by Karen Mead
“I know all this already,” said Sam, leaning forward. “I need to know what makes your current master so bad that you’re willing to risk making a contract with me. You don’t know me from a hole in the wall.”
There was a pause as Eugene considered. “It is not my place to say.”
Sam groaned. “Well, whose is it?”
Cassie looked at the vampires, confused. The one called Liam had an angry glow in his blue eyes, probably still smarting that Khalil had insulted Miriam, but he didn’t seem to want to talk. The other men kept their expressions blank. Miriam’s attention seemed to be split between looking at Sam, and looking at Nyesha, who had her eyes trained on her shoes.
“What’s wrong with her?” asked Cassie softly. “She won’t look up.”
“Leave Nyesha alone,” growled Billingsly, the body builder.
“She’s fine, she’s just having a bad night,” said Miriam, putting her arm around the other woman’s shoulders. “It’s okay, Ny,” she said softly.
Cassie turned to Sam. “She’s the reason, Sam. They want to leave because of something to do with Nyesha.”
The vampires went completely still.
“I think you’re right,” said Sam after a pause. “Can she talk to me? Or will I need to—”
“I can speak for myself.”
Nyesha’s head snapped up, and Cassie very nearly gasped. Though the woman had the darkest skin tone Cassie had ever seen, her eyes were vividly, shockingly green, with flecks of gold. Between her startling eyes, her full lips, and her lithe yet shapely figure, she was one of the most beautiful women Cassie had ever seen.
Oh my God, she thought, no wonder someone wanted to make her a vampire. Now she’ll look like that forever.
“Quentin Rhodes. Our master,” Nyesha began. Despite her timid body language, she had a strong, intelligent voice. “He won’t leave me alone. I try to say no, only he’s our master, so I can’t say no. It never ends,” she said. At that she looked down again, apparently spent.
“And now she’s getting the sun sickness,” said Miri softly.
Next to her, Cassie felt Khalil shift in his chair. “Sun sickness? I thought all vampires had to stay out of the sun,” he said.
“Like many of the common beliefs about vampires, that’s only partially true,” said Eugene. “Old ones, like me for example—we can’t go out in the sun at all. But it takes years to develop the sun sickness, sometimes as long as 60 years. I had hoped, when I turned them, that both Miri and Nyesha would have decades of daywalking to look forward to. Now, I’m not so sure.” Miriam winced noticeably.
“When you say you turned them both, you mean you killed them, right?”
“Khalil. I won’t ask you again,” said Sam with a warning edge in his voice.
“No, no it’s a fair question,” said Eugene. “Technically yes, but they were dying at the time. It’s a point of principle that I only turn those who are terminally ill.”
“I had lymphoma at 16, and let me tell you, that sucks,” said Miriam. “I’m just glad Eugene didn’t turn me during chemo, because then I’d have no hair forever.”
Jay started to laugh, then caught himself, horrified. “Oh my God, I’m sorry, I know it’s not funny, but the way you said it—”
Miriam smiled at him. “It’s okay, it is kind of funny.”
“If you got turned at 16, how old are you now?” asked Cassie. She hadn’t planned on interjecting, but simple curiosity won out.
“Hmm, let’s see. Well that was over 20 years ago, so I guess that would make me about 38, technically.”
Cassie stared. A woman who looked 16 who was really 500 made sense, in a strange, mystic kind of way. A woman who looked 16 when she was really getting close to 40 just seemed like cheating.
“And this is the real reason you want to leave your current master?” said Sam.
“Yes. To save our sister,” said Miriam solemnly.
“How do I know that?” asked Sam. “It’s very noble that you want to protect her. But perhaps a little…convenient?”
For the first time, Eugene narrowed his eyes. “I swear on the blood of my sire, William of Harts Grove, that I speak the truth.”
Sam nodded. “Alright. I believe you. Now, the question becomes, can you provide what I need?”
“Name it.”
“I need protection for the members of my entourage, night and day. Especially my familiars.”
