walk straight with your head up and facing ahead. You need to look like you own the place,” she said.

“I don't slouch.”

“You look like you're studying the sidewalk. You might as well have a sign that reads ‘Professional Victim’ hanging around your neck. Walk like I do.”

“Like my ass is available to the lowest bidder?”

“I'm surprised you haven't made me an offer yet. You look like somebody who needs to pay for it.”

“Thanks. Maybe I should just pledge my undying loyalty to Jeff.” I adopted a mock-sniveling tone. “Oh, and, by the way, master, Sally's trying to fuck you over behind your back.”

“Touché. But it still doesn't change the fact that you need to exude a little bit of this thing we call ‘confidence’.”

She was an arrogant bitch, but she was an arrogant bitch with a good point. I stood straighter and tried to put a bit of a swagger in my step.

“Tone it down a little, Superfly,” she said out of the corner of her mouth.

“What? You said to walk with confidence.”

“Yeah, but that doesn't mean you have to shuffle like some seventies pimp.”

I tried what she suggested until she finally agreed that it was acceptable.

“Oh, there's one other little detail,” she said, stopping. “Just to give things an air of authenticity.”

I was about to ask her what, when she suddenly flung herself into a pile of trash on the sidewalk. Before I could even speak a word, she was back on her feet and launching herself face-first into the side of the nearest building.

“What the fuck?”

When she was finished with her insane self-inflicted assault, she stood before me - covered in grime, small cuts, and with several bruises on her face.

“Ta da!” she said with a smile. “Now it looks like I successfully tracked down the ferocious Freewill.”

Holy shit, this chick was psycho. What the hell had she and Ozymandias dragged me into?

* * *

We went straight to the loft from there, and Sally let us in. I was trying my best to look stone cold pissed off, but I felt it was only a matter of time before I shit my pants. If I was going to do this, though, I'd have to dive in feet first. Otherwise, I might find myself remembering that this was a nest of hardcore killers and start looking for another window to throw myself out of.

There were about a dozen vampires scattered around the room, far less than the week before. No party scheduled for that night, I guess. There were three vamps, a male and two females, seated on the couch. I recognized the guy as one of the goons who had dragged me back up to the loft, following my impromptu skydiving lesson the week before. On the floor in front of them was a dead, presumably exsanguinated, body. The trio on the couch was all covered in blood, so I assumed we had entered just as they were finishing up a meal. This was the perfect opportunity...the best way to show dominance to a predator was over a fresh kill. I just hoped it wasn't also the perfect opportunity for me to blow it and get my ass put through a wall.

I shoved past Sally (who fell back much more dramatically than the push had warranted) and approached the couch. All three vamps glanced toward me and I could’ve sworn I noticed a little air of uncertainty about them. However, when the male spoke up, his voice had nothing but douchebag bravado behind it.

“What the hell are you staring at, cockface?”

Okay, it was now or never. Guess it was time to see if that semester I put in with NJIT's drama society paid off. “My name is Dr. Death,” I replied calmly.

“My apologies, Dr. Death,” he spat, eliciting a few giggles from the lady vamps.

“I don't believe we've been introduced,” I continued, my tone even, almost friendly sounding.

“Name's Dusk Reaper.” Jeez, every moniker here was stupider sounding than the last.

“Nice to meet you. Now listen up, Dick Reaper. You're sitting in my fucking seat,” I willed my voice to be calm and made sure not to break eye contact - hey, it works for dogs, figured I might as well try it here.

“What the fuck did you call me, asshole?” his voice rose, drawing attention from the other vampires in the room.

In my mind, I envisioned my Elven battlemage. He wouldn't take shit from anyone. He once stared down an entire tavern full of angry bugbears; no way would he back down from this asshole. I let years of role playing experience take over and envisioned that this was just another random encounter. It was time to throw down my twenty-sider.

“You heard what I called you,” I sneered. “More importantly, you heard what I told you. You're in my seat. Get. The. Fuck. Up. Now.” My emotionless tone would have made a Zen master proud.

“Or what?” he replied. His voice still held its original menace, but I could see a glimmer of doubt in his eye (I hoped). He wasn't expecting this.

Ignoring his question, I casually swept my gaze toward the body on the rug. “Is this your handiwork?”

“Damn straight. Drained him like a stuck pig.”

“Nasty what happens when a human gets drained by a vampire,” I said conversationally. This was it, sink or swim. Please work! “Ever see what happens when someone like me drains a vampire?”

That stopped his attitude dead in its tracks. I could see it in his eyes. Goddamn it, Sally and James were actually right.

“No,” he stammered.

“Well, you're going to,” I put an edge into my voice, “if you don't fucking move...NOW!”

There was a tense pause as we locked eyes...and then, amazingly, he blinked first. Looking like a petulant child who had been sent to bed early, he got up without a word and stalked off. I, in turn, sat down, leaned back, and put my feet up on the corpse (gross!) like I owned the place. The two ladies got up to follow him. As they did, I said in my best arrogant tone, “When you decide you've had enough of Dick Raper there, come on back and I'll show you how to make a Dr. Death sandwich.”

One gave me a look of outright disgust as she stormed off, but the other gave me a much less hostile glance that said that maybe, just maybe, there'd be a chance in hell of that happening. Damn, I'd been acting like an alpha dog for less than five minutes, and already I was seeing more results than I ever did before. Note to self: remember this shit.

Of course, Sally had to go and ruin it by sitting down next to me. She carried herself meekly, but it was just an act. “Smooth,” she whispered low enough so that the others wouldn't overhear. “You'd sleep alone at a sex addicts’ convention.” Bitch.

Sally aside, though, the exchange between Dusk Reaper and me appeared to be having its desired effect. There were a lot of whispered conversations going on in the room, and a quick scan showed that few vamps in the crowd were willing to make direct eye contact with me. So far, so good.

Unfortunately, almost as if on cue, I heard a familiar voice angrily yell out, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I turned my head to see Night Razor come stomping out of one of the bedrooms, looking as much the douchebag as ever. In tow followed the cute redhead I had seen the previous week, looking quite disheveled, I might add. Whatever I might think of Jeff, it was obvious he was getting tail from whomever in the coven he felt like getting it from. I really needed to put in an application for his job.

Oddly enough, though, his wrath wasn't directed toward me...at least not yet. His focus for the time being seemed to be on chewing Dusk Reaper a new asshole. You can probably guess the reason.

“You're eighty-four goddamn years old, and you're going to puss out to this?” Night Razor gestured toward me as he screamed in the other vampire's face. I felt Sally's boot strike me quickly on the side of my shin (Ouch!) while he continued bitching Dusk Reaper out. She didn't need to remind me. Whatever happened in the next few minutes would either make or break me, literally.

“Sorry...Razor, man. It's just that...he's...y'know,” Dusk Reaper stuttered.

“Don't start with that freewill bullshit,” Razor barked. “I thought you were smarter than that. (Really? I personally wouldn't have given Doofus Reaper credit for being smart enough to tie his own shoes.) Now stop being a fucking pansy and GO SHOW HIM WHO'S BOSS!”

No doubt about it, I could feel the force of the compulsion from where I sat. Dusk Reaper's eyes momentarily glazed over, and then a look of pure hatred spread across his face. He started slowly advancing upon me, Night Razor looking on approvingly. It was time to test whether Ozymandias knew what he was talking about. Trying (and almost failing) my damnedest to remain calm, I locked eyes with my would-be attacker.

With each step he took, I pulled back my lips a little baring more of my fangs. I also visibly tensed my body, as if preparing to launch myself at him (a bluff, but then again, that bugbear encounter had been one, too. I was only fourth level at the time, after all). All the while, I never let my eyes waver from his. At the third step, his body started to quiver, and his movements became a little jerky. At the fourth step, I noticed the look on his face starting to waver as well.

By the time his foot came down a fifth time (I was quickly running out of room), he stopped and broke his gaze from mine. He shook his head a little, as if clearing his thoughts, and then turned to Night Razor.

“It's all good, man. I was just heading out, anyway. Really,” that last part coming out perhaps a bit whinier than he had meant it to. Night Razor and I both glared at him. Mine was still a bluff, but I was pretty sure Razor was getting ready to eviscerate the other vamp. To his credit, Dusk Reaper sensed this and beat a hasty retreat to the door, although he tried to save some face by turning to me as he opened it. “Next time, motherfucker,” he weakly growled, but there was no real conviction to his voice. Finally, he shut the door behind him and I took my first breath in what felt like an hour.

Night Razor slowly turned toward me, his hands curling into fists. I was definitely not out of the woods, yet. An ass-stomping by him now would probably knock down the giant wall of self-serving bullshit I had just built - that, and it would also hurt...probably a lot. Healing factor or not, I found myself not loving pain any more now than I did whilst still alive. Fortunately, I had a six hundred year old life preserver to cling to.

“Ozymandias says ‘hi,’” I said before he could do anything that I might regret. That appeared to give him cause to reconsider. He apparently knew James was in town and likely to visit. Night Razor wasn't even remotely afraid of me, that much was obvious. However, I was pretty certain whatever craving he had in him to beat the snot out of me was outweighed by his lack of desire to deal with James afterward. I had seen James in action, and Jeff's reaction to it. In a fight, he would eat Night Razor for lunch, and then probably still have enough left in him to use me as a toothpick.

I was certain we both knew the cause for his hesitation, but I still had an illusion to maintain for the others. As he just stood there glaring, I bent down and dipped my finger into the wound in the corpse's neck. I brought my hand back up and contemptuously licked the blood off of it. In practice, it was a pretty gross thing to do, but I bet it looked pretty damn cool. Yeah, it would have been a bit more badass if maybe I looked more like Vin Diesel, but you work with what you have.

Sally, to her credit, jumped right in and played along. “Okay, that's it. I've had enough,” she said with just a slight quiver to her voice. Leaping to her feet, she went to stand by Night Razor. “I did what you asked me to. I found him and convinced him to come back. But I can't take it anymore. (Ooh, were those crocodile tears rolling down her face? Nice touch.) This fucker is just creeping the shit out of me. Please, master! I'm sorry I brought him here. I didn't know.” She put her arms around Night Razor and buried her face in his shoulder. “Please, forgive me,” she whimpered softly. “I'll be more careful next time, I swear. Just give him to someone else. Let Firebird keep an eye on him and I'll stay here with you. I’ll even do those things you like.” Judging by how pale the redhead's face got, I assumed she must be Firebird. I actually almost found myself hoping Jeff would take Sally up on her suggestion. A little ginger action might be just what the doctor ordered.

Sadly, no redheaded sloppy seconds for me, though, as he shoved Sally away from him. “Tough shit. You made your bed, now you can lie in it. This piece of shit is your problem.” She dropped to her knees and started quietly sobbing. “Whine about it again and I'll compel you to let him do whatever the hell he wants with you.” (Oh, yeah! Please whine again, please whine again.) Night Razor nodded toward the redhead, and she quickly moved to his side. “I'm getting some fresh air. This place stinks.” Before he walked out, he looked me in the eye and said, “I'll see you tomorrow night, meat.” I managed to meet his stare until the door shut behind him, at which point I allowed myself a deep sigh of relief.

Within a few minutes, every other vampire in the place found an excuse to be elsewhere. As the last one closed the door behind him, Sally popped up from the floor and gave me a big grin.

“That went fucking fabulously.”

“Glad you thought so” I mimed wiping sweat off my brow. “Me, I'm not entirely sure I didn't crap my pants.”

“You did great. Enough of the coven saw what went down between you and Dusk Reaper. By the end of the night, everyone will be talking about how you practically ripped his head off.”

“I'm surprised Jeff didn't do that to mine.”

“You played that perfectly. He's not about to cross James. And now he'll have his hands full with damage control, as they're probably also going to be gossiping about how he backed down in front of you.”

“Great. Now all I have to do is keep him from killing my ass tomorrow night,” I said, still a little shaky.

“Yeah, that one might be a bit dicey,” she agreed. “You definitely didn't win any points in his book. You might want to consider not following him down any dark alleys or subway tunnels.”

“Thanks. I kind of figured that.”

“Oh, relax. You scored big tonight. That's the important thing. Sit back, put your feet up, and snack on the leftovers.” She pointed to the corpse. “You might as well enjoy it. You're probably not going to get much of a chance to relax tomorrow,” she said, walking into the kitchen.

Looking to change the subject to something other than my potential future pummeling, I glanced down at the dead body. “Speaking of leftovers, how the hell do you guys clean up messes like this?”

“We pay the cleaning crew very well, and they don't ask questions,” she called from the other room. “As for the carpet, a quick steam clean, and you'll never notice the blood. Scotchgard is a fucking miracle, I tell you.” She emerged from the kitchen, steak knife in hand. “Pity I can't say the same for this dress.” With that, she sliced open the side of her neck. Blood immediately started pouring down her shoulders.

“Jesus Christ!” I yelled, jumping to my feet.

She smiled at me as the blood began to soak the top of her dress. “All for the cause. If anyone else stops by here, they'll learn how I just barely managed to fight you off when you tried feeding upon me.”

“Oh. Yeah, right, I guess,” I stammered. A few minutes ago, Sally had done a good job pretending to be afraid of me. However, I couldn’t help but think that maybe I should be the one who was afraid of her.

* * *

Sally's little display proved to be useful, if completely psychotically insane. The loft was apparently a popular hangout spot for the coven. As such, every couple of hours or so, a group of vampires could be heard walking up the stairs. They would come waltzing in the door, and there would be Sally, lying on the floor, holding her neck (which she had to cut several times due to her enhanced healing), and tearfully crying for help. Each and every time, the vampires showed what a standup bunch of assholes they were. They'd look in horror from her to me (I was mostly just sitting on the couch flipping through TV channels...I love pay per view, especially when I'm not the one paying). I'd give them a glare or two, and then they'd just book the hell out the door faster than they came in. Worked like a charm. I wouldn't have expected vampires to be such pussies, but I wasn't complaining about it, either.

Finally, with the morning sky just starting to lighten, she declared we were probably safe from intrusion for a while, and went off to take a shower. I, being the gentleman that I am, left her to her business (the bitch locked the door) and went to warm up a liter of blood in the microwave. When she came out (dressed, sadly) she immediately headed for one of the bedrooms - suggesting I do the same, as I had a long night ahead of me. That sounded like a good idea. The excitement of the previous night had finally faded, and I was feeling pretty wiped. After first making sure Sally was securely locked in (she was, damn it), I entered the other bedroom, the one that Jeff and the redhead had come out of hours earlier, and then immediately backed the fuck out. I don't know what the hell they were doing in there, nor do I want to. Suffice it to say, holy crap, that was a lot of blood.

After dragging the corpse into the kitchen (damn thing was starting to creep me out), I spent the next several hours asleep on the couch.

Waking up to a face as pretty as Sally's is a dream most men have. Waking up to that face yelling, “Get up, dipshit.”...not so much. I can only imagine how many speechwriters bemoaned the loss of such an eloquent orator when she decided to become a stripper.

“Come on, wake up,” she again prodded.

“Okay, okay, I'm up.”

“You sleep like the freaking dead.” (Well, duh!)

“What's the emergency?” I asked.

“Most of the coven is usually awake by now. Gives us all time to get dressed, do our hair, put on makeup...you know, so we're all ready in time for sundown.”

“Sorry, left my eyeliner back in Brooklyn,” I grumbled, rubbing my eyes.

“Just as long as you didn't leave your deodorant. (Bitch!) My point is that some of the others, particularly Jeff, could be popping in soon. I want to have one more surprise ready for them. Follow me.”

I got up and she led me to the bathroom door. “Punch it,” she ordered.

“Why?”

“Because it was looking at me funny,” she sarcastically quipped. “Just do it.”

Okay, whatever. I pulled my arm back and did as I was told. My hand collided with the door with a meaty thud. “There, happy?”

“What the fuck was that?” she snapped. “I said to punch it, not give it a little ass-slap. Like this” She turned to the door and let loose with a right jab that left a fist-sized dent in it.

I looked more closely at the damage and asked, “Is this metal?”

“Yeah, it's a security door.”

“Why do you have a security door on the bathroom?”

Another fucking eye-roll! I swear there was going to be a head-shaped dent in the door in about thirty seconds. “Isn't it obvious?” she asked. “Sometimes the larder in the basement is full. We use this in case we need to lock up any refreshments.”

Great. A bathroom/meat locker combo: just what every apartment in SoHo needed.

“Now smash the shit out of it,” she commanded. “They'll be able to tell if I did it. Your hands are bigger.”

“Let me guess. You locked yourself in the bathroom last night to escape my evil wrath.”

“See? You are learning.” She patted my head. “Who's a good boy?”

I decided to focus my annoyance with her on the door. I tensed up and then started to rain blow after blow on it. By the time I was done, it looked like I had made a fairly frenzied effort to break in. When I stepped back to admire my handiwork (damn, I kill me), I realized Sally had dragged the corpse back out of the kitchen and dropped it next to me.

“This next part's gonna get a little messy,” she grinned at me.

Suffice it to say, she was right. A few minutes of swinging the dead body violently against the door left the place looking like something out of a horror movie. Sally then tore up her dress from the night before and tossed it into the pile of gore to complete the effect. Anyone walking in out of context would think that a freaking grizzly bear had attempted to tear its way into the bathroom. All things considered, I'm pretty sure that was the plan.

About fifteen minutes after we finished, we heard sounds on the stairs.

She quickly turned to me, said, “Sorry about this,” and then slashed her nails down the side of my face. Fuck! It felt like she had steak knives on the ends of her fingers. What is it with people maiming the shit out of me lately? Before I could protest, she ducked inside the bathroom and locked the blood-splattered, half-broken door.

Without thinking, I ran over and started pounding on it. “You goddamn bitch! I'm gonna rearrange your fucking face!” I screamed, which is apparently what she wanted, as, right there and then, the front door opened and in stepped Night Razor, followed by Firebird, Starlight, Dread Stalker (it's like the retarded Justice League) and two other male vampires whose stupid comic book names I didn't know.

I stopped my attack on the door and stared at them. They, in turn, were frozen in place, trying to take everything in. It must have been quite the scene to make a pack of apex predators just stand there, looking aghast.

It was Sally who finally ended the moment. Before anyone could say anything, the bathroom door flew open (catching me in the face in the process and nearly dumping me on my ass). She came running out, covered in gore, and wearing nothing but a bloody towel.

Throwing herself at Night Razor's feet, she started whimpering, “Thank god! Thank god!” I'll give credit where credit is due. She was pretty damn convincing, even to me.

Night Razor narrowed his eyes at me. Whether or not he bought the little scene in front of him, he was at least smart enough to know that it would make him look bad to act like it. He simply nodded toward Starlight and Firebird and said, “Get her cleaned up.” When neither of them moved, he added a little compulsion to his voice, “DO IT!” That was good. If he needed to use mind tricks to get them moving, it said that they were pretty well freaked.

They gathered Sally up and slowly helped her toward the bedroom. As they passed by me, the redhead, Firebird, spat, “You...inhuman animal,” and just as quickly averted her eyes.

Sensing an opportunity, I sneered and replied, “Keep talking, baby. I like my food a little spicy.” She gasped and moved to drag Sally (who couldn't quite stop herself from giving me another eye-roll...must resist urge to really kill her) a little more quickly toward the bedroom.

Despite outnumbering me four to one, only Night Razor dared to step forward. He walked up and we stared at each other, eye to eye. Yeah, he could’ve creamed me into pulp if he wanted to, but I couldn't let him know that in front of the others.

“When are we going out?” I asked with an even voice. “Because I'm still hungry.”

* * *

“You owe me a fucking door,” was the first thing Jeff said to me as we set out alone into the Manhattan nightlife.

“Bill me,” I shot back.

“I'll do better than that. Just one more thing I'll be taking out of your ass just as soon as Ozymandias is off my case.”

“If you think you can,” I said, feeling the last of my tough guy persona starting to drain away.

“You can cut the shit now,” he spat. “I don't know how you've managed to get Sally running scared, but we both know you're full of it.”

“If you say so,” I got the distinct feeling my voice was going to start cracking any minute now. Amongst the crowd, I was safe. Out here, alone with the guy who both killed me and shortly thereafter beat the snot out of me, I wasn't feeling so good. This was about the time my battlemage would throw down a smoke illusion and run for the hills.

“Just a week ago,” he snarled, setting a fast walking pace, “you were this scared little rabbit who wouldn't even make a kill. Yes, Starlight told me all about that. And now, just a few days later...bam...you're the big bad fucking wolf. Sounds a little too convenient to me.”

I said nothing. I didn't trust my voice to sound like anything stronger than a whimper. Besides which, silence can be a good thing. It would let him form his own conclusions. Maybe, despite all his bluster, he, too, had a shred of doubt about me.

“And that's why I brought this,” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out one of those mini HD camcorders I've seen at Best Buy. “You better shed a lot of blood tonight, because the second you come across as anything other than a complete beast, your little house of cards is gonna come tumbling down. You might as well call yourself Dr. Dead.”

Okay, so maybe there wasn't much doubt there, after all. Shit! Who would have thought vampires would go all high tech? That was a bit of a mind scramble. This was going to require a little luck to pull off.

* * *

I seriously did not fit in with this crowd. I'm actually surprised the bouncer let me in at all. From the looks of the people grinding on the dance floor, I was some combination of too un-cool, too poor, and too uncoordinated to be here. Judging from some of the tittering conversations my overly acute vamp-ears picked up, I may have been a tad too intelligent, as well. Ye gods, what a vacuous crowd. The club's name was Vicarious, a fitting moniker, considering the look of things. It was situated pretty far uptown, almost on the fringe of areas of the city where one might traditionally avoid walking alone after dark. Of course, a good chunk of that was overplayed by people from out of town. The city was a lot safer these days than it had been just a few short years ago. Even so, safer or not, I still personally wouldn't hang out near some areas of the Bronx at night minus a small army of friends.

I wasn’t overly surprised at Jeff's choice of hunting ground. It was far enough away from the coven's base of operations so that it wouldn't be too obvious where any attacks originated from (Although Sally had mentioned to me that the elders in any given area made it a point to keep the wheels of justice well greased so as to make sure a good deal of vampire-related activity was either misdirected or went unsolved). The club was also an ideal place, in that the crowd was mostly young, stupid, and hopped up on any of a number of drugs. On the way there, he’d explained to me, as if speaking to a slow-witted, socially inept child (I resented that first part at least), that it wouldn't be too hard to spot someone in a place like this, someone who could easily be seduced into leaving the club. For most who fell into this category, it would probably be a few days before anyone thought to miss them.

I, in turn, pointed out that maybe someone who looked like him could pull that off, but I was a bit rusty in the seduction department.

“You are just all sorts of fucking pathetic, you know that?” he scoffed. “I know your type. Weak, scared of their own shadow, probably still living at home with your parents.”

“I have my own place, thank you for asking.”

“Okay, sorry. Please excuse me,” he mocked. “Let me guess, you live right upstairs from Mommy. She still packs your lunchbox and washes your underwear. Am I right?”

I tried to ignore his taunts and be the better man, but he apparently took my silence for affirmation, as he then said, “Yeah, I thought so. As I said, pathetic. It's almost not going to be worth the time it's going to take to rip your fucking spine out (okay, well at least that was a step closer to him not wanting to kill me), but I'm still going to.” (Or maybe not.)

I tried not to show that his last statement had brought me a fair ways along toward a complete panic attack, and instead, gave him attitude right back.

“This is all really fascinating. It’s good to know I don't need to pay for a therapist as long as I have you around. But it's kind of ignoring my original point,” I said, trying to steer him away from thoughts of brutally murdering me.

He gave a contemptuous sigh. “I can't believe you even need to ask this shit. You're a vampire now. A superior fucking being.” He looked at me from the corner of his eye. “In theory, anyway (fucking douchebag!). Still, there are plenty of ways you can seal the deal.”

“Very well, enlighten me, oh, master of the night.”

“For starters, there's compulsion. It doesn't work as well as it does between us...or most of us. Usually, though, a vampire can plant a suggestion in the mind of a weak-willed human, if they concentrate enough and are of sufficient skill and power. But since you have neither (fuck you!), I guess that's out of the question. Relying on charm and charisma is probably also out for you.”

“It's great to hear about all the ways I'm not going to score. Really, it is. But how about something that might help me?”

“You could show them your fangs,” he answered. “Some girls still go nuts for that Twilight bullshit. There is, however, one method that never fails, even for someone like you.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small vial, which he then tossed to me. I held it up and examined the contents, a fine white powder.

“You want me to coke them up?” I asked incredulously.

“They don't call it whore bait for nothing.”

* * *

The second we entered the club, Jeff ditched me - so much for this being a father/son outing. Of course, before doing so, he warned that the next time he saw me, I’d better be covered in blood. Wonderful! But when in a meat market, it’s best to get shopping.

Okay, so that turned out to be easier said than done. My first few attempts to strike up a conversation were met with me being completely ignored. My third was a bit better. I got laughed at when I tried to show off my fangs, but better reaction than indifference, I suppose. Guess I don't look effeminate enough for that one to work. It was then that I spotted a girl sitting alone at the bar. She was a cute, petite thing in a white dress that left little to the imagination (including that she was either chilly or sitting under an A/C vent). Most importantly, judging from the empty shot glasses in front of her, she looked to be pretty well on her way to Margaritaville.

I approached her and tried to think of the best way to strike up a conversation. In the end, though, I couldn't come up with anything appropriately smooth sounding. So, I opted instead just to dangle the vial of drugs in front of her face and say, “Hey. I got coke.” Okay, so maybe there's some small part of me that can understand all of Sally's eye-rolls.

Credit where credit is due. Much to my surprise, Jeff was right. Her eyes immediately lit up at the sight. She gave me a naughty little grin and licked her lips. “You thinking maybe a blow for a little blow?” she purred. Damn, and to think I've wasted the last decade or so trying to actually talk to women. I was about to respond with something appropriately cool like, “okay,” when I saw her eyes go wide at the sight of something behind me.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” an angry voice growled. “You macking on my woman, asshole?”

I spun around and came face to face with one ugly son of a bitch. He had a shaved head and several bad tattoos running up and down his tightly muscled arms. Twenty-four years of instinct came into play and I immediately tried backing down.

“Sorry, man. Just a mistake,” I said, trying to slip the drugs back into my pocket.

However, the girl, proving that all women are sisters in that they all share a gene that lets them become instant bitches, decided to 'help' the situation along.

“This fucker was trying to slip me something, Mike,” she accused in a voice that suggested she got off on watching her boyfriend kick the crap out of guys like me. Oh, shit.

“Oh, yeah?” growled Mike, balling his hands into fists. “Trying to slip my girl some X? Probably only way a faggot like you is gonna get laid.”

I was about to try the old “I don't want no trouble, pal” routine to weasel my way out of this, when I remembered why I was here. I was a goddamn, supernatural creature of the night. Why should I be taking shit from anyone? I could take apart this whole place with my bare hands if I wanted to.

I decided to play it tough.

“Back off, fuckface,” I sneered. Oh, yeah, this felt good. “Your bitch is a lying little slut. Before you came back, she was practically begging for my dick,” I got in his face. I could get used to this alpha dog thing.

We both made a move at the same time. I was faster. I was stronger.

Unfortunately, he was better.

Several years back, I saw this movie called Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires. It was a low budget flick that pitted kung-fu masters against the undead. Here were these karate guys kicking the ever (un)living shit out of a pack of vampires who had ravaged the land. At the time, I had laughed. Maybe I shouldn't have.

Before I knew it, I was immobilized in an arm lock, experiencing my face being repeatedly smashed into the top of the bar. I was just starting to see a head-shaped dent appear in it, when I felt multiple sets of arms grab hold of my body. Security had arrived to save me. Of course, by ‘save me’, I mean drag my ass to the exit and toss me out into the street. Yeah, that could have gone better. Figures that the one time I try to pick a fight, it turns out to be with someone who could do a reasonable impersonation of Chuck “The Iceman” Liddell.

