Suburban Vampire: A Tale of the Human Condition—With Vampires

by Franklin Posner

  “I know. It’s just…what I have…isn’t easy to talk about.”

  “Okay, well, just take it one step at a time, then. Is there something you can talk about?”

  Scott looked directly at Larry. “Okay. Here goes. You’re familiar with spiritual warfare, right?”

  “Uh, yeah, sure. The struggle of the flesh against temptation. Stuff like that. Right?”

  “No. I’m talking hardcore Exorcist-type stuff here. Demons and hellfire and all that.”

  “Okay, yeah. I don’t talk about that type of thing, because it’s kind of fringe to most people, but I’ve seen some things. Things I’d sooner wish I hadn’t. Yeah, those things are real. Wait, you aren’t saying you think you’re possessed, are you? And please don’t say your imaginary friend is possessed either, okay?”

  Scott turned back to look out the window once more. “I only wish it was that simple. Larry, something happened to me when I died. The fact is…when I died, I never came back.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m not really alive. Not like you are. Not like…most people are.”

  “So you’re still dead?”

  “Uh…yeah. Basically.”

  “Okay. You’re…still dead. Right.”

  Scott sighed. “Oh, there’s no way I can just tell you. You wouldn’t believe me anyhow. I guess…I guess I’m going to have to show you. Can we close these blinds? There can’t be any direct sunlight when I show you…well, what I am going to show you.”

  Larry consented, and Scott shut the blinds, effectively blocking out all light from the sun.

  “So? Show me.”

  “Okay. But I need to tell you a few things first. First, I am not going to harm you. You’ll be fine. Just please, when you see it, don’t overreact, okay?”

  “Yeah, fine.”

  “Remember, you’re perfectly safe, okay?”

  “Okay, got it.”

  “So remember, don’t freak out. Okay?”

  “I’m waiting…”

  “Okay. Here goes nothing.”

  That having been said, Scott allowed the monster to make its full appearance. His face morphed into a hideous caricature of its normal self. His eyes blackened, not merely an opaque black, but a darkness that swallowed all light around it, like a black hole. It was that darkness that revealed the evil living within Scott to Ralph Stevens; it was now fully revealed to Pastor Larry. The glistening fangs jutted from Scott’s mouth like stalactites and stalagmites from hell. The eyes spoke will and intent; the fangs spoke ability. The entire room seemed to darken as Scott transformed.

  Larry sat transfixed, his mouth opened in awe, his eyes wide with horror. “Holy shit,” he swore.

  Scott had never even heard anything like that cross his lips before. “I know, right? Crazy, ain’t it?” he growled.

  “Yeah.”

  “Larry, this is me. This is what I’ve become.”

  “Yeah.”

  “But Larry, it’s still me.” Scott then transformed back, the beast retreating and normalcy returning. The room lightened, both in appearance and mood.

  “Wow…that was…something,” Larry mumbled.

  “Do you see now why I couldn’t tell you? Why I couldn’t tell anybody?”

  “What…what was that? Scott, I’ve never seen anything like that.”

  Scott knew Larry still didn’t comprehend what he had just seen. So he decided to just come right out and say it. “Larry, I’m a vampire.”

  “A…a vampire? You mean like Dracula?”

  “Yeah, basically. Kind of, I guess. A creature of the night. A blood-sucking fiend. The evil undead. So, yeah, like Dracula, without the fashion sense.”

  “Incredible. Are…are you going to kill me?”

  “What? Kill you? No, I’m not gonna kill you! No way! Dude, it’s still me. I may be the evil undead, but I’m still Scott Campbell. And you’re absolutely safe around me.”

  “Oh well, that’s a bit of good news…I’m sorry, Scott, I’m still processing this.”

  “You think you’re still processing this? Well, get in line, because so am I. I still don’t get it myself.”

  “And this is why you’re so concerned about your soul?”

  “Yeah. This is why I am so concerned about my soul.”

  “They never covered this in seminary. How to talk with a vampire about his soul. They probably should add that to the curriculum.”

  “Larry, I never wanted this. This was forced on me. I had no choice in the matter. And now I’m condemned. For something I never intended. That’s not fair!”

