by Declan Finn
“It happens. Half of vampires have various levels of it.” As the conversation went on, her accent thickened slightly in an almost melodic fashion. “Stronger vampires are, obviously, better at mental powers. Sometimes it just requires someone of intelligence.”
Marco winced. That would be bad. “Any defenses?”
Amanda gave a Gallic wave of her hand. “It is mostly enough to just know about the vampire's ability. Even the strongest vampire cannot do anything unless they have absolute concentration. They need subtlety, some, or at least only one target. It is not a combat weapon.”
“That's good.” He looked over her body. “Let me guess, a heavily clouded day and lots of SPF50 sunblock keeps you from frying?”
“And I am…good?” she said, as though questioning her own moral standing in the universe.
“So you don’t fry as easily,” he concluded.
She nodded. “It provides resistance. The farther along on the good and evil spectrum, it is harder to kill us in general, but we tend to keep a low profile. Even exceptionally evil vampires do not want people hunting them with thermal scopes, seeing if we have a few degrees difference here and there. Thankfully, most people know of ways to restrain evil vampires. The more evil, the more restrictions come on them. Some people have no problems exchanging freedom of movement for more power.”
Marco thought back to the meeting yesterday with his gang leaders. It was a private house, and she didn't wait for an invite before stepping in. “Which is why you could follow me into a private residence? You're 'good,' therefore you don't need an invite?”
“Precisely.”
Marco leaned back into the couch, and forced himself to relax. Now that she was no longer a threat, her looks were again intoxicating, her accent hypnotizing. Now that she was starting to open up to him, letting him in on her deeper, darker secrets, she became more attractive to him the longer they talked. He forced himself to take a mental step back and go over what she had told him. “Hmm. It seems like you have a tightly regulated little community, when even the bad guys play by certain rules.”
“Except for Charlotte.”
“Charlotte?”
“Da. Charlotte Harris, a trucker vamp. She liked truck stops because, well, she called them meals on wheels.”
“Is that so?”
Amanda smiled. “She could exsanguinate a trucker while giving him a well, let us say, she called it a 'suck and suck.' She drained a four-hundred-pound trucker once and nearly died from indigestion.”
“I guess you folks give some really major hickeys.”
She smiled. “Ah, yes, James.”
What? “James?”
“James Hickey, Irish representative to Romania in the 1920s,” she said with a sly smile. “Where do you think the term came from, anyway? Your turn.”
“My turn what?”
“You have questions to answer, Marco.”
Not Lily. Not Lily. Not Lily, Marco thought frantically. “Such as?”
“You nearly killed one of our attackers last night,” Amanda said. “I only nibbled on them a little. You did…more damage.”
“As I said,” he answered quickly, “I take Krav Maga.” He cleared his throat and leaned forward. Marco was eager to deflect her curiosity, hoping to dodge anything that might touch on that part of his past. “Actually, I have another question: why did you bite me, and why can I break ropes with a tug of my arms?”
“I bit you because I had been stabbed. Feeding heals me. You were there, and I know what I am doing. The strength is a side effect. Now, my question.”
Marco glanced at his watch and thought a moment. “You have your SPF 5000? I think we need to go for a walk. We're heading into Brooklyn.”
* * * *
A quick train ride later, Amanda and Marco were at a hospital. Amanda had followed Marco at a distance, dashing from shadow to shadow. He moved as quickly as he could without attracting attention from the local police. This was Brooklyn, running looked suspicious.
He opened the door to the hospital and she appeared at his side. They both moved into the building as though nothing strange had happened.
“You are adapting to me quickly,” she said, coming up alongside him.
“Evolve or die. It's sort of like living in Brooklyn. Only the strong survive.” He pointed. “This way.”
She made the turn with him, wondering what was going on. She followed him as he approached a tall, thin fellow in a doctor's coat. The man glanced his way, his eyes flicking to her, and he gave a small smile.
“Marco, that was fast. Is there something I should know?”
Marco nodded easily. “You know how I like to get things done early. The last thing I need is to hold onto another item on my checklist.”
“Indeed.” The older fellow stepped forward and offered Amanda his hand. “Doctor Robert Catalano. Ms. Colt?”
“Da. You are his father?”
Doctor Catalano smiled. “That's what his mother tells me.” He looked over the two of them. They weren't too close together, they weren't touching. They weren't even looking at each other, but both at him. “Nice to meet you. Marco’s not annoying you too badly, is he?”
“If I were annoyed,” she said plainly, “I would bite him.”
With a complete deadpan expression, and flat monotone, Doctor Catalano said, “Kinky.” He looked around the floor. “I suppose I have a few minutes to spare the both of you.”
“Just her, for the moment,” Marco interjected, already stepping away. “I need to find some of the usual suspects.”
Doctor Catalano rolled his eyes. “Those boneheads? Try the coffee shop next door.”
“Thanks.” He touched Amanda on the arm. “Be back soon.”
“Bye,” she said, watching him as he wandered off.
“Don't worry,” the doctor said, taking her lightly by the shoulder, out of the line of traffic. “He's a little energetic, but he always keeps his word.”