I could feel whatever damage had been done already starting to heal, so I picked myself up and scurried off. No way was I about to sit there and wait for Jeff's laughing face (and camcorder) to catch up with me. As it was, I very much doubted he had missed my unceremonious exit from the club. Hopefully, he hadn't also captured it on tape. If so, I could count on a lot of unpleasantness in my foreseeable future.

I wandered for several blocks, not really paying much attention. I didn't realize at the time that I was walking in the opposite direction I probably should have been. Getting one’s face smashed into hardwood tends to do that.

I was finally pulled out of my funk by a husky female voice calling out to me, “Hey baby, wanna party?” Turning my head toward the source, I found myself staring at a woman, obviously a prostitute, standing at the mouth of an alley. She looked...well, she looked pretty damn bad. She was overweight and wearing a far-too-small tube dress. Her face lacked several teeth and looked like it had seen its fair share of fists. When people think of hookers, they often want to imagine beautiful and classy ladies of the night, maybe women who looked like Rebecca De Mornay from Risky Business (sorry, but I'm not one of the dozen or so guys who sat through Pretty Woman). The truth was that the vast majority probably looked a lot closer to this mess than some glamorous coed working her way through college.

“Huh?” I wittily replied.

“Wanna party? Ten bucks for an appetizer. Twenty for the full menu,” she had the bored tone of someone who has seen far too much of the world and found it to be an ugly place.

I remembered the purpose for the outing. This was a hunting trip and, despite not having any great desire to go on a killing spree, I couldn't return empty handed. Unfortunately for her, I needed to make a kill, and she happened to be someone who probably wouldn't be missed. Besides which, she'd be better than noshing on a fat naked dude...if only marginally.

I dug out my wallet and showed her a twenty. “I'm kinda hungry tonight,” I said, waving it in front of her. Figures, the best line I've had all evening and it was wasted on a crack whore.

She turned to walk down the alley, beckoning me to follow. I did, mentally steeling myself to act as soon as we were deep enough inside to avoid unwanted attention. I planned to make it as quick as I could. No point in causing needless suffering (for either of us). I'd move to take her from behind, and then quickly snap her neck before taking a bite. It would be fast and minimize any screaming...hopefully.

Luck just wasn't on my side, though. She reached a corner and then stopped. “Afraid I'm gonna have to charge you a little more, sweet thing.”

“Like what?” I indifferently asked, preparing to close in on her.

“Like everything you got, motherfucker,” said a voice from behind me. I immediately felt the barrel of what I assumed to be a gun pushed against the back of my head.

I was rapidly learning that enhanced senses don't mean shit if you aren't paying attention, and of course I hadn't been. I had been so wrapped up in my little killing fantasy that I’d completely missed someone hiding in the shadows, waiting in ambush. I really have to learn to be a little less introspective in the future.

As the gun barrel prodded me forward, three more guys stepped from a bend in the alley. This wasn't exactly good news. Even so, it was also a safe bet that none of these guys were ninjas like that creep back in the club. The advantage might still be mine...if I could avoid a barrage of bullets to the brain. Vampire healing aside, that didn't sound like much fun.

I was going to have to make this fast...so I did, before I could psych myself out of it. The next time I felt the gun owner give me a push forward, I put everything I had into it. Spinning on my heel, I brought up my right arm. Before my would-be assailant's neurons could fire off a message telling his fingers to shoot, my fist collided with his wrist. I heard the snap of bone (not mine, which was cool), and the gun went flying off into the shadows. He screamed and doubled over, holding his shattered appendage.

I almost couldn't believe that worked. Standing there in front of him, I gloated, “You picked the wrong guy to fuck with tonight. When I'm through with...” *CRUNCH*

Oh, yeah, forgot about the other assholes trying to mug me. Note to self: make sure all the bad guys are down before spouting off one-liners. In the meantime...holy shit that hurt! What connected with the back of my head had the consistency of a crowbar, which meant it probably was. Stars exploded in front of my eyes and I found myself on the ground looking up as the three...make that four (my lovely crack ho friend was joining in) remaining assailants started to stomp on me.

It wasn’t exactly my shining moment. However, before I could see whether or not I had enough left in me to mount a counterattack (my ego said yes, my logic center said doubtful), I heard a wet tearing noise. A second later, a human-shaped projectile flew into two of my attackers, knocking them away. Before any of us could make sense of what had just happened, a bloody fist erupted from the chest of the last guy standing above me. A gurgle erupted from his throat and he immediately collapsed on top of me.

It only took a second to push his still-twitching body off, but it was pretty much all over by then. I looked up to see the prostitute, correction: pieces of the prostitute, being flung about. I sat up and caught a face full of her severed leg.

I finally had enough of being pummeled with body parts. Rolling to the side, I managed to push myself to my feet, ready to take down whatever gang banger was closest to me. Turns out, it was hard to tell. There were plenty of body parts close by, but I wasn't entirely sure they were all from the same person. A faint whimper caught my attention. I looked just in time to see the last of my attackers have his head twisted completely around with a sickly snapping that made my wrist break from earlier seem lame in comparison. The mugger dropped, boneless, to the alley floor, very much dead.

“That was...well, there's no two ways about it. That was fairly pathetic,” said Ozymandias, stepping from the shadows.

“I took down one of them,” I lamely replied.

“Alas, two hundred is not exactly an outstanding batting average.”

“What are you doing here?” I tried changing the subject away from my less than impressive fighting prowess.

“Aside from saving you from an embarrassing beating?” he replied. “Seriously, you should have been able to take out attackers of this caliber without breaking a sweat. That aside, as I told you earlier, your reputation would be spreading after this weekend was through. I’ve heard that you've done a pretty good job of talking your way through things. However, talk only gets you so far amongst our kind.” He looked around at the carnage. “Congratulations on your first massacre. It shall not be your last.” He inclined his head to the side as if listening for something. “Now, if you'll excuse me. Try not to do anything silly like fall down and hurt yourself.”

And, with that, he turned and disappeared down the far side of the alley, almost too quickly for my eyes to follow. Damn, maybe he had a point about those espressos.

I was standing there, looking in the direction he had run, and contemplating my next move, when I heard movement from the entrance of the alley. A few moments later, Night Razor came into view.

“What the fuck?” he gasped, skidding to a stop to take in the carnage before him.

Ozymandias had played things perfectly. Now there was a vampire who knew what he was doing. However, it would all be for naught if I didn't do my part. Composing myself as best I could, I started slowly walking toward Night Razor, licking the blood off my fingers as I did so. “Sorry,” I casually said, “I didn't leave you any leftovers.”

His eyes were wide with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. “How the hell...? Last I saw, you were getting your ass dragged out of that club by security.”

That's it? Thank god. He apparently didn't see the event leading up to that. Luck was apparently smiling on me tonight, sorta. Either way, it was time for a little embellishment.

“Some fucker got in my face and they jumped me when I started slapping him around.”

“But how did you...”

“The club was fun and all, but I really needed prey a little more challenging than some teenage ravers. I figured you'd understand,” I smugly said. “So, what's next? I'm all warmed up now.”

He just stood there, glaring at me, so I decided there was one little bit of extra icing to spread on this cake. I gestured down at the camera sticking out of his pocket. “You did remember to tape this, right?”

The Dork Tower

So maybe I should have kept that last remark to myself. That, or I should’ve expected that I'd need to duck. Regardless, I caught one square on the chin from Night Razor, and, once again, found myself on my ass. I guess it was too much to hope that I'd make it through the entire evening without getting hit once. Well, okay; so far, this night, I'd gotten hit several times, but most of them had come from people other than Jeff. Come to think of it, though, maybe that wasn’t something I should be bragging about. On the upside, I was still conscious. Guess my tolerance for beatings was getting better.

We stood there, glaring at each other for a few seconds (okay, I was technically sitting), and then he seemed to think better of the ass whupping he was no doubt contemplating handing out. While I'd love to fool myself into thinking that perhaps he had doubts of being able to take me out (perhaps bolstered by the scene of carnage he stumbled upon), it appeared his reservations were more practical in nature as he said, “We need to get our asses away from this fucking mess before someone calls the cops.”

Pulling myself to my feet, I grudgingly had to admit he did have a point. Subtle this was not. Instead of saying anything pithy that might’ve ended with my head smashed through a wall, I simply grunted my assent with his plan. Without another word, he turned and took off full bore down the alley at a speed that would have made an Olympic sprinter weep. Remembering that I wasn't exactly a slouch anymore myself, I immediately took off after him at a similar pace - not too shabby for someone who came in dead last in every race during gym class.

Just a few minutes at this speed found us several blocks away. I'd definitely have to remember that. It was faster and cheaper than a cab, with the added benefit of not having to be yelled at in Arabic.

The place where Night Razor finally stopped was deep in shadow, several streetlights in the area being inoperative. “Now it's your turn,” he said, his back still turned to me.

Oh, shit, that didn't sound good. I crouched down into a fighting stance (or at least what years of Bruce Lee movies had taught me was a fighting stance) and prepared myself for an attack. What I wasn’t prepared for was the torrent of water that hit me when Night Razor stepped aside. I was blasted off my feet, and worse yet, fuck me, it was freezing cold.

I rolled to the side, out of the spray and, after slipping a few times on the wet concrete, managed to get back up. Night Razor was standing there, grinning, holding the cap of the fire hydrant he had just ripped open. “There. Now you don't look like you just stepped out of a slaughterhouse.”

Fucker! Again, though, he had a point. I hadn't realized that I looked like someone who had just run away from a murder scene (which, oddly enough, was what had just happened). Now I just had the appearance of someone who’d decided to take an impromptu dive into the Hudson. Oh, well, water dries better on clothes than blood, I suppose. That was assuming I didn't freeze to death first...oh, yeah, probably little chance of that happening.

“A little warning next time?” I growled.

“What fun would that be? Besides which,” his voice turned hard, “I think you've gotten plenty of warnings from me already.”

* * *

I made it back to the loft a short while later, still damp, but without further incident. Following my improvised street shower, Jeff unceremoniously announced we were done, and then had stalked off into the night. I didn't need a written invitation to know that his body language clearly said don't follow. So, I didn't. It didn't really matter anyway. I had miraculously both survived the night and given him absolutely zero ammunition to use against me. All things considered, I had probably come out ahead of the curve. That didn't mean I was particularly happy about it, though.

I walked up the stairs, my shoes making sloshing noises with each step, and just opened the door without bothering to knock. Truth be told, I was starting to consider it a second home of sorts. Weird, huh? But I guess once you've been beaten, bloodied, and...oh, yeah...killed in a place, you start to develop an attachment to it.

Anyway, I walked in to find some of the coven milling about and caught the ass end of a few conversations. Most of it seemed to be about me.

“...almost gutted Sally...”

“...fucking animal should be put down...”

“...he even be killed?”

“...lead us in the war against the feet...”

Most of it, anyway. No fucking clue what that last one was about. I wasn't going to be further enlightened either, apparently. All talk ground to a halt as soon as they noticed I had entered the room. It didn't matter much, though, as I wasn't exactly in the mood to be social. Part play-acting, and part being in an actual bad mood, I stopped in my tracks, made eye contact with them all, and simply said, “Get the fuck out.” Which they did.

Once the last one had left (quickly, too, as I gave him a hungry growl on his way out), I checked the rest of the apartment for stragglers. While there was nobody hiding in the bathroom (food or otherwise), I did notice that the mess had already been cleaned up. I guess Sally wasn't shitting me about the cleaning staff. I then checked the bedrooms. The first one was empty (and clean...thank god). The door was shut on the second. I tried the knob. It was unlocked, so I opened it. Sally was lying in the bed. She was wearing pajamas and had a cold compress upon her head. Starlight was sitting by her side, spoon-feeding her from a bowl of blood.

Upon seeing me, Starlight jumped to her feet and turned in my direction, dumping the bowl’s contents onto Sally's lap in the process. At least this time, her eye-roll wasn't entirely directed at me. However, she quickly composed herself and gave a little whimper as I approached. Starlight, in turn, stepped between me and the bed, baring her teeth in a snarl.

“You won't hurt her again, monster!” she barked as if she were an extra in a bad B-movie. I let out a bemused sigh in response.

“Two for the price of one works just fine for me,” I said, taking a step forward. That seemed to deflate whatever bit of bravery she had in her. Starlight's mouth dropped open, and a look of fear crossed her face. She started breathing heavily, her large supple breasts heaving up and down with every breath, practically begging me to cradle them in my hands, and...

Oh, sorry. I did it again, didn't I? I mentally slapped myself back to reality and away from Starlight's inviting cleavage. Before they could mesmerize me again, I stepped to the side and hooked my thumb toward the door.

“Just get the fuck out of here.”

Whatever sisterly instinct she might’ve had toward Sally evaporated at my giving her an out. She gave Sally a momentary look of pity, and then raced past me. A second later, I heard the front door close. As soon as that happened, Sally gave a sigh and started to get out of bed.

“I was just getting comfortable,” she complained.

“Milking it just a little bit, aren't we?”

“What? It's not every day one survives an attack by the legendary Freewill,” she stood and stretched. “So, how'd your hunting trip go? I see you still have your legs attached, so I'll assume it went better than planned.”

I filled her in on the club (leaving out the part about my face and the bar becoming intimately acquainted), the street thugs, and Ozymandias' subsequent slaughter of them. She nodded thoughtfully at that last part.

“Figured he might do something like that. Smart. It'll probably be on the news by tomorrow. Regardless of what Jeff says at that point, the others will put two and two together.”

“You think?”

“No doubt. Congratulations, you really are Dr. Death.”

“Right now, the only thing I am is Dr. Tired. I chased everyone out so I could catch some sleep. If there are no other surprises, I kinda need to be somewhere early tomorrow.”

She considered this for a second and then said, “Okay. You've probably earned it. I think we've spread enough chaos and misinformation for one weekend.”

“Thanks.” I stifled a yawn. “Well, I'm gonna crash. What are you going to do?”

“I was thinking we could...I don't know...maybe crash together,” she purred, sauntering over to me seductively.

My eyes immediately went wide as my mind filled with the possibilities and just as immediately emptied as she yelled, “Psych!” and giggled. Bitch! “Sorry, stud. But I'm heading out to enjoy the rest of the night. If I run into anybody, I'll just tell them how I barely escaped your ravenous clutches.”

“That works, too...sorta,” I commented, somewhat deflated. “Need me to rough you up a bit to make it realistic? I kind of owe you one, anyway,” I remembered how she had clawed me earlier.

“Maybe next time,” she tittered and then went off to get dressed.

* * *

Shortly before sunrise, I found myself on a bus headed toward Newark, New Jersey. I had gotten just enough sleep to feel somewhat less dead, when my phone alarm awoke me. Since I was now very allergic to the sun, I took pains to dress for a day out - my attire consisting of a hoodie, gloves, scarf, and sunglasses. The weather was still cool enough so that the outfit wouldn't appear too bizarre, but I still looked like some pseudo uni-bomber-type weirdo. The weather was forecast to be partially sunny early on and then cloudy with a good chance of rain. So, assuming the weatherman was correct (a big assumption), I figured I’d be okay for the trip home. Regardless of how the weather turned out, though, I'd rather be over-dressed than over-cooked.

I reached my stop and then hiked a few blocks to my destination. Upon reaching the apartment complex, I walked over to the correct unit and rang the bell. I waited a few minutes, and there was still no response - not too surprising, considering it was only slightly past six a.m. So, I did the charitable thing - charitable for myself, that is: I leaned on the bell until the door was unlocked from the other side. Unsurprisingly, the face that greeted me was not a happy one.

“What the fuck do you want?” he angrily asked.

Oh, yeah. I still had the scarf and sunglasses on - probably looked like an overly polite home invader. I quickly swept them off to reveal my countenance.

“What's up, Dr. Dave?” I cheerfully greeted my dungeon master.

“Bill?” he drowsily asked.

“Yep.”

“I repeat the question, what the fuck do you want?”

“I'm here for the game,” I replied innocently enough, enjoying messing with him.

“The game isn't for another...what time is it anyway?”

“Almost 6:30.”

“I'm going to shut the door now...”

“Wait. I know I'm a little early,” I pleaded as he made to close it on my face. “But it's important.” The door stopped. “I kinda need your help. Seriously. I wouldn't be bothering you like this otherwise. You know that.”

“If you're fucking with me, your character is going to be in a world of hurt.” he threatened from the half-closed door.

“Trust me. If you don't find this interesting, then be my guest. You can line up the elder gods to take turns corn-holing Kelvin, and I'll sit there and take it, smiling even.”

That assurance seemed to satisfy him, oddly enough. He sighed and stepped aside to let me in, grumbling, “I guess I'm already awake anyway.”

We went into his apartment and he locked up behind us. After ascertaining that what I had to say was important, but not life or death important (at least not anymore), he excused himself to grab a quick shower and maybe a Red Bull or five to wake up. As I waited for him, I checked to make sure most of the blinds were drawn, although there wasn't much to worry about in that case. On the best of days, Dave typically kept his apartment illuminated in a manner similar to a cave. His job kept him from seeing any form of natural light for most of the week, and I guess he figured there was little use in dealing with it for the short time he spent at his home awake.

About twenty minutes later, he returned looking much fresher, if not entirely happier. As I stood there debating how to begin, he started taking game manuals down from his bookshelf.

“Since you're here, you can tell me what's going on while you help me set up. Maybe afterward we can go out and grab something to eat before the others arrive.”

“No problem on the first, although I might have to decline the second. I really can't go out.”

“Can't?”

“Can't,” I assured him.

“I'm not going to get a visit from any cops looking for you, am I?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Probably not,” I answered, only half joking.

“Good to know. I'd rat you out in a second anyway. Grab the chairs from the kitchen and bring them out, okay?”

I did as instructed and then decided to dive right in. “So, basically, I need you to write me a doctor's note.” Did I say ‘dive right in’? Maybe dip in a toe and test the waters was more like it.

He stopped what he was doing and looked at me questioningly. “A doctor's note?”

“Yeah, you know; those things that people like you write for your patients.”

“Is someone beating you up on the playground again and you want to skip gym class?” he quipped, resuming his game-day preparations.

“Not quite. I need an excuse to not have to go into work.”

“Laziness isn't a disease,” he stated.

“Not like that,” I protested. “I need an excuse so that they let me work remotely on a permanent basis.”

“Dude, it's like what? Maybe one train to get to your office.”

I shook my head. “You're not getting it. I can’t go into the office during the day.”

“Okay, I'm listening. Why are you suddenly allergic to work?”

“It's not work that I'm allergic to. I had a bit of an accident the other week,” I confessed. “It's why I missed the game.”

He gave me a quick once over as we set up the game table. “You look fine to me.”

“Yeah, well, if you examined me you wouldn't think I was fine.”

“What would I think?” he asked, deadpan.

“You'd think I was deceased,” I answered in the same tone.

He laughed. “And I suppose somebody cast resurrection on you.”

“I'm not joking.” I took a breath...here we go again. “Last week, I was bitten by...a vampire. I died and came back to life as one of them.” He once again stopped what he was doing and began to open his mouth, but I cut him off before he could say anything. “And, yes, I already know how stupid, crazy, and pathetic it sounds. And, no, this isn't some stupid joke me and the rest of the party came up with to mess with you. And it's certainly not some delusional drug trip because I stayed up all night doing bong hits while watching Twilight. This is real.”

“Why would you take hits during Twilight?”

“Oh. Ed and I were playing a game, take a puff every time Robert Pattinson said something fruity sounding. We were completely wrecked by the end of it.”

“I bet,” he said. “But let's get back to this vampire bullshit.”

“It's not bullshit. Here,” I held out my arm, “look for a pulse.”

He gave me a dubious glance, but did as asked. He felt for it, shifted his grip a few times, and gave me a puzzled look. He then reached over and felt for a pulse on my neck, I guess just in case I was doing something to cut off circulation to my arm.

“Just let me know when you're finished feeling me up,” I said.

He pulled his hand away and hesitated for a second or two. “Okay, that's a little...odd.”

“You do know how to check these things, right?”

He gave me a withering glare in return. “Wait right here,” he left the room, returning a few moments later with a stethoscope. “Take off your shirt.”

“Should I also take off my pants and cough?” I cracked wise.

“You're getting real close to an agonizing and embarrassing death for your character,” he warned. Some people just have no sense of humor. I did as told, this time keeping any comments to myself, and he spent the next minute or so searching for a heartbeat. When he pulled back, the look on his face said he was completely perplexed.

“Let me guess...he's dead, Jim. Right?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

He just kinda shrugged in return. “There's definitely something going on in there...I just can't call it a heartbeat.”

“Well, while you're contemplating whether to break out your zombie survival kit, chew on this,” I said, opening my mouth and extending my fangs (I had been practicing).

He was starting to get a bit of a far away look in his eyes, as if considering something. “If you are fucking with me, I gotta admit I'm pretty flattered at the effort.”

“Sorry. No such luck.”

“So...can you do anything else?” he asked.

I frowned. “There's this eyes-going-black thing I've seen. I'm still working on that one, though. I’m still pretty new to this.”

“The vampire's apprentice?”

“Not quite,” I continued. “Let's see...I'm stronger than I was before. Oh, and then there's that whole sunlight thing.”

That seemed to perk him up a bit. “That really happens?”

“Yes. Why do you think I need a note?”

“Show me.” He seemed to be growing excited at the prospect.

“No.”

“Show me,” he insisted.

“It hurts like a motherfucker,” I argued.

“You want me to write a doctor's note, you show me.” Fuck, I was afraid it would come to this.

“Okay,” I sighed. “Just do me a favor and grab a wet towel or something first.”

He did so while I rolled up one of my sleeves. I glanced out the window. It was definitely starting to cloud up, but there was still some sun shining through. I'm sure it would be more than enough. Damn, I had really been hoping to avoid this. Next life, I'm going to make it a point to find friends who are heavier on the trusting and lighter on the sadism. When Dave returned, I turned to him dramatically.

“Behold, lowly mortal! Nothing up my sleeve.”

“Yeah, yeah, get on with it.”

“Showmanship is such a dead art,” I complained. That being said, I pulled back one of the curtains and put my exposed hand in front of the window. As a beam of sunlight fell upon it, it started smoking (AND HURTING!), then ignited with a whoosh of air and a smell not unlike that of cooked bacon (at least I smell delicious).

“That is so freaking coo...” Dave started to say when I cut him off.

“GIVE ME THE FUCKING TOWEL!”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” He tossed it to me and I immediately used it to douse my hand. I don't care if I live to be a thousand; being on fire is a feeling I'm never going to get used to.

Dave sat down and was quiet for a moment, which was fine because I was too busy hurting to hear him. Finally, the pain started to subside (thank you, vampire-healing factor) and I sat down opposite him, still cradling my crispy appendage.

“So?” I asked.

“Okay. I believe you. I must be going fucking mental, but damn if I don't believe you.”

“Good. Because I'm not planning on a repeat performance,” I flatly stated.

“This is just so freaking amazing,” he was getting all excited again.

“Yeah, it's fascinating, I'm sure. So, will you help me out?”

“Dude...” He stepped forward and put his hands on my shoulders. “I think we can help each other out.”

“Okay,” I replied, somewhat dubious as to his motives. “The note?”

“Oh, that? No problem. I'll write up that you've contracted an acute case of solar urticaria. That should do it.”

“And that is?”

“It's a form of photosensitivity,” he explained. “Means you break out in a nasty rash from the sun.”

“Ah. Hide the lie inside of a bit of truth.”

“Exactly. Give that to HR. They'll have to accommodate you. Otherwise you could potentially sue the shit out of them.”

A disturbing thought occurred to me. “What if they want a second opinion?”

“Then you're hosed. Actually, we're hosed. But let's not worry about that. Accommodating you is going to be cheaper for them than hiring a specialist since you're mostly remote already. I'd be willing to bet they just shrug their shoulders and deal with it. When in doubt, always count on a company to play it cheap. Wouldn't be the first time I've seen it happen.”

“You've done this before?”

“People seem to forget that residents get paid shit. If I want to be able to afford to live, I have to either get creative with my skill-set, or get a part time job at Blockbuster. Would you want to rent a movie from the same guy who was sewing your intestines back into your body just a few hours ago?”

“Not really,” I truthfully answered.

“Me neither, and let's just leave it at that.”

“Okay. Anyway, that all sounds like a plan to me. Thanks for...”

“And in return for my help,” he cut me off, “and for sticking my ass out for you, you'll be a part of my research.”

I wasn't expecting that. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Dude, I'm not being your lab rat.”

“Don't be such a melodramatic pussy. I'm talking a few blood and tissue samples here and there,” he explained, still sounding a bit too manic for my liking.

“What for?”

“I've been doing some thinking the last couple of months. I've decided that once I'm done with my residency, I'm going into pure research.”

“Why?”

“I pretty much hate all of my patients,” he said. “They're assholes, and since people in general are assholes, I doubt it's going to get much better. I'd prefer my days to be asshole free, thank you very much.”

“I can understand the desire.”

He sat down and started setting up his dungeon master screen, continuing as he did so, “The problem with research is it's mostly a tiring, thankless job. For every person who discovers something like Viagra, there are a thousand researchers who will never so much as wind up with a new headache medicine to their credit. I am not a big fan of a career spent in obscurity, thus I've been wracking my brain trying to come up with an edge. And voila, out of nowhere you show up on my doorstep. If that isn't divine inspiration, I don't know what is. You, my friend, are going to be my ace in the hole.”

“Define ace in the hole.”

“Immortality, superhuman abilities, regeneration,” he said, motioning to my hand, which was already rapidly recovering from its toasting. “It's all locked away inside you. If I could unlock even a fraction of that potential, I'd be swimming in Nobel Prize groupies.”

“Seems like a lot for just one little work excuse,” I pointed out.

“This could benefit you too, you know. What if I could figure out how to enhance your abilities or, better yet, what if I came across what caused vampires to flame-on under the sun and could somehow block it?”

I thought about it for a few minutes. Sure, his motives weren't exactly altruistic, but he had a point. Maybe some good could come out of it, but we'd need to be really careful.

“Okay, you’ve got my attention. But only on the condition that people can't know about vampires. I'm pretty sure that would bring a world of hurt down on both of us. Believe me when I say there are some seriously scary players in this game. They would not be happy.”

“Of course not. Don't be stupid,” he said dismissively. “Besides which, I discover a way to prolong life, and I'm a fucking god. I tell people it's because I'm experimenting on vampire blood, and I'd find myself locked in a mental ward. Trust me, you would definitely be my silent partner...very silent.”

“Good. Then I'll agree there might be some potential here.”

“I'll throw in an experience bonus for your character going forward,” he said, sweetening the pot.

“Deal,” I said. Damn, I'm a cheap date.

“Coolness. Although we should probably keep this a secret between us.”

“The vampire thing or the XP bonus?”

“More of the latter, I'd say.”

Kicking Ass and Taking Names

It was nice to be able to enjoy an afternoon of gaming. It was something I had started taking for granted, but after the last couple of weeks, it was like a glorious vacation from reality...minus the cost (or the exotic locale, open bar, and hot bikini babes...just trying to keep things in perspective, here). By the time the game broke up, a storm had moved in. I could deal with being waterlogged, as it also meant I could move about freely without fear of turning into a walking tiki torch.

Dave had written me the doctor's note I’d requested and had also typed out a pretty official-looking preliminary diagnosis on some hospital letterhead. He gave me instructions to first talk to my boss and let him direct me to HR. That way, he wouldn't get his panties in a bunch that I'd gone over his head and would thus be less likely to cause a stink. Sounded like good advice. My boss, Jim, was typical middle management in that he wasn't above a little old-fashioned brown nosing. Since he saw me in person, at most, maybe a few times a month, I was fairly confident that a little ego gratification would be all I needed to grease the wheels and get this approved.