  “If this was not your choice, don’t you think God would take that into consideration? Look at it this way: You are concerned about your soul. That’s not a bad thing. Maybe that’s a sign of some kind. A sign that this…thing…you have…well, it’s not who you really are. Maybe, just maybe, you’re still Scott Campbell, the kind, gentle, sweetheart of a guy I’ve always known. With issues.”

  “Issues, Larry? I’m a vampire. That’s a pretty big issue.”

  “Yeah, Scott, you may be a vampire. But the vampire is not you. Look at it this way: inside, in your heart—”

  “My heart is dead, Larry.”

  “Whatever. You are still Scott. What you are is not determined by your circumstances, completely overwhelming as they may be. What you are is determined by you. Not vampire you, just you. You may not have wanted this, but it is yours now. What you do with it, well, that’s entirely up to you.”

  “And you can’t tell me what to do, can you?”

  Larry snorted. “The heck I can’t! Don’t eat people! There’s something not to do!”

  “‘Don’t eat people.’ Check. Got it. Wow, you’re taking this pretty well.”

  “Yeah, well, after listening to Mrs. Wampler complain about the consistency of her bowel movements, not much can phase me.”

  They laughed together. It was a healthy laugh, a normal and human laugh.

  “So, we’re cool?” Scott asked.

  “Yeah, we’re cool, buddy. Besides, what am I gonna do? Denounce you before the congregation? Yeah. They’d haul me away in a straitjacket. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Thanks, Larry. Anyway, all this may be a moot point. Seems I’m in trouble with the local vampire community.”

  “Trouble? What kind of trouble?”

  “The kind you don’t survive. That kind of trouble.”

  “They’re trying to kill you? Why?”

  “Well, it turns out my sire, the vampire who turned me, did so without the permission of the local vampire government.”

  “Wait, wait, wait. Vampire government? Permission? Seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously. The guy who sired me, turns out he has a pretty bad reputation, even for a vampire. This government—or House, as they call it—requires all vampires to meet certain standards before they allow a conversion. Unregistered vampires are liable to be taken care of.”

  “By ‘taken care of,’ I guess you mean…” Larry drew his finger across his throat.

  “Yep, that’s about it. But I was allowed an appeal. An inquisition, they call it. They’re flying some guy called the Inquisitor out from Europe sometime soon to see if I am ethically fit enough to be allowed to be a blood-sucking monster.”

  “Wow, an inquisition? I didn’t expect that. What are you gonna do?”

  “I’ve got to face it. There’s no other way. I’m not going to hide or live on the run. But just in case something happens to me and you never see me again, at least you’ll know what became of me, and you’ll be able to help my mom, and maybe even Laura, find some kind of closure.”

  “Wow, that’s pretty heavy. There’s nothing I can do, except pray.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know if God accepts prayers for vampires, but I appreciate it, Larry; I really do.”

  “And you’ll call…assuming everything works out okay?”

  “You know it. Thanks, Larry, for everything. Especially not completely freaking out.”
<
br />   Scott thanked Larry and then left the office.

  Larry sat back in his chair, contemplating the bizarre nature of what had just unfolded before him. He thought, Okay, so one of the members of my congregation is a vampire. Boy, those church potlucks are gonna be very interesting from here on out.

  As Scott approached his car, his cell phone’s text tone rang. He answered it and noticed the message was from the House: Your appointment has been set: 5:00 p.m. tomorrow. Do not be late. Refreshments will be provided.

  Five doesn’t work, Scott texted back. I have to go to work.

  Call off.

  This was it. This was the call of fate, and fate was looking for her rent check. Scott was not ready. But then, he would never be ready. He sighed as he got in his car and drove home. Detective Montoya eventually showed up at the end of the street later that day, but Scott didn’t even care, completely ignoring her. Besides, he thought that soon she may not have him to obsess over anymore anyway. So it was all good, right?

  Sleep, of course, was difficult for him. Thoughts of his certain doom played in his mind, and he surfed the tidal wave of negativity that struck. When 3:33 a.m. came, it was no surprise when he heard the sickening laughter from the corner of his room—the gurgling, childish glee of the Tormentor. And what do you know, that son of a bitch was sitting on top of his mini fridge.