Amanda looked off in the direction Marco darted down. “That is good to know.”
“My son is quite interesting.”
She looked up at him. “That is not encouraging.”
A smile. “We're similar in our word choices, unfortunately. My bedside manner needs work. Possibly surgery.” He waved her over as he started to move down the hall. “Come, let's make sure you aren't run over.”
“Thank you.” Amanda was aware of the people staring at her; some at her legs, others at her hair, or chest. “I am not comfortable with people, either.”
“That would explain a few things—like Marco.”
She maneuvered through the door he waved her to. Apparently, it was the break room. She took a seat, and he sat across from her. “How so?”
“He doesn't make an impression on normal people,” his father said, “or he leaves too much of one, I should say. Possibly with a tire iron.”
Amanda nodded. She didn't even need that explained to her. The people she had seen talk with him were few and far between.
Come to think of it, I don't think I've seen anyone else talk to him but me and those two gang fellows.
“What about his gang friends?”
The doctor snickered and sneered. “Those idiots? Please. They call themselves gangs, though they're more like a neighborhood watch. They don't make it official because that means they're real rebels. They're harmless. Granted, they'll occasionally apprehend a suspect after he 'fell down.' Aside from that, well, let's say that I have to patch them up as much as I have to patch up anyone they're apprehending. They're just overgrown kids who are well organized.”
“Oh? What does Marco have to do with them?”
“Who do you think did the organizing?”
“Oh?” she said again. “Did he leave me with you because you would talk about this?”
He shrugged. “Possibly. My son doesn't like to brag, and he thinks stating facts about himself is bragging. Almost any facts.”
She smiled shyly. “Last night, he said
he was a genius. Doesn’t sound like someone who doesn’t like to brag.”
“Really?” Doctor Catalano chuckled. “Well, usually, when he says that, he tends to do so in a Wile E. Coyote voice, so no one takes him seriously. Marco enjoys telling the people the truth as a joke. It makes it easier for people to swallow, or so he says. I think it makes it easier for him to actually say.”
“Is that why he won't tell me where he learned to fight so…eagerly?” she said cautiously.
Doctor Catalano studied her. “You know about that?”
“One of his friends from the gangs played around with him last night,” she lied deftly. Somehow, mentioning that Marco had taken a mugger, armed with a knife, and broke parts of him, didn't seem like a good idea. “He looks like he has had some practical experience, not just training.”
“He better have. He was a subway commando for four years.”
Amanda thought over the term for a moment. She remembered the students from Xavier High School were in the Junior Reserve Officer Training Corps. They were known as the Subway Commandos, wearing full uniform and officer's sword on the trains into and out of the city. “He went to Xavier?”
“Yup. Even has his own uniform and officer's cavalry sword.” Doctor Catalano's eyes flickered to the coffee machine. “Coffee?”
“Sorry, but I do not drink…coffee.”
“Good idea,” he said as he rose, “I shouldn't either, but you have to stay awake somehow.” He chuckled, and filled a mug. “Given how late you and Marco were out last night, I'm surprised either one of you has a pulse.”
“I am good for days at a time.”
He raised his mug in her direction in a “cheers” motion. “You should try being a Physician Assistant. Endurance is always welcome.”
“So I have heard from Marco. Why does he not want to be a doctor, like you?”
“Because he's smart?” The doctor laughed. “Please, PAs are more useful around here than doctors are. Half of them think MD means Medical Divinity, and the other half, I suspect, want to kill each other. No, PA is a far better job. Nurses and doctors look down on them, no matter how smart they are, and therefore never see them as a threat. They're also the ones sent out to deal with the drug reps who visit doctor's offices so they can be up on the latest drugs and techniques, since the doctors are always 'too busy.' So Marco will be up on the cutting edge of available medical technology. That's not bad. A medical degree, lots of money, lots of time, and Marco isn't patient enough to do med school with this as an option.”
“But Xavier?” Amanda asked. “He wanted to be in the military?”
Marco's father laughed. “Actually, I think he wanted the sword and the uniform. The education he, mostly, gave himself. If he ever wanted to go into the military, he never mentioned it.”
The vampire nodded slowly. That would probably be a good idea. In the long run, she couldn't imagine Marco surviving in a military command structure. Either they would break him or he would break them. She wasn't sure which would have been worse. A discharge for insubordination could have been amusing, since his facility with logic and thought processes would do a lawyer proud.
“Funny thing,” Doctor Catalano continued, “is that I think it was the uniform that got him all the attention. He had plenty of people gravitate towards him, mostly in public. Most of the people in high school weren't exactly part of his fan club.”
Amanda cocked her head to one side. “His classmates did not like him? What about the fencing team?”
The doctor let out a sharp, barking laugh. “Oh God, yes, the fencing team. They found him so insufferable that they kicked him out his last year.”
Amanda laughed. “Oh, God. They may do that in college, too.”
“Oh yes. It gets better. He could only work with the instructor, and even he tired of dealing with Marco. Though they didn't mind inviting him back for tournaments.”
“Oh, of course not,” she said with proper sarcasm and cynicism.
“So, he had to go outside Xavier for friends. There was Lily, a collection of others, but it all fell apart last year.”