I arrived home a couple of hours later, a little damp (a vampire with an umbrella just doesn't sound cool), but none the worse for the experience. I opened the door and stopped dead in my tracks. Tom and Ed's remains were splayed out on the living room floor. Blood was everywhere. They had been slaughtered like cattle.

* * *

Just kidding! Had you there for a second, though, didn't I?

Ed was walking out of the kitchen, a cup of ramen in hand, as I stepped in the door.

“S'up, Nosferatu?” he asked casually. Great, now the vampire nicknames were starting. If I knew Ed, he now had a whole list of IMDB derived names to call me by. Best to ignore him and hope he went away.

I followed him into the living room, where Tom sat. “Ah, the prodigal prince of darkness returns,” he quipped. “I see you made it back in one piece.”

“It was touch and go there for a bit,” I confirmed. “But, yep, no worse for the wear. You guys do anything good this weekend?”

“I took a road trip yesterday,” Ed said.

“Forget us,” Tom interrupted. “What happened with you?”

“Please tell me you tapped that sweet piece of ass that picked you up on Friday,” Ed commented.

To that, I answered in the only way that I could. “Of course. Taught her some new names for God by the time I was done.”

“You're so full of shit,” he said with a smile.

“Maybe,” I admitted. “But I've got all of eternity to wear her down. Eventually, she won't be able to help herself.”

“Yeah, I'm sure Hell has to freeze over sometime,” Tom smirked. “Although speaking of help, I found your note.”

“Good,” I said. “Fortunately, you didn't need to follow my instructions.”

“Yeah about that...what the fuck, dude?”

“What?” I asked.

At which point, he pulled out the note and proceeded to read it aloud.

Tom, Ed,

If I am not back by Sunday night, 9 pm. Send help!

Bill

“That's it? Those are your instructions? Send help?”

“I was in a rush,” I replied. “I'm sure you'd have thought of something,”

“Asshole,” Ed opined.

“Fine, maybe it wasn't the most well thought out plan,” I acknowledged. “So, do you guys want to hear about what went down this weekend, or not?”

* * *

I gave them the rundown on my meeting with James and the whole freewill situation. My roommates thought it hilarious that I was now this legendary creature of dread amongst the vampires. Lots of love there, I tell you. I then brought them up to speed on the whole faith thing and how it worked with Tom's Prime doll. Unsurprisingly, he was ecstatic at the news. I then turned to Ed.

“Tom's covered here, but sorry to say, as far as this faith thing goes, I think you're pretty well hosed.”

That didn't seem to faze Ed much (not that much did). He just grinned. “No worries. I think you'll find I have my rear covered nicely.”

He didn't elaborate, and so I continued with my tale, concluding with my outing with Jeff (minus some of the more embarrassing details) and the subsequent slaughter I was given credit for.

“This Ozymandias dude sounds pretty hardcore,” Ed commented once I had finished.

“No shit. He's definitely on my list of people whose good graces I wish to remain in.”

“Yeah. Although, it sounds like this Razor douchebag is more your immediate problem,” Tom said.

I nodded my agreement. “He's definitely number one on the 'waiting to kick my ass' list.”

“Which obviously means you need to kick his, first.”

“Really?” I sarcastically asked. “And I suppose you know exactly how to do that.”

Now it was his turn to smile. “Fortunately for you, you have caring and competent friends around to make up for your shortcomings.”

I looked from one to the other in confusion. They let the moment fester until it became uncomfortable, and then Ed got up and grabbed something off the kitchen counter. He came back and tossed it in my lap. It was a pamphlet.

“Jeff's a vampire, not a gnat to swat,” I said without picking it up. I had to endure a few seconds of baleful glares before I continued, “Okay, fine. What is it?”

“Krav Maga,” said Tom, a wicked grin on his face.

“Who's that?”

That earned an eye-roll from Ed. Hmmm, if things didn't work out between Sally and me, I might have to consider setting them up. I'm sure that would be a match made in the seventh circle of Hell.

Tom snapped his fingers. “That clicking noise, in case you're interested, is the sound of my opinion of you dropping a notch,” his voice suggesting that I was a small, stupid child. “Krav Maga is a martial art. More precisely, it's the fighting style used by the Israeli Mossad.”

“Whoa,” I said in response.

“Whoa is right,” continued Ed. “They train those guys to fuck up the bad guy's shit.”

“Yep,” Tom jumped back in. “Something like Karate will teach you how to disarm an opponent with a knife. This shit'll teach you to take out a dude holding a gun and then proceed to shatter every bone in his body.”

“Okay, and ...” I prodded him.

“And, while Ed was out, I found a place that teaches it. They offer night classes, so I took the liberty of using one of your credit cards...you really shouldn't just leave them lying around like that, by the way. Anyway, I signed you up.”

“You're too good to me,” I said dryly.

“Aren't I?”

“And where, pray tell, are these classes?”

“In Queens,” he answered.

“Where in Queens?”

Tom mumbled something in return.

“What was that?” I asked, knowing pretty well what he just said...vampire hearing and all. “I didn't quite catch you.”

“A few blocks from Ozone Park,” he said sheepishly.

“You want me to walk around there, after dark? I'll get my ass shot off,” I complained.

“But that’s the brilliant part. It's in a bad area. Think about it. You could potentially be attacked going there. You'll definitely get beaten up during class. And then you could be attacked again coming home. That's like three times the fighting experience for the price. By the time this Jeff douche comes after you, you'll be Chuck Norris.”

“Besides which,” said Ed, “need I remind you, you're a scary-ass vampire now? The criminals should be afraid of you, not the other way around.”

“He does have a point,” Tom added

“Fine,” I conceded. There was some logic to their plan. It was completely insane logic, but logic nevertheless. “When do we start?”

“We?” Ed questioned, raising his eyebrows. “There's no we, here.”

Tom agreed. “We're not coming with you. A person could get killed walking around there after dark.”

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, prior to the past couple of weeks I hadn’t been privy to all that many beat downs in my life. Sure, in high school, I got my fair share of lumps, but that was more due to being a smart-ass than anything else. In retrospect, I probably deserved each and every one of them. The thing is, being a smart-ass also saved me from more than one smack down. People who crack wise tend to cause just as much laughter as abject anger. As such, it tends to even things out and more or less put you in a safe zone...except when you cross the line and say something exceptionally stupid to someone with an underdeveloped sense of humor...which also tends to happen from time to time. Being a wiseass means you sometimes just can't help it.

Then there's the whole geek thing. Most would assume that caused me to endure undue strife during my formative years. However, also contrary to popular belief, people like me are not at the bottom of the high school food chain. Why? Simple. It's because there are a lot of us, and we tend to flock together. As in the wild, there's safety in numbers, because predators don't like to charge directly into the center of the herd. It's a poor hunting strategy. Predators prefer to pick off individuals. In the jungle, this consists of the sick, or the elderly. In school, this typically equates to those socially inept enough really not to fit in anywhere. Loners (except maybe those with the rep of being psychos) are the most vulnerable. Thus, a geek with a decent-sized circle of friends and a quick enough wit to be tolerated by the other social cliques can waltz through school fairly unmolested.

Such was my existence...at least until recently. I might have chalked some of the more recent stuff up to bad luck, but then Tom signed me up for that self-defense class. Now I'm wondering if maybe I inadvertently pissed off a major deity or two.

Now, don't get me wrong, I am a believer that there are plenty of positive reasons to pursue a lifetime learning the martial arts. Some do it for self-defense, some do it for self-esteem, and I'm sure there are some who do it to find inner peace. Then there was the guy teaching my class. I'm thinking that, as a youth, he must have seen The Karate Kid and come to the conclusion that, while he might philosophically agree with the Cobra Kai dojo, they were too big of a bunch of pussies for his tastes. Had I still been a mere mortal, I have little doubt I'd be recounting my memories of this place from a body cast, but we’ll get to that in a moment.

It turned out that Monday morning had gone better than planned. Jim seemed pretty cool, if a little dubious of my sudden “condition.” They had a few programmers upstate who were considered permanent tele-workers, so he didn't see much issue with getting me classified as the same, providing that I continued to meet all my deadlines. I faxed over the documentation Dave had provided, and he promised to get it to HR as soon as possible. I was home free, with only one regret: Sheila. She was pretty much the only reason I ever showed up to the office, period. But as I mentioned before, I doubt she even knew who I was, outside of maybe “that doughy guy who occasionally shows up to collect a paycheck.” Oh, well, maybe it was for the best. If I'd learned one thing in the last couple of weeks, it was the hotter the babe, the bigger the trouble.

Monday night, though, went a lot less smoothly. Contrary to my nerdy little white boy paranoia, the trip to the dojo turned out to be fairly uneventful. Even if it hadn't been, Tom had a good point about me being a vampire. If I was going to be an eternal creature of the night, I should probably, at some point, get over any fear I might have about walking around during it. You don't see tigers making it a point only to stalk their prey in well-lit, middle-class areas.

However, any violence I was spared on the way over was more than made up for by my introductory class. Sensei Berkowitz was a disciple of the school of thought that considered the best way to learn to defend yourself from an ass kicking was to be on the receiving end until you learned to fight back. It turns out that my vampire abilities were actually a major disadvantage in this place. I was strong and fast enough to be able to counter enough strikes that I was almost immediately paired against the advanced students, who then proceeded to take me apart like I was made of Legos. Superior strength and speed were all well and good, but they weren't much help after a solid chop to the windpipe. One hundred and seventy-five bucks a month for the privilege of getting beaten up. I needed to remember to thank my roommates for that one.

By the time class was over, I felt I had learned a lot...as in a lot of different ways to take a punch and a lot of different ways to fall to the floor. Missing Sheila had broken my heart. Attending this class had broken the rest.

Screw that whole nocturnal predator thing. By the time I was done and had gotten back home, all I wanted to do was down a few pints (of both blood and beer) and go to bed. Ed was still awake when I walked in the door. I grunted “hello” and proceeded to the fridge to make good on my plan of action. I grabbed my libations and was shambling to my bedroom when I heard him say, “Someone left a message for you on the machine. I think it was that Sally chick.”

Unfortunately, I couldn't have cared less. I muttered something unintelligible in return, which might have sounded like “Bitch,” and then closed my door behind me.

The Terror That Flaps in the Night

Up until class ended on Tuesday night, things had been similar to the day before: work, then a trip to Queens, followed by two hours of being crippled in new and interesting ways. A couple more decades of this, and I might learn to like it...maybe.

As the rest of the students were leaving, the Sensei called me over to give me a motivational pep talk. This talk more or less consisted of him praising me for being able to take a hit better than any other novice he'd ever taught. Wow, I guess karate really is all about self-esteem, after all. Needless to say, it was all I could do to resist sinking my teeth into this guy on principle alone.

I finally excused myself, murder still on my mind, and started walking the few blocks to where I could grab the bus back home. I was almost there when I heard a sound behind me. Turning to check it out, I was met with rough hands grabbing the front of my jacket. Before I could pry them off, they slammed me hard into the side of a nearby building. The blow knocked the wind out of me for a second (probably not helped by the fact that my body was working overtime to take care of all the bruises I had received in the prior hour). When I finally looked up, there was a pair of angry-looking eyes staring right into mine.

I was not in the mood for this shit, so I shoved back. Thanks to my vampiric strength, the space between me and my attacker immediately widened. Now that my view wasn't as obscured, I could see that there were two of them. The one I had just pushed off me was a large African American with a shaved head. A smaller Latino-looking gang banger stood a few feet behind him. I was hoping they'd be more interested in harassing a victim who was less likely to fight back. Just in case that didn't work, I figured they might be even more inclined to favor a human victim. I opened my mouth and extended my fangs in front of them. Both of them chuckled in response...not quite the reaction I was going for.

“Motherfucker thinks he's scary,” said the large one. He looked at his companion for a second and then they both turned back toward me with their own fangs bared. Oh, crap.

“You guys are vampires, too?” I asked incredulously. I hadn't seen these vamps before. I mean, I was sure there were other vampires than my coven out there. I just hadn't expected to run into them on the street.

“We got us a fucking genius here,” said the Latino one.

“Not that smart,” growled the other. “Thinks he can fuck with the HBC and walk right the fuck out of here.”

“HBC?” I asked sheepishly.

“Howard Beach Coven, asshole. (Oh, okay then.) You should know, since you decided to get all up in our shit.”

“Hold on, guys,” I said, raising my hands in a placating manner. “Sorry. I didn't know this was your turf. I'm from this coven over in SoHo...”

“You're from Village Coven?” asked the Latino, grinning. “You don't look like you fit in with all them Kens and Barbies. They keeping you as a pet, or something?” That caused both him and his large companion to laugh for a moment.

“Listen. It's cool, guys,” I pleaded. “Like I said, I didn't know this was your turf. I'll be more than happy to just leave.”

I started to back away and the big one got in my face again. “Fuck our turf,” he spat. “The other week we started hearing rumors that Village Coven recruited themselves some kind of freak. Then last night, Tito and Big Mike got their asses ashed. Now we find you here pretending to be a little lost puppy. Seem like a coincidence to you, Roberto?”

The smaller one, Roberto, I presume, shook his head. “I don't believe in coincidence.”

“Neither do I,” said the larger one, starting to advance upon me.

“Come on, guys,” I tried to sound as friendly and non-threatening as possible. “Do I look like I could just waltz in here and kill two of your friends?”

“Don't know. Been hearing some strange shit lately. If any of it's true...”

“If it's true, then why would I come back?” I asked, not really liking where this was going.

“Maybe you're stupid,” said Roberto.

Okay, these guys were obviously spoiling for a fight. I don't know what happened to their friends, but they seemed hell bent on taking it out on me or any other innocent vampire (were there other innocent vampires?) that happened to cross their path. I could only think of one other option. It would either get me out of this mess or dig me a lot deeper into the shit I was already in.

I stopped backing away and held my ground, attempting to change my whole demeanor in the process. I willed away the weaseling and instead broadcast (or tried to, anyway) a calm grin toward the two in front of me, as I addressed the big one directly.

“Well, then, if I took out two of your buddies, what makes you think I can't take out you and your girlfriend, here?”

He stopped, indecision on his face. Apparently, El Gigante here wasn't used to someone half his size throwing a challenge into his face. I had to keep pushing it. When you're staring down an alpha dog, whoever blinks first loses.

I took a casual step forward, still trying to think quickly as I said, “Tito and Big Mike, you say? Based on the way they went out, I would have thought their names were the screaming bitch twins. So, how about you, big guy?” Another step forward. “Are you a screamer?” (Was I really saying this?)

“Yo, man...” Roberto started, but I cut him off.

“Shut the fuck up, you little Chihuahua,” I snarled. Oh, yeah, if this didn't work, I was going to be in for an epic level ass beating.

I saw the big guy tense up. Oh, shit! They were going to take their chances. Fortunately, my unexpected (to me, as well) aggressiveness appeared to be doing a job on their overall confidence. As a result, the larger one telegraphed his punch from a mile away. I acted fast and did the only thing I could think of to avoid a face full of fist.

As he started to swing at me, I stepped inside of the punch and latched my arms around him. Before I could think about what I was about to do (and psych myself out of it), I clamped my teeth onto the side of his neck and bit down with everything I had. Yeah, this was pretty fucked up, believe me.

I held on for dear life as blood started gushing from the wound I had just opened. I once again buried my teeth into his neck and kept biting. As I did so, his blood poured into my mouth and down my throat. Whoa! And here I thought human blood was a rush. The vampire's blood burned as it went down, but it was more a fine Scotch than hot coals burning. It hit my stomach with what felt like a jolt of electricity. I already had him in a death grip, but somehow I felt my arms grabbing him even more tightly. I don't know what his blood was doing to me, but I felt freaking amped. Forget those espressos James favored; this was the shit.

I felt hands pummeling my back and trying to gain purchase to pull me off; however, when someone is clinging to you like a new suit, it's a little hard to get any leverage to pry them away. Add in a bunch of gushing blood and I was now a slippery suit as well. Unfortunately, it was that train of thought that once more brought me out of my bloodlust. “So here you are...all lubed up and sucking on another guy,” I heard the voice in the back of my head say. Sometimes my subconscious can be such an asshole.

Still, judging by the fading strength of the big guy's struggles, I had probably taken the fight out of him. I figured I should turn my attention to Roberto, just in case he decided to do something cute...like maybe come up from behind and rip my spine out. I pulled back from the goon's still-gushing neck and gave him a shove. Hot damn, I really was juiced. My push sent him flying back a good ten feet to land in a heap in the middle of the street. This guy must have been over two hundred and fifty pounds and I just dumped his ass like he was little more than ten pounds of shit in a five-pound bag.

The big dude out of the way for the moment, I turned my attention toward Roberto, but I needn't have concerned myself. He was still rooted to the same spot, a look of abject horror on his face. I grinned at him and took a step forward.

He just kept looking back and forth between me and his buddy. “No way, man,” he muttered. “No fucking way!” and with that, his nerve broke. He turned tail and took off down the street, his friend forgotten. What a pussy. I mean, I was sure I had surprised the hell out of them, but it's not like they'd never seen someone's throat get bitten before. Not that I was complaining, mind you. I didn't have to worry anymore about watching my own back. I wasn't sure I'd continue to get lucky, but at least the odds were even now.

Speaking of which, I spun back toward the vamp I had bitten. He was already getting back to his feet. Not too surprising. If I could eat pavement from a third story nosedive and get back up, I was sure this guy could easily take as much, if not more, considering he was built like a truck.

He stood up, one hand to the wound on his neck. I prepared myself for his inevitable charge, mentally debating between standing my ground and cutting my losses and running. The latter was looking to be the tastier option. I'm not entirely delusional. In an all out fistfight between computer geek and street thug, I know which one I'd put my money on. I was ahead on points so far, but if this guy managed to get his hands on me, he'd probably snap me like a toothpick.

As it turns out, though, I was much further ahead on the scorecard than I had thought. His eyes were wide with fear...actual fear (Roberto had been a fairly small guy, but this one looked like he ate dorks like me for breakfast).

“What the hell are you?” he gasped.

Fortunately, the small part of my brain where all my machismo resides was ready and waiting for that question. “Me?” I grinned, showing my teeth, “I'm Dr. Death.”

99 Problems and a Bitch is Definitely One

To my great surprise (and relief), his response to my introduction was to mirror his friend and take off down the street. I must’ve been getting better with the one-liners.

And then it hit me...I had won. I had actually won. No way would my roommates believe it. Hell, I barely believed it. I felt my knees go rubbery and I plopped down onto the curb. My head was still swimming, although whether from adrenaline or the other vampire's blood, I wasn't sure - probably a little of both. But damn, I felt good. If ever there was a time I wished I had the theme from Rocky on my phone, this was it.

The problem with elation, though, is that reality always has to go and stick its nose into things. So, after a few moments of basking in my own greatness (a rare enough event), I remembered that here I was, sitting at eleven p.m. on a curb in the middle of Queens, absolutely drenched in blood. The first conditions were easy enough to fix. It was that latter one which would probably present a bit of a problem. Bus drivers tended to frown upon their riders being all bloody. If this was going to start becoming a habit, I might have to make it a point to go everywhere in a rain slicker.

Any way I looked at things, I couldn't stick around where I was. Who was to say that the two vamps I had just chased off wouldn't be returning with reinforcements? I smiled at the irony. Earlier, I had let my imagination run wild at the dangers of this area. Now I actually found myself with a real reason to fear these streets.

That brought up the little issue of getting home. Mass transit, as well as cabs, was out of the question. Getting a ride without having the cops immediately called on me would be asking for a near miracle, and I had a feeling I was all out of those for the day. I could hoof it. My weekend with Jeff had proven I was capable of some pretty remarkable speed. The problem with that idea was that it was a good ten miles to get home, much further than I had ever even considered running during my life. Also, fast or not, a direct trip home would entail traversing several crowded streets. That left the alternative, several detours, which would add a ton of time to my trip. I stood up and sighed, resolved that I would be getting home pretty damn late.

* * *

On that last note, I was fortunately wrong. A few minutes into my trek, I came across a park with a working fountain. One quick dive later and the worst of the mess was taken care of. I didn't look great, but looking dirty was better than looking like an axe murderer.

About a mile later, I was able to flag a cab. Pretending to be drunk, I let the cabbie gouge me a bit by taking the scenic route home. I had him drop me off about half a mile from my apartment (which my paranoid mind said should be a safe distance), and made it a point to tip him well. I ran full speed back to my place from there. If anyone suspected anything, they'd take one look at me and immediately discount my ability to move from point A to point B as quickly as I did. I sure as hell didn't look like a long distance sprinter.

It was with palpable relief that I entered my home and locked the door behind me. My plan was simple: go to bed, then wake up and beat the shit out of Tom for signing me up for that fucking class. After that, I’d try to contact Sally to see what she might know about those HBC nutcases.

Thinking of Sally reminded me that I still had a message from her on the machine. Wondering what she wanted, I pressed play and listened...

“Yo, Dr. Death...(giggle), just wanted to give you a heads up. James shot me a message while you were out with Jeff. I forgot to mention it before you left. Better late than never, though. He wanted you to know he had some business with a coven not too far from your neck of the woods. Rumor has it they've been exceeding their allotted membership. So, he was planning on sending them a message, if you know what I mean, and he wanted me to let you know he was gonna use your name when he did it...help out your street cred a bit. He said to say, 'You're welcome' in advance.

“Oh, yeah, and you might want to avoid Queens for a while, just in case...” *beep*

Motherfucker! So I almost got myself killed because she was too busy getting babied by Starlight to bother with little details like a whole ass-load of vampires that were going to be out for my blood. Guess that explained a lot. It also meant that my brief career as a martial artist was going to come to an end until this blew over. I fought off two vamps because I managed to psych them out. No way was I taking the chance of running into a bigger, potentially armed group of them. Oh, well, no big loss there, I guess, unless I inexplicably started missing the feeling of getting kneecaps rammed into my sternum.

* * *

The next morning I got up, or more precisely, peeled myself out of bed. Ugh! Whatever I had gotten from that vamp's blood the night before, I was paying for it now. It wasn't exactly a hangover, but more like coming down from an intense caffeine rush (like a few months back when I wound up downing almost an entire twelve pack of Mountain Dew during a particularly intense gaming session). It felt like I had run a marathon (disclaimer: I have no idea what that would actually feel like) and then slammed into a brick wall at the finish line.

I recounted my tale of the night before to my roommates, after downing an enormous cup of blood-infused coffee (if Starbucks ever plans on introducing a type-O Frappucino, I'm there, dude). To my great surprise, Tom actually started to apologize for setting me up with that Krav Maga class; however, Ed cut him off before he could get too far.

“I don't think you need to apologize for bad luck,” he said.

“I know, but I kind of feel bad anyway,” Tom replied.

“That's like apologizing because someone didn't win the lottery,” Ed argued. “You can't take responsibility for coincidences. Unless, that is, you masterminded the whole thing, in which case I am in awe of your amazing abilities.”

“I don't think we have to worry about Tom turning into Doctor Doom anytime soon,” I said, then turned to my somewhat repentant roommate. “Apology, or lack thereof, accepted.”

“Thank you.” Tom raised his coffee mug to me. “I'd hate to have to endure work burdened with such guilt.”

“Bite me,” I quipped.

“That's your thing. Not that I wouldn't make a better vampire than you, anyway.”

“You want to join the party?” I asked.

“Only if that Sally chick is doing the biting,” Tom replied, causing us to all dissolve into laughter.

Once it was over, I decided to broach a slightly less whimsical subject. “Seriously, though, guys, I'm a little worried. What if these HBC assholes figure out where I live?”

Ed nodded. “There's also the little fact that your buddies in SoHo obviously know how to find us. From what you've told me, I wouldn't put it past that Night Razor dick to rat you out to them. Let them take care of his dirty work.”

Oh, crap, I hadn't even thought of that. Forget a compulsion, one phone call and my apartment could be turned into Fort Apache...or more likely, the Alamo.

Tom turned to Ed and asked, “Think they'd let the two of us walk out of here?”

“I don't know. We could always tell them we never liked Bill much, anyway.” Ed grinned.

There was a moment of silence while I just glared at them both and then Ed continued, “Realistically? I doubt it. We'd probably end up as an appetizer.”

Tom sighed. “Yeah, I guess you're right. Not really sure I want to go out like some quesadilla platter. On the other hand, I still have Optimus. He's vampire kryptonite.”

“Good for you. Doesn't help Ed much, though,” I replied.

“True enough. But I took a little time to think that one out already,” he said, sharing a quick smile with Tom.

I looked between the two of them for a second before asking, “And are you going to share this little secret with me, or are you just gonna keep making goo-goo eyes at each other?”

Ed shrugged and then said, “Might as well. Remember how I said I took a little road trip this weekend?”

“Yeah. What, did you go to a church and get ordained for the priesthood?”

“Not quite. I took a little drive out to my stepfather.”

“Over in...” I thought for a second, but couldn't remember the name of the town. “Bumblefuck, Pennsylvania, or wherever?”

“That pretty much sums up where he lives,” Ed agreed. “Out in the backwoods where everything...and more importantly...everyone is relative.”

That elicited a chuckle from us as Ed got to his feet.

“Well, Pop and I had a little talk,” he said to me. “Don't worry, nothing about vampires. I may have exaggerated a bit about our current living conditions, though. You know, how we all live in fear of being mugged and raped by drug dealers every second of our lives?”

I smiled as he walked into his room. It wouldn't have taken much. It was ridiculously easy to convince anyone living outside of the immediate area that the city was, and I quote, “a hive of scum and villainy.” Apparently, plenty of people, especially those in rural areas, had seen Escape from New York at some point in their lives and assumed it was a documentary.

However, that knowledge didn't prepare me for when Ed walked back into the room packing some serious heat.

“What the hell...” was all I could say for a second. “Where did you...” Ed's look answered that one for me. “Pop?”

“Of course. Old man's been getting paranoid in his golden years. You should see the small arsenal he owns. He said this one should help dissuade all the bad guys just waiting to violate our young, middle-class selves.” He gave it a quick pump. “Remington 870, police combat twelve gauge,” he said proudly. When he saw the absolutely blank look on my face, he gave an annoyed sniff and added, “The same gun Sarah Connor used in Terminator 2.”

That rang a bell. “Badass,” I said. “But don't you need a license for something like that?”

“Are you kidding?” he replied. “In Pennsylvania, you can pretty much buy these things on the side of the road next to the fireworks.”

“Yeah, but we don't live in Pennsylvania,” I countered.

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Well, then let's just say if you don't tell anyone, I won't.”

Tom got up to wash out his coffee mug. As he did so, he gave a mock sad shake of his head. “No idea where I went wrong. One minute I'm just minding my own business, and the next I'm shacking up with Dracula and the Lone Ranger.”

Ed just ignored him. “I figured that by the time the city gave me a license, I'd be long since pushing up daisies. Besides which, I'm pretty sure that they ask you your purpose for owning a gun. Writing protection against vampires on the application might raise a few eyebrows.”

“In New York?” I scoffed.

“I did say might.”

“There is the little problem of actually using it as protection against vampires,” I pointed out. “I've seen stakes and sunlight work, but unless that thing shoots solar flares, I'm not sure what good it'll do.”

“What about silver bullets?” asked Tom, preparing to leave for work.

I thought about it for a second. “Not sure. That's usually werewolves, but I think it works against vampires in some stories.”

“Do either of you have silver bullets?” Ed asked. When we both shook our heads, he continued, “Well, neither do I. So, who gives a shit if they work against vampires, werewolves, or the goddamned tooth fairy? It might kill them, or it might not. What's important is that this gun will hurt vampires.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

“Because of you, numbnuts,” he replied. “When you burst into flames, did it hurt? When I stabbed you in the hand, did it hurt? When you jumped out of that freaking window you were telling us about, did it hurt?”