  “What the hell do you want, Tommy?” Scott asked, tired from lack of sleep and annoyance.

  “Hee-hee, it wants to know. It knows. It is afraid. It is a coward.”

  “Hey, jackass, cut the crap. Yeah, I am afraid. But I’m no coward. Not anymore.”

  “It says these things, but it lies to itself. It wants to run. It wants to hide.”

  “Okay, that’s it. I’m gonna beat the shit out of you.” Scott jumped out of bed and lunged at the little dark creature. The Tormentor curled itself into a ball and hid its featureless face from Scott’s wrath.

  “Wait! Please! Do not hurt Tommy!” it pleaded. “Tommy is only trying to help it! Tommy loves it!”

  “How is Tommy trying to help it…I mean, me?”

  “It may be killed. If it is killed, then what does poor Tommy do? Tommy needs it. Needs his love. Yes. And it needs Tommy.”

  “I thought I made it clear, Tommy; I don’t need or want you.”

  “Oh, it thinks this, does it? It doesn’t know. It doesn’t know!”

  “Doesn’t know what? God, you’re an annoying little prick.”

  “Tommy wants to help it. Tommy wants it to live! Tommy needs it to live! Please, it should not do this! They will hurt it. They will kill it!”

  “I see, I think. You need me, because you feed off of me, right?”

  “Tommy loves it. It makes Tommy warm.”

  “You’re a parasite. A worm. A leech. And nothing more. Aren’t you, Tommy?”

  The small, faceless black thing nodded. Scott thought he felt a sadness about the creature, even though he could not say why that was.

  “It is true. Tommy cannot be alone. Tommy needs it. Please, do not make Tommy go away, please!”

  “You know, Tommy, I thought I banished you before.”

  “Oh no. Tommy has been with it. It cannot get rid of Tommy.”

  “Fine. I may not be able to get rid of you. But I sure as hell am not going to listen to you. Yeah, I may die, and then you’re out of a job. Tough. But if I live, I’m not going to make it easy on you. In fact, you’re going to do what I tell you. I will be in charge, not you. That means no more of this negative-thought crap, no more insults, no more putting me down. Either that, or I’ll just throw you around the room for fun. Tommy would not like that, would he?”

  “N-no, Tommy would not like. What does it wish Tommy to do for it?”

  “Well, first, you can stop calling me ‘it.’ God, that’s creepy. Just call me Scott. ’Kay?”

  “S-Scott?”

  “That’s right, Scott.”

  “Its name…is Scott.”

  “That’s right, Tommy. Now get out of here.”

  “B-but, it…Scott…wants Tommy to help…it.”

  “Do you want to be thrown around the room for fun, Tommy?”

  “No, Tommy does not want this.”

  “Then haul ass.”

  At Scott’s command, the small imp faded into the blackness, leaving no trace. He then returned to a restless sleep.

  CHAPTER 28

  The Gulfstream G650 touched down on the tarmac at the Hillsboro Airport in the early-morning mist, the rising sun obscured by fog and clouds, allowing a faint purple glow to tease the commuters who were invading Portland on Highway 26. The private jet taxied down the runway, rolling off the tarmac into the arrival zone. Father and Elizabeth came to greet their newly arrived guest, having procured a limousine with which to transport the Inquisitor to the House, hoping that he would be suitably impressed.

  The doors of the plane opened, extending into steps that led down from the passenger cabin. There was one passenger: a tall, pale man with short red hair and anchor beard, a dark gray suit, and a scowl on his lean face. He stepped down from the Gulfstream carrying a dark coat folded on his left arm and a Halliburton metal briefcase in his right hand.

  Father approached the man as he descended from the airplane. “I take it you are the Inquisitor?” he asked.

  “Aye, that I am,” the red-haired man answered in a tired Scottish accent.

  Father led the Inquisitor toward the limousine. “We are honored by your presence. How was your flight?”

