Creature of the Night

by Anne Stinnett

  “First blood for Brett! Brett start your minute,” Chaz said. Brett offered the audience a bloody grin, threw a thumbs up, and dove back in.

  On the next chair, Donovan’s donor was starting to freak the fuck out. He considered himself a liberal guy; he voted for equality every time whether the oppressed were gays, vamps, or women. But having your neck sucked by some middle aged guy who sure as shit had done a bunch of steroids in high school was taking open mindedness one step too far. It was, perhaps, taking it several steps too far.

  When a chair down the line tipped over and the guy sitting in it sprawled onto the floor with one of the wannabe vampire chicks riding him down the whole way, Donovan stopped gnawing to take in the commotion. Donovan’s donor (whose name was Francis) seized his chance like he hadn’t done since Suzie Kingsman, the sluttiest girl in school, caught her boyfriend with his tongue down another cheerleader’s throat and looked around for a tool with which to achieve revenge. He rammed the palm of his hand into the bottom of Donovan’s jaw with enough force to send Donovan staggering back, and then Francis took off running.

  Francis was within three feet of Chaz (who had spent the duration of the un-choreographed sprint debating whether or not to intervene and was leaning heavily toward not bothering) when Donovan tackled him.

  The donors gawked at the spectacle, and half the contestants had paused to see the outcome. Emily was not one of those. She had been sucking as slowly as she reasonably could and counting down to five—four—three—

  Brett’s donor fell off his chair, unconscious.

  “Brett wins the challenge!” Chaz said and sidestepped to avoid the squirming, clawing mass made up of Donovan and Francis that was sliding across the floor toward his feet.

  —one.

  “And Emily has completed her minute,” Chaz said.

  Emily let the neck go and stood up trying to figure out how someone had gotten through their minute ahead of her. She finally caught sight of Brett’s guy sprawled on the floor and had to resist the urge to walk over and kick him.

  Donovan and Francis came to a stop where Chaz had been standing. Donovan had caught Francis around the ankles. The kick he took in the face when Francis yanked a foot free surprised only Donovan.

  “This is good,” Vlad said as Donovan released Francis to clamp a hand over his suddenly gushing nose. Delia moved to restrain Vlad when the blood started to flow. Francis scrambled to his feet and jumped off the stage. He sprinted down the aisle taking every eye in the theater with him.

  “Stop him!” Donovan was talking through a mouthful of his own blood, but the gist was clear.

  “Muskrats have more nobility,” Edmund said.

  “Muskrats are the royalty of the vermin world,” Chaz countered. Edmund hissed.

  “Ollie has drawn blood,” Chaz said, magnificently (if he did say so himself) keeping track of the proceedings, both scheduled and not. “His minute starts now.”

  “Why the muskrat?” Delia wondered. “Why not the capybara? It is the largest.”

  “Because size doesn’t matter?” Chaz said.

  “Dearest Chaz,” Delia said. “It matters.”

  Ollie was caught up in what he was doing, but several of the others were still staring at Donovan. “The challenge is not complete,” Nodin said. The contestants gaped at him for a moment and resumed their attempts.

  “They eat like zombies,” Vlad said. “Look at that useless gnawing. I can show them how it should be done.”

  “That is the point of the challenge,” Nodin told him. “For them to learn. And let us not speak of z-o-m-b-i-e-s in front of the h-u-m-a-n-s.”

  “We can spell,” Cyri said to her father with some indignation then instantly regretted it. Even from fifty yards, Cyri could feel the weight of Nodin’s regard.

  “All of you?” Nodin asked, judgment and a hint of disbelief mixing in his voice.

  “She only got ninety-eight percent on her last English test,” Cyri’s father said. “There are lots of words she can’t spell.”

  “It’s going to serve you right if they eat me,” Cyri said.

  “Don’t worry,” Chaz said. “I’ll protect you.” From the others. He would obviously savage the girl himself. He flashed his breathtaking smile Cyri’s way. She ignored him.

  “Earth to Chaz,” Delia said.

  Chaz stopped trying to make the audience girl swoon.

  “So, this is the one we get to eat?” Vlad was pleased.

