by S. Coop
“Sato, okay? It’s Sato.”
“Hmm, Sato? Ha ha, so you’re romantic?” Pony laughed.
“Not funny.”
“Geez, lighten up.”
“I would if you weren’t poking me with my sword.”
“Umm, no. It’s my sword, and I already told you I’m taking it.” Pony drifted a few feet away. “And I have taken it, haven’t I?”
“That sword has been in my family for over four decades.” John rubbed his neck with his hand and examined his palm. “You cut me.”
“I could have done much worse,” Pony said. “And ‘your’ sword never belonged to you. It’s mine. It has always been mine.”
“No, it’s not! The original owners of that sword died a long time ago. It was here when my family bought this house. It couldn’t be yours. That’s not possible.”
“You have no idea what can and can’t be possible, boy,” Pony said. “Do you know how they died?”
“My grandfather told me a man and his daughter lived here. The man owed a huge debt to some really bad people. One night they came to collect. Since he didn’t have the money, they killed his daughter. The man was so heartbroken that he killed himself.”
Pony laughed uncontrollably. “That’s what your grandfather told you?”
“Yes.”
“Your grandfather tells fairy tales!”
“Whatever,” John said. “And it’s not funny. Why is everything funny to you?”
Because I am immortal and can laugh at everything. Pony stopped laughing and peered at him through narrowed eyes. “What else of mine is in the house?”
“How would I know what belongs to you? Nothing else that I know of.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Yes you are. I can tell.”
“What, are you psychic or something?” John snorted.
“Something like that.”
“Then you should already know. That is, if you’re really psychic.”
Pony sighed. “Bring me the kimono. That’s mine too. Oh and the sheath. Hurry up.”
“How did you …” John scratched his head. “I can’t just take stuff from my house and give it away to the first person who waves a sword at me.”
“You’re not giving it away. You’re returning it to its rightful owner.”
“And that owner’s name is?”
Pony huffed. “My name is Akane Ito, but I go by Pony.”
“Ito!” John’s eyes widened. “So you’re related to the original owners of my house?”
“Yes. Now go get my stuff. Now.”
“I told you I can’t do that,” John said. “And I won’t. You have the sword, and that’s all you’re getting.”
Pony shook her head. “Then I’ll kill you and your family and take them.”
“Really? What the fuck?” John shook his head. “It’s only an old kimono and a sheath.”
Pony flashed closer and centered the blade tip on his Adam’s apple. She stared at him, compelling him to bend to her will. “Go get the kimono and sheath and bring them back to me.”
“And if I refuse?”
Pony gasped slightly. Dude, I have just compelled you, and you talk back? She stared into his eyes. “Then you die. Go get the kimono and the sheath.”
“You’d kill me over a piece of cloth and some leather?” he asked.
More questions! She gritted her teeth. “Go … get … the kimono and the sheath and—”
“I know, I know,” John interrupted. “You like repeating yourself, don’t you?”
She pressed the tip into his Adam’s apple. “Go!”
John rolled his eyes, turned, and walked through the bushes and into the house.
Geez! My compelling skills are shit tonight! He’s such a pain in the ass! Cute blue eyes, though, and nice thick lips ...
Pony jumped as John walked up behind her holding a black kimono laden with gold cherry blossoms and a Katana sheath.
How does he keep doing this?
John stared at Pony.
He’s waiting for me to give him further instructions. The compulsion finally worked. I think I’ll let him live.
Pony stared at John. “A thief broke in and stole this stuff while you were sleeping. You are going to go inside and go to sleep now. You will not remember me when you wake up.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Why can’t I compel him?
“And I’m not tired.” John smiled. “And I don’t think I will ever forget you.”
What? He wasn’t compelled at all? Who the fuck is he?
John shoved the kimono and sheath at her. “Here.”
Pony grabbed the sheath and slid the blade inside before snatching the kimono. “Uh, thanks.”
John sat on the ground at her feet and smiled up at her. “You will look really pretty in that kimono.”
Pony felt blood rising into her cheeks. I’m blushing? She focused on John’s mind. He’s not lying. He does think I’ll look pretty in the kimono. But if I can read his mind, why can’t I control it? “Um, thanks.”
“I think black is your color,” John said.
He … intrigues me. Why? No human intrigues me. They’re only food, but this one …
“Do you go to school around here?” John asked.
“I’m from …overseas.” Pony sat, balancing the katana and sheath on her knees while she held the kimono against her chest.
“Oh, you’re visiting, like you’re on holiday?” he asked.
“Something like that.”
“How old are you?”
“Um, well, I’m sixteen. You?”
“Seventeen. I’m turning eighteen in a couple months. Where are you staying?” he asked.
“Geez, why are you so nosy?” Pony carefully wrapped the katana and sheath in the kimono.
“I’m not, I just … wanted to know … if I would see you … again.”
Now he’s blushing. Pony giggled. And now I’m giggling? What‘s wrong with me? “I have ‘stolen’ your sword, a kimono, and a sheath from you and threatened you with a sword. Why would you want to see me again?”
“You’re pretty.”