I nodded. Yeah, it had, and in some cases, quite a bit.

“Well, then,” he continued, “that tells me that no matter how strong you are or how fast you heal, your nerve endings still work pretty much the same way as they did before. So, using that logic, a twelve gauge shell in the stomach or maybe the kneecap...”

“Will hurt like a bitch,” I finished.

“Exactly,” he agreed. “Which should give either you,” he indicated Tom, “enough time to run in with your little doll, or you,” motioning toward me, “enough time to do something vampiric to them.”

“Action figure,” corrected Tom.

“What?”

“It's an action figure, not a doll.”

“It doesn't matter,” Ed sighed. “It could be My Little fucking Pony for all I care. As long as it works.”

“Nah,” Tom said. “Last I checked, the market value for My Little Pony wasn't all that high.”

Ed pumped the shotgun again. “Don't you have a job to go to?”

Vampire on Vampire Action

With the exception of Tom's trips to and from work, the rest of the week was spent with us more or less all acting like shut-ins. I just couldn't shake the feeling that I, and by extension, my roommates, was now a target. Fortunately, Brooklyn is a pretty good place to be a recluse, as almost everyone delivers. The problem, though, with being extra careful, was that it was sometimes hard to tell the difference between reasonable precautions and being outright paranoid.

Friday night came and went with no word from Sally or any other denizens of the night (except maybe this homeless guy who accosted Tom for change on his way home). I was lying awake in my bed during the wee hours of Saturday morning, contemplating my weekly trip back to the coven, and debating whether I should borrow Ed's shotgun, when someone buzzed to be let in from the downstairs door. I glanced at the clock: 4:28 a.m. Probably some drunken asshole forgetting where they were.

A minute or so passed and the buzzer rang again. Maybe one of the other tenants had locked themselves out? Possibly, but it’s not like any of us had a master key. Fat lot of good it would do them. Although I guess they could just hang out in the hallway until the landlord could show up to let them in. Another buzz; this one persistently longer. Okay, now it was sounding deliberate. I was starting to let the paranoia creep back in when I realized that a gang of vampires hell-bent on killing me would probably not bother with such trivial matters as waiting to be buzzed in.

I got up, walked out of my bedroom, and crossed to the door. As I did, I noticed light shining from under the doors of my roommates’ bedrooms. Our early morning caller had succeeded in rousing the entire place. I pressed the button to let them up and waited, hoping that the next thing I heard was not the clomping of lots of angry feet on the stairs running up to exact undeserved revenge upon me. Being taken out by a vengeful street gang was one thing, but being taken out by a vengeful gang that I had purposely buzzed in...well, that would just be sad.

However, no sound of multitudes of running feet drifted to my ears. All I heard, after a minute or so, was one small set of footsteps taking their sweet time coming up. A moment later, I spotted a head of blonde hair rising up toward the landing...Sally.

I stepped back to let her into the apartment and there was Ed, waiting for us, shotgun raised. I looked behind him to see Tom standing near the door to his bedroom, his faith empowered action figure held out in front like a shield. Oh, well, I guess I couldn't blame him. No matter what we may know to be true, a gun was always going to make someone feel a little braver than a piece of plastic.

Sally entered and after Ed saw she was alone, he lowered the weapon, a look of relief crossing over his face.

“Nice little gun,” she said to him.

He quickly composed himself and replied as nonchalantly as he could (which wasn't very much, all things considered), “I have a bigger one in my pocket if you want to see it.”

That actually elicited something resembling a smile from her. “I'll pass. Now, why don't you go take a shower and freshen up? You reek of desperation.”

He turned a little red, and Tom chuckled at that. As for myself, I closed the door behind her and said, “Since I don't remember booking a bachelor party, shall I assume this isn't a social call?”

“Ooh, you're snippy in the morning,” she cooed.

“I've had a hard week...in no small part thanks to you.”

“And, yet, you survive to complain about it,” she countered. “Still, that's why I'm here. There's been some weird stuff going on and I wanted to check in with you.”

I batted my eyes at her. “Worried about me?”

“Don't flatter yourself.”

“Yeah, don't flatter yourself,” cut in Tom, Transformer still in hand. “She was obviously worried about me.”

“I was, but now I see you have your teddy bear.” She motioned toward the doll...action figure that is, and then back to me, “I swear, Bill, I've been around for over fifty years and I've never seen an apartment so full of women repellant.”

“All right, enough. Can we cut the foreplay short?” I asked, not really believing that I was the one who was acting like an adult here. “You said ‘weird stuff.’ What's been happening?”

She looked me in the eye and replied, “I assume you got my message.” I gritted my teeth and nodded. “Like I said, James needed to prune a few hedges over at that other coven.”

“The Howard Beach Coven?” I spat.

“Yeah. How did you...never mind. You can tell me your part when I'm done. He figured he'd kill two birds with one stone and do you a favor while he was taking care of business.”

“His favor almost got me killed,” I complained.

“It's always about you, isn't it?” she sniffed. “Now, if you can stop whining for a moment or two, I can tell you what I know.” She stared at me for a few seconds until I mimed zipping my lip, and then she continued, “So, James dusted some of their unauthorized membership and then took out a few of their senior members, just to make it look good.”

“Tito and Big Mike?” I inquired.

“How should I know? This is just what I heard,” she said. “I don't know if James bothered asking for their autographs before he took them down. However, what I do know is that he went there in disguise and then purposely let a few witnesses escape to spread the word that someone was hunting down other vamps just for sport.”

“Let me guess, this someone was a freewill,” I sat down and began massaging my temples before the migraine could start.

“Exactly,” she confirmed.

“How do we know he wasn't just setting Bill up to take a fall?” asked Ed.

She must have thought that an exceptionally stupid question, because that earned him one of her famous eye-rolls (should I be jealous?). “Because, if James wanted him dead, Bill would be dead. No need for subterfuge. He'd just do it,” she explained.

I had to admit she had a point. “Agreed. Not much doubt in my mind, there.”

“James has been working behind the scenes to pump up Bill's reputation,” she continued. “And no, I don't know too many specifics as to why. All I know is he has an interest in Bill staying alive.”

“Okay, I pretty much got the gist of all this from your message the other night,” I replied.

She nodded and went on. “Yeah, well things got a little crazy after that. He was supposed to take care of any heat that came down on us because of what you had supposedly done. Obviously, there was no point in giving you credit if it just got you killed.”

“That's only fair,” Ed said

“Except,” Sally pointed out, “he didn't. The HBC's leader, Samuel, went absolutely ape shit. He called us up, screaming and threatening to declare all out war between our covens. Jeff just barely managed to talk him down and agree to mediation on neutral ground.”

“I'm surprised he didn't just sell me out,” I said.

“You don't get it,” she spat, sitting down as if she owned the place. “He was going to. He didn't know of James’ plan, and I wasn't about to tell him. Jeff didn't really want to believe it, but based on what was happening, even he had to admit the possibility that perhaps he'd been underestimating you and that maybe you'd actually done this.”

“Isn't that a good thing?” Tom asked before turning to me. “Bill, didn't you say you were trying to convince this guy you were more of a threat than you are?”

Leave it to Tom always to help inflate my ego. Before I could chime in with a response, though, Sally answered him, “There's more bad than good there. Jeff wasn’t exactly a happy camper that Bill brought this down on his head. You have to understand this is not something that happens often. There's usually an unwritten rule of mutual respect between nearby covens.”

“And Bill fucked that up,” he surmised.

“No, James fucked that up,” I corrected.

Tom shook his head. “Yeah, but he did it in your name. So, as far as anyone else is concerned, it's on your head.”

“Your boyfriend is right, Bill,” Sally replied (Bitch!). “As far as anyone knows, this was all you. So, yeah, Jeff was planning on handing you over to them. Maybe not physically, but you can be sure as hell they'd have shown up at your doorstep.”

“Guess we were right to be paranoid,” Ed said, still holding the gun. Tom nodded in agreement.

“Except they didn't show up,” I pointed out. “So what happened?”

Sally raised her eyebrows in response. “No idea. They just backed down.”

“What do you mean ‘backed down’?” I asked.

“Exactly that. Out of nowhere, Samuel cancelled the meeting and told Jeff that they had reconsidered their position. It was abrupt as all hell. Surprised the shit out of all of us.”

“And probably pissed off Jeff even more,” I added

“Bingo! I thought James must have finally acted, but now I don't know. I haven't been able to get in touch with him all week. So I have no idea what transpired.”

“I don't know what he did,” I said, “but I just wish he had done it sooner.”

“You mentioned something happened. What went down with you?” she asked.

“Well, thanks to you forgetting to mention this whole thing to me, I found myself unknowingly passing through their territory this week. I met up with two of their goons who were none too happy to see me.”

Sally gave me a sheepish grin. “Oh. Sorry about that.”

I filled her in on my little altercation, telling her of how they accosted me, and describing how I managed to fight back - then luckily somehow scared them off. I was just about to give her the details of my harrowing trip back home when I noticed she had a troubled look on her face.

“What?” I asked.

She stood up and looked me in the eye. “Let me get this straight, you actually bit one of the other vampires?”

“I admit it maybe wasn't the manliest thing to do, but they kind of had me outnumbered.”

“I don't give a shit about that,” she said. “You bit him...on the neck?”

“Yeah, I was surprised, too,” cracked Tom. “Normally Bill goes straight for the cock.”

“Put a muzzle on it,” Sally hissed. “This is important.”

“Yes,” I answered, ignoring my roommate’s predictably dickish remark. “I bit him on the neck.”

“And he bled?”

“Yeah. Quite a lot actually. I was freaking soaked in his blood.”

“But did you actually drink any of it?” she asked, rather insistently.

“That wasn't initially my plan, but yeah, a decent amount.”

“And?”

“And what?” I asked.

“What happened when you drank it?”

“Oh,” I answered. “It was pretty damn intense. It was like...I don’t know how to describe it. Maybe imagine how it would feel if someone shot you up with caffeine-laced meth.”

Sally sat back with a blank look on face. A few seconds went by and she finally muttered, “You can't do that.”

“Like I said, I know it wasn't sporting, but it's not like I really...”

She cut me off. “No. You don't understand. You can't do that, as in physically can't. It's impossible.”

“Didn't really seem all that impossible,” I countered.

“Besides which,” Ed jumped in, “I thought vampires bit each other all the time. I mean have you ever seen an episode of True Blood? They can’t go five minutes without sinking their teeth into each other.”

“Sorry, but this is real life, not softcore porn,” she snipped back. “Things don't work like that.”

“So, what's supposed to happen?” I asked, curious as to where this was going.

“Not all blood is the same,” she explained. “We can only feed upon the living. When a person is turned into a vampire, their blood composition also changes.”

“I'm listening.”

“And it becomes highly incompatible to our needs. End of story. If one of us were to drink more than a few drops of another vampire's blood, we'd start projectile vomiting and then spend the next half a day curled into the fetal position.”

My eyebrows raised in surprise. “Is it really that bad?”

“Yes. I've seen it happen.”

“Weird,” I said. “I mean, I had a slight hangover the next day, but nothing like that. In fact, curling up into a ball was the furthest thing from my mind right after I drank it. I felt like I could have kicked ass and taken names. It was actually pretty cool.”

“Unbelievable,” she whispered and then added in a louder voice, “Jesus Christ. James knew!”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember how I told you I had started spreading those rumors about you, including the one about feeding off of other vampires?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that came from James. I thought it was all just wild bullshit, but now I'm wondering if he knew more than he was letting on.”

“It would seem so,” agreed Ed.

She then added, “That would probably explain why the other coven backed down from wanting revenge, too.” She poked a well-manicured finger into my shoulder. “James had nothing to do with it. It was all you...as incredible as that sounds. The two who attacked you must have reported back to Samuel. You probably scared the shit out of them.”

Ed added, “The only thing a predator fears is a bigger predator.”

“Exactly; especially when the first predator is used to being at the top of the food chain.”

“So, then where is James in all of this?” I asked.

“I don't know,” she sounded exasperated. “I told you, I haven't been able to get in touch with him. That's part of the reason I'm here right now at this ungodly hour.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was coming to get you, so we could go and look for him. After hearing what you just told me, I'd say our reasons for finding him just easily doubled.”

“I thought he wasn't normally in the city,” I said.

“He's not. He's usually stationed up in Boston.”

“So, if I'm hearing you correctly, that sounds to me like only one thing...”

I looked to my roommates and, after a second, we all simultaneously shouted, “ROAD TRIP!”

The Road Trip of the Damned

“Not so fast,” said Sally. “We're not heading up to tour micro breweries. This is business; vampire business.”

“That's a great idea,” Tom piped in. “Once you guys are done with whatever it is you need to do, we can stop at a few microbrews.”

“You're not listening, meatsack,” she replied. “This is business, not pleasure. I just came over to get Bill. You two are staying here.”

“We're already involved in vampire business,” Ed pointed out. “The cat's obviously out of the bag. Bill can't keep a secret for shit. So you might as well bring us along. Besides which, you might need someone to help keep an eye on you...” He paused as she began to glare at him. “...and by ‘you,’ I mean you two, as in plural, as in keep an eye on you and Bill ...” She kept glaring. “...But mostly Bill.”

“He does have a point,” I cut in, trying to save Ed from the hole he had just dug.

She shot me a venomous look. “I don't need three sets of eyes glued to my ass.”

“No, I don't mean that,” I said, quickly trying to backpedal. “They could be helpful. It'll be daylight soon. In weekend traffic, it'll take us at least half a day to get up there. They can drive, pump gas, make snack runs...”

“I suppose we could bring them along as the snacks,” she mused, causing both of my roommates to turn a shade paler.

“C'mon,” I pleaded. “If you let them come along, I guarantee they won't be too annoying...well okay, I can't guarantee that, but I know they'll try. And they can definitely prove useful to us.”

All three of us beamed hopeful smiles at her and at last, she let out a sigh. “Fine,” she said. “I'm tried of arguing. You can all come, but I want to be on the road before daybreak. So get moving. If I get even a mild sunburn because you guys were busy dicking around, I swear I'll kill all three of you myself.”

* * *

Sally sat on the couch, patiently sipping on one of my blood packs, while the three of us raced to get cleaned up and dressed. I know she wanted to get on the road quickly, but even she had to admit it wasn't a big enough emergency to warrant six hours stuck in a car with three un-showered guys. I was the last one in and, of course, by then, there was no hot water left. Figures. Maybe I should just let her chow down on my roommates and be done with it. Tempting...

I came out to find all three of them waiting for me. Tom was hanging back while Ed was attempting to say something clever to Sally. His wit was having about the effect I would have guessed, as she was right in the middle of an eye-roll when I joined them. It was still a few minutes shy of sunrise, so she suggested we get a move on.

“Okay, ramblers, let's get rambling,” Tom merrily chimed, but I stopped after a step or two.

“Quick question - exactly how are we getting rambling?” Of the three of us, only Ed had a car, and to say it was a small piece of shit with barely enough room for just Ed would be to insult small pieces of shit with barely enough room for just Ed. Unless he was planning on strapping us to the roof, not a pleasant prospect during any hours, much less daylight, that wasn't really going to be an option.

“I’ve got it covered,” Sally answered. “I'm parked right outside.”

She was good to her word, and definitely did have it covered. Stepping out into the early morning air, Sally pointed us toward a huge Cadillac Escalade with double-tinted windows on all sides.

Ed whistled and said, “Sweet. We are definitely riding in style.”

Tom quipped, “Yeah. If this truck is a-rockin’...”

“It won't be,” Sally cut him off. She tossed Ed the keys and pointed her fingers toward my two roommates. “You two, up front. Bill and I will be in the back. The tank’s full, so let's get going.”

Ed opened the front door and got in. As he put on his seatbelt, he asked, “Registration in the glove compartment, just in case?”

“No idea,” Sally casually answered, climbing into the back.

“What do you mean, ‘no idea’? Where is it then?”

“Which part of no idea was hard to understand?” she shot back.

“This is your truck, right?” I asked.

“Nope,” she replied in a chipper tone, making herself comfortable.

“Then whose is it?”

“No idea on that one either,” she said. “Didn't catch his name. In the end, he wasn't very talkative.”

I started to get into the Escalade and noticed a series of stains on the back seat. Dark stains, like...yep, you guessed it...dried blood.

Ed noticed them, too. He tried and failed to stifle a gulp. “So, this car...”

“Was conveniently just what I needed for today,” finished Sally. “So, if I were you, I'd drive real carefully. If we wind up getting pulled over, it could get messy...in all sorts of ways.”

Ed just sat there, staring at her for a second, before turning around and starting the engine. He muttered something under his breath, but my acute vampire hearing picked it up. “Hot and scary, just how I like them.” Considering the smirk she now wore on her face, I had little doubt she’d heard it, too.

* * *

The ride up was slow, thanks to the droves of weekend warriors out on the road, but fairly uneventful. The heavily tinted windows kept the sun at bay and, bloodstains aside, it was a roomy and comfortable ride. I could get used to something like that. I used to wonder why celebrities drove these things, figuring it was the more money than sense thing, but now I kind of got it. It was one thing to be out driving, but this was driving in style.

We stopped twice for gas (this thing drank like a thirsty camel), and once for a bucket of fried chicken (Popeye’s...you can keep your KFC, thank you very much). Finally, around mid-afternoon, we arrived at the address Sally had given us. It was a car wash. To say it wasn't exactly screaming mountain of power for a coalition of evil entities would be a bit of an understatement. My friends were apparently of the same mindset.

“This is it?” asked Tom.

“Yes, we're here,” Sally replied. “Let me guess: you were expecting maybe a high-rise office building populated by euro-trash goons dressed in black all the way up to their mirrored shades?”

“Actually, yeah,” I commented.

“Don't worry, I said the same thing the first time I came here,” she replied with a smile. “It actually all depends on the city. In some places, subtlety is more prized than image.”

“Well, this is definitely subtle,” said Ed.

“It's actually perfect. It allows us to enter during daylight hours without requiring us to step outside. Drive up to the attendant in the back. He'll let us in. Sorry,” she said to my friends, “but you two will need to stay with the car. No junk food allowed on the premises, I'm afraid.”

“It's okay,” Ed replied.

“Yeah,” agreed Tom. “If we get bored, we can always get a hot wax and chassis bath.”

* * *

Sally flashed her fangs at the attendant and told him we were here to see James. He directed our vehicle into the wash itself. Halfway through, the water stopped flowing and the brushes to our right parted to reveal a ramp downward. We took it and found ourselves in a small subterranean parking garage. She directed Ed to park, which he did.

“You two stay here. Keep the doors locked and don't talk to anyone who isn't us,” she told my friends as she stepped from the Escalade. “Trust me when I say it's for your own protection.”

Ed nodded as Tom reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out Optimus. Upon seeing it, Sally nodded her approval and said, “Good idea. See, Bill? Your buddies aren't as dumb as you said they were.” She grinned at me and started walking away. My roommates, on the other hand, were staring at me with much less amused looks on their faces.

“What?” I held up my hands. “I didn't say anything. Really!” I closed the door and quietly muttered, “Bitch!” before following Sally into the darkness.

* * *

To human eyes, the place might have looked dark and foreboding, but to my vampire-powered vision, it looked pretty damn dull. Think of your basic vanilla office with its sea of cubicles surrounded by a few middle management offices. Well, throw in some shitty lighting, and you'd have this place. Here I was hoping for a dark cavern lit by torches and perhaps lined with skulls...maybe culminating in a chamber filled with ominous, robed figures. Instead, I got an office park underneath a car wash. It looked like the greatest danger this place had to offer was the possibility of hanging oneself with bureaucratic red tape. A trip to the DMV was immeasurably scarier.

On initial glance, the only thing that seemed odd were the inhabitants of the various desks. Typing away within the cubes, looking even more lifeless than the denizens of a typical corporate office, were persons in various stages of decay. Holy shit, zombies! Okay, so they were performing clerical duties as opposed to trying to eat our brains, but zombies nevertheless. Cool.

I couldn't help myself. I put my hands together in the shape of a pistol. Walking past the various cubicles, I started pointing my “gun” at the inhabitants and whispering, “Pew! Headshot! Pew! Pew! Die, zombie bastards!”

Yeah, subtle I am not.

After a second or two, Sally stopped short. She turned toward me and growled, “What exactly is fucking wrong with you?”

“What?”

“Were you dropped on your head repeatedly as a child?”

“No.”

“Maybe fell into the pool and were underwater a little too long?”

“I don't think so...”

“Then why, pray tell,” she hissed, “are you insistent on embarrassing the ever-living shit out of me?”

“But they're zombies,” I sheepishly offered.

“Yes,” she continued her tirade. “They are disgusting, putrefying corpses. But you know what? They are keeping their fucking mouths shut and not walking around looking like a goddamned retard, unlike you.”

“Can I help you?” a voice from behind her asked. Startled, Sally whirled around to face the newcomer. Standing there was a tall, thin woman wearing a business suit, her hair done up in a tight bun. She was good looking (of course! I was beginning to think I was the sole vampire on the planet who couldn’t pass as a swimsuit model), but had a severe, no-nonsense attitude about her. Whoever she was, she was good. Neither of us had sensed her approaching.

“Let me repeat myself,” she said when we didn’t answer. “Can I help you, or would you prefer to continue disrupting our workplace?”

Before Sally could say a word, I jumped in with my most sincere voice. “We're sorry. No offense was intended. My friend here has a terrible case of Tourette's, and thus can't help the potty mouth.”

Sally glared daggers at me in response. I had little doubt she was contemplating exactly how far up my ass she could stuff my head once she had ripped it off. After a second or two of mentally killing and dismembering me, she turned to the newcomer and said, “We're from Village Coven in New York. We need to see James.”

“I don't think James is in. Did you call ahead for an appointment?”

Sally seemed to pause at this question. “No,” she finally answered.

“So, you came all the way up from New York, but you didn't think to take two minutes to call first to see if he was around?” asked the woman, raising one eyebrow. Sally actually blushed at this, which one would think was fairly difficult for a dead person to do. I didn’t know who this woman was, but if she could verbally slap Sally down so easily, then I liked her style.

“Listen. It's been a stressful week, and you're really not helping,” Sally shot back. “Is Colin around instead?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, then kindly point us toward him, and I'll stop disrupting your workplace.”

The woman narrowed her lips and appeared to be contemplating some sort of comment, but instead just hooked a thumb and pointed it down the hall. “End of the corridor, through the double doors. And please go quietly. The beings in this building actually work for a living.” She looked Sally up and down for a moment. “Not that I'd expect you to understand.”

I can't stress this enough; it is always fun to watch a battle between alpha bitches.

I followed Sally in the direction in which our gracious hostess pointed us. I could practically see steam blowing out of her ears. Logic dictated I change the subject, and for perhaps the first time in my life, I actually heeded its warning. Maybe I'm mellowing out in my old age.

“Who's Colin?” I asked, as it seemed a neutral enough topic.

“He's James' assistant. We go way back, so let me handle this.”

“Ex boyfriend?” I queried.

“Not quite,” was all the answer I got.

Arriving at a set of double doors, a quick buzzing noise told us they were unlocked. We walked in and, let me tell you, this was more like it. We stepped from the sea of cubicles into some serious style. It was kind of like what I might imagine Kenneth Lay's executive suite in Hell might look like. The floor was made of what looked to be obsidian, and the walls were exquisitely shaped grey stone, quite possibly carved from the very earth around us. Dozens of candles illuminated the area. It would have made for a very convincing evil overlord throne room, except for a series of leather chairs set off in a little waiting area. At the far end of the room, in front of another set of doors, a rich mahogany desk sat, which was illuminated by the glow of a monitor. Who'd a thunk it...the undead preferred Macs.

Seated behind the desk was a thin male vampire wearing a suit that appeared to be far outside of my price range. He looked semi-important, except for his slicked back hair, which gave him a bit of a weasely, used car salesman vibe. As we neared his desk, he turned his attention toward us. His beady little eyes looked me up and down with obvious distaste; however, I saw a glimmer of recognition flash as he turned toward Sally.

“Well, well,” he said in a slick voice that sounded as if it were well lubricated from years of ass kissing. “It's been a while since you've been up in our neck of the woods, my dear Lu...”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Colin?” she said, cutting him off. “It's Sally. Coven protocol, and all.”

“Of course,” her oily friend replied. “My apologies, Sally.”

Did he just...? Huh, I had never even bothered to think that Sally wasn't her real name. Now that I thought of it, though, I guess that was kind of stupid of me, considering all the idiotic pseudonyms running around our coven. I'd have to ask her about that later.

She brushed off his greeting and got straight to business. “We're here about James.”

“We?” asked Colin, once again shifting his eyes in my direction.

“Hi,” I said, sticking out my hand. “I'm Bill, but everyone in the coven calls me...Dr. Death.” Yeah, you guessed it. It was another one of those cases where something sounded a lot cooler in my head. It probably also didn't help things that my hand was still stuck out there like a doofus. I quickly lowered it when it became apparent that no return greeting was forthcoming.

Instead, he frowned and began typing on his keyboard. “Dr. Death?” he commented more to himself than either of us. “Oh, well, I guess it's not any stupider sounding than ‘Night Razor.’”

“That's what I said.”

He ignored me, though, and was still looking at his screen when his eyes went wide. “You're the Freewill?” he asked, his tone one of disbelief.

“What are you looking at?” I asked.

“Your profile.”

“I have a profile?”

“All vampires have a profile,” he sniffed. “God, Sally, don't you people at least give the newcomers an orientation down there?”

“Nope. Not even a flyer for my troubles,” I quipped, just before I felt her foot hit me in the side of the leg.

He gave me the once over yet again. “I thought you'd be more...well...not you.”

I shrugged as I answered, “I get that a lot.”

This prompted Sally to interrupt us. “James?” she reminded him.

“He's not here.”

“Where is he, then?”

Colin answered her question with another. “Why do you need to know?”

“I've been trying to call him all week, and haven't been able to get through.”

Giving her a smile that was both sympathetic and condescending all at once, he said, “My dear Sally. James is a busy man. You can't really expect him to answer the calls of every love struck puppy who chases after him.”

“It's not like that,” she snapped. “I've been working with him on coven-related business. He was supposed to smooth some static between us and another group, but he no-showed. I'm trying to get some answers.”

“When was all this supposed to happen?” Colin asked, starting to type again.

“Beginning of the week.”

“Ah, that makes sense, then,” he answered whilst looking at his monitor. “He was called away on business, unexpectedly, I'm afraid.”

“What kind of business?” Sally again demanded.

“The kind that's none of yours,” was his reply. Damn, he was a snarky little fucker.

“Cut the shit, Colin.”

He scoffed, “Or what? You'll sick him on me?”

She seemed to consider this for a moment and then said, “Well, he is the Freewill. I'm sure you've heard the rumors.”

“Oh, please, as if I believed half of that garbage.”

“James believes it.”

“Sorry, love, but just because I work for him doesn't mean I drink the same Kool-Aid he does.”

I was really hoping the next words out of Sally's mouth weren't going to revolve around ordering me to kick this guy's ass. Regardless of my chances at doing so, we were in a building full of all sorts of god knows what. I really didn't want them all to descend upon me just because her panties were in a bunch.

Before she could respond; however, Colin added, “Apparently, Jeff doesn't believe it either.”

“Jeff? How do you know that?” she asked, quickly hiding the look of surprise that appeared on her face.

“He called not an hour ago. I haven't heard a peep from you SoHo coveners in months, and suddenly, bam, you're crawling all over me like fire ants. Interesting coincidence, isn't it?”

“What did he want?” she sounded perhaps a bit more frantic than she had meant to.