“What?” asked Cassie. “Sam, what are you talking about?”
“Yeah, come again?” said Khalil. “You’re making a deal with bloodsuckers to protect us?”
“Yes. Which wouldn’t be necessary, if I hadn’t just stolen another demon’s familiar, opening myself up to revenge and jeopardizing everyone’s safety,” Sam answered, not looking at them. “Or did you think there would be no consequences for that?”
Cassie felt a wave of nausea. Vampires were going to settle in her city, feeding on people, and it was all her fault.
“We can do that. Depending on how many people you need covered at any given time I may need to bring in some vampires from nearby territories, but it shouldn’t be a problem. There are many who are in my debt.”
“Now, Miri told me that your clan doesn’t hunt; instead you pay blood donors. Is this true?”
“Yes. For those of us who can afford it, it’s much more convenient than hunting.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Khalil, get in the back,” Sam said through gritted teeth.
“You know I’m right!” said Khalil, standing up. “They only turn sick people, that’s nice. Maybe it’s even true. But you expect me to believe they never, ever feed on anyone who doesn’t want it? Don’t be so naïve, Sam! They—”
Khalil’s tirade was cut off by a loud banging on the front door.
“Quentin?” said Nyesha in a scared voice, still looking down.
“No,” said Dwight. “Cassie, it’s your mom.”
“Oh, my God,” said Cassie putting her head in her hands. “I’m so embarrassed right now, I want to die.”
“No, actually, you don’t,” said Miriam.
“I’ll let her in, I guess,” said Khalil. He gave the vampires a wide berth as he approached the door. Sam quickly removed his hand from Cassie’s back as Khalil opened the door.
“Mrs. Tremblay! Always a—” began Khalil.
“Cassie!” Annette shrieked, moving past Khalil like he wasn’t there. “What are you doing? You last texted me three hours ago, and you never said you were coming here!”
Billingsly snickered, but quieted down when Annette glared at him. “And what is this, an AA meeting?”
“Mom, calm down,” said Cassie, standing up. “I’m sorry I forgot to text you. But Sam told me that he had a meeting with his, with his prayer group, and I just wanted to see it.”
“Prayer group?” said Annette. “After midnight? Oh, give me a break—”
“But we are a prayer group, Ma’am,” said Eugene, not missing a beat. “We have to meet late at night because of conflicting schedules, I’m afraid. We may look a motley crew, but I assure you; we are all united in our love for Jesus.”
“Praise be his name,” added Khalil.
Annette pointed at Khalil. “I thought you were a Muslim!”
“I was, but that’s in the past now,” said Khalil, solemnly. “I’ve seen the light.”
“And you,” she said, pointing at Jay, “you’re Jewish!”
Jay blinked. “No I’m not.”
“Huh? But I thought—”
“No mom, Mike is Jewish, remember?”
“Oh. Is he here?”
“Yeah, but he’s in the back—you know, because he’s Jewish,” added Jay helpfully.
There was an awkward silence. Liam and Dmitri exchanged confused glances. Even Nyesha glanced up briefly and looked at Annette incredulously.
“Mom, they’re just going to sing some prayers together and then I’ll be home, okay? Jay and I will take th
e bus together.”
“No, you will not. Your father is waiting in the car outside, and—”
Miri opened her mouth and began to sing.
“When I had nothing, you saved me
When I was hurt, you comforted me,
For that I give you aught,
My shepherd, my honor, my king….”
Sam and Cassie exchanged glances, awestruck. The vampire had a voice like an angel, as high and clear as a silver bell. Even Annette looked pacified. After a few more versus, Miriam finished and started rubbing the back of Nyesha, who had started sobbing softly. Khalil mouthed “abusive boyfriend” to Annette.
“Let me just finish listening to the songs, okay Mom?” Cassie pleaded. “They’re so beautiful.”
Annette sniffed. “Alright, but be quick. As soon as this is over, come get in the car—Jason, we’ll drive you home too. Your mother must be having a fit.” With that, she turned on her heel and stomped out of the shop.