I’m blushing again. How? I haven’t been human in decades! “Is that the only reason?”
“You’re very good with a sword. I respect that. How long are you visiting for?”
Pony shrugged. “As long as I want,” she paused and narrowed her eyes. “Aren’t you afraid of me?”
“No.”
“I could slice you in two in half a heartbeat. Why aren’t you scared of me?”
“Well, you’re dressed like a Lolita for one. You’re about my age and you’re a … girl.” John shrugged. “You’re just not very scary. Lolita’s don’t scare me. And you’re too pretty anyway. You can’t be scary and pretty at the same time.”
“You just need to get to know me,” Pony said. “I’m very scary.”
John smiled. “I want to get to know you.”
Pony started to speak and stopped.
“I can, um, give you a tour of the city,” John said. “I have school, but I only have to attend two classes a day. We could—”
“That’s not a good idea,” Pony interrupted.
“Why?”
Because I’m a hungry vampire, and those two little pinpricks of blood on your neck are annoying the hell out of me. “It just isn’t, okay?”
“Oh.” John’s eyes dropped to his hands. “You have a boyfriend. Of course you have a boyfriend!” John shook his head.
I would never have a boyfriend for long. Maybe the time between meals. How long would that be? A couple hours? “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“But you’re so pretty.” He looked into her eyes. “I’m sure many boys would like to be your boyfriend.”
“Look, John, it’s not a good idea.”
“But why? We may have different styles, but I’m sure we would have fun. Besides, I’ve never hung out with a Lolita before.”
>
Damn, he’s pushy. Pony inhaled and exhaled slowly. “We are not hanging out. I have to go now. Thanks for … getting my stuff.” Pony disappeared into the trees.
“Wait!”
John searched around the trees. “Here in a blink, gone in a wink. How does she do that?”
John returned to his house.
His grandfather, who sat in a wheelchair, was waiting for him in the kitchen. “Where have you been?”
“I met someone, um, outside,” John replied.
“Outside?” His grandfather looked at him. “Where’s my sword, John?”
Shit.
Chapter 3
Vampire Cafe
Pony unlocked the door to her motel room. Her dresses were hung up and her shoes were lined at the bottom of the closet. The bed had been made, and the room had a pleasant tropical scent.
The maid has been here.
Pony thought back to when she lived at Marcus’s mansion and how Marcus had to hire about five maids because Pony kept eating them. She always had an excuse, though. Marcus threatened to stop giving her maids.
“You can clean your room yourself or live in that big mess you make in there.” Marcus said.
That was enough for Pony to stop attacking the help.
Pony flopped down on the newly made bed. The comforter was cool and smelled of wash detergent. She flapped her arms against it, making bed angels while thinking about the time she spent with John.
He’s so cute. I’m drawn to him. It’s like I’ve known him forever. Which is impossible, of course. How can you know someone forever if you only just met him?
Pony giggled and grabbed the end of the comforter and rolled herself in it like a burrito.
What the hell am I doing? She smiled. I’m making a Pony burrito. Nothing wrong with that.
Pony grabbed a guidebook off of the nightstand. It was filled with interesting places to visit in Tokyo. Hmm. She flipped through the pages. Vampire Café? That should be interesting.
She hopped up and went to the closet to pick an outfit. She grabbed a black dress with peach and white flower detail. The bottom was black, flowery lace that hit just above her knees. She paired it with plain black tights and a pair of Merlot Mary Jane’s. She pulled out her flat iron and styled her hair into china bangs with loose flowy, curls.
Pony examined herself in the mirror. “Almost ...” She applied some blush and red lipstick. “Done.” She grabbed a wad of hundreds from her suitcase’s secret compartment and stuffed them into her bra before heading to Vampire Café.
Vampire Café lived up to its name. The red velvety walls, red floor, and the red and black tables and chairs were textbook vampire cliché. It looked like something that came straight out of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. The tables had candelabras and skulls, and there were coffins scattered throughout the place.
Regardless of how tacky it ultimately was, Pony felt a real vampire presence. An old, eerie one. Very similar to Marcus’s.
Hmm, hiding in plain sight?
The place was packed, which wasn’t odd because it was only open for dinner. Some people were laughing, some were making out, and some were sitting looking scared shit-less. Humans knew vampires existed, but most vampires stayed as low-key as possible. Japan wasn’t exactly known for its tolerance. It was always better to keep a low profile.
“Just one?” a host asked Pony.
“Yes, and I’d like a booth please.”
The host led Pony to a small red leather booth with sheer, black curtains dangling in front of it. Pony slid in and examined the menu. Blood?
A waitress dressed in her best vampiress attire slowly inched over to the booth. “What can I get you?” she asked with an awful Transylvanian accent.
“Blood.” replied Pony.
“Warm or chilled?”
“Warm.”
“Coming right up, my dear,” said the waitress before dramatically slinking away.
Talk about overdoing it. I wonder what their idea of blood is here. Probably tomato juice.
The waitress returned and gave Pony a chalice full of warm, crimson liquid.
“Wow. This thing is huge.” Pony laughed.