“Same thing as you.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Remember what I said before about none of your business? Same principle applies. You needn't concern yourself with the conversations of beings above your pay grade.”

She let out what sounded like a sigh of exasperation and then said, “Come on, Colin. If he sent me here in person, then obviously he trusts me to relay the info back to him.”

“Why does it matter if I potentially already told him what he wanted to know?” he slyly asked.

“Because we both know you. Jeff...Night Razor realizes that you'd be more than happy to give him half a story over the phone just to get rid of him. He sent me here as backup to make sure there wasn't anything left lying on the table,” she lied...or presumably lied. I still wasn't entirely convinced of what side of the fence she was playing on.

“Please, help me out here. It's important,” she continued. Vinegar hadn't worked, so I guess she was now trying to use a little honey to catch this fly.

That seemed to deflate his asshole sails a little. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn't,” he replied. “James is working on something for the Draculas. Official business. Need to know, only.” He paused for a moment, and then added, “It's all right here on the screen. I'm sorry, though. I can't talk about it.”

“You can't talk about it?” she asked, a grin starting to work its way onto her face.

“Exactly. I can't talk about it.” He leaned toward her with a sly smirk. Oh, I think I get it. I've seen this in the movies before. Any second now, I was going to be asked to leave the room and then they'd settle their differences the old-fashioned way. If I had my guess, I'd say that would involve something that started with the word blow and ended with job. Man, maybe I should consider shooting off a resume to this place.

Sally and Colin locked eyes for a moment, and then she asked in an innocent voice, “You got coffee in this place?”

He smiled and replied, “Vending machine's down the hall.”

Sally reached into her purse. “I'm afraid I'm a little tired from the trip up here. Colin, would you be a dear and get me a cup?” She pulled out a couple of bills. Not sure how much she had there, but I distinctly saw Ben Franklin staring back at me from the top. She held them out to him. “Here, this should cover it. Feel free to keep the change.”

But Colin wasn't done yet. “You know, it's kind of odd that Jeff didn't mention he was sending you up, now that I think of it...”

Apparently Sally had apparently played this game before, though. A few more bills appeared in her hand as she purred, “Must have slipped his mind.”

“Must have.” He accepted the ‘coffee fare’ with a greasy little smile and replied, “Back in just a sec,” before getting up and walking out of the office.

Sally immediately jumped behind his desk and started reading what was on the screen.

“That's it?” I questioned.

“What's it?” she replied, eyes on the information in front of her.

“A bribe? That's so...so...un-vampire like.”

“What? Should I have offered him my immortal soul and then sealed the pact in blood?”

“Well...yeah. Something like that,” I replied. “There should be something dark and demonic going on, not just you handing the guy a few bucks to let you read his email.”

She continued scrolling through the document as she answered, “You know, you really need to get out more. There's this thing called reality. You should try it sometime.”

“Oh, you're just a barrel of laughs, Lu...whatever he was going to call you. What is your real name, by the way?”

“Can't talk, busy reading.”

“C'mon,” I said, not so easily dissuaded. “What is it? Lucy? Maybe you're really Lucille Ball...nah, she was a redhead. Ooh, I know. You're that girl from Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.”

“No.”

“Well, then, what about...”

“Did you ever think,” she cut me off, “that maybe there's no mystery? Maybe I just like ‘Sally’ better? Sally's a nice name. I had an aunt named Sally. She was cool.”

“Sally Sunset?”

“It's just that last part I don't like. Sally is fine.”

“So, in other words, there is a mystery!” I exclaimed.

“Oh, enough of this shit.” She hit a button and the page she was reading started printing out on the LaserJet sitting on the desk. “I can't concentrate with your stupidity hovering over me,” she grabbed the printed pages. “Let's go. We can finish this in the car.”

* * *

We ran into Colin again as were exiting James' office. Oddly enough, he didn’t have Sally's coffee with him.

“Find what you need?” he asked with a smug grin.

Sally just gave him a grunt as she walked past, the printout safely in her pocketbook. I, on the other hand, just couldn't leave without having a little fun first. The slimeball had reminded me a little too much of some of the directors at my company whose sole marketable skills were apparently an expertise in brown nosing. Taking them down a peg was usually a political no-no for people in my position, but I didn't work for Colin.

“Thanks for all your help,” I said a little over-energetically. “By the way, your machine back there was running a little sluggish. Probably a virus or something. I took the liberty of reformatting your hard drive for you.”

The remaining color drained from his already pale face and he raced into his office. “You're welcome!” I shouted after him as I caught up to Sally. She was smiling. “Liked that, huh?”

“Maybe just a little,” she admitted.

On the Road Again

My roommates were waiting for us when we got back to the Escalade.

“Did you know this place has zombies?” Tom excitedly asked while we climbed into the back seat once again.

“Yeah,” Ed affirmed. “One came by a little while back and validated our parking.”

I nodded and said, “There were a bunch of them inside. Apparently, they do office work, too.”

“Really?” Tom asked. “I wonder how much they make. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'd be pretty pissed if I found out a rotting corpse made more than me.”

Ed smirked as he started the Escalade, “But would you be surprised?”

“Not in the least.”

“If you two are done jerking each other off, can we get moving? It's a long ride back,” complained Sally, taking the printout from her purse.

“What about those microbrews we were gonna tour?” Tom asked from the shotgun seat.

“Do I need to kill you as an example for everyone else?” she nonchalantly commented, starting to leaf through the sheets of paper.

After a few impatient minutes of waiting, I reached out for a page. “Can I see?”

She pulled them back from my grasp. “No.”

“Why not?” I complained. “Besides, you read really slowly.”

“Sorry if my Latin is rusty.” She finally held out a page to me. “Can you do any better?” I took the paper and saw that she was right. It all looked like incomprehensible lorem ipsum garbage to me.

“Not unless it's Pig Latin,” I handed it back. “So, is there any particular reason it's in Latin?”

“It's simple. Nobody reads it anymore, especially not this dialect.”

“Except for vampires?” I asked, dreading a future that saw me sitting in some ghoulish classroom studying for a final on some dead language. Damn, I barely passed basic Spanish in high school.

“Not really. Most vampires can't read it, either. It's mostly for guys of James' rank or higher.”

“Let me guess, it cuts down on the shoulder surfing,” said Ed from the driver's seat.

“Pretty much,” Sally explained. “Although I think it's mostly an elitist thing for the elder vampires.”

“But you can read it?” I asked.

“Not really, but I know enough to fake it. Each of the coven heads is supposed to have a remedial understanding of it for courier purposes.”

“But you aren't the coven head,” I pointed out.

“No shit,” she replied. “But Jeff can be one lazy S.O.B. He likes to think of some of us as his own personal secretarial pool. Hence, I've picked up a few things here and there. Now if you'll excuse me, this might take a little while. If you three chimps can fling your shit amongst yourselves for a bit, it would be most appreciated.”

* * *

We drove on in the fading light of the afternoon. Sally had pulled out a pen and was busy scribbling notes on the sides of the paper. We three guys tried to keep quiet, so as not to bother her, but ultimately, that lasted all of ten minutes at most. Fortunately, for her at least, she seemed well equipped to be able to tune us all out as long as we weren't directly bothering her (which I made the mistake of doing at one point and almost got her pen jammed into my forearm).

As the last of the light was fading from the sky, we made a pit stop for burgers. Sally opted to remain with the car. When we finally returned, full of burgery goodness (rare meat didn't need a blood chaser to be fulfilling, thank goodness), she announced, “I think I’ve finally got it.”

“Please tell me you didn't spend the last seventy miles translating out to lunch, back in five,” commented Ed.

“No. Otherwise we would be turning our asses around to get a refund,” she replied. “It looks like Colin was right. James did have some official business to take care of.”

“Okay, so are you going to tell us, or do I have to beg for it?” I asked.

“While I have no doubt that you're a master at begging women (bitch), I think we can dispense with the formalities this once. It would appear that James was given a summons by one the Draculas. He...”

“Okay, hold on a second,” interrupted Tom. “Draculas as in plural? What, did The Count have himself cloned?”

“There is no Dracula, genius. Bram Stoker's book was just fiction,” Sally replied with a sigh.

“But you just said...”

“I said Draculas, yes, I know. They're the ruling council of the vampires, traditionally the thirteen oldest and most powerful of our kind. They're officially known as the Coven of Midnight, or sometimes just the First Coven.” Tom opened his yap to speak again, but she held up a hand to silence him. “’Draculas’ is kind of a nickname. After Stoker's book started to get popular, a few people began referring to the First Coven by that name as kind of a sick joke. After a while, it just stuck.”

“And these elder vampires,” I asked, “who presumably predate the book by quite a bit, are okay with this?”

“Don't be crazy,” she answered. “If you called them the Draculas to any of their faces, they'd rip you to pieces and take turns wiping their asses with your remains. Like I said, it's a nickname. If you are ever called before them, you make it a point to keep the word ‘Dracula’ as far from your mouth as possible. These guys do not have a sense of humor.”

“Have you ever met them?” Ed asked, his eyes meeting ours in the rearview mirror.

“No, but then nobody in our coven has. James is the closest we get to them and as long as we fly under the radar, that's the way it'll stay. Supposedly, there was this coven up in Westchester about seventy-five years ago whose leader got called in to meet with the Draculas. I don't know what happened, but he must have insulted them in some way, because by the next week, that entire group was wiped out to the last member.”

“Supposedly?” asked Ed.

“Well, that's what I heard, anyway. It was a little before my time.”

Ed was still not buying it, though. “Then how can you be sure it's not all just bullshit? For all you know, these Draculas are just a bunch of toothless old geezers gumming their victims to death.”

“It doesn't work that way,” she insisted. “Bill, you've seen James in action.”

I nodded and replied, “Damn straight. That guy's all sorts of scary. I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of any hurt he was dishing out.”

“Exactly,” Sally confirmed. “Generally speaking, as vampires get older, they get more powerful. Well, all of the Draculas are older than James, some of them by a lot.”

“Okay, well that's kind of...frightening,” I said. “And James was summoned by them?”

“One of them,” she replied. “The Khan, to be exact.”

Before she could say another word, she was drowned out by the voices of three Star Trek geeks simultaneously shouting, “KHAAAAANNNNN!!!”

When we had at last died down she asked, “Do I really want to know what that was about?”

“Doubtful,” Ed answered.

“So, this Khan dude,” Tom piped in, “are we talking Space Seed or Genghis?”

Sally looked perplexed. “Space seed? Whatever that is, I'm thinking probably not. And no, he's not Genghis Khan.”

“I didn't think so,” he said. “That would just be silly.”

“He's Ogedei Khan,” she continued. “Genghis' son.”

Tom got a blank look on his face, and then replied, “Oh, of course. That's a lot less silly.”

Sally shot back, “Be thankful. If we had turned Genghis, humanity would probably all be living in cattle pens right now. Ogedei was just as good of a leader, but a bit mellower as far as conquest was concerned.”

“Okay, so that makes sense, I guess,” I said. “James said he represents the Draculas in these parts. So, where is he?”

“According to this?” she glanced down at the paper. “The Gansu province of China.”

“China? Why the hell is he in China?”

“That's where the Khan is.”

“I get that. But why did he send for James? That seems like it's a little outside of his jurisdiction.”

“Because the Khan is James' sire,” she explained. “When the guy who made you is also one of the high muckety mucks, you tend to pick up when he calls.”

That piqued Ed's curiosity, and he asked, “So, what’s the deal? Did he turn James when the Mongols were busy trying to annex the rest of the world?”

“I don't know the specifics,” she admitted. “But from what I've heard, it was a bit after that. Supposedly James met the Khan in China.”

“So, what was James doing in China six-hundred years ago?” I asked. “I didn’t know it was a big vacation spot back in those days.”

“James once told me he was traveling there with Marco Polo, as a member of his expedition.” She then added, “Pretty mind-blowing, huh?”

There was a chorus of affirmation within the car. Mind blowing was kind of an understatement. About a month ago, I was battling ancient beings with either a twenty-sider, or a computer mouse. Today I was actually hobnobbing with living pieces of history. Stuff like this, one needed to sit down and contemplate. Unfortunately, now was neither the time, nor the place.

Ed finally broke my reverie. Like I said earlier, shit just doesn't faze him like it does other people. “This is all fascinating, but why did the Khan recall this James guy all the way back to Asia? Was he jonesing for some baked beans and clam chowder?”

Sally chuckled. “Maybe James was jonesing for some genuine Chinese food.” Her grin faltered, and then she continued. “Unfortunately, though, it doesn't appear either is the case. From what I can understand, the report states that some of the covens under the Khan's personal stewardship were attacked. He wanted people he could trust to investigate.”

“Who would be insane enough to attack vampires?” asked Ed.

“Kung Fu masters,” Tom answered. Then, after we all stopped to stare at him for a second, he responded with, “Why not? This is China we're talking about.” I love him like a brother but, goddamn, he can be a fucking moron.

Before he could say anything else stupid, I chimed in with, “Other vampires maybe? Those assholes in Queens had no trouble coming after me.”

“No way,” Sally said. “Coven wars happen from time to time, but none of us would be insane enough to do this with one of the Draculas in the immediate area. This was someone...something else.”

“Werewolves?” Ed offered, but she just waved her hand in dismissal.

“Sorry to break it to you guys, but werewolves don't exist. They're just a myth.”

There was a chorus of disappointed voices in the car. That sucked. Werewolves were kick ass.

“Hold on,” I said. “What do you mean they don't exist? Didn't you and James tell me that myths had a basis in reality?”

Sally gave me an eye-roll (it had been a few hours since the last one; I was almost starting to miss them...almost), and replied, “Some myths are real. Some are just the result of someone getting high off the local fauna and having a bad acid trip.”

Yeah, I guess that made sense. Forget myth, there was some seriously weird shit that popped up from time to time in the news. No doubt, a good chunk of it could be explained away as someone watering down their hooch with a little too much antifreeze. “Fine, no werewolves,” I said with a touch of regret. “Then what attacked those covens?”

“How am I supposed to know?” she sniffed. “We're vampires. We have enemies. Not all of them are human.”

Remembering something from the other night, I asked, trying to sound more knowledgeable than I was, “Does this have anything to do with your war against the feet?”

That seemed to catch her by surprise as she narrowed her eyes and asked, “Where did you hear about that?”

“Around,” I coyly replied. “So, does it?”

“I don't know,” she said quietly, as if in contemplation. “It’s possible.”

Of course, then Tom had to go and ruin it by chiming in. “Feet? Is there some kind of demonic foot fungus at work here? I hear they sell spray for that.” That more or less killed the mood, and any chance I had at getting answers to a question that...well okay, a question I hadn't given a second thought to before now, but hey, knowledge is power. Maybe I should have listened to Sally's earlier advice and just left my roommates at home.

She shook her head and said, attitude returning, “It's not important. What matters is that James is out of the country, and what's of utmost importance for you, Bill, is that it's for an indeterminate amount of time.”

I felt a little tingling at the base of my brainstem as she said that, but I thought it best to ask rather than assume. “It's important to me, why?”

“Because you're under his protection. With him gone, Colin or another vampire will step in to do his duties, but protection is another matter entirely. That's not transferable. If James isn’t around, it's as good as out of sight, out of mind.”

“But you said ‘indeterminate,’” I replied, grasping at whatever straws I could. “That means he could be back a year from now, or he could be back tomorrow.”

“It doesn't really work that way for us,” she said. “If he was called in from five thousand miles away and not given any time to settle his accounts first, that means whatever is going down is pretty big, and the Khan wants someone he can trust to look into it. Whatever James is going to do for him, you can bet it'll be with a fine-toothed comb. Immortals can afford to be thorough.”

“Which means...?”

“Which means that if I was a betting girl, and I am, my money would be on not expecting to see James again for at least six months...probably more.”

“But if Jeff snuffs me now...”

She cut me off. “Then who's to say he didn't do it two months from now? You think anyone in the coven is going to officially rat him out? Not likely. Being a coven leader has its perks, not the least of which is that he's going to be given the benefit of the doubt.”

“All of this assumes he actually knows James is out of the country,” Ed pointed out.

Sally turned to me to answer, “Remember back there when I said that Jeff and I both knew Colin?” I nodded in return. “Well, we do. That means that if I knew how to grease Colin's wheels...” that caught Tom's attention, and he turned back toward us with wide eyes and rapt attention. “With money, you pervert.” He turned away, suddenly losing interest. “If I knew how to get Colin to talk, then Jeff obviously would, too.”

“Maybe he didn’t think to...”

“Oh, stop it,” she snapped. “Jeff may be stupid, but he's over a hundred and twenty years old. He knows how to play the game. Even if he didn't, though, Colin's not known for his sense of humor.”

I nodded, but Ed asked, “What do you mean by that?”

“I kinda, sorta might have joked to him, as we were leaving, that I reformatted his computer,” I admitted.

“But did you actually do it?”

“It doesn't matter,” Sally said. “Guys like him have massive egos. Most vampires, once they get a few centuries under their belt, lose the ability to laugh at their own expense.”

Ed got it. “So, even if Jeff didn't grease the wheels, so to speak, you think this Colin guy might give him a call and spill his guts just as a farewell ‘fuck you.’”

“Yeah,” she answered. “Petty revenge is pretty much his middle name.”

“I guess there's something to be said for occasionally letting the other guy get the last word.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “I'm beginning to think maybe I should occasionally just keep my mouth shut.”

“Kinda like a smoker who decides to quit after he’s already found out he has lung cancer?” Tom remarked.

“Better late than never, I guess,” was the only answer I had for that.

We drove on in silence for a little while, until Tom couldn't take it anymore. “So, what are we going to do about this puddle of shit we find ourselves wading into?”

“I've been thinking about that,” replied Ed. “As far as I can tell, there's only one thing we can do.”

“Let me guess, settle my affairs and pick out a nice urn to hold my ashes?” I morosely asked.

“Vampirism is lost upon you,” he sighed. “No, dingleberry, we take the fight to Jeff. We hunt down and kill the fucker before he can do it to you.”

There was a moment of stunned silence before Tom once again chimed in, “And by we, you mean...”

“WE, dipshit. As in all of us, as in I don't want to spend the next several weeks screening for a new roommate.” Ed's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “As in, he fucks with one of us...”

“He fucks with all of us,” I finished.

Tom just shrugged, “Oh, well. Guess I've led a good life. At least I can go out knowing I've gotten more action than either of you two fags.”

“Your left hand doesn't count,” Sally commented before her tone turned serious again. “It won't be easy. Jeff's a lot more powerful than any of us.”

I smiled at that. “Us? So does that mean you want to come to our little asshole-killing party?”

“I can try. I told you once already, I can't stand him. I wouldn't shed any tears if he wound up a pile of ash. There's only one problem.”

“What?”

“Jeff can't order you around, but I'm a different story,” she explained. “I can maybe resist his compulsions to a degree, but there's nothing to say he either won't be able to stop me in my tracks with a word, or maybe even outright turn me against you.”

“Earplugs, maybe?” Tom suggested.

“Doesn't work like that. It's a psychic thing. They don't make plugs for that.”

“When he tried to compel the others to attack me the other week, it didn't work,” I pointed out.

“Fear and doubt are powerful emotions, even for a compulsion to overcome,” she replied. “Sorry to say, Bill, but I'm not all that afraid of you.”

“What about hatred?” I asked.

“What?”

“Think about it,” I said. “You said fear is a powerful emotion. So is Hatred. If you focus on how much you hate his guts, maybe that'll work, too.”

She didn't have a reply for that one. She just sat there, thinking it over.

Tom turned and smiled at me. “Damn, Bill. I think that might be the first good idea I've ever seen you come up with.”

“What about you, Ed?” I asked. “What do you think?”

“What I think,” he answered, “is that maybe we should see if we can coax a little more speed out of this thing while we still have the element of surprise.”

* * *

Okay, so maybe that wasn't the best of ideas. Ed brought the Escalade up to around eighty as soon as traffic eased up a bit. That allowed us to burn off more miles, for about twenty minutes, until we saw flashing red and blue lights behind us. In the dark, we had easily missed spotting the speed trap.

“Just fucking great!” Ed exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Tom added. “This is definitely going to slow us down.”

“Especially the whole stolen-vehicle-with-a-dead-owner thing. That ought to eat up just a little bit of time,” Sally remarked. “But don't worry. I'm sure you'll all find boyfriends nice and quick at Rikers.”

“Shit! I forgot about that part,” Ed spat. “So, what do we do?”

“Preferably without causing a multi-state manhunt for a bunch of cop killers,” I said, eyeballing Sally.

“You take all the fun out of this,” she cooed. “I don't suppose you're all up for a high speed chase?”

“In this land-yacht?”

“No, I suppose not,” she said, still without a trace of panic. “Looks like there's an exit coming up in about a mile. Take it and then pull over, preferably someplace dark.”

“And then?” Ed asked.

“And then try not to act guilty, obviously.”

He did as instructed. Tom, for his part, managed to get his shit together long enough to rummage through the glove compartment for anything useful. He was in luck and found both a registration and insurance card for one Harold Lively...ironic considering his not so lively status right now, at least according to Sally.

The exit, as many in upstate New York tended to be, was dark and not well traveled. For about the ten-thousandth time in my life, I marveled how such vast rural desolation could exist so close to the insane urban sprawl of the city. Streetlights were few and far between, as was traffic, thankfully. Thus, Ed had no problem pulling over into the gloom as the boys in blue glided in behind us.

“Now, everyone just be cool,” Sally said, sounding like a character from a Quentin Tarantino movie.

The cop, a lone trooper on interstate traffic duty, got out and slowly walked up to the driver’s side window. Ed put on his best friendly smile. “Good evening, officer,” he said, perhaps a little too overly chipper.

In return he got the standard, “License and registration, sir,” response followed by, “In a rush tonight?”

Ed handed over the documents and answered, “Heh. Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget how fast this boat can actually go.”

“Uh huh. Have you been drinking tonight, Mr. Vesser?” asked the trooper, glancing at the license.

“No, sir,” he replied, in that same trying-too-hard tone. “Just borrowed my uncle's car to take some friends to the movies.”

“Wait right here, sir,” said the trooper, turning back toward his cruiser - probably to run the license and registration through the system.

“Smooth going, slick,” whispered Sally. She then opened the door and stepped out. The cop stopped what he was doing for a moment, no doubt to take in the sight of her. She had that effect on people. However, then his training took over.

“Please step back into the car, ma'am,” he said, his eyes appearing to be focused on a spot somewhere south of her face.

“Please, sir,” she said in a voice that sounded genuinely agitated. “I need to speak to you. Please!” That last one caught the cop's attention and he waved her over.

He shouted back toward us, “The rest of you just stay where you are!” and together they walked back to his car.

“What the hell is she up to?” I asked once she was out of earshot...maybe, damn sensitive vampire hearing.

“Dude,” Tom said. “Isn't it obvious? Chick like that knows how to play ‘em. A little sucky-sucky action, and we'll be on our way.”

“No. I don’t think so,” Ed replied. “Did you see the way she was acting? She’d better not be selling our asses out. What do you think, Bill?”

“She has shown a penchant for bitch-like behavior, I will admit,” I replied, starting to wonder if maybe this wasn't a good idea. I really hoped she wasn't about to fuck us over. If that happened, I'd probably have to act. Sure, I didn't want to have a dead cop on my conscience, but I didn't want to wind up in San Quentin, either. Of course, that assumed I lived long enough to do so. One medical exam, and I'm sure some lawyer would try parading my ass out into the sunlight for a press conference, and then POOF! No more Bill.

“So, what do we do?” Tom asked. He had been so caught up in his little X-rated fantasy that he hadn't considered the other possibilities. Now a slight twinge of panic was working its way into his voice.

Before I could answer, most likely with something lame like, “I dunno.” Ed spoke up. “We play it by ear. Pretty much the only thing we can do. If it comes down to it, Sally's not the only vampire in the car.”

“Are you sure, you want me to...” I started to say, but he cut me off.

“Listen. From the sounds of things, we're already waist deep in shit's creek. You, my friend, are in even deeper. If she's trying to screw us over, you're gonna need to decide pretty quickly whether you're going to swim or swallow.”

“Okay,” was about the only intelligent response I was capable of giving. Hopefully, it didn't come down to that.

We all turned to watch what was happening. The cop's car still had the flashers going, so it was difficult to tell, but we could see both their silhouettes. However, that all changed in the space of a heartbeat...for those of us who still had them, at least. One second there were two shadows, and the next, it was a jumbled confusion.

A few moments passed and the lights on the police car all turned off. When my vision finally readjusted to the darkness, I saw Sally closing the front door and turning to walk back toward us. Sprawled, unmoving in the dirt next to the car, was the police officer.

I jumped out of the Escalade to confront her, but when she reached me, she looked oddly out of breath. Weird. She should've been able to break that guy in half without so much as suffering a hair out of place. Before I could speak, she held up a hand to silence me. “I suggest,” she said, catching her breath, “we discuss this on the road.”

Sound advice, all in all, I thought, holding open the door to let her in. She stumbled a bit, so I helped her out, catching an elbow in the gut for my troubles. Oof! Guess she wasn't that wiped out. Jeez, it's not like I was purposely trying to cop a feel. Not my fault her ass just happened to be in the way.

That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

Ed, not being a fool, peeled out the second I was back in my seat. I saw his eyes lock onto Sally’s in the rearview as he said, “No bullshit. I want to know exactly how fucked we are.”

“Relax,” she wheezed. “Whew! That took more out of me than I thought it would. We're fine. Harold Lively is the one who's fucked, and, considering his current condition, I don't think he'll mind all that much.”

“I have no clue what you're talking about. English please.”

“What did you do?” I asked, even though I had a sneaky suspicion of what she was going to say.

“I compelled the cop - basically planted the thought in his mind that Harold was alone in the car. Then I decked him.”

“You can do that to a person?” Ed asked.

“Well, yeah, all you do is ball up your fist and...”

“No, the first part,” he clarified.

“I guess so,” she answered. “Heard it could be done, but never tried it myself. Thought my head was going to pop off there for a second, but then it took hold.”

“But the cop's okay?” I asked.

“I'm touched that you care,” she gave me her typical attitude. “He's gonna be out for a while. Cracked jaw and probably a concussion, but he should be fine. Harold, on the other hand, is going to have one hell of an APB out for him,” she finished with a smile, pleased at her own cleverness.

“Impressive,” I said.

“It was, wasn't it?” she agreed smugly.

“Yes, with one little exception.”

“What? Annoyed that I didn't consult with you first?” she sniffed.

“No,” I continued. “Annoyed because the cops are going to be after us, anyway.”

“You might want to catch up with the conversation,” she replied. “I just finished telling everyone that the cops would be after Harold.”

“Yes, Harold - who just so happens to be driving around in the same Escalade that we’re sitting in,” I said with just a trace of my own smugness.

She just stared at me with a blank look for a moment and then blurted out, “Oh, crap.”

“Oh, crap, is right,” I agreed. “Thus, I suggest we hightail it back to the city as soon as possible, and ditch the pimp mobile here at the first chance we get.”

For once, there was no dissent with something I suggested.

Grudge Match

We parked the Escalade close to Flushing Meadows and, after a thorough wipe down for prints (I wasn't worried so much for Sally, but Tom, Ed, and I were still on the grid, so to speak), we ditched it and headed about a half mile south to grab the M train. It was a long ride back home with several transfers, but there was one high note to the whole thing. I don't think I've ever been this at ease riding the subway so late at night. Ed and Tom both looked fairly relaxed, too. Safety in numbers is great and all, but it doesn't beat traveling with two vampires, at least, one of whom has shown relatively little concern so far for silly things like human life. There were definitely some perks to this whole undead predator of the night thing.

We finally arrived back at our building in the wee hours of the morning. Well, at least we couldn't complain that it hadn't been a full day.

We stopped at the stoop of our apartment and I turned to Sally. “Heading back to SoHo?”