  “No,” Edmund said.

  “He’s getting away.” Donovan slammed a foot into his donor’s overturned chair. “Is someone going to stop him?”

  “It is your donor. Your responsibility.” Edmund looked as if he would as soon eviscerate Donovan as instruct him.

  “Yes, you should retrieve him,” Nodin said, releasing Cyri from his gaze. “If you wish not to be eliminated.”

  Donovan left the stage in a hurry, still unsuccessfully trying to contain the blood.

  “We should eliminate him regardless,” Edmund said. “I hate that one more than most. And what is the problem with the female?”

  The vampires all looked at Celeste, who had briefly gone back to the neck of her donor but was now rooting around her mouth with a finger.

  “Looks like Celeste has some skin stuck between her teeth,” Chaz said. “And look, Lola has drawn blood.” Lola was lying on top of her donor, sucking away. Her donor had his hands on her ass, and she was grinding herself against him. Both of them were enjoying themselves immensely.

  “Start your minute, Lola.” Lola’s donor was gyrating beneath her, and as she again buried her face in his neck, his tempo increased. Lola was pushing down on his shoulders, but clearly her donor was not offering resistance.

  Portia stepped back from her donor and raised her hand.

  “It’s okay,” Celeste said. “Got it. Oh fucking shit, it’s a mole.”

  “And Celeste has eaten a mole.”

  The audience jeered.

  “I didn’t eat it,” Celeste said. “It’s here.”

  “Celeste has saved the mole,” Chaz corrected.

  Portia waved her hand back and forth.

  “But does this count as blood?” Celeste wanted to know. “I think there’s a little on the mole.”

  Donovan ran up the aisle toward the stage. “I couldn’t catch him.” He was breathing hard and had acquired scratches that ran from his left eye all the way down his face. The blood from his nose had slowed to a trickle. “He’s gone.”

  “No,” Delia ruled. “The blood must come from a vein, not a growth.”

  Technically, they didn’t specify, Cyri thought.

  “Now we may eliminate him,” Nodin said with deep pleasure.

  “Not yet,” Delia said.

  Chaz raised an eyebrow at Delia. “We will confer,” Delia said. “Attend the actress.”

  “Is there a problem, Portia?” Chaz asked, sounding, to all the world, concerned. Her mouth was bloody. “You have to drink for one minute to complete the challenge.”

  “He has a…” Portia pointed to her donor’s crotch. It seemed to have a life of its own. “It’s popping up at me. I can see it wiggling in his pants while I’m trying to suck.”

  “Prude,” Delia commented.

  “Any actress worth her salt knows how to deal with wiggly pants.” Vlad cackled and mimed a method of relief that involved poking his cheek out with his tongue.

  “Suck it! Suck it! Suck it!”

  Cyri hoped none of her friends would see her dad chanting along.

  “I’m assuming you mean his neck,” Chaz told the audience, “because Creature of the Night is strictly PG.”

  Celeste raised her head to show she’d drawn proper vein blood. “Start your minute, Celeste,” Chaz said.

  “Hold.” Delia held up a hand. Everyone froze. “We have conferred. The majority of us wish to expel from the competition the one who lost his donor, but we are also enjoying the freshness of this event. Donovan may find a way to
complete the challenge.”

  “What am I supposed to—”

  “Drink from me! Drink from me! Drink fro–”

  “We said Donovan may find a way,” Delia chided. “Quiet, or I release Vlad to drink his fill.” The audience didn’t peep.

  “First blood for Stewart,” Chaz said. “Start your minute.” Stewart grimaced but dutifully returned to his donor’s neck, which he had been devastated to find no cleaner than his donor’s hair. Unbeknownst to Stewart, his scheduled donor had been pre-selected from the contestant applicants like the others. Alas, the man sitting in front of him had been plucked from a nearby park about an hour before the challenge began to replace the no-show.

  Stewart’s donor was thinking of the hundred bucks and the hot meal. He had also been granted five minutes to shower before the challenge, although both he and Stewart would have been better served by thirty. The industrious part of him thought if his guy won, he could stay on as a permanent food source. He would have been heartbroken to learn he had missed some key areas when cleaning up and that Stewart had noticed every one of them. Stewart’s donor sat up straighter so Stewart wouldn’t have to bend down so far.