There was silence for a few moments after Annette left. “Well, that was certainly interesting,” said Eugene, finally.
“We have to wrap this up,” said Sam, standing. “Khalil, your concerns are noted, but I have no choice but to believe Eugene. If I find out that anyone is being fed on against their will however, the deal is off.”
“Of course,” said Eugene.
“So we’ll form the contract tonight.” He turned to the members of his entourage. “I need everyone who isn’t a vampire to get out of here, now. Cassie and Jay, leave before that woman comes back in and starts talking again, for God’s sake.”
“You mean, we don’t get to see you form the contract?” said Jay, clearly disappointed. “Is it a big ritual, or—”
“None of your business,” Sam said firmly.
“Oh, it’s fun,” said Miriam with a suggestive lilt, crossing her legs and winking at Jay. Sam glared at her.
“What about Ethan?” asked Cassie. “Should he stay? There’s no place for him to go.”
Sam groaned softly and put his face in his hands. “I have no idea what to do about him.”
Eugene stood up and put his hands in the pocket of his tweed jacket; Cassie couldn’t get over how thoroughly harmless he looked, like a doddering old college professor who always forgot his keys. “Are you referring to the boy we saw earlier? If he needs a place to stay, there’s plenty of room in our hotel suite.”
“Yeah uh, no thanks,” said Khalil, sneering at Eugene. “Sam, the couch in my apartment turns into a bed. I can take him home with me for tonight.”
“Alright. I guess one of the vampires can follow you home, keep you both safe. I owe you one.”
“You think?” said Khalil. Then he went toward the back to get his charge. “Hey, who wants to have a sleepover?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
It wasn’t fair, she knew; it was taking a short cut. They weren’t the ones who had done it, but they had done something. If nothing else, they had done enough, and now they would pay.
There was no doorman, it wasn’t that kind of building, so she just walked in. Her armor clinked, but the two people she passed didn’t even look at her; that was normal. Whether they couldn’t see her, or simply choose to pretend they couldn’t, she didn’t know. It had never mattered.
There were elevators, those strange boxes that moved on pulleys. She didn’t like to use them, so she walked. It was 16 floors up, the metal in her gauntlets creaking at every step, but she didn’t mind. She liked to draw out this process, the better to savor it. It didn’t give her pleasure exactly, but something else, something deeper: solace. Satisfaction. Peace.
It was late, long past midnight, but somehow she expected them to be awake. Just as well; walking into a still bedroom and slitting throats was unsatisfying. She liked them to fight, to struggle against her blade, so she knew they were suffering. Suffering, at least a little bit, was important. It wasn’t strictly necessary, but after what they had done, a few moments of suffering was only fair, only logical.
When she came to 16-C, she paused briefly in front of the door, then kicked it open; others in the building would hear the sound, but wouldn’t act upon it, telling themselves it was the sound of a car backfiring, or a heavy object falling on a concrete floor. That was how it always was.
Her first target jumped to his feet, a bulky college student who had been playing an electronic game on the large, flatscreen TV in the front room.
“What the—” he gasped, and his fear was almost palpable, like a heavy cloud wafting through the slats of her helmet. It was thick, syrupy. Sweet.
He backed up until his shoulder blades were against the TV, still displaying the carnage of whatever imaginary war he had been immersed in. Despite his crime, there was something pitiful about him that made her wish to do this quickly. With a quick motion of her right arm, she drew her blade and separated his head from the rest of his body. There was something clean about it, like going outside on a spring day and picking a daisy. The rest of him would be dealt with later.
One of his companions entered the room just in time to see the first man’s body fall to the ground, and began to scream obscenities. He picked up a strange object, what looked to her like a plastic guitar although she wasn’t sure, and ran towards her, screaming hysterically. Him, she ran through first, waiting until he sank to his knees before quickly withdrawing her blade and decapitating him as well. Two down, one to go.