“In a bit,” she answered. “Just as soon as we plot out some next steps. We should probably have a contingency plan ready, in case Jeff is already on the warpath.”

“In other words, you're reluctant to leave my studly side,” I said with a grin.

“I'm no scholar of linguistics, but I'm fairly sure the English language doesn't allow words such as studly to appear in sentences about you,” she shot back.

Unfortunately, our little discourse - or as I liked think of it, foreplay - was cut short by Ed's voice from the top of the stairs.

“Uh oh,” he said.

“Define ’uh oh.’”

“This,” he stepped aside to give the front door a small push. It opened freely. “I haven't pulled out my key yet.”

“Someone could have left it unlocked,” I pointed out.

“More like someone kicked it in,” Tom said. “It looks like the lock is all busted.”

“Coincidence?” I asked Sally.

“Call me pessimistic, but I don't think you're going to get that lucky,” she said, striding up the steps and ordering my roommates to stand aside. She looked over the area for a moment and then declared, “Vampire, but, lucky us, only one.”

“How can you tell?” I called up to her.

She pointed to her nose. “It's obvious. Can't you smell it?”

“We can do that?” I sheepishly asked back, getting an eye-roll in return which surprised me not at all.

“Should we get out of here?” Ed asked.

“No. I think he's gone,” she said, and then turned to me to add, “Yes, we can do that, too.” Bitch.

“Get out of my way,” I pushed past her to the door and then started walking up. My roommates followed right behind.

As we could have guessed, the door to the apartment had also been kicked in. Hell, it had almost been kicked in half. Whoever had been here had definitely been disinclined to take no for an answer.

“Motherfucker,” said Ed softly as we walked in. The place was trashed. Debris that had once been our belongings littered the floor, holes had been punched in the walls, and the couch had been utterly gutted.

“Think someone wanted to get our attention?” Tom asked, his tone attempting to be strong, but cracking a little at the edges.

“Maybe just a little,” I quipped.

“Whoa,” Sally said as she entered. “Hope you guys were insured.”

I was going to say something to that, but Ed caught my attention.

“Please tell me this isn't what I think it is,” he pointed to a section of floor close to the kitchen.

I stepped over to him. The area was clear of debris with one notable exception. There was an arrow, drawn in some brown sludge-like substance, pointing toward the counter where the only things that remained untouched were our phone and answering machine.

“Looks like someone shit on the floor and then drew with it,” I said. Tom stepped up and echoed the sentiment.

“That's just wrong on so many levels,” Ed replied.

“I think,” Sally said, “that someone was trying real hard to make sure you didn't miss that.” She indicated the blinking light on the machine. Someone had left us a message.

My roommates and I looked at each other for a moment. I'm sure we all could guess whose voice would be awaiting us on the message. Well okay, they had never heard my dickhead coven leader speak, but I'm sure they could make an educated guess if they had to.

“We should probably see who we need to send the cleaning bill to,” I said, pressing play. To the surprise of absolutely nobody, Jeff's voice started speaking back to us.

“Hey, asshole. Nobody was home, so I let myself in. Hope you like what I did with the place. Gives it some character, don't you think?

“This is just the opening course. I don't know if you heard or not, but your buddy, Ozymandias, is going to be out of town for a little while. What that means for you, Dr. Dead, is that his protection is now null and void. Your ass is mine, and don't think any of that freewill bullshit is going to save you.

“Now you're probably thinking you might hightail it out of town and you still might, not that it would matter. I'd hunt you down and make you hurt for a long time. But just to give you some reason to stay and play, I have a little incentive for you. I got your mom, bitch.”

“What?” I blurted out, but Sally shushed me.

“Say hello to your baby boy...(There was a distinctive tone of a female whimpering) ...that's enough (another sound, this time like someone being hit). Now I'm a fair master. If you do what I say, I might let your dear old mommy walk out of this alive. But you better hurry, because I'm getting hungry. There's an old warehouse down by the docks on West Tenth. Be there at dawn. I'll leave the front porch light on for you.

“You show up, and I'll let you trade yourself for her. If you pussy out and run, she dies...badly. And then, I still hunt you down and kill you. Either way, you look at it, you come to an end. It's up to you whether you do it like a man or a dog. I'll be waiting.”

“He has my mom?” I asked, panic setting in.

“Calm...” Sally started to say, but I cut her off.

“Do not tell me to calm down. We are not even remotely close to the proximity of calm down here.”

“I take it that fucker was Jeff,” Ed commented. Sally nodded in response.

“Dude,” Tom said, sounding nearly as shocked as I did. “We gotta save her.”

“No shit!” I growled at him, causing him to jump back a little. “Sorry, man. Didn't mean that.”

He nodded to let me know it was cool, but then got that panicky look in his eye again. “What about your dad? He didn't say anything about him.”

“Oh, god.” A sinking feeling began to permeate my very being.

“Don't jump to conclusions,” Ed said, trying to exude some calm onto the situation. Yeah, good luck with that.

“What other conclusion is there?” I practically jumped down his throat. “What the hell did that fucker do to my parents? We have to go check on him.”

Tom just shook his head sadly, “We'll never made it down to Scotch Plains and back in time to save your mom.”

“Then you and Ed go check on my dad and I'll rescue Mom,” I countered.

“No way,” he replied. “You're not going in there solo.”

“I don't have a better plan, do you?”

“Call him,” said Ed.

“What?” Tom and I both asked.

“Call him,” he repeated. “If there's no answer, then call the cops. They'll get there a lot faster than any of us will. Besides which,” he put his hand on my shoulder, about the closest I'd ever seen him come to anything remotely like human sympathy, “you probably don't want to...find him.”

There was a moment of silence. He had a point, although I wasn't sure I was ready to face the awful truth just yet. I looked to Tom for guidance. He had known my parents for as long as we had been friends. I knew he was almost as messed up by this as I was.

“Do it,” he said.

Slowly picking the phone from the cradle, I hit the talk button and sure enough there came the sound of a dial tone. I hesitated for a few more seconds, and then dialed my parents’ phone number.

*ring*

Who was I kidding? I was too late. I had failed my parents.

*ring*

He was gone. My father was gone.

*ring*

He had faced a demon too strong for a normal man to overcome.

*ring*

He had died protecting my mother.

“Hello?” answered a groggy voice on the other end.

He was answering the phone?

“Dad!” I yelled into the receiver. “Is that you?”

“Huh, Bill? What time is it?” asked the unmistakable voice of my father.

“Dad, are you okay?”

“I was until you woke me up. Is something wrong?”

Had my father been out when Jeff attacked? Perhaps he had come home, assumed mom was at a friend’s house, and then had just gone to sleep. It was possible he didn’t even know. If so, I had the terrible duty to break it to him.

“Dad, you need to listen to me. Something terrible has happened to mom.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, irritation starting to seep into his voice.

“Dad...”

“You know this drunk dialing thing wasn't funny even when you were still in college.”

“Dad, are you even listening!?” I screamed into the phone. “Mom is in trouble!”

“Your mother is asleep right next to me. (???) Pray tell, exactly what trouble is she in?” he asked in a deadpan voice.

“Mom's okay?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, for Christ sakes! Here...” I could hear him shifting around and then a soft snoring noise filled the phone. Yeah, that was Mom, all right. She slept like the dead (no pun intended), and was a heavy breather throughout the night. A few seconds later, my father came back on the phone.

“There, happy?”

I was stunned for a second...glad as all hell, don't make any mistake about it, but confused, too. “Yes. Thanks, Dad,” I answered, trying to collect my wits.

“Good,” he replied sarcastically. “Now, why would you think she was in trouble?”

I thought fast and then gave him the only excuse that came to mind. “I...uh...had a nightmare that...vampires were attacking you guys.”

There was a momentary pause on the line and then he replied, “Bill, you know your mother and I love you very much, don't you?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Then I'm sure you'll forgive me for doing this...” *click* The line went dead.

I exchanged glances with my companions. They had obviously heard my side of the conversation and could no doubt figure out the rest.

“Is it safe to assume your mom was there?” asked Ed. I nodded. “Well, that's the important thing, anyway.”

Tom noticed me being a bit too quiet. “So, what's wrong, man?”

“Nothing,” I answered. “I'm glad Mom and Dad are fine. But still...what the fuck?” I turned to Sally. “Is Jeff's master plan just to try to give me a panic attack?”

She shook her head. “I don't think so. Even a complete moron would have to know that you could call that bluff with just one phone call. Besides which, that's not Jeff's style. If he says he has a hostage, then he has a hostage.”

“Maybe this is a distraction,” Ed offered, “to set us up for an ambush?”

Sally again shook her head. “Also not his style. He likes to make a big scene. A showdown, like he set up on the phone, is just the kind of thing he loves to do. Fucker's probably been sporting an erection about it ever since he left here.”

“Okay,” I replied. “And thank you for that imagery, by the way. Now I have a picture in my head of him clubbing me to death with his dick.”

“Worry about Jeff's cock later,” Ed said. “If he doesn't have your parents, then who does he have?”

I shrugged. “No idea.” Then an unpleasant thought struck me. “What if he found some of your info while he was trashing the place?” I asked my roommates. “What if he made a mistake and grabbed the wrong mom?”

Both Tom and Ed visibly paled at that. Moments later, they repeated my earlier action and made phone calls of their own. After a few tense minutes, though, they both met with similar results (although to Ed's credit, at least he came up with a less lame excuse for calling than vampire nightmare). All of our folks were fine, thus, after everyone had been hung up on, we found ourselves again wondering what the hell was going on.

“You're sure he's not just screwing with our heads?” I asked Sally.

“I don't see the point. What benefit would he get from it?” she responded. “No. I'm certain he has somebody.”

“So, the question is,” Ed asked, “do we march into his trap and try to save this somebody? Or do we leave them to die and then go after Jeff at a time and place of our choosing?”

“I don't know,” Tom replied in a small voice. Now that the adrenaline of the past couple of hours was wearing off, he looked like he’d had enough for a while. “I don't want to see anyone die because of me, but putting ourselves right where he wants us...I just don't know.” With that, he wandered away and disappeared into his room.

I started to follow, but Ed held up a hand. “Leave him. He needs a few. Shit, we all probably do.”

“So, you want to go with option two, I assume?”

He gave me a grin and replied, “No. I think if we wait, then this'll just get worse. If you don't show up for your big cage match, how long do you think it'll be before he starts hunting you...and by proxy, us, down? He has home field advantage, but from the sound of it, he's probably expecting you to be alone. No doubt he probably also thinks you’re going to be completely distraught. That gives us a chance. You go in, but with a clear head and us there to back you up - well, it might be enough to even the odds.”

Sally clapped him on the shoulder, hard enough to make him stumble, and said, “Your friend here makes a lot of sense...for a walking Happy Meal.”

“Care to play with the toy that comes with it?” he asked with a wicked grin.

“Maybe some other time,” she demurred. “For now, I suggest we get ourselves ready. I know the place he's talking about. It's supposed to be a coven safe house, but Jeff likes to use it as his own personal larder. We have a few hours until the three of us...”

“Four,” said Tom, reappearing from his room, something clutched in his arms.

“Four?” I asked.

He stepped forward and dropped what he’d been holding. A bunch of broken action figures fell to the floor. “Four! Son of a bitch must pay,” he said with an almost scary determination. It was on.

* * *

My roommates stayed behind to do a damage assessment of the apartment and to see what could be scavenged. Sally and I headed out to grab a few supplies for the coming conflict. I was a little leery of her plan. Sure, New York has the reputation of being the city that never sleeps, but that only goes so far. At this late hour - or early, depending on your point of view - our options for places that were open were pretty much limited to pizza, convenience stores, or maybe an all night rave, or two. None of those, as far as I was aware, were particularly good for combat preparation, unless maybe the plan was to eat enough Slim Jims so as to make us look forward to our impending deaths. However, Sally wasn't daunted by little details such as that. It soon became apparent why.

“This will do,” she said coming to a stop in front of a store about a mile from my apartment. It was a sporting goods shop, probably family owned, and small enough that you could easily pass by without noticing it. Such it is with city-based small businesses. Space here is at a premium and you make do with what you can.

“For what?” I asked. “It's closed.” I pointed out the locked security gate covering the entranceway.

“Not for long.” She took a look around to confirm the street was empty and then gave a hard tug on the gate. The lock held, but the latch itself broke off. She moved it aside and said, “Wait for it.”

I did, and then after a few seconds replied, “I don't hear anything.”

“Exactly. Small shop like this probably can't afford an active security system. If there are cameras inside, it's a good bet that they're just props.” She grabbed the front door and gave another pull, which had a similar effect as on the gate. “After you.”

“Age before beauty,” I quipped in return.

“After today, let's hope age is still something we can worry about,” she replied, and entered the shop.

I figured we'd be loading up with football pads and other such protection, but Sally told me to leave them. She explained that, against a vampire of Jeff's strength, a little bit of padding would have about the same effect as using a Kevlar vest to stop a cruise missile, especially for my roommates. Speed and mobility would be more important than body armor. I protested that at least some protection would be better than none, and, after a moment's consideration, she agreed. We settled on a few helmets for my roommates (being thrown face first into a wall could seriously ruin a person’s day) as well as some basic protection for our extremities such as elbow and knee pads. We'd look more likely to be spending the day at a skate park than in battle, but it covered the basics of leaving us mobile, but not entirely unprotected.

Next up, she started grabbing baseball bats, both aluminum and wood. The wooden ones, she explained, could be easily sawed off and sharpened. They made for much better stakes than just sharpening some random hunks of wood. I didn't argue with her logic, having seen Jeff make good use of one some weeks prior. The aluminum bats, on the other hand, would make excellent bludgeons, being both well balanced and sturdy. Okay, so now we'd be skateboarders with baseball bats. Forget the skate park; we were going to look like rejects from some bad post-apocalyptic movie.

“Other weapons?” I asked. Sure, I knew crosses and holy water were going to do dick, but off the top of my head, I could come up with a small arsenal of more interesting weapons than what we had picked out so far.

“This is probably the best we can do for now.”

“You're kidding me,” I said. “What about...say, a crossbow?”

“Can you fire a crossbow?”

“Well...”

“At a moving target?”

Okay, she might have had a small point there. However, I was not to be deterred, “Then how about katanas, or a battle axe, or hell, some dynamite?”

She looked me squarely in the eye and said, “Unless you know of any combination ninja supply and explosives depots around, then I'd say probably not. I know what you're thinking, but we don't have a week to prepare for this. We've got to make do with the best we can. Besides which, if you come marching in there with a ton of gear strapped to your back, you're going to be so weighted down that Jeff will just come strolling up and take your head off with one swipe of his claws. That would just be...embarrassing.”

“Claws?” I asked, ignoring that last part.

“Yes, claws. You know.”

“No, I don't,” I admitted.

“You've got to be kidding me,” she spat, rolling her eyes. Hey, at least now I knew the key to victory. As long as I pictured Jeff as Sally in mid eye-roll, then I was sure to be in a murderous rage. “Claws...like this,” she finished, holding up one of her hands. Before my very eyes, her fingernails lengthened by about two inches.

“We can do that?” I blurted out, despite the obviousness of it.

“If you spent more time practicing and less time jerking off to internet porn, you might be surprised to learn what you can do,” she said, turning to leave.

“Hold on a sec.” I pulled out my wallet and left some cash on top of the register. It probably wasn't enough to cover our shopping spree, but it made me feel a little bit better.

She laughed as I did so and said, “You know, you really are just not cut out for this lifestyle.”

As she walked away, I was forced to wonder whether she might be right.

* * *

We arrived back at the apartment to find Ed sitting on what was left of the couch. In his lap was the shotgun he had appropriated from his stepfather. He was busy loading it from a small pile of shells that sat nearby. He saw the look of surprise in my eyes and said, “Yeah I know, surprised the hell out of me, too. But it was still under my bed where I left it. I guess he was too busy trashing the place to be thorough.”

“Either that, or he didn't think it was a threat,” Sally pointed out.

“I think,” he replied, “I prefer to imagine the former, if it's all the same to you. Makes it easier to keep from losing it entirely and hopping on the next train to Canada if I do it that way.”

“Whatever floats your boat,” I discarded our bundle of supplies onto the floor in front of him. He glanced at the pile and then looked me in the eye.

“Are we fighting him or challenging him to nine innings at the sandlot?” he asked with a dubious tone.

“Just because he wants to rip our guts out doesn't mean we can't be sporting about it,” I replied with a grin.

We explained to Ed the logic behind our purchases. He agreed with us in theory, but said he'd be bringing along the shotgun if it was all right with us. Worst-case scenario, he told us, was it didn't work on Jeff, in which case he could just use it to blow his own head off. Gotta love a guy with a contingency plan.

“Where's Tom?” I asked while Sally went in search of something in our kitchen with which to sharpen the bats.

“Tom's gone bye-bye,” he replied.

“He left? Is he freaking insane?”

“No,” explained Ed. “He's in his room. I just mean his mind's taken a leave of absence. Dude is not a happy camper. I mean, I've seen five-year-olds take having their toys broken better.”

“They're NOT toys!” barked Tom, stepping into the living room. “They're investments.” Yeah, Ed was right. Tom had gone nuts. In my absence, he had apparently decided to Rambo-ify himself...or at least try to. He was wearing camouflage sweat pants, a black sweater, and had what I assumed was old Halloween makeup slathered on his face in a bad imitation of war paint. The outfit would have looked like something a dork might wear to a weekend outing playing paintball, except for a few other accoutrements to round it out. Stuffed in his belt were a few of the butcher knives from our kitchen, and around his neck, hanging from a length of clothesline, was his trusty Transformer totem, Optimus. In short, it was all I could do to keep from laughing my ass off.

“What do you think? Pretty badass, right?” he asked.

I tried, really hard, to think of something complimentary to say, but for the life of me, I couldn't. Fortunately, for once, Sally's caustic wit saved me.

“Jesus Christ!” she said, stepping out of the kitchen. “You look like GI Joe and Flavor Flav's retard lovechild.” That did it, Ed and I cracked up.

“That's right, laugh it up now, assholes,” Tom said. “But mark my words...my babies will have their vengeance.”

He probably said more, but by that point, I was laughing so hard I could barely stand up, much less hear him.

* * *

It was nearing five a.m., almost time to leave. The stakes were sharpened, the gun was loaded, and our semblance of body armor was strapped on. It was only then that common sense once again reared its ugly head and smacked us in the face.

“Has anyone given any thought,” Ed asked, “as to how we're going to get there, considering we look like a pack of reject extras from The Road Warrior?” Damn, he had a point. If it had just been the costumes, then nobody would have cared. You walk up and down Broadway on any given day and you'll see much weirder. However, add the knives, stakes, bats, and, of course, Ed's gun, and forget about the cops, we'd end the day having a nice chat with homeland security agents.

Fortunately, Sally had given thought to this as well. “Same way we got to Boston, by car.”

“We ditched the car,” I reminded her.

“So? We'll get another,” she said as if discussing the weather.

“You're not going to kill someone else, are you?”

“I've killed a lot of people before tonight and, assuming we survive, I'll probably kill a lot more afterward,” she pointed out in a tone more conducive to an icy-blooded sociopath. “But, no. Nobody's out right now and the streets are full of parked cars. Even here in the city, there are plenty of morons who don't bother to lock their doors. I'll just head a few blocks over and try to find one I can boost.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “You know how to hot-wire a car.”

She just shrugged and replied, “Doesn't everybody?” before disappearing out the door.

Here Comes the Sun...

Sally directed us to park in a little unmaintained lot next to the safe house where Jeff supposedly awaited us. The place was surrounded by unkempt brush and garbage bins that sat there, full to the brim with their aromatic contents. It had been quite some time since either a garbage man or weed whacker had paid this section of town a visit.

“Nice place,” commented Ed.

“It's kept this way on purpose. Attracts lots of derelicts and drug dealers,” Sally said conversationally.

“In other words,” I continued the thought for her, “people who won't be missed.”

“More or less.”

“This is kind of close. Shouldn't we maybe park elsewhere and try sneaking in?” I asked.

“Pointless,” she replied, shaking her head. “There are security cameras on all sides. There's virtually no chance of someone getting in unseen.”

“What about a hidden entrance?” I asked. “The coven had that...kitchen, I guess, down in the sewers under the loft.”

“Good.” She actually smiled at that. “So you do occasionally pay attention. There's one here as well, but the same deal with the cameras. A pack of invisible ninjas couldn't sneak into this place without being noticed.”

“So, we just walk in through the front door?” Ed asked.

“Suits me,” growled Tom, double checking his ‘equipment’. He was starting to worry me a bit.

“Yes, we just walk in,” Sally said. “No point in giving him the satisfaction of seeing us try and fail to sneak up on him. He'll be expecting something panicky, so if you guys just stride up there like you own the place, it might throw him off his game a bit.”

“You guys?” I asked.

“Yes. I've been thinking that we might have one more trump card on our side. It's a long shot, but it's possible Jeff might not know I'm on your side. He didn't mention me on your answering machine, and he hasn't called my cell.”

“At least that we know of,” Ed pointed out.

“At least that you know of,” she repeated with a grin.

“What are you guys talking about?” I asked.

“Simple,” he explained. “She's been out of our sight a few times. How do we know Jeff hasn't called her? Right now she could be under his...what did you call it...compulsion.”

“Smart boy,” Sally replied, still grinning. “It's good to know at least one of your little nerd herd has a functional brain. You should take notes, Bill. A little paranoia is a very good thing in our world.”

There was a moment of silence in the car, during which I could feel the tension rise. However, then realization hit me and I said, “Oh, this is stupid. She's obviously here on her own.”

“How can you be sure?” Tom asked.

“Because it doesn't make sense otherwise,” I replied before addressing her. “For starters, Jeff is an egomaniacal asshole. There's no way he's letting you take any credit for putting me down. Second, he wouldn't use you to kill Tom or Ed, because they're just pitiful humans.” I turned to them. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Tom replied.

Turning back to Sally, I continued, “It'd be one thing if my roommates were a couple of Navy Seals, but to use you to take out the human equivalent of a pack of Lunchables would make him seem weak. Considering he's been looking pretty bad ever since I showed up on the scene, I'm betting he needs to bust all of our heads in personally, both to keep his rep amongst the coven and to sooth his bruised ego.”

Sally's response was a slow golf clap. “Very nicely said. You have been paying attention, after all. There may be hope for you yet...assuming you survive the next fifteen minutes.”

“So, where does that leave us?” asked Ed.

“As I was saying,” she continued. “It's possible Jeff doesn't know I'm a part of this. If not, then there's no reason to tip him off until it's too late. As of right now, I'm your prisoner.”

* * *

The sun was just getting ready to peek its head above the horizon as we walked to the loading dock. Sally was front and center. Tom and I flanked her, while Ed walked behind with the shotgun pointed at her back. There was a security door off to the side, which she directed us toward, her voice taking on a shaky tone befitting her role. This was it. I was really hoping I knew what I was doing. Sadly, any way I looked at it, I didn't see an easy way out of this. Jeff wanted me dead, and if I didn't want to oblige him, then I had no choice but to take him out first. I tried not to think of what would happen if I failed. Likewise, I tried to push away the nagging thought that I was leading two of my best friends towards a horrific fate.

I shook my head. I needed to stop that kind of thinking. Negativity wasn't going to win me the day. I was lucky to have such good friends. They were willing to stand by my side in the face of...well, okay, it wasn't exactly the face of ultimate evil...more like the face of an overly powerful douchebag asshole. But still, that counted for a lot in my book. If I had to die, I had good company in which to do so. Besides which, if anything happened to either of them, I probably wouldn't need to burden my conscious too much, especially since I'd most likely be quickly following.

I reached the door and tried the handle. It was unlocked. Taking a deep breath, I pushed it open - leaping back as I did so. No point in just standing there if he was waiting on the other side to stake me. After all this build up, that would be an utterly embarrassing way to go.

I needn't have worried, though. The entranceway was empty. Beyond the door was what appeared to be a small security checkpoint, unmanned, of course. Past that, there was an old walk-through metal detector through which the main warehouse floor could be seen. I was expecting a dank, dark place full of shadowy places perfect for an ambush. However, everything I could see from the doorway appeared brightly lit. Guess that made sense. Jeff wanted a face off, not an assassination. That, and turning off the lights on creatures who can see in the dark is probably not the most effective tactic in the world, anyway.

“Come on in and make yourself comfortable,” a voice called from inside. “And close the door behind you. Wouldn't want you to get a...sunburn.” The voice, Jeff's, chuckled.

“Help me, master!” Sally screamed out.

“Quiet, bitch!” I backhanded her. Sure, the entire thing had been prearranged, but I will admit it felt kinda good. I was pretty cool with her after all we had been through, but she was still the person who had gotten me into this mess in the first place. I was probably owed at least one freebie without messing up my karma too much.

Her head reeled back - much harder than it should have from the blow - and she fell to her knees sobbing. She was definitely going for an Oscar with this one.

“Get moving,” Ed ordered, prodding her with the barrel of his gun. When she hesitated, I grabbed her by the hair and dragged her in with me. That part hadn't been scripted, but when on the stage, sometimes one must improvise a bit.

We walked through the non-functional metal detector, and I was able to get a better look at the surroundings. It looked quite defensible in case of a breach. Large wooden crates were strewn everywhere throughout the area, whether full or just for show, I couldn't tell. What I could tell was that they were placed in a way so as to force a visitor to walk a path between them...almost forming a sort of corn maze, minus the corn, of course.

“Come along, child. Daylight's burning,” called Jeff's voice again.

Tom, Ed, and I exchanged glances before entering the sea of crates. If it were possible for there to be a collective gulp, then I'm pretty sure we shared one. Heh! I was supposed to be all nervous and such, worrying about my mother. Instead, I was nervous worrying about getting all our asses out of there alive. The end result was that I didn't have to put in a lot of extra effort to appear at the end of my already frayed nerves.

We walked slowly through the warehouse maze. Sally kept her head down and continued to sob. My roommates and I tried to keep our eyes on all places at once: in front of us, behind us, and on top of the crates. Despite the large size of the area, the makeshift corridors made it feel very claustrophobic. The fact that we couldn't see over them, to what lay beyond, wasn't helping things. This was obviously all done on purpose. I just wasn't sure whether it was a normal thing or if Jeff had set it up specifically for me. If the latter, I might have almost felt flattered.

At last, things opened up. We stepped out from between two crates into a large open area. Judging from the distance to the outer walls, at least from what I could see, we appeared to be approximately in the center of the warehouse. A large area of about fifty feet on all sides had been left bare. Crates lined the sides like walls, with the exception of few breaks here and there for more passages leading into the bowels of the structure. On the far side of the clearing was the first piece of non-crate furnishing I had seen since entering. A large executive chair sat on the floor, at the opposite end, looking much like a throne. Upon it lounged Jeff.

“I bid you welcome, Dr. Death.” He stood and mock bowed. “I see you've brought something that belongs to me,” he said, nodding in Sally's direction. His eyes briefly glanced at my roommates before settling back on me again. “Didn't you read the sign outside? No pets allowed. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask them to die.”

“Cut the shit, Jeff,” I tried to sound tough...emphasis on tried. “Where's my mother?”

A look of pure rage flashed across his face and he screamed out, “YOU WILL ADDRESS ME AS ‘NIGHT RAZOR’!”

I staggered from the force of it, not sure if the compulsion attempt was done on purpose, or just out of habit, as he knew it wouldn't work on me. Nevertheless, it still left a nasty ringing in my ears. Fortunately, my head cleared quickly. I then turned to check on my companions. Uh oh. I had thought a compulsion was a personal thing. I didn't realize one could be sent out like a mass email. Sally had ceased sobbing and was trying to shake off a glazed look that had appeared in her eyes. My roommates weren't faring much better. Tom was holding his hands to his ears, and Ed had been driven to his knees, thin streams of blood dripping from his nostrils. Oh, shit! In all my worrying about Sally, I had forgotten that humans could be compelled, too. This was a potential problem. What if the numbers were reversed and I found myself facing four foes instead of the other way around? I'd be toast pretty goddamned quick if that went down.

