As he once more came after me, still blinded by rage, I sidestepped and plunged the fork deep into the middle of his back. Samuel was a big guy with heavily muscled arms. Normally that's a good thing, both for attracting the ladies as well as beating the tar out of flabby shits like me; however, it's a bad thing for being flexible, as in flexible enough to be able to reach around and pull my meager little weapon out.
The fork itself didn't do much. I mean, I'm sure it stung a little. Getting stabbed isn't fun, no matter what the weapon. But using a kitchen utensil against a vampire is a lot like using a penknife against a grizzly bear - unless, that is, it happens to be a special kitchen utensil. Fortunately for me, it was. After a second or two, I could smell it. Another few, and I could see it. And I'm definitely sure Samuel felt it.
* * *
Two weeks ago, I had been sitting at home, sipping on a liter of refrigerated blood, just minding my own business. I was relaxing on a Monday night following a long day of coding. I work as a video game developer. I did it during my life, and I still do it during my undeath. I like my job and all, but there is a small part of my mind that likes to remind me that I'm vampire. Not only that, but I'm a legendary type of vampire, a legendary type of vampire who is also the head of his own fucking coven...and yet I was still a goddamned wage slave. I had figured that once I took over the Village Coven, it was going to be one big party after another, with maybe an orgy or two in between. But noooo. Sally, my so called partner, kept a tight reign on the coven’s bank books. I was lucky to score cab fare from her, much less live the life of avaricious abandon I so craved. But we'll get back to her later, as she also had a hand in the present day situation going on with Samuel.
So there I was unwinding when one of my roommates, Tom, came in the door. Both of my roommates, Tom and Ed, are human. Kind of makes us a less attractive but significantly more fucked up version of Three’s Company. Anyway, Tom had spent the weekend at his parents' home in New Jersey (also home to his slightly underage hottie of a sister, which has really nothing to do with the present situation. I just like to mention it) and had then gone straight to his job in Manhattan, from where he was now returning.
“I've got something new we can try!” he excitedly said after he tossed his sports jacket into the closet. I didn't even need to ask what he meant by that. Since being turned into a vampire some six months ago, my roommates had made it their mission in life to chart my powers and weaknesses. It was mostly the weaknesses they seemed to focus on, and thus, in addition to roommates and friends, I had to add torturers to the mental description I kept for both of them. Barely a week went by in which they didn't think of some new thing to stab, burn, or crush me with. My pain had become their hobby. Yeah, they both really needed to get laid.
“What now?” I asked in a bored tone, hoping it might dissuade him.
“This!” he replied, pulling an old fork out of his pocket.
“Let me guess, you misunderstood my previous instructions and are now going to go fork yourself?”
“Keep trying, Bill. In another century or two, you might grow a sense of humor that's actually funny,” he dryly remarked. “This here is not just a fork. It's silverware...you know, as in silver.”
“So? You guys already tried silver. It didn't do jack-shit.”
“Yeah, I know. But forget about that. That shitty little letter opener was just silver plated. I didn't really think it would work anyway.”
“And yet,” I added, putting an edge to my voice, “it didn't stop you from stabbing me with it...repeatedly!”
“Sorry. All in the name of science,” he continued. “But this is different, trust me. This weekend, my mom had some friends over, and she pulled out the good stuff. She inherited it from her grandmother. This is the real deal here. Pure, solid, you-could-melt-it-down-and-shoot-werewolves-with-it silver.”
“So let me get this straight: you stole your Mom's prized silverware?”
“Borrowed is more like it,” he went on. “Besides, I don't see anything wrong with taking a little advance on my inheritance...especially in the name of research.”
“You know there's probably a special room in hell reserved just for you, right?”
“As long as it has air conditioning, then I'm cool with it,” he answered. “Now hold still. This might sting a bit.”
I don't know why I let him. Maybe I was getting used to it after all. Maybe I was just tired from the day's work (not to mention that vampires and normal work hours don't mesh too well under the best of circumstances). More than likely, I just knew that he'd get me eventually. Even if I flat out told him “No!” now, he'd probably just wait and then stab me in the neck the second I stopped paying attention. Whatever the insane reason, I held still as he jammed the damn thing into me.
“Well?” he asked, the fork sticking out of the back of my hand and small drops of blood starting to well up around the tines.
“Well, it fucking hurts! Pull it out!”
“Give it a sec.”
“Now...OW!” I yelled as first smoke and then sparks started shooting out of the wounds in my hand.
“Holy shit, it worked! I knew it!” he exclaimed while the skin around the fork wounds started to char and turn black. “Oh, sorry,” he said, suddenly remembering me and finally yanking the accursed cutlery out of my hand.
Goddamn, that was painful! The bleeding and burning were bad enough, but it also felt like there was a small legion of miners under the skin of my hand, hacking away with dull pickaxes. All in all, a dandy load of fun.