  “Lola has completed the challenge,” Chaz said. Lola remained in position, sucking away and dry humping her donor.

  Donovan was trying to chat up a cute redhead in the front row. She leaned away and rolled her eyes.

  “Aim lower, barbarian,” Edmund said.

  “Lola, dismount your donor,” Chaz said. Lola unclamped from his neck. Her donor grabbed her head and guided her lips to his.

  Portia had given up on gaining assistance and had gone back to half-heartedly chewing on her randy donor who shortly began touching himself. This inspired such a flare of rage in Portia that her bite changed from reluctant to savage, and she finally managed to tear open a vein.

  “Portia, start your minute,” Chaz said. Portia spit out the chunk of neck and proceeded to drink while periodically slapping the hand of her donor away from his raging penis. Her donor moaned each time she hit him.

  Miranda Sanders, a portly woman in her fifties, was making her way down the row toward Donovan. People leaned back and turned their knees aside to facilitate her progress.

  “Ollie has completed the challenge!” Chaz announced.

  Miranda tapped Donovan on the shoulder. Donovan turned away from the fifth cute young thing in a row to reject him and found a stout woman who would have reminded him of his wife if her eyes hadn’t sparkled. Tara’s eyes had lost their sparkle years ago.

  “Stewart is finished,” Chaz said. “But—”

  “No vomiting,” Nodin said.

  “You have to keep it down, Stewart,” Chaz agreed. “Or you start over.”

  Stewart gagged but managed to keep his stomach under control. “That guy tastes like crap,” he said and gagged again. “Is there supposed to be an aftertaste? The other blood didn’t taste like, fuck, I don’t know, dirt and garbage. What’s wrong with you, man?”

  Stewart’s donor flushed and gave up on the thought of a permanent relationship.

  “Donors do not speak,” Nodin said. “I would like to know why you feel entitled to complain about the taste.”

  Emily patted her donor’s shoulder in appreciation.

  Brett waved a hand and clutched at his donor’s chair. He was gasping as though he’d just run miles.

  Donovan cast a desperate look around hoping for a more comely donor to offer herself. All the attractive women in range averted their eyes. Miranda took Donovan by the hand and led him onto the stage.

  “Portia has completed the challenge,” Chaz announced. Portia smacked her donor hard enough to rock his head and stepped back. Her donor let out a final moan and relaxed.

  Miranda righted the chair Donovan’s original donor had knocked over in his dash for freedom and settled herself on it. She produced a rubber band and thoughtfully secured her hair away from her neck. Donovan took a deep breath and bent down.

  “Celeste has completed the challenge,” Chaz said.

  Celeste and her donor shook hands. “Sorry for biting off your mole,” Celeste said.

  “It’s okay,” her donor said. “I always hated that mole.”

  “I will kill–” Edmund began.

  “Donors should not speak,” Nodin said again.

  A section of the audience on the far left started to chant. “Brett is dying! Brett is dying!”

  Everyone else looked at Brett. He had turned an aggressive shade of red and was breathing in irregular gasps. Hives flowed up his neck, and his eyes were nearly swollen shut.

  “What is this?” Delia said.

  Chaz shrugged. “Did someone poison Brett?”

  “Every fucking season,” Delia said.

  The other contestants looked at one another and shook their heads.

  “Maybe allergies?” Emily suggested.

  Brett nodded desperately and then toppled to the stage floor.

  “Allergies,” Chaz said.

  “He might have an EpiPen somewhere in his stuff,” Emily said. “Someone should check.”

  “Does anyone here have an EpiPen?” Chaz said.

  Hands throughout the audience produced EpiPens and waved them madly. Several of the cameras zoomed in to capture their images. You could say “As seen on Creature of the Night” all you wanted, but you still had to pay for the footage.

  Chaz plucked the nearest EpiPen from the hand of a teenage boy with braces then vaulted over to Brett and plunged in into his thigh.

  Everyone watched Brett struggle for breath.