Luck was on my side, though, at least for the moment. Ed slowly regained his feet after a second or two. Tom blinked a few times and then shot me a thumbs-up. It appeared that, while it could no doubt be fairly traumatic, the mass compulsion didn't affect people like it did vampires. I then remembered what both Sally and Jeff had told me. Compelling humans requires a lot more effort. If I had my facts straight, he might be able to bowl over my friends on a whim, but he wouldn't be able to outright control them unless he put some concentration into it. With me in the area, he probably wouldn't chance lowering his guard to try. At least I hoped he wouldn't, unless I just so happened to be standing next to him with a stake in my hand.

I let out a breath, trying real hard not to make it sound like the sigh of relief that it was, and turned back to Jeff. “Enough with the parlor tricks,” I said, attempting to project a tone of little more than base annoyance. “I have your little plaything. I'll trade you. Her life for my mom's.”

“You assume her life is worth anything to me,” he spat.

“I think it is.”

“You'd be wrong,” he sneered. “Her life was forfeited the second she brought you to us. Besides, look at her now. How far she has fallen from what she once was. She's little more than...sloppy seconds... to me, now.”

“You fucking cocksucker!” Sally yelled out, forgetting all pretense of being our prisoner. “Sloppy seconds? I'll sloppy seconds you in the ass, you fucking prick.”

Jeff and I both stopped our conversation to stare at her. She ended her rant as realization of what she had just done dawned on her face. “Sorry,” she sheepishly said to me.

“Hit a nerve?” I asked, to which she just shrugged.

Jeff looked confused for a second or two, and then rage once again filled his features. “Are you kidding me, Sally?” he spat. “You'd seriously choose this over me?”

“Yep,” she said in reply. “Let's face facts, hon. You're kind of an asshole.”

“You traitorous little slut. I was going to let you live, but now...oh, no. When I'm done with this little shit, I'm gonna make a pair of boots from your hide,” he snarled. “But for right now...STAY PUT!”

The compulsion was directed at her and hit like a rock. Her eyes glazed over and she went rigid, a slack jawed look on her face.

“Come on, Sally,” I pleaded, snapping my fingers in front of her face. “You're stronger than this. You can fight it.”

“No she can't, you little freewill piece of garbage,” replied Jeff, a cruel smile on his face. “I see she hasn't taught you a damn thing. She might be able to fight a compulsion to attack you or to kill herself. Emotions can make these things all sorts of messy. But a neutral compulsion? Now that's a different story. Neither being able to help or harm makes it difficult to tap into something that you can use to fight it.” He pulled something out of his pocket and walked over to a nearby crate. “I'm afraid, much like you, little Sally has seen her last...sunset.” He began fiddling with whatever he had taken out of his pocket.

“What are you...”

“Oh, you remember this?” he stepped aside to reveal the little pocket camcorder he had with him during our outing the prior week. He’d placed it on top of a crate overlooking the opening...or arena, as I was starting to think it must be. A red light blinked to indicate it was recording. “I hope you don't mind,” he said. “I missed getting any good footage the last time, so I wanted to be sure I captured your horrific death for posterity's sake.”

“Good,” Tom replied. He and Ed stepped up to flank me on either side. “I'm gonna want a copy of us fucking up your shit six ways to Sunday. Might even put it on YouTube.”

Jeff looked less than perturbed by the threat. “How rude. You weren't thinking of all ganging up on little old me, now were you?” he asked in a mocking, innocent voice.

“The thought had crossed my mind,” I answered for all of us.

“Aren't you forgetting something?” he asked in that same infuriating tone.

I thought about it for a second and then shook my head. “Not unless you were planning on surrendering.”

He rolled his eyes at me (guess I know where Sally got it from) and asked, “Your mom?”

Oh, crap! I had almost forgotten. This was also a rescue mission to find...someone. It would be pretty damn sad if we wound up winning the day only to leave some poor schmuck tied up here to starve to death, all because it slipped my mind. Guys like Batman just didn't do stupid shit like that.

“Let her go,” I finally replied, beyond all pretense of nervousness at that point. The talk was winding down. It was only a matter of time before the killing began. I found myself actually wanting things to start playing themselves out before what little nerve I had left fizzled.

Jeff nodded and said, “Very well. Your mother is free to go.” What? That was it? He didn't even demand that I give him a pretty please. If things were ever this easy on CSI, each episode would be about three minutes long.

“Well...uh...thanks,” I sputtered, not really knowing what else to say.

“Don't mention it.” His mocking tone was back. “But wait. How rude of me. I would be a poor host if I let your dear old mother just walk out of here without first offering her some refreshments.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ed asked.

“You mean you haven't figured it out yet, you silly little monkey? It was such a long night, what with me tracking down where you lived, rearranging your apartment, and then kidnapping Dr. Death's mommy...well I was just so parched by the time I got back here that I couldn't help myself.”

Oh, shit!

“My dear, if you would be so kind,” he called out to the warehouse. “HELP YOURSELF TO THE HUMANS!”

The compulsion wasn't aimed at either me or Sally. Instead there came an inhuman screech from somewhere within the warehouse. It was followed by a scrabbling sound as something made its way toward us from atop the crates.

We all tensed up and looked around...all of us except for Sally, who was still firmly rooted in place. A few moments passed and then something hissed at us from above. We looked up as a desiccated creature crawled into view. Its eyes were black, all traces of humanity gone from them, and its fangs were bared. Despite her feral appearance; however, I was fairly sure who I was looking at.

“Son of a...” gasped Tom.

“Mrs. Caven?” I asked as the crazy old lady who lived...formerly lived...downstairs from us growled hungrily in our direction.

Jesus Christ, I was a moron. I had never even considered that Jeff might have taken his stupid little accusation of me living in the same building as my mom seriously. Although, now that I thought about it, I wasn't sure who was the bigger idiot: him for believing it or me for not remembering and checking on my neighbors. Surely she would have begged and pleaded for her life, telling him that she wasn't my mom, but Jeff was the type of douche to hear that and assume someone was just trying to save their own ass. I guess it never crossed his mind to maybe...I don’t know...check her pocketbook for identification.

“What the hell do we do?” Ed asked in a frantic voice. Me being turned into a vampire he could handle. Staring down a centuries-old monster? No problem, either. However, facing off against our geriatric neighbor? That was apparently the thing that freaked Ed out. If we made it through this, no way was he living that one down.

“She called the cops on me,” snarled Tom.

“Well, you were drunk and pissing on the side of the building,” I pointed out.

“Fuck the details,” he replied. “I say we kill the bitch.”

“Okay, so how do...” I was interrupted by the sudden sensation of flying across the room. Stupid! Mrs. Caven had distracted me enough not to notice Jeff crossing the room. Before I even had a chance to register his presence, he’d tossed me to the side like I was nothing. I slammed into, and then through, a wooden crate before finally winding up in a pile on the floor.

“Let your mom entertain your friends,” Jeff said, getting closer with each word. “You're my guest,” he finished, looming over me.

I had taken a good shot, but had managed to roll a bit on the impact (no doubt a fortunate side effect of my half week spent as a martial arts training dummy). It hadn’t exactly been a walk in paradise, but I was still far from out of it. I launched myself at Jeff's midsection, yelling, “She's not my mom, you stupid twat!”

Or at least I tried to yell that. By the time I got to you, I had been thrown again. I must have flown almost twenty feet before landing in the center of the clearing on the nice soft concrete floor. Ouch! I was starting to miss getting tossed around at the dojo. At least there the floors were covered with mats.

As far as battle plans went, this one was turning out fairly shitty in my favor. I rolled back to my feet, albeit a bit less energetically than the last time. Jeff was still standing in the same spot. For the time being, I hadn't given him any reason to pick up the pace. I chanced a glance over to my two roommates. For the moment, they seemed to be holding Mrs. Caven at bay. There was too much chaos for Ed to get a clear shot, but fortunately for them, their opponent's body, despite being a vampire, wasn't exactly in tiptop shape. She wasn't achieving much luck, either, in pressing an advantage. I just had to hope my roomies could keep their shit together long enough to last the distance, because it looked like I had my hands full. As for Sally, she was still firmly rooted in place.

“Don't go anywhere,” I quipped to her. Mortal danger or not, I wasn't about to let a chance at having the last word slip away.

“Funny,” Jeff said. “Joke all you want, because it's going to get a lot harder to do that once I've torn your windpipe out.”

Okay, it was time to change tactics. I had no chance of winning as long as I was playing by his rules. I needed to fight his brawn with my brains.

Standing up, I looked Jeff straight in the eye across the expanse of our little battlefield and sneered, “That all you got, pussy?”

“Oh, now you're going to give me the tough guy routine?” he laughed. “I think we've already established who's superior here.”

“Think so?” I replied with a grin. “Your minions were all smart enough to fear me, but not you...in fact, I think you may be just too goddamned stupid to let live.” A flicker of anger crossed his eyes. That was it. He could dish it out, but guys like him couldn't take it. “I'm the Freewill, asshole. You have no idea what I'm capable of,” I pulled one of the homemade stakes out of my belt and pointing it at him. “Come get some!” Finally! That was the line to use. I don't care who you are, it is just not possible to say that and not sound cool.

Jeff must have thought so, too. He charged me, a complete look of rage on his face. I stood my ground for a second, just long enough for him to close the distance...and then I sidestepped and bolted for the maze of crates. Momma...and no, I don't mean the crazy vampire bitch my buddies were fighting...didn't raise no fool.

“You fucking coward!” he shouted as I disappeared into the depths of the warehouse.

“He who fights and runs away...” I gleefully yelled back. I took a bunch of blind turns at full speed, getting good and lost in the process. If he wanted me, he was going to have to work for it.

It was silent for a moment in the warehouse. Finally, there was a scream of pain...Mrs. Caven...followed by a thud. I had a moment to hope that it was a good thud and not a bad thud when I heard what sounded like someone driving a car through the wall of a house. A moment later, the sound repeated itself, closer this time. What the hell...then it hit me. Jeff was plowing straight through the boxes and crates on a beeline toward me. Oh yeah, he was pissed.

The bad news was that by going through and not around the crates, he was making good time catching up to me. The good news was that I knew exactly where he was, whereas I still had stealth on my side. Back when I was a kid, during trips down to the shore, I had played “Manhunt” in the high weeds. Often times the kid who won was the one with the patience to wait for everyone else to give away their positions. He would then sneak back to home base while the rest of us were hunted down and caught. I waited a second until it was obvious which direction Jeff was headed, and then I stealthily attempted to double back to the clearing.

My plan was...well okay, I had no plan. I was too amazed that I was still alive to be able to form a coherent strategy. In other words, I was kinda playing it by ear. The best I had was a vague hope that I could snap Sally out of it. Together we could probably wear Jeff down or, at the very least, he might be so distracted by pummeling one of us, that the other could sneak in and stake the shit out of him.

I made it back to the clearing, Jeff's cries of “where are you, chickenshit?” echoing throughout the warehouse. Tom and Ed's battle had carried them to the center of the open space. Fortunately, it looked like things were going in their favor. They had Mrs. Caven down on the floor between them and were busy working her over with their aluminum bats.

“How you guys doing?” I asked, racing past them toward where Sally still stood.

“Peachy,” Ed replied. “You?”

“Been better.” I stopped in front of the still rigid Sally and debated what to do for a split second. Finally, I just said, “Screw it,” and belted her hard across the mouth.

She fell backward, but her eyes cleared almost immediately and she managed to grunt, “Ow.” It wasn’t much, but it was more than I had been able to get out of her so far.

“Sorry. All I could think of,” I offered her a hand and helped her to her feet. “Good to have you back.”

“Good to be...”

“SALLY, RIGHT CROSS!” came Jeff's voice from out of nowhere. Without warning, her fist shot out and clocked me, sending me tumbling toward my roommates.

“Sorry,” she said quickly before her eyes could once again glaze over, as Jeff immediately followed up with another compulsion.

“NOW, STAY PUT!” he commanded her, stepping into the clearing. He saw me lying on my ass and smiled. “I should have probably mentioned those quick compulsions are a bitch to fight as well.” He once again started toward me.

Quickly, I spun toward my roommates and held out a hand. “Batter up,” I whispered to Ed. To his credit, he only hesitated for a second before tossing me the bat he had been holding (Mrs. Caven appeared to be down for the count, anyway). Without thinking, I rose and spun at the same time, swinging it in an arc.

*CRACK* Home run! The blow connected solidly with the side of Jeff's head and he went flying. Unfortunately, his flight was cut short as he crashed into Sally's still form. They went down together in a bundle of arms and legs. I was beginning to wonder, if somehow I managed to beat him, whether or not I'd then have to deal with a pissed off Sally wanting to kill me. But, oh, well, I guess I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.

Jeff was down, but he was far from out. Within the space of no more than a few seconds, he was already rising. The side of his head was bloody, but he looked otherwise unhurt. Shit! I had put a lot into that swing. If that didn't faze him, I wasn't sure what would.

I discarded the bat - it had suffered more damage from the impact than Jeff had, anyway. “Any time you guys want to finish playing, I could use some help,” I said to my friends before once again racing toward the relative safety of the crates. I had just enough time to see them both shoot me a withering glare before I was dodging back and forth, trying to lose myself. A horrible thought struck me as I did. What if Jeff was smart enough not to fall for that one twice? He could kill my roommates and then take his time. He'd eventually corner me and that would be it.

I was about to turn around and head back, when I heard the familiar sound of wood being smashed through. I guess I overestimated his intelligence. It was good to know that I hadn't gone to the well once too often, as of yet. Gee, I wonder if he'd be even more ticked at me if he knew he was just fulfilling my stereotype of him as a big dumbass.

I was contemplating my next action when there came a thunderous roar, momentarily blurting out all other sound. What the . . . !? It didn't sound like it had come from Jeff's direction. As the sound faded, though, I distinctly heard Tom's voice. “Teach you to call the cops on me, bitch!” All right, the shotgun. It sounded like Mrs. Caven's days of snooping on our business were over.

She probably deserved a better fate than she had been given. On the other hand, if offered the choice, I might take a short violent career as a vampire over slowly wasting away in some old folks home. Wouldn't you? No? Well, to each their own.

Still, I couldn't resist a little feeling of hope. One vampire down meant my buddies could help me out. “Hear that, Jeffy!?” I screamed. “Sounds like your backup plan is toast!”

“Like I need your mom to win!” he shouted in return. It was closer than I had thought it would be.

“For the last time, she's not my mom, you retard!” I yelled back, before realizing my mistake. My first shout had given him a general idea of my whereabouts. My second had let him zero in. Almost as soon as I closed my mouth, the crate next to me exploded, sending splinters of sharp wooden shrapnel flying into my body. However, if that was the opening act, then Jeff's fist was the encore. It came through and caught me square on the chest.

I flew through the air in a daze, crashing through one crate before finally slamming into the metal detector near where we had first entered. As I landed, I could see daylight peeking through under the door from which we had come in. Or at least I thought it was daylight. I might have just been seeing stars. That one had hurt...more than a lot. I felt like I was busted up pretty good. I tried to take a breath and the pain almost doubled me over. Then, when I exhaled, I hocked up a gout of blood along with any air. Not good.

I tried and failed to stand as Jeff's form advanced from out of the shadows. “So this is it?” he asked, almost sounding disappointed. I desperately tried to think of something to try. Unfortunately, remembering my name was becoming a chore, much less coming up with a brilliant battle strategy.

“Look at you,” he sighed, reaching down a hand and locking it around my throat. “Pathetic.” He straightened up and dragged me to my feet.

Hey, at least I could die standing. No, I needed to stop thinking like that. C'mon, stupid, concentrate. There had to be a way out of this. *smack* Jeff backhanded me across the face with his free hand.

“To think that this is the mighty Freewill,” he spat. “A kitten would have put up a better fight.”

Kitten? Think. Kitten...cat...cats have...claws! I did, too. Sally had shown me earlier. Now I just had to concentrate. Block out the pain. *smack* Okay, try harder to block out the pain. Come on...extend. Now...*SLASH!*

I brought my right hand up in an arc and raked it across Jeff's eyes. Yeah, take that, fucker!

It was another moment before I realized he wasn't dropping me to scream in pain or clutch at the ruins of his once-chiseled complexion. I refocused on his face and noticed it was still there, completely intact and no worse off except maybe for an expression of confusion on it.

“What the fuck was that?” he asked.

I held up my hand and looked at it. No wicked claws met my gaze, just my stupid fat fingers. Fuck! Guess Sally was right about practicing these things. Great! I had hoped that if I had to die, I would at least go out in a blaze of glory...worst case was probably going out in a way that would at least piss Jeff off. But, noooo. Maybe he was right, and I was pathetic.

We locked eyes, triumph in his, defeat in mine, as I prepared for the deathblow. I actually found myself hoping that, if the end had to come, he would just take my head off with one blow...it'd probably hurt less that way. I mentally said my goodbyes to everyone: my friends, my parents, and maybe most of all, to Sheila. We would never get a chance to make a life together, have kids together, grow old together...or ever go on that first date together. I would die alone.

Or maybe not.

What happened instead is that Tom leaped out of the darkness and jumped onto Jeff's back. Heh, I had almost forgotten about him. He yelled, “The power of Prime compels you!” (Yep, dude had completely lost it) and slammed his toy against the side of Jeff's face. There was a flash and the douchebag’s head began smoldering.

He screamed and dropped me. I landed in a heap and watched the spectacle, still unable to do much to help. He spun around a few times with my friend still on his back, and flames now starting to appear on his head. Tom was actually making a pretty good go of it. A few more seconds and Jeff was going to have a roman candle for a noggin.

Unfortunately, he didn't get those few extra seconds. Jeff managed to reach a hand around and grab hold of Tom's shirt. He physically tore Tom off his back and, before my roommate could further react, Jeff threw him like a rag doll. He slammed into the wall with a sickening crunch and slid to the floor. Oh, god, no!

I looked at where he had landed, but there was no sign of movement. As much as I wanted to go and check on him, though, I couldn't. Jeff was slowly turning back toward me. Most of his hair was gone, his face was covered in burns of varying degrees, and he had a distinct action figure-shaped scar seared into the side of his head. But even with all that, he was still smiling - the fucker.

This is usually the part in an action movie where the hero sees his buddy go down, screams “Noooooooo!” or something equally articulate, and then gets a second wind so as to get up and take the baddie out. I actually did give it a try, but my attempt to rise to my feet was somewhat less than heroic. It was more of a slow lurch upward, like a baby trying to walk for the first time.

Jeff started to reach down, no doubt to help me back to my feet again, but paused, and then looked back in the direction from which Tom had sprung. “You might as well come out. I can hear you breathing,” he said to the shadows.

“Oh,” replied Ed, stepping from the darkness with his gun raised. “Can you hear this?” he pulled back on the pump. There was an audible click as he chambered a round.

“And what are you going to do with that?” Jeff sneered. “Do you really think it'll do you any good?”

“Worked pretty well against your pet back there; took most of her head off at this range. I'd say that was pretty good,” Ed replied, leveling the gun at Jeff's face.

“I think you'll find I'm in a slightly different weight class. You so much as twitch your finger and I'll tear your head from your shoulders before you even know what’s happening.”

“Maybe you will, and maybe you won't,” Ed replied. I had to give him credit. He was talking smack pretty well in the face of a threat that he had good reason to believe was anything but idle.

Jeff continued, “I have to admit, you have balls. A lot more than your friend here.” He gestured over his shoulder to me. “But I'm afraid it's just not enough. Now why don't you be a good little boy and LOWER THE GUN!”

Oh crap! I could see the battle of wills taking place. Jeff was giving a direct compulsion to Ed, who was trying his best to resist. Unfortunately, after a few seconds, the gun started to shake in his hands and he slowly lowered the barrel. His eyes didn't glaze over the way Sally's had, but I could still see he was losing.

Fortunately for me, Jeff had to concentrate to do this. His full attention was on Ed, which gave me the few seconds I needed to make it back to my feet. I steeled myself - despite feeling more like balsa wood than steel - as best as I could, and lunged at his back.

If you're thinking that what I did was a little on the obvious side, don't worry; Jeff did, too. He reached back and caught me by the throat without so much as glancing in my direction. He turned his head to face me and asked, “Don't you know it's rude to interrupt?” and that was when the gun went off.

* * *

Jeff screamed in pain and again let me go. He bent over to grab his left leg, which was now missing a fair-sized chunk of meat from the thigh.

“Word of advice, asshole,” Ed said, once again raising the barrel of the gun. “Next time, try ‘put down the gun’ instead of ‘lower it.’”

He started to chamber another shell, but had underestimated our opponent. Jeff was still very much in the game. Quicker than Ed could react, Jeff grabbed the barrel of the shotgun. He gave it a quick yank to pull Ed off balance and then shoved back on it, causing the stock of the gun to slam straight into my friend’s face with an audible crunch. Ed let go of it and fell back. Jeff flung the weapon off into the shadows and began to advance upon my downed roommate.

It was now or never. I had managed to stay on my feet when Jeff released me. I still didn't have enough in me to launch any type of reasonably impressive counterattack, but I had to do something. He had already likely killed one of my friends. No way was I letting him get another without going through me, first. I leaped...

And landed on him, piggyback style. I wrapped my legs around his midsection and my arms around his neck. “Forget about me, fucker!?” I screamed into his ear.

Jeff went nuts. He started spinning around to try throwing me off, but I was stuck like a tick. He tried prying my arms off, but his leverage wasn't good. I wasn't exactly choking him out, but I definitely had turned his attention away from Ed.

“Enough of this!” he snarled, then backed up and crushed me against the wall. Oof! It hurt, but I still refused to let go. “SALLY, TO ME! NOW!” he screamed the compulsion out toward the warehouse. “You forget, fool,” he said, still trying to shake me off, “that I can command her to take action.”

“And you forget that I'm the motherfucking Freewill,” I spat right back. “And I can do this!” Extending my fangs, I sunk them into his neck (my internal voice piping up and saying, “’Bout time you remembered you could do that.”).

Jeff let out a high-pitched scream that quickly turned into a gurgle as I dug in. His blood flowed into my mouth and down my throat and...holy shit! If the blood from that HBC vamp was an electric charge, then Jeff's was a goddamned lightning bolt. It was like I was a car engine that someone had suddenly injected nitrous oxide into. As I drank his blood, it felt like my body was turbocharged in every sense. I felt stronger, swifter, and more alert. Best of all, my wounds appeared to be healing at light speed. Whatever pain I had felt earlier from Jeff's beating was gone. In fact, within a few moments, I couldn't detect any trace of my injuries.

Jeff's struggles started to weaken. This was it. I was the victor. I was the man!

I was an idiot.

He’d been playing possum and I had fallen for it. He bent over, twisted his shoulder, and threw me off with a judo toss that would have made Sensei Berkowitz proud. Considering the dozen plus times his students had done that to me during my short tenure as his pupil, I should have seen it coming. But I didn't, and I wound up flat on my back.

Jeff's boot appeared in my field of vision, rushing to stomp in my face. However, I was running on high octane now. I caught his foot and gave him a shove, which sent him flying off balance. We both got to our feet simultaneously, and he charged me. I tensed my legs and jumped.

This time, there wasn't a low ceiling to slam myself into. I flipped over his head...well, okay, I sorta flipped. What I did was good for me, but it definitely wasn't going to get me an invitation to join the men's Olympic gymnastics team anytime soon. It didn't matter, though, as it got the job done. I landed...mostly on my feet, as Jeff slammed into a pile of debris.

He turned and launched himself at me again, but this time, I met him full on. Our hands locked and he tried to power me down to my knees. However, I was able to meet him as an equal. His blood, and thus his strength, was currently flowing in my veins. I met him thrust for thrust...in a fighting sort of way, not a porno sort of way. Just wanted to clarify that.

We fought back and forth, each trying to gain an advantage over the other. Eventually, though, I started to feel myself gaining ground. Our strength was currently on par with each other, but, whereas I was fresh, Jeff had a gaping neck wound that was still spurting blood. I felt him begin to weaken. Now it was my turn to...

Then, quite unexpectedly, he smiled and said, “It's about time. Game over, Dr. Death.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sally walk from the shadows - still with that glazed look on her face. She stepped on Ed as she advanced toward us and he let out a grunt of pain (at least he was still alive). Jeff had already proven that he still had enough control to use her as a distraction, and that was exactly what I didn't need right now. I turned my head and spoke to her.

“Sally, snap out of it. He's weakened. You don't have to let him control youuuuuuuu!” That last part came out as more of a screech than an actual word, because that was the point where Jeff's uninjured leg came up. His knee smashed into my balls with the force of a runaway freight train.

I disengaged from our grapple and doubled over. Super-amped vampire strength or not, goddamn, that hurt. And I mean hurt, as in, I couldn't even remember my name through the feeling that was radiating out from my groin.

“Owed you that one,” spat Jeff, staggering back and holding onto his torn neck. I tried to open my mouth to form a witty reply, but my testicles were kind of stuck in my throat at the moment. Thus, the best I could do were a few inarticulate grunts.

This sucked! Jeff looked like he was about done, but I couldn't do shit about it, at least not while it felt like a marching band was using my nuts as their personal parade ground. From the smile on his face, I could tell he was well aware of this.

He softly said, “And now it ends.” He then turned toward my compelled companion and commanded, “SALLY, KILL THIS ASSHOLE!”

Sally immediately sprang into action. She rushed toward me at full speed. I tensed my body for the impact. This was not going to be pretty.

And then she ran past me, straight toward Jeff.

His eyes opened wide in a look of confusion that probably matched the one on my face, and then Sally struck him. She bent over and rammed her shoulder into his midsection like a defensive lineman. He was picked up off his feet by the much smaller vampire, but she didn't stop there. Maintaining speed, she carried Jeff in the direction of the security door. He attempted to rain blows upon her back, but she had him in an awkward position to do so. Before he could do anything to slow her down, she barreled full steam into the door. The force of the impact was more than its latch could take. It immediately swung open. The two combatants disappeared into the daylight, the door's reverse momentum causing it to slam shut again once they were past.

All this happened in the space of a second or two. Even had I been able, I doubt I would have had time to do more than yell at her to stop before she carried Jeff out into the sunlight.

The walls of the warehouse were thick, but not thick enough to stop the screams that came from outside. Fortunately, they didn't last long.

* * *

After a few minutes, the throbbing in my crotch subsided to a dull roar, and I was able to get back up. My healing system was still running on Jeff juice, thus even that quickly faded away. I walked over to where Ed lay. His hands were cupped over his face and I could see a lot of blood on them. I bent down and shook his shoulder.

“Hey, man, you okay?”

He gave an inarticulate grunt in reply. I shook his shoulder again and his eyes opened. After a second, they focused on me. He tried to sit up and I caught his arm to help him. Finally he lowered his hands and I was able to survey the damage.

“Ew!”

“How bad?” he managed to slur.

“I'm sorry to say your days as a beauty queen are over.” He stared hard at me for a moment and then I continued, “A black eye, split lip. Smile.” He did. “Looks like you're missing a tooth. Oh, and your nose is completely broken to shit. I think you'll live. You just won't be pretty to look at for a while.” I held out a hand to help him to his feet.

“Then I guess I'll get to know what it's like to be you,” he joked, spitting out some blood. “Is it safe to assume we won?”

“Yeah, we did.”

“Everyone in one piece?” he asked.

I was silent for a moment and then said, “Not quite.”

“Tom?”

“I don't know. Are you strong enough to walk with me and check? Not sure I can handle that alone.”