  “Poxy. The plane was a bloody mess. Wankers hadn’t the care to clean it proper-like and then in the middle of the bloody flight, the satellite feed and Wi-Fi went all tits-up like, right as I was watching what you Yanks call football. How the bloody hell can that shite be considered football? So I didn’t really miss it, but there wasn’t anything else to do, right? Anyway, they failed to stock the blood supply, so I was half-tempted to drink the bloody pilot. Then there were the three layovers, Edinburgh to JFK, where we got caught up in customs, then Denver, and now here. Exactly where I wanted to go on holiday. Bloody Portland, Oregon.”

  “I apologize for the inconvenience.”

  “Bollocks. Anyway, all that was not your doing. Making me clear my schedule for a bloody inquisition, perhaps…”

  “I am not aware if you have studied any of the materials we sent you, Your Honor, but the appeal for a higher authority did not come from ourselves.”

  “Right. No, I did not study the materials. Didn’t care to.”

  “Oh well, if you had, you would have seen what this is about.”

  “So maybe you could give me the rundown. Look, I’m positively knackered, so make it simple. You can start by telling me who asked for the appeal. Was it this Campbell tosser?”

  “Well, yes, although it was encouraged by his sponsor, a vampire appointed by the House to take the role of sire, as his actual sire was found wanting—the vampire known as Jeremiah.”

  At the mention of the name, the Inquisitor stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening. “Jeremiah?”

  “Yes. You know this vampire?”

  “Ah yes. We’ve had dealings. Besides, Jeremiah is a bit of a legend in the world vampire community. His reputation precedes him.”

  “Indeed. And you are aware that this Jeremiah has allied himself with Ministry?”

  The Inquisitor shook his head. “Aye. To hear that such a powerful and ancient vampire had decided to join with them was a blow.”

  “Ah well, conveniently, he agreed to take responsibility for Mr. Campbell. We did not have much choice but to agree to this.”

  “Right. Well, then. Take me to your House. Let’s get this over with.”

  Elizabeth held the rear door of the limousine open for the Inquisitor, closed it behind him, and then returned to the driver’s seat. Father entered the passenger seat, sitting beside her. She started the engine, and they drove off toward their destination in the northwest hills of Portland. This was just in time for
the morning rush hour, the snaillike progress of the oppressive traffic that did not help the Inquisitor’s already foul mood.

  The appointed hour had come. The unusual October sun burned through the earlier cloudy mist, casting a mockingly cheerful light on the day. Scott knew it; he felt it gnawing at his insides like a rabid woodchuck. He even found himself asking God to let this hour pass from him, remembering Christ’s prayer at Gethsemane. Scott hadn’t prayed much since he’d become a vampire; he didn’t think God would be much interested in his input anyway. But today, he took the chance, hoping that there was a chance he was wrong and God was still listening. He didn’t count on it, though.

  Scott kept up appearances for Irene’s sake. She could tell he was stressed and was bothered that he was so vague about it. As always, he changed the subject when it came up, but he was starting to run out of reasonable-sounding alternatives, and he knew his mother may have been old, but she wasn’t stupid. The fact that Scott had finally revealed his secret to Larry was a source of comfort; if the trial went poorly, at least someone who wasn’t a vampire would know.

  Scott tried focusing on other things. His call to the sheriff’s Internal Affairs Division seemed to have been well received, or if not well received, then at least merely received, which was more than he had thought possible. They took his complaint and relevant information and then promised the information would be passed on to an investigator, who would follow up with Detective Montoya as soon as possible. Scott hoped that this would put an end to the harassment, but he also considered other possibilities, mainly pursuing a restraining order. He reasoned that the detective might not fear vampires, but a restraining order might be a bit more disconcerting for her.

  Scott contacted the vampire lawyer Sinner, reminding him of the appointment. Sinner sounded annoyed, and whether it was the fact that he had to cancel a deposition in a multimillion-dollar lawsuit or the fact that he found Scott annoying was unknowable. Scott assumed that both scenarios were equally valid.

  He then picked Jeremiah up, as Jeremiah had requested, at the dojo before driving to the House. Jeremiah’s presence was a comfort. Scott thought that if he had his preference, he would have preferred being turned by Jeremiah. He even said so. Jeremiah merely laughed and told Scott that had he known his true past, he would probably not wish for such a thing. Scott wanted to ask why that was but thought it was better not to prod the big vampire.