  “Hey, guys,” Donovan said. “She’s bleeding. Look. Can I start my minute?”

  “Go ahead,” Chaz said.

  “Is that her blood or his?” Delia wanted to know. Miranda turned so the judges could see her neck was indeed bleeding.

  Donovan resumed sucking. Brett began to breathe more consistently. Emily knelt beside Brett and helped him sit up. “What are you allergic to?”

  “Peanuts,” Brett said after a moment.

  “Shit, man,” Brett’s donor said. “I’m so sorry. I had peanut butter this morning. And yesterday. Like twice. I fucking practically live on peanut butter. And jelly. You’ve gotta have jelly too. Unless it’s on toast. Then you can just have peanut butter. You okay?”

  Brett nodded.

  “Did no one explain to them their role as food?” Edmund said. “Why do they continue to verbalize? It’s maddening enough that we permit the contestants to speak.”

  Donovan was still sucking. For lack of anything else to do, most of the other contestants and their donors had gathered around to watch. Emily and Brett remained on the floor as did Lola and her donor.

  The audience took it upon themselves to provide the final countdown. “Five! Four! Three! Two! One!”

  “And that’s it,” Chaz said. “Donovan has completed the challenge. Let’s give all our contestants and their donors a round of applause.”

  The crowd broke into a rowdy cheer. Chaz signaled for Riley and Kiley to escort the donors offstage. “Don’t forget that one,” Chaz said. Lola and her donor were well on their way to violating the show’s no nudity policy. Riley had to pluck Lola’s donor from beneath her, which she did easily with one hand, dumping Lola on her ass. Riley gave the donor a chastising shake and hefted him toward the others.

  “We’re going to keep the contestants with us while we respond to some members of our television audience and the judges deliberate. Our first question comes from @DonDongGood in Fresno, California.”

  “Hi, Chaz. Hi, Delia. I fucking worship the ground you walk on. My question is what makes people taste good or bad? And what can I do to make myself appealing?”

  “There are many factors,” Chaz said, “including diet, health, and age. People who drink heavily, enjoy hard drugs, and even people who smoke have a distinct flavor which is an acquired taste. Because there isn’t anything we can’t process, Brett would not have suffered his unfortunate reaction to h
is peanut butter filled donor if he were one of us. However, we do appreciate when you eat organic, and we love vegetarians the way humans value grass-fed beef.”

  “They are tasty,” Delia said.

  “Ever have a virgin vegetarian?” Nodin said.

  “They’re hard to find,” Delia said.

  “Alvie breeds them,” Edmund said. “See him next time you’re in Piedmont.”

  “It has been too long since I’ve seen Italy,” Delia said.

  “Okay,” Chaz said. “Next up, we have a question from Jenny in Lubbock, Texas.”

  “I was wondering what’s going to happen to the guy who escaped.”

  “Not technically a question,” Chaz said, “but nothing will happen. Except his check will be canceled for non-fulfillment of his contract. Since this is a non-lethal challenge, no other action will be taken.”

  The crowd cheered; why, Chaz had no idea. He spoke over the end of the applause. “Contestants, please step forward.”

  Emily helped Brett to his feet, and they joined the other contestants in forming a slightly ragged line.

  “We have your poll results,” Chaz shouted. “And the audience votes have been tallied. Those of you who voted would like to see the last of Donovan, which feels a bit familiar. According to the nearly unanimous poll results, this time it’s because he let his donor get away.”

  Voting based on performance, Cyri thought. What will they think of next?

  “And it seems you would also like to get rid of Emily,” Chaz said, “because she isn’t sexy enough. Let that be a lesson to you all: always remember to gyrate.”

  “That was truly appalling,” Edmund said.

  “Edmund isn’t pleased with how the humans performed,” Chaz said. “I’m sure we are all equally shocked.”

  “I was referring to the poll results,” Edmund clarified.

  “It was glorious,” Vlad said. “So much…”

  “Human gumption and resilience?” Chaz said.

  “Blood,” Vlad said. “So much blood. And sex. I enjoy both these things.”

  “Yes, it was lovely,” Delia agreed. “And the chaos was enjoyable as well. Still, Donovan was a disappointment.”