“Who’s Lily?”
“Oh. He hasn't told you? Reasonable.” He thought it over a moment, and said, “I think I'll let him do that.”
At that moment, appearing as though the name had conjured him, Marco opened the door to the lounge. “Let me do what?”
His father looked at him with a smile. “Oh, I'm just going to let you explain things to Amanda. You should have updated me about what you tell who, that way I don't need to perform a foot amputation from my mouth.”
“Um, okay.”
“I know. The last thing you need is the old guy telling your girlfriend all about your dark and sinister past,” he said jovially, rolling his eyes.
“We're not dating,” Marco and Amanda said as one.
With a smile, Doctor Catalano stood. “Sorry, just hopeful. I should get back to rounds. We've got some odd stuff going on lately.”
Marco cocked his head. “Really?”
“Yes. Strange even for Brooklyn. If I have to deal with more bite wounds, I'm going to go crazy.”
The doctor's son kept a perfectly straight face. The only indication that it was anything of note was that his eyes flicked to Amanda. “Bites, huh? The usual allotment of noses and ears and such?”
“No. Throats and wrists, believe it or not. Some of these guys are so rabid that I'm considering getting the bite victims tests for actual rabies. Trust me, it's tempting.”
“Yes?” Amanda said. “That might be. Have you considered swabbing the wound tracks? If it's in the saliva, it might show up better that way.”
“Possible. Usually, we tend to be too busy keeping the patient alive to worry about that, and by the time we're done, the amount of blood would probably wash anything away. These are some nasty, messy wounds. Anyway,” he said, patting his son on the shoulder, “thanks for bringing her by, Marco. Maybe you should bring her to dinner. You know, as friends.”
Chapter Six: Anatomy of a Vampire
The doctor looked out the door, checking both directions of the hallway, and stepped out.
Marco Catalano looked back to Amanda. “What was that about, when I came in?”
“Long story,” Amanda said. “Maybe later. Was there something you wanted to show me? I assume that is why you left before.”
Marco frowned in thought, doing the math on what just happened. “Well, I left because I wanted you and my father to have some alone time. That way he can grill you directly instead of through me.”
Amanda shook her head. “He does not seem like an interrogator to me.”
“That's because it was just the first round. Every woman in my life is someone he wants to set me up with. He's afraid that if he doesn't, I'm going to become a hermit, so focused on a profession that I avoid having a life. I can't imagine where he gets these ideas, do you? Don't worry, I'll keep him as far away from the topic as I can. ”
“Why will you keep him from that topic?”
“Didn't we already have that conversation not long after we met? The 'let's be friends' talk? That was an agreement. I wasn't going to try and change your mind, and letting him try seems, I don’t know, rude.”
Amanda smiled. He didn't say that it was because I am a vampire, or that he didn't date predators, or that he wasn't interested, just that it would be rude. “Why do you think so?”
“Because we already covered it. You have no interest in me in that fashion, and why not, I'm not in your league, unless you're into younger men. Now, come, let me show you where I've been.”
Amanda followed him out the door, through a sea of patients, and into the lobby. Beyond the waiting rooms, there were the two men that Marco had introduced her to last night: Hector Vega, and his shorter colleague, Zeng Nyugen.
“Lizard, Kitty cat,” Marco said, belittling the names of both of their gangs, “you remember Amanda from last night.”
Hector Vega frowned. “We remember.
Why? ”
“She would like to know why I'm associating with degenerates like yourselves.” Marco's smile touched his eyes a little brighter for a moment before he said, “Or, maybe why proper degenerates like you are hanging out with a nutjob like me.”
Vega smiled. Obviously, Marco was in one of the better moods, one where people won't be killed. “Oh, hey man, that's easy. You're good to us…”
“When you're not a psycho,” Zeng added.
His compatriot nodded. “Yeah, that too.”
Amanda looked from one to the other. “Just because he can fight?”
It was a leading question, she knew, especially since she had seen what Marco had done to his two combatants from the previous evening. It had hurt to look at the aftermath. He had broken bones without hesitation, and if she hadn't dealt with the other two, or if she had really been in danger, she suspected that all four of them would be left alive and on life support.
Marco was not someone to get on the bad side of. That much was certain.
Vega and Zeng exchanged a look. They knew something, but were obviously worried about triggering a “Hulk Smash” moment from Marco.
“They've seen me in action,” Marco answered for them. “Tell her how we met.”
Vega smiled. “Oh, he came upon some of our guys working over an idiot we found. When Marco—”
“—Inquired into their activities,” Marco supplied.
“Um…sure. Our guys told him to screw off. It didn't work.”
“I only put the two of them on the ground.”
Vega shot him a glare. “You broke one of their wrists.”
“He didn't know how to fall. Not my fault. He broke his own wrist.”
“You nearly let the drug dealer they had get away.”
“Yes, but I stopped him, too. I bounced him off the alley walls a few times.”
Vega sighed, and looked to Zeng, who nodded. “He instructed Hector's guys to bring him to their leader. One stayed with the dealer, and Hector's other guy thought he'd be funny and bring Marco to my headquarters.”