“Oh my God, Oh my God!” she heard from the hall where the bedrooms were. Her last target wasn’t visible, but he could hear what was going on. He would be hiding: she only hoped he would put up more of a fight than his companions. She used a lock of her hair to clean the blood off of her blade before she continued. One must always, always be clean.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
It was tiny compared to their weekday morning rushes, but The Daily Grind did occasionally get a “Sunday morning rush.” Sometimes, one of the local bird-watching clubs would stop by on their way to the wildlife preserve twenty minutes away from the city, and that, combined with the usual batch of senior citizens and exercise enthusiasts, could provide a flurry of customers at nine in the morning—at least, for a little while.
It was during one of these rushes that Sam realized he had a problem. The first mug that shattered in his fist, he chalked up to shoddy craftsmanship; by the third, he was getting worried.
“Sam!” yelled Dwight as the cheap ceramic shattered in Sam’s hand. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” said Sam, turning from three half-finished drinks on the bar to tend to his bleeding palm. “It’s like I suddenly…don’t know my own strength…” he trailed off as he washed his hands.
Khalil, who had been filling the display case with fresh pastries, quickly sidled over to the espresso bar and took over for Sam. As he reached for a bottle of caramel sauce, he whispered in Sam’s ear, “You think this has something to do with last night?”
“Probably,” said Sam, reaching for the box of band-aids Dwight kept near the sink. He hadn’t gotten much sleep after last night’s bonding ceremony, and he was aware a curtain of exhaustion was keeping him from thinking clearly. Did he now have vampire-like strength because he’d contracted with vampires? Did that even make any sense?
He was going to have to call Serenus for guidance, and just thinking about that annoyed him.
He could sense the peaceful presence of Ethan, snoring rhythmically in a sleeping bag in the back room. It would have been nice if they could have left him in Khalil’s sofa bed to sleep, but it still wasn’t safe to leave him alone. Sam wasn’t sure if it would ever be safe, and that was disturbing.
Snatches of the bird watchers’ conversation pulled him out of his revelry. “So violent…I can’t believe this is happening here, of all places,” said one slender septuagenarian.
“Did you hear what they said on the radio? About the bloody footprints?” said another. “It’s absolutely unreal.”
Khalil and Sam exchange
d worried glances. “Excuse me,” said Khalil as he placed their drinks on the counter. “Do you mind if I ask what you’re talking about? We haven’t seen the news.”
“Oh, it’s terrible,” said a bird-watcher with an expensive pair of binoculars around her neck. “They found three bodies before dawn, hacked up with some kind of blade—college students. Whole apartment was covered in blood.”
There was a pause as Sam, Dwight and Khalil processed this. Khalil recovered the fastest. “Wow. What is the world coming to these days? Please be careful out there, ladies.”
“Oh don’t worry about us,” said the most elderly of the group as they headed for the door, “I have a gun.”
It was another ten minutes before the shop emptied out enough for the men to talk freely. “Damned vampires,” said Khalil, wiping down a counter with more force than necessary. “Still think this was a good idea?”
“Don’t curse,” said Sam, thinking that he sounded like a broken record. He cradled his injured palm. “And I don’t think it was them.”
“Not them?” Khalil threw the wet towel he was holding against the wall. “A clan of vampires come to town last night—last night—and this morning, there’s a bunch of dead people. How naïve are you?”
“First of all, they were here, with me, until late last night, so they didn’t have much time to go on a murder spree,” said Sam. “Second of all—”
“—They said the apartment was covered in blood,” interjected Dwight. “Doesn’t that seem odd to you? Why would vampires leave a bloody apartment? They like to drink the blood, not waste it by painting the walls with it, right?”
Sam nodded. “Exactly.”
Khalil looked from Sam to Dwight. “What are you guys, best buddies now? Finishing each other’s sentences?”
Dwight didn’t take the bait. “Just being logical.”
Khalil snorted. “You honestly think this is a coincidence?”
“I didn’t say that,” said Sam, pacing slowly. “But… it’s hard to explain, but…they’re a part of me now. I think I would know.”