* * *
What had happened to me was now happening to Samuel, albeit in a slightly more central location. As much as I had wanted to punch out Tom's lights at the time, I had to grudgingly admit that this one might be a keeper. Further (reluctant) testing had shown two other interesting side effects. For starters, silver was safe to the touch for vampires. I was able to hold and even eat with it. Yeah, that eating part took some convincing by Tom, but he’s nothing if not persistent. Whatever its effect, it apparently only happened when in contact with vampire blood. Kind of like dropping a magnesium flare into a pool of water.
Even better, albeit worse for me at the time, was that something in the silver retarded a vampire's enhanced healing. Instead of a few minutes, it took all night for my hand to get back to normal. So even if Samuel managed to pry loose the fork, which was rapidly turning his back into something that resembled a roman candle, it was going to be a while before he was feeling good about it.
Blinded by both rage and pain, Samuel more or less lost it. He screamed inarticulately and began spinning around, attempting to get at the source of his pain. He spun around and around as his back continued to be engulfed in flames. He plowed into and through another wall, but the fork was stuck fast.
This was my chance, and I wasn't about to let it go. I picked up another plank of wood from the rubble, then snapped it in half over my knee, making sure one of the pieces ended in a nice, sharp point. It would make a dandy makeshift stake.
“Form blazing sword, motherfucker!” I shouted as I ran to finish him off. Yeah, I need to work on my one-liners. Apparently, I still have to work on not being a cocky dickhead either. Aflame or not, my dorky catchphrase managed to get Samuel's attention. As I closed in, stake held high, he caught me square on the chin with an uppercut that sent me flying.
Time for a Recap
It's one thing to be hit. It's quite another to be caught square on the jaw. It's like time stops for a few moments. During those few seconds, there's a disconnect between the mind and the body. The mind can still be semi-rational, even a little detached. “Well, that was certainly a good shot, wasn't it? Perhaps we should respond in kind,” your brain might be saying. Unfortunately, the body isn't quite so coherent. While the mind is carrying on a casual discourse, as if discussing last night’s ball game, the body is flopping about, trying to find a comfy spot on the floor to land.
Unfortunately for me, I didn't even have t
hat luxury. When a vampire like Samuel catches you dead center, you go flying. The hit was bad enough, but the old adage about falling applied here, too. Nobody dies from the fall itself, but the landing is a bitch. Same principle applies when you’re hurtling through the air as if you’ve just been shot out of a cannon.
I had just enough time for my mind to register all of this when I slammed into what felt like...you guessed it...another wall. The impact was enough to scatter rational thought of the here and now and fling me into a nice, comfy little flashback regarding how I had gotten into this mess to begin with.
* * *
Things had definitely not been all wine and roses since I had taken over the coven from the previous leader, Jeff, AKA Night Razor. I had defeated him in fair combat, or so the story went. In actuality, another vampire, Sally, had been the one to finish him off. Sally was the vampire originally responsible for luring me to my own death and subsequent turning to the dark side; however, soon after she had a change of heart and decided to help me out instead. After the fight with Jeff, she had given me credit for the deed and I had taken over his position.
Before you start getting all soppy over this, though, let me point out that Sally isn't exactly the altruistic sort. Everything I've ever seen her do ultimately seems to be for her own benefit. So, too, was my becoming coven leader. She quickly established herself as my partner behind the scenes. Partner apparently having the same meaning in her mind as Fidel Castro telling his fellow Cubans that they were all comrades. In her mind, she was definitely first amongst equals.
My troubles from the start were two-fold. Internally, I had to control a bunch of immortal killers in fashion model guise, all of whom were older than me. Originally, I had some delusions of trying to run a bloodless coven. Vampire or not, I'm not too big on treating normal people like they were snacks in a vending machine. Sadly, most of my undead brethren, Sally included, were not of the same mindset. I was instead forced to attempt to keep the killing contained as well as I could, which meant getting creative; however, even my best efforts couldn't contain all of the bloodlust, which was now partially the reason why I found myself in the middle of a vampire turf war.
The second part of my troubles was the HBC. They claimed Queens as their territory, and normally there wouldn't have been an issue between our two covens; however, within a few short weeks of being turned, I found myself number one on their to-kill list. See, vampires have laws, too, just like everyone else. Don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty sure there's no vampire statute against jaywalking, but there are rules set in place to keep our existence hidden from the general populace. The ruling counsel of vampires, known by their asinine nickname as the Draculas, hands these dictates down to the masses, and the rest of us are expected to follow them. In the vampire rulebook, there's no such thing as a misdemeanor. You fuck up, and you get made an example of. The HBC fucked up, and somehow I got caught up in it all.
The rumor mill had said that Samuel was recruiting new vampires in numbers above the quotas set for regional covens. The vampire in charge of correcting their oversight, James, had decided to disguise the culling and give me credit for it in some misguided attempt to increase my reputation as the Freewill of vampire lore. Unfortunately, before he could do damage control and keep things from landing squarely on my head, he was called away on business. From there, things quickly deteriorated.