He nodded and we walked over to where Tom still lay facedown. “He got hit hard,” I said. “But he took a hell of a piece out of that fucker before he did.” Damn, it sounded too much like a eulogy to me.

“Best not to drag this out,” he said. Was it me, or did even he sound a little misty?

We both bent down and tried shaking Tom's shoulder. No response. I did so again, a little harder. Nothing. I was about to stand back up, defeated, when he coughed. Ed and I looked at each other, surprise and relief in both of our eyes.

“Tom!” I yelled as I did it again. “Wake up!”

He started to stir a little more. “C'mon, buddy!” Ed cried. “You can do it.”

Finally, we heard some muffled words from Tom's down-turned face. I bent over and asked, “What? I couldn't hear you.”

“I said, damn that was a hard wall,” he coughed weakly.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“No,” he answered, just barely audible.

“Help me turn him over,” I said to Ed. Gently, we rolled Tom over onto his back. He was one giant bruise and his hands were clutched tightly over his chest.

“No,” he said again, louder now that he was facing upward.

“It'll be okay. Let me see.”

Ed gave me a worried look. He reached down and slowly pried Tom's fingers away from his chest. We were both expecting the worst. What we saw instead were the broken pieces of his Optimus Prime toy.

“That's it?” I asked, annoyed.

Tom's eyes opened a bit and he replied, “Do you know how much that thing was worth?”

Despite his condition, my response was a swift smack upside the head.

* * *

It took a few minutes, but eventually the three of us made it back to our feet. Things were still shaky, but we'd live. While we were doing so, I explained to my bruised and battered companions the sacrifice Sally had made.

“I can’t believe it,” said Tom. “After all that, she came through for us in the end.”

“I'm sorry I doubted her,” Ed said.

“Me, too,” I replied.

“Hey!” exclaimed Tom, a worried look appearing on his face as he turned to me. “Are you sure Jeff is dead?”

“Well, it sure sounded like it.”

“But you didn't see it.”

“No,” I admitted. “But you guys have seen what the sun does to vamps. No way did he walk away from that.”

“We should go check,” Ed said. I started to open my mouth, but he cut me off. “Tom and me, I meant. No offense, but out in the sun, you're tits on a bull.”

“None taken.”

“Stand back. If he is out there, I want to make sure he can't jump us,” Ed continued. “Also, no point in you getting fricasseed in the process.” He walked over to the main loading dock and pushed a button on the wall. The warehouse still had power, and the motors for the garage doors came to life with a groan. Three large bay doors opened, letting in the daylight beyond (fortunately the sun was now too high to shine directly in), and giving us a good view of the parking lot.

“There!” Tom pointed.

I walked as close to the exit as I dared and followed his outstretched hand. Sure enough, amidst a clutter of upturned trashcans, there was a good-sized pile of dust on the ground. I recognized a half-burnt shoe sticking out of it as one that Jeff had been wearing.

“That's him,” I confirmed. “The asshole is toast.”

“I hope he's getting ass-raped by Satan as we speak,” said Tom.

“At the very least.”

I started to turn away from the opening when I heard a low mumble. “What was that?”

“Huh?” asked Tom.

“I didn't say anything,” Ed replied.

“Must have been my imagination. Mind's playing tricks...” That’s when I heard it again. “What the hell? Didn't you guys hear that?” They were both in the middle of shaking their heads when there came a muffled thump from outside.

“Now that, I heard,” Ed replied.

“Me, too,” confirmed Tom.

“Guess we should check it out.”

“First things first,” I said and went to retrieve the shotgun from where Jeff had flung it.

Only once my friends were duly rearmed did I let them venture out to investigate. I kept watch, close enough to the doors to see any ambush, but not so close as to get deep-fried.

My roommates went out to check on things. It didn't take long to home in on the sounds as the muffled thuds started coming with increased frequency. Their source turned out to be an upside down trashcan close to Jeff's remains. Ed backed up a step and pointed the gun at the can. He nodded to Tom, who slowly started to lift it.

He had gotten it up about six inches when a voice screamed from within, “Are you fucking stupid!?” The can was pulled back down to the ground from the inside. Holy shit! That was Sally's voice. No mistaking her pissy tone.

Tom and Ed exchanged surprised glances and then turned toward me. Thinking fast, I yelled back, “Give me a second, guys.” I raced back into the warehouse. It took a few minutes of sifting through the place, but at last, I found something that might work. I bundled it up and ran back to the opening.

I balled up the old painter’s tarp I had found off in a corner and tossed it out the door to Tom. “Use this.”

He caught it and nodded while Ed set aside the gun. Together they managed to get the garbage can off of Sally and bundle her under the tarp before the sunlight could do its job. They started to lead her back to the relative safety of the warehouse, but she stopped them near the pile that had been Jeff. I saw her hand reach from under the tarp and sift through the ashes. She grabbed something from them and then let my roommates finish escorting her back inside, where she discarded the tarp to the floor. She was a little singed around the edges and some smoke was still coming off her shoulders, but she was otherwise alive.

“Thanks. It was starting to get a little stuffy in there,” she said.

“How the hell did you manage to pull that one off?” Ed asked.

“With neither finesse nor time to spare,” she motioned to a few burns on her hands and arms.

“What's with the souvenirs?” Tom asked, gesturing to whatever she’d palmed.

“Just a few things we're going to need for later.”

“Fine,” I said. “But seriously, what happened back there with you and Jeff?”

“Besides me saving your asses and, thus, the day?” she intoned, her attitude apparently suffering no ill effects from the battle. I nodded, and she continued, “Whatever you did to Jeff near the end there weakened his ability to control me.” She smiled. “Besides, he also failed to specify exactly which asshole I should kill.”

* * *

The danger over, we decided it was safe to split up. My roommates left the remaining weapons in our care, making me promise to return the gun and the steak knives back home (neither shotguns nor good kitchen cutlery are cheap, y'know). They both had enough of the vampire world for one day, and decided to head home via the topside.

“Maybe with a quick pit stop at the hospital,” Ed commented.

“What are you going to tell them happened?”

He smiled and pointed to the elbow pads he and Tom still wore. “Damn skateboards. Those things'll kill ya.”

After they had departed, I followed Sally to the warehouse's sewer entrance. It would keep us out of the sun and lead us back to one of the coven's other locations, where we could presumably get cleaned up and grab some blood. We opened the grate leading downward. I had started to descend when Sally said, “Wait a minute,” and disappeared back into the warehouse. She returned a few moments later. “Sorry. Forgot to shut off the lights,” was the only explanation she gave.

As we walked down the dark tunnel together, I asked her, “So, what now?”

“You get to live. That's what.”

“Are you so sure?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Isn't the rest of the coven going to be kind of pissed over what we did to Jeff?”

“Oh, that?” she said dismissively. “It doesn't really matter how pissed they are. Coven rules are pretty specific about this sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing?”

“Combat. One vampire can challenge another to a duel. If that happens, the outcome is considered to be between them and them alone.”

“Okay,” I pointed out, “but Jeff was the coven leader.”

“Yes, and in that, the rules are even more specific.”

“How so?” I asked, trekking through the damp, smelly tunnel.

“If a coven master is challenged and defeated in fair combat, then whoever is the vanquisher becomes the new leader.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. “So that means you're...”

“In charge? El presidente? Número uno?” she playfully replied. “Yep. I guess it does.”

I chuckled and started walking again. “Should I bow before you, my queen?”

“I will definitely consider that,” she replied, deadpan.

“You know, little details like that might have been nice to know up front.”

“You seemed stressed enough as it was. I didn't want to give you anything else to worry about. Some guys just can't perform under pressure.” She said that last part with a wink.

We walked for a few more moments in the tight confines, and then a thought struck me. “Wait a moment. You said fair combat, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, four against one might not exactly be considered fair.”

“Not true,” she pointed out. “Funny thing about us vampires, we have a very liberal view on the definition of fair.”

And, Of Course, There's an Epilogue

Two days later, Sally and I were back at the loft. The entirety of the coven had been summoned. It was time to break the news and see how they took it. We had spent the past few days resting and gathering our strength back at her suggestion. She said that things like this usually went fine, but if we showed up looking worse for the wear, it could be construed as a sign of weakness. A few days off was fine with me, as I needed some time to decompress and tidy up some loose ends.

Tom and Ed had both spent a night in the hospital for observation. They were going to be sore for quite some time, but at the end of the day, nothing would be permanent, except that maybe Ed's nose would probably be a little crooked going forward. They took it in good stride. After all, how many people can have a showdown with a master vampire and live to brag about it? And brag we did. Every time we recounted the story to each other, the exploits of our victory got a little larger. Within a few months, we'd all be convinced that we had waltzed in, kicked Jeff's ass without breaking a sweat, and then sauntered out to grab a celebratory beer.

The cops had investigated our break-in, declaring it drug related. The damage to both the front door and Mrs. Caven's apartment (in addition to ours) had necessitated bringing the authorities in. That was okay. Besides which, the police report would help us with the subsequent insurance claim. Mrs. Caven's disappearance could have been messy, but Sally assured me that the coven's connections would make sure it was quickly swept aside as just another unsolved crime. That she appeared not to have any close relatives to stir things up would help in those regards.

Which brings us, once again, back to the loft. Sally and I stood together as the last of the coven arrived. Damn if it didn't look like the cast party from a perfume commercial. Following my ordeal, I may have had a new respect for the vampire lifestyle, but that didn't mean I had lost my appreciation for the sweet pieces of female flesh before me. Without Jeff there to fray my nerves, I could finally just enjoy the scenery.

“Ye who are gathered, attend my words, please,” Sally said to the group as a whole. Apparently, there were official words that needed to be spoken during these things. She had prepared me in advance for this, lest I start making smartass remarks during the middle of things, which, of course, I was still leaving open as an option. The coven stopped their small talk and turned their attention toward her.

“It is with a heavy heart (yeah right) that I inform you, the gathered, that the time of passing is upon us,” she continued. “Night Razor is no more.”

An instant murmuring arose amongst the group, some of it none-too-friendly sounding. Finally, one of the coven spoke up. It was the smug dickhead I had managed to stare down a few weeks back, Dusk Reaper.

“You lie!” he barked. “Night Razor is eternal. All glory to Night Razor!” A few of the male vamps echoed his all glory crap. Jeez! The first thing Sally needed to change in this place was the freaking fraternity mindset.

Sally, for her part, kept her cool, but she also dropped the formalities. “Eternal?” she questioned. “Does this look like eternal to you?” She pulled something out of her pocket and tossed them onto the floor in front of her. I leaned down to get a better look. There were two of them, white, long, thin, and sharp. They looked like fangs.

“Are those...” I started to ask, but she cut me off with just one word.

“Yep.”

Damn. I guess that's what she fished out of Jeff's ashes two days ago. A little morbid, if you ask me, kind of like going through a dead guy's pockets for spare change.

All of the gathered vampires, in turn, walked up to view the oversized canines. Whether it was to confirm Jeff's unfortunate passing, or to pay their respects, I wasn't sure. As long as there wasn't a mass scream of “Get them!” followed by the crowd rushing me and Sally, I didn't really care, either.

“How did this happen?” spat Dusk Reaper again. He had either been asshole buddies with Jeff, or had elected himself chief brown-noser. “If it was treachery, he shall be avenged.” Again, a few of the male voices chimed in with him. Goddamn, he was starting to get on my nerves.

“There was no treachery,” Sally calmly replied. “Night Razor fell in fair combat.”

“Fair combat? I doubt that. Who could beat Night Razor?” asked the little ass-kissing prick.

“I think you already know,” she locked eyes with him. This was it. Now we got to see if she had the stuff to hold this crew together. I was standing by to back her up, just in case.

“The Freewill has slain Night Razor in fair combat!” Sally shouted to the crowd.

What the fuck? I opened my mouth to say something, but she kept talking right over me.

“As per our customs, whoever shall slay the coven master fairly shall become the new coven master. I say, I did see the Freewill slay Night Razor in such combat. Our former master fought valiantly, but he fell, nevertheless. It was a good death.” (I guess vampires have a liberal view on the definition of good deaths, too.)

More hushed conversation burst out. I swear it was like being back in high school.

Once again, though, Sally spoke over the crowd, “As is also our custom, should anyone wish to challenge the legitimacy of our new leader, they may do so. A duel to the death will then ensue.” She turned to the dickhead who kept speaking out of turn. “Dusk Reaper, you have been the most vocal amongst us. Do you care to raise a challenge? It is your right...if you feel you can beat him.”

Holy shit! She had set him up. Worst of all for him, he knew it. He glanced over in my direction, and I made it a point to give him a hard stare in return. This pissing match had already been decided, though. He quickly looked away.

“No. I will not challenge our new...master,” replied Dusk Reaper, eyes downcast. He then turned to the rest of the crowd and roared, “All glory to Dr. Death!” Yep, I was right. He was a grade-A suck-up.

There was a moment’s hesitation from the coven as a whole during which I was sure someone or someones would call me out. I knew how vampires defined fair combat, and I wouldn't have been surprised to find myself challenged to a duel involving me against every one of the muscle heads here. Fortunately, though, to both my surprise and immense relief, slowly the crowd started to join in.

“All glory to Dr. Death,” softly at first, but then it gradually got louder.

Before it could get to ear splitting levels, though, a thought occurred to me. “No,” I said, holding up my hand. The coven immediately fell silent. Even Sally turned to me with a quizzical look in her eye.

“A new era begins today, and an old one ends,” I said, trying to keep any wavering from my voice. If this went on, I might have to consider taking a public speaking class. “As such, so too must the ways of old end. I thus abolish the dictate that we all take new identities within the coven. From now on, you shall be known by whatever name you wish to be known as. My name is...Bill.”

Fuck! Chalk another one up in the ever-growing list of things that sounded a lot cooler in my mind.

However, despite the lameness of my decree, once again the chant started up. This time it was, “All glory to Bill!”

Ah, yes. Lousy one-liner or not, this was much, much better.

* * *

The next few hours were actually pleasant for a change. Along with my promotion came an instant change in attitude toward me. The men were more respectful, and the women were flirtier. In case you missed that last part, the women were all flirting it up with me. I could get used to that shit.

Finally, in the wee hours, I excused myself to leave. One of the nice perks of my new position was that nobody questioned where or why I was going. I decided to enjoy the night air - I’d earned it.

Strolling leisurely, I had walked a couple of blocks when Sally caught up to me.

“So, how's it going, master?” she said with a mock bow.

“I could definitely get used to this.”

“I thought you could.”

“Speaking of which...”

“Why did I hand credit over to you when I could have easily made myself the new leader?” she finished my question for me.

“In a nutshell,” I agreed.

“Did you see some of them in there? Remember what I told you about Jeff stocking the coven with guys who were mostly just clones of himself?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, duh,” she continued. “Do you think that one of those macho assholes would have let me assume command for even a minute before challenging me?”

“You could have taken Dick Reaper.”

“Maybe. But what about the next one, and the next? I wouldn't be able to turn around without being challenged. You, on the other hand...”

“Are, for the most part, weaker, and less experienced than you?” I mused.

“Yes, but the rest of them don't know that. To them, you're the fearsome Freewill. They'll all think twice before getting in your face. And if they do...well, luckily for you, some of that bullshit we've been spreading around just so happens to be true.”

“I guess. Although you could have told me first rather than putting me out there with a potential target on my back.”

“Yeah, I could have, but I gotta get my fun somewhere,” she finished with a laugh.

“Fair enough,” I replied evenly. “Speaking of fun, though, that reminds me...what about my decree back there?”

“What about it?”

“Well, I've abolished all of our dopey little superhero names. So, what should I call you now? I believe it was Lu...something,” I said with my own laugh.

“Sally will be just fine, thank you,” she replied. “I've gotten used to it. But not Sunset. That has to go. Maybe I'll just be Sally Smith, or something like that.”

“I could order you to tell me your real name. I am your lord and master, now, after all.”

She gave me the mother of all eye-rolls in return, and said, “You can shove your orders up your ass sideways. And as for that lord and master crap, sorry, it doesn't fly with me.”

“No?”

“Nope,” she said sternly. “On the contrary, being that you're still new and all, I think I'll be calling most of the shots from behind the scenes.”

“You will?”

“Yes,” she responded with a tone of finality. “In fact, I think it might be best to think of me more as your partner than your servant.”

“And what makes you think I'll go along with that?”

“Oh, just a little insurance,” she said, stopping to face me.

“What kind of insurance?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

“This kind,” she pulled something out of her pocket and held it up. “Look familiar?” It did. It was Jeff's camcorder. Contained within it was, no doubt, footage of my less than stellar fair duel with our former leader. “I figured I'd keep it as a souvenir. A little something to remind us of that day...just in case we forget,” she said, a grin spreading across her face.

I couldn't help but laugh. Throughout everything, I had been so enamored of James' power and so scared of Jeff's that I hadn't realized how much of a force Sally was to reckon with.

“You really are a bitch,” I said with a laugh.

“No,” she replied. “I'm the queen bitch...more precisely I'm your queen bitch. Don't worry, you'll get used to it. You have all of eternity.”

As we walked off into the night together, I had to wonder whether eternity would be long enough.

THE END

Bill Ryder will return in:

Scary Dead Things: The Tome of Bill, Part 2

Available in both ebook and paperback formats

Can’t wait for more Bill? Follow his ongoing misadventures on Facebook at:

http://www.facebook.com/BilltheVampire

About the Author

Rick Gualtieri lives alone in central New Jersey with only his wife, three kids, and countless pets to both keep him company and constantly plot against him. He has won no literary awards and has received exactly zero accolades for his work in the past, present, and (most likely) future. When he’s not busy monkey-clicking out words, he can typically be found jealously guarding his collection of vintage Transformers from all who would seek to defile them.

Defilers beware!

Rick Gualtieri is also the author of:

Bigfoot Hunters

Scary Dead Things (The Tome of Bill, Part 2)

The Mourning Woods (The Tome of Bill, part 3)

Holier Than Thou (The Tome of Bill, part 4)

The Poptart Manifesto

To contact Rick (with either undying praise or rude comments) please visit:

http://www.poptartmanifesto.com

Bonus Chapter

Scary Dead Things: The Tome of Bill, part 2

Note to self: don't listen to advice from Ed, I thought as I watched the miles slide by. Traffic was surprisingly light for a Sunday night. I was sitting in the passenger seat of Ed's two-seater piece-of-shit, and my roommate was behind the wheel driving. We were heading south on Route 287 towards the Outerbridge Crossing. Ed had been good enough to come down and give me a ride back home, which kind of made sense as it had been his advice that had given me cause to want to flee back to the relative safety of Brooklyn. Nevertheless, I was glad for the ride. It had turned out to be a long weekend, and I was in no mood to deal with the idiocies of mass transit to get back home.

Since it was early fall, there was no Jersey Shore traffic to contend with. Even so, considering it was only about six PM, traffic was pretty light heading towards Staten Island. Oh well, it was that lull that tends to happen around late September / early October. People were still burnt out from the summer, and the holiday rush was a good month or so off. This was one of those rare times when people just stayed put. In short, the asshole ratio on the roads was low. I liked times like this. Sadly, they were too few and far between as of late.

Ed and I had been listening to some rock music on the radio, or at least what the DJ was calling rock music. There were very few real rock stations left in New Jersey. Most played either classic rock, which was mostly tolerable, or a combination of lousy ballads and pop rock (which had just enough guitar riffs to be outside of the Justin Beiber demographic...barely). We had been discussing how real kick-ass rock music was such a rare commodity when my cell rang.

I had been expecting this. I picked it up and answered with a “Hello.”

“William, is there something you would like to tell me?” asked the voice of my dad.

Uh oh. That wasn't a good sign. If he was calling me William, it meant he had noticed the little mistake I had left behind from my weekend of house sitting.

I decided to do what I did best, play dumb. “Nope. It was a quiet weekend, dad.”

“I'm sure it was,” replied my father's voice in a tone that said he didn't even remotely believe me. “Your mother and I appreciate you coming down and keeping an eye on the place while we were at the beach.” The beach in this case being some of the many casinos down in Atlantic City.

“No problem, dad! Anyway, well I gotta -” I tried to end the call on a chipper note.

“Hold it!” said the voice on the other end. “I guess I won't beat around the bush. What the hell did you do to Angel?” At the mention of the name of her favorite cat, I could hear my mother in the background. She started wailing and carrying on. It pretty much sounded like she was in the middle of a major freak-out. Not too surprising, all things considered.

“Mom sounds kind of upset.”

“I noticed,” said my father, sarcasm oozing out of his voice. “Do you want to know why?” he asked, despite the fact that I had a pretty good idea why and he most likely knew it.

“Why?” I asked innocently.

“Because right now she's vacuuming up a pile of Angel dust!” he growled.

“Angel dust? You know, she should hold on to that. I hear the street value's off the charts if it's the good stuff.”

“I'm not laughing, William.”

“Sorry, sir,” I automatically replied, despite being an adult, having a job, living on my own, and...oh yeah...being a freaking vampire. “What happened?” I asked, genuinely curious. After all, I wasn't entirely sure how things had played out...especially since I had made it a point to bug out before my parents got home, even going so far as donning a hoodie, sunglasses, and ski mask so as to brave the daylight without bursting into flames. Probably not the manliest way I could have handled the situation, but I like to think there's a fine line between bravery and idiocy. Sticking around would have definitely crossed that line.

“When we got home, your mother noticed the cat was acting a little strange,” my father explained. “It was hissing and carrying on.”

“They're cats,” I replied, again donning an innocent tone. “They go loopy every now and then.”

“Don't be stupid. You know Angel,” chided my dad. “You could step on the stupid cat's...sorry, dear...head, and she wouldn't bat a whisker. But not today. When we got home, she was going absolutely nuts. And there was something wrong with her eyes. They had gone all black like a shark's. That definitely was not normal.”

“Distemper?” I unhelpfully queried.

“Not unless it was the most extreme case of distemper there's ever been,” Dad continued. “Your mom was a mess. Made me go get the cat carrier so we could rush her to the vet.” Oh boy, I think I knew where this was going. “I had the damnedest time getting her in it, too. Little bitch kept going after me.”

“She didn't bite you, did she?” I asked worriedly. I hadn't considered that. I wasn't even sure she could pass it back to humans, but it was a risk I wasn't really willing to take...at least not with my parents.

“No, but she came damn close. I had to put on some work gloves to finally get her in. Then it got weird.” (Yeah, I bet it did)

“I'm listening.”

“Your mom got in the car, but I had left my wallet in the house. I sat the cat carrier out on the walk and went back inside to grab it, and then...”

“In the sun?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“What?”

“Did you leave the carrier in the sun?” I repeated.

“I don't know. I guess so. What does it matter?” dad asked irritably. “All I know is that one minute it's quiet, and the next I hear your mother carrying on like a mad woman. I ran back outside, and do you know what I found? The cat carrier was on fire. I'm not just talking a few sparks either. It was like someone doused it with rocket fuel.”

I was definitely starting to get a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“By the time I got the hose, though, the fire was already out.” Dad went on with his gruesome tale. “The damnedest thing was the cat. I was expecting her to be all burnt up, but there was nothing left. She was completely vaporized. All that was left was a pile of ashes with her collar sticking out of it.”

“Wow. That's...bizarre,” I said, understating the whole thing.

“Yes, bizarre is one word for it. So that's why I want to know whether or not anything odd happened this weekend while you were around.”

“No idea,” I lied. “Like I said, dad, it was a slow weekend. Barely saw the cat. She kept to herself. Other than that, not much going on...hello, dad? Dad? I'm losing you. We're heading into a tunnel. I'll call...” and then I disconnected the call as I had no idea what further to say.

Ed and I drove on for a mile or so, and then he said, “I know I only caught part of that conversation...”

“I don't want to talk about it,” I interrupted.

He ignored me anyway, “But was that about what I think it was?”

I sighed as I started to confess, “My mom's cat, Angel...”

“Yes?”

“I kinda, might have...”

“Yes?”

“Turned her into a vampire,” I finished.

“YOU WHAT!?” he yelled, just barely managing to keep the car from swerving off the road.

“Turned it into a vampire,” I repeated.

“Why?”

“It was an accident.”

“How was it an accident?”

“Well, as you had suggested, I got pretty wrecked this weekend,” I said with a guilty grin.

“And how does that lead to an immortal demon cat?”

“Well, like I said, I was pretty messed up. I guess when vampires get the munchies they don't automatically go for the nachos like everyone else.”

“That's fucked up, man.”

“I know.”

“It's your mom's cat!”

“Was my mom’s cat, anyway.”

“I mean, I don't even like cats,” he went on, “and I still think that's fucked.”

“Yes, I get it. I didn't mean to vampirize the damn cat. It just kind of happened.”

“Is that even a word?” he asked.

“It is now,” I snapped. “And then when she woke up from it...”

“I'm listening.”

“I guess I kind of fooled myself into thinking that maybe I had dreamt it all.”

“I take it from your dad's call that you were wrong on that front.”

“Definitely not a dream,” I confirmed.

“Fucked up,” he repeated.

We drove on again in silence for a few minutes until I heard Ed chortle. I turned to see him grinning and trying...and failing...to suppress laughter.

“What's so funny?” I asked.

“I was just thinking...”

“Yeah?”

“There is a bright side,” he said.

“Do tell.”

“When we get home, you at least get to tell Tom about how you got to eat some pussy this weekend,” he said, finally cracking up laughing.

“Not funny,” I said, but it was a lie. Put that way, it was actually pretty goddamned hilarious. I soon joined my roommate in the laughter.

We laughed for a good long while until my phone rang again.

“Oh shit,” I said, tears still pouring down my face.

“Time to get back on the clock, my man,” Ed said.

He was right. I couldn't put this off. I just hoped I could think of something to tell my parents that sounded more convincing than, “Sorry for vampirizing your cat, mom and dad.” I picked up the phone and answered it.

“Listen. Tell mom I'm sorry about her cat,” I said.

“Tell her your damn self,” replied Sally's voice from the other end. “I'm not your goddamned answering service.”

“What?” I blurted out. “What are you doing on the line, Sally?”

“Oh, I don't know. I was lonely, what with you on vacation and all, and thought maybe I'd give you a buzz so you could talk dirty to me. But I'm afraid I have to draw the line at letting you call me mommy...or daddy, for that matter,” she quipped.

“I can think of a few other words for you,” I growled.

“I'm sure you can, but think of them while you're packing. Vacation's over,” she replied.

“What?”

“You heard me,” she sniffed in an impatient tone.

“Why am I packing?”

“Because that's what people do when they take a trip, unless they plan on traveling naked, and if that's your plan then please let me know so I can make sure I never have the same itinerary as you.”

“Hold on. What trip?”

“The one you're taking,” she said as if speaking to a moron.

“Why don't we start over, and you tell me what's going on?”

“I thought you'd never ask,” she said in that annoyingly chipper tone she adopted whenever she knew she was pissing me off. “You're going to China.”

“What!? Why the hell would I be going to China?”

“James' orders. He called and requested your presence.”

“Why?”

“Beats me. You can ask him that in person in about two days.”

“I don't even have a passport!” I protested.

“Wow, that's kind of sad,” she said. “Not surprising, mind you, just sad. Fortunately, you don't need one.”

“Why wouldn't I need a passport to get into China?” I asked. “Pretty sure they check those things there.”

“Because it's a long flight, and since commercial airlines tend to have rules against their passengers going up in smoke when sunlight hits them, I made some alternate arrangements.”

“Define alternate arrangements,” I said.

“You, my friend,” she replied, putting even more chipperness into her voice, “have been booked into a first class coffin in the cargo hold.”

“WHAT!?” I screamed into the phone.

“You're welcome. By the way, you might want to pack a pillow.” *click*

Bitch!

* * *

Scary Dead Things

Available in both ebook and paperback.