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The only other good thing that came from his position as town freak was meeting Seth. Seth had heard the rumors of a man that didn’t age and lived off animal blood. Seth decided to come to the house late one night and introduce himself. At first, Christofer had denied the rumors and threatened to tear the man apart if he didn't get off his property, but Seth had been persistent. Just when Christofer was about to make good on his threats, Seth had thrown him a toothy grin.
It was the first time he'd ever seen anyone like himself. For the longest time he'd truly thought he was a freak of nature, especially when the doctors in the lab failed time and time again to replicate his abilities in soldiers who'd volunteered for the chance at becoming stronger and indestructible. No matter how much of his blood they took or how they gave it to the soldiers, none of the experiments had worked. Within minutes of receiving his blood, every single man had died, violently.
That hadn't stopped the doctors from trying. They’d refused to give up until they had an army of soldiers with all of his abilities, and they made damn sure they knew all of his abilities. For four years he was tortured in every single way imaginable and he'd had no choice but to allow it so that he could keep Marta safe. The only thing that gave him peace was the fact that they’d failed to duplicate him.
For the first sixty seconds after Seth had displayed his fangs, Christofer had been terrified that one of the experiments had worked, but that thought left almost as quickly as it came when he realized that Seth could not enter his house without an invitation. During that meeting he’d learned that vampires truly did exist and that some of the old wives' tales were true.
He led Seth to believe that he'd been recently turned so that he could garner information about their world. At first Seth had been reluctant to share any information with him, claiming that Christofer didn't give off the earthy scent of a vampire. It wasn’t until after Christofer had shown off his own fangs, careful not to allow his eyes to shift, that Seth had been more than happy to share information with him.
He’d learned that some of the Hollywood hype had been right and that vampires couldn’t tolerate sunlight or holy relics. He’d also learned that garlic didn't bother them. He’d been shocked to discover that most vampires were loyal to a leader called a Master, but that there were others like Seth, who didn't belong to anyone. They led a different life than most vampires. Instead of feeding from the source, humans, Seth and other vampires like him survived on bagged blood.
When Seth offered his blood delivering services to Christofer, for a price, he'd jumped at the chance, desperate for human blood and half afraid that he was close to finally losing control.
“John said you're cut off,” the waitress suddenly announced, pulling him away from his rather depressing thoughts.
Christofer shoved the hood off his head and looked past the waitress to find the bartender taking a nervous step back. They might not know exactly what he was, but they knew enough to be wary around him. Now Cloe did as well, he thought, the realization leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.
“Why am I cut off?” he asked the waitress, returning his attention back to her.
“Because you drank twenty beers already,” she bit out in a bitchy tone, folding her arms over her small chest as she glared down at him.
Christofer did a quick mental tally of all the beers he'd drank since he stepped into the bar ten hours ago and shrugged. It wasn't like he could get drunk off the shit. The fact of the matter was that it wouldn't affect him one way or the other. His body wouldn't even be able to digest it.
“I'm not drunk,” he argued, not because he really wanted another beer, but because he really didn't feel like heading home and dealing with Cloe looking at him the way everyone else did. Whether Marta wanted her to leave or not no longer mattered. She was leaving. It was bad enough that he had to deal with living in this bullshit town, he'd be damned if he put up with the looks of disgust in his own home.
“Doesn't matter. John said you're cut off,” she said firmly. One look at John and Christofer knew this hadn't been the man's idea. He looked close to pissing himself.
With a heavy sigh, Christofer took pity on the man and stood up. The waitress, for all her bravado, jumped back and quickly scurried off to hide behind the bar and John.
Yeah, living with this constant bullshit at home would just be so much fun, he thought dryly.
After throwing a few twenties on the table, he headed towards the men's room, chuckling when several waitresses and a few big beefy guys tried to look casual as they jumped out of his way. His reputation did have its benefits, he decided a minute later when several men, in mid-pee, jumped out of his way when they spotted him walking into the bathroom.
Ignoring their theatrics, he stepped up to the urinal, unzipped and pulled himself out. Without a second thought for the guys that were practically running over each other to leave, he relieved himself. Seconds later the scent of warm beer filled the tiny bathroom as it left his body, still in its original form. It was one of the reasons why he stayed away from drinking hard liquor since it stung like a bitch when it came out.
He finished up and turned around, surprised to discover that he wasn't alone after all. One of the men that had jumped out of the way when he’d walked into the bathroom squirmed from side to side as he held both hands over his junk.
“I really have to go,” the man stressed.
Christofer's lips twitched. “Don't let me stand in your way. ”
“Thanks,” the man said, practically running to the urinal, but damn careful to stay away from Christofer, effectively killing the tiny ounce of humor he’d felt from watching a grown man doing the “pee pee” dance.
He washed his hands and stormed out of the bathroom, uncaring that he sent half the bar's occupants jumping to the side. He was in no mood for any more bullshit tonight. The sound of his phone ringing did nothing to help his mood. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and answered a little more abruptly than he normally would have since only one person had this number.
“What?” he demanded.
“Christofer?” Marta said, sounding unsure.
“Yes,” he snapped before he took a deep calming breath and reminded himself that Marta hadn't done anything to deserve his anger. “Yes?” he said more softly as he walked out of the bar, rolling his eyes in exasperation as several bikers he'd seen around town, jumped out of his way.
“Is Cloe with you?” she asked, sounding anxious.
“No. Why would she be with me?” he asked, heading towards their house and wishing that he didn't have to wait until he was out of sight before he could use his speed to run home. Not that he was in any rush to deal with Cloe. He wasn't. He just wasn't in the mood to stay in town for longer than was necessary tonight.
“Oh dear,” Marta mumbled.
“What's going on, Marta?” he asked as he watched a small group of women rush across the street to get away from him.
“She's not here,” she answered, hesitantly.
“What do you mean she's not there?” he barked, frightening another group of women into running across the street and almost getting hit by a car. At the moment he was simply too pissed to be aggravated by their stupidity. “Where did she go after she picked you up?” he demanded, quickening his stride.
Tall, Silent & Lethal Page 17