The HBC vampires thought I was the one responsible for killing their members. Combined with my ascension as the new head of Village Coven, it had caused bad blood to build up quickly between us. Over the next couple months, skirmishes broke out between our two groups. On the one side were vampires who hated me for a crime I didn't commit, on the other were vampires who were eager to find an outlet for some of the violence I had been trying to curb. All in all, it was an explosive situation.
However, if they were the gunpowder, then the fuse was named Sally. Since my dealings with the coven were mostly limited to the weekends (due to that little job thing I mentioned earlier), Sally was left in charge during the week. I had originally assumed this was for the best, as she was older than I and far better versed in vampire politics. We all know what happens when you assume; however, when you assume with regards to Sally, you can double that ‘make an ass out of me’ part of the deal.
It was she who had proposed the mediation between our two covens. A contingent of Village Coven vampires led by us would meet with a delegation of HBC vampires led by Samuel to hash out a truce. The meeting place was set at a neutral vampire safe house close to the Brooklyn Naval Yard, which at the very least meant it was an easy commute for me.
Unbeknownst to me, however (at least up until a few minutes ago), was that Sally had purposely staffed our contingent with some of the more violent members amongst our group. They were just looking for an excuse to do some damage. Combine that with Samuel's group, who were likewise spoiling for a fight, and the talks lasted all of three minutes before the first punch was thrown.
A few moments later, at least three vampires were nothing more than ashes. By my count, two of them were from my side of things. After that, complete chaos descended. I quickly lost track of Sally, and after a few minutes of fighting off random Howard Beach vamps, Samuel caught sight of me.
“THIS FUCKER'S MINE!!” was the only compulsion he needed to send out to his group for them to all back off and seek their mayhem elsewhere. Amusingly enough, if I were somewhat older, I probably would have sent out an opposite compulsion to my group to save my ass, no matter what. But I'm not, and since the vamps that Sally invited from our side weren't my biggest supporters to begin with, they all had no problems letting the two head honchos battle it out mano y mano. Thus began our dance, which so far had consisted of Samuel bouncing me off various hard surfaces, broken up by the occasional, much less impressive return shot from me.
* * *
Oh yeah, speaking of hard surfaces, I managed to shake off the impact I had just taken and clear my thoughts. I must have only been dazed for a moment or two because I happily noticed my head was still attached to the rest of my body. I looked up just in time to see Samuel's still blazing form leap across the room towards my prone self.
Just for the record, things like that may work in the movies and may even still look cool in real life, but from a practical standpoint they're kind of dumb to try. I mean, I'm not exactly a Navy Seal, and even I know that while in mid-air not only are you obviously telegraphing where you're headed, but it's a bit hard to change tactics in case your intended target decides to take counter measures.
And I was certainly going to be using said counter measures, especially since I wasn’t entirely endeared with the concept of being crushed beneath two-hundred and seventy pounds of burning vampire love. I managed to pull up my knees and get my legs underneath him as he landed on me. I kicked out and sent him back in the direction he had come from. He may not have flown as far as I had from his hit, but fly he did.
This was it. No more bullshit. No more one-liners (sadly). I needed to end this now if I wanted to have any chance of living to brag about it. Besides, I could always make up some cool shit I said after the fact. I mean it's not like someone was videotaping this...hopefully.
I grabbed another beam from the rubble and started towards where Samuel had fallen. Amazingly, he was getting up again. He wasn't looking too good, what with being poisoned by silver and on fire, but he still got back to his feet. I just hoped he was out of it enough for us not to repeat ourselves. I wasn't sure I could take another hit like that without my head popping clean off.
We stared at each other across about ten feet of space. He staggered but managed to stay upright. He balled his fists defensively, and I raised my stake in return. A heartbeat passed, or it would have if either of us still had one. We locked eyes and prepared for the final charge. I couldn't help but think there should have been some Ennio Morricone music playing in the background, like in The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, but sadly there's never a sou
ndtrack when you need one.
I made my move first. I launched myself at him, and he...exploded in a cloud of flame and dust?? What the fuck? I hadn't even touched him yet. The least he could have done was wait until after I staked him to do that.
I was just beginning to wonder what had happened when the smoke from his explosion thinned out, and it all became crystal clear to me. Standing directly behind where Samuel had been just a moment before was Sally, her own broken two-by-four still in hand.
“What the hell!?” was all I could stammer.
“Typically, this is the point where you would say thank you,” she replied, smug grin etched onto her pretty face.
“I had him!” I insisted.
“Oh? Like you had him right before he punted your ass for a field goal?”
“You saw that?”
“Oh, I did better than that,” she answered. She pulled a Flip camcorder from her pocket and waved it at me. Bitch!
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