The waitress winked at Pony. “Courtesy of that hunk.” She pointed to a man at the bar smoking a cigarette. The waitress raised her hairy Transylvanian eyebrows and left.
The man and his thin, lanky, 6’4 frame gracefully drifted over. The closer he got, the stronger Pony felt that Vampiric presence. He sat next to her. The gel in his slick black hair glistened, competing with the shine in his dark brown iris’s.
“Um, hi,” Pony said.
“You are?” he asked, extending his hand.
Pony gave him her hand and cringed as he kissed it. Why did I do that? And why did he kiss my hand? This guy gives me the creeps. “Hannah,” Pony said. “My name is Hannah.”
The man chuckled. “Hannah, you say?”
Pony nodded and picked up the chalice, brought it to her mouth, and drank it. She almost spit it out. Real blood? Pony looked around.
“It’s good, no?”
“Yes, but it’s actual blood.” Pony said.
“You didn’t ask for blood?”
“I did, but I didn’t think I would actually get any.”
The man took a long drag of his cigarette and tapped the ashes onto the floor.
That’s rude.
“You think I’m rude?” he asked.
Pony didn’t say a word. He hears my thoughts. That’s double creepy.
“Yes, I can hear you.” He sucked hard on his cigarette.
Triple creepy! Pony got up to leave. “I, um ... have school tomorrow, so I’m gonna—”
“Sit down,” he interrupted with a straight face.
Pony sat.
“Drink your blood,” he ordered.
“But I’m full.” Pony said.
“You ordered it. Drink.” He motioned to the chalice.
Pony nodded. “I don’t want—”
“Drink the fucking blood, Pony!”
Pony froze. How does he know my name?
“Oh, I know you, Pony.” He tapped ashes onto the table.
Oh my God, he’s from the AVA! Pony thought of zipping away and rose from the seat.
“I’m not AVA,” he said. “Stay.”
Pony stopped as if she’d hit a brick wall. She sat without will. He was controlling her body.
“I didn’t know you were so strong. Impressive.” He laughed, put out his cigarette on the table, and grabbed a fresh one. He tapped it on the table before lighting it. “I know all of my children. I don’t know all their special abilities, but I know when they’re made, and when they make.” He stared at her. “And I also know when they die.”
Pony felt like she was muzzled and wrapped in a straight jacket.
“Pony, you’ve been a very bad girl.” He shook his head, pointing at her with the two fingers that gripped his cigarette. “You killed one of mine. This is quite the dilemma.” He sucked on the cigarette and blew a huge cloud of smoke in her face. “You see, Marcus made you. So you’re mine, too. Along with Morgan and Lasandro. Whatever happened, all I know is I lost two children, and believe me when I say this: it fucking hurts.”
It’s Mita!
“Yes, it is me. I’m sure Marcus had nothing but good things to say about me, huh?” He laughed. “You may speak.” He released the hold he had on her.
Pony felt Mita release her body. “Marcus didn’t say much about you. Just that you weren’t there when he turned.”
“You see, that’s where I differ from other Makers. I believe in survival of the fittest. I turn you, you survive, and only then are you worthy of living.” Mita shrugged.
“That’s kind of cruel isn’t it?” Pony asked.
“Cruel? Pfft. No, it’s not cruel, but what is cruel is beheading your Maker. Huh?”
“Marcus had it coming,” Pony said.
“So fierce!” Mita smiled. “Anyway, I’m not here to bust your chops. I’
m here to tell you to be careful. I am going to give you a pass because you are my, um, grandchild, so to speak, and I shall play the doting grandfather. But others won’t be so … understanding. I won’t be so understanding if there’s a next time.” Mita stared her dead in the eyes. “Got it?”
Pony nodded.
“Good.” He patted her on the shoulder and slid out of the booth. He picked up the chalice and handed it to her. “Please, drink.”
Pony grabbed it and drank.
He pointed at her. “I’ll be watching, Pony.” He winked. “But I won’t be watching out for you, you understand?”
Pony nodded. “I’m on my own.”
Mita laughed. “You certainly are.”
After Mita drifted away chuckling, Pony zipped out of the restaurant and down the street. She looked behind her to make sure he didn’t follow her.
Fucking Mita! He hasn’t been around for decades and now he decides to show up. Marcus hated him. I should have told him that. Now I hate him, too! He’s the deadbeat dad of the vampire world! Yeah! That’s what I should have called him! Who knows how many bastard kids he has roaming around Maker-less? Goddamn trashcan of a vampire acting like he cares. Please! Giving me a pass, he says. Fuck him. I’ve been doing just fine on my—
A thunderous whoosh of wind shook a car beside her.
Damn. Grandpa’s pissed. Pony smiled into the darkness. Sorry!
Pony zipped away as fast as she could, constantly watching her back.
Chapter 4
Curiosity Killed The Cat
Like clockwork, John stepped through the shoji door, closed it, and knelt down to pray.
Geez, he’s like a freaking robot or something. So predictable. Always doing the same things at the same times everyday. If anyone wanted to kill him, they’d always know when and where to get him.
John piqued Pony’s curiosity. She wasn’t sure why, but she needed to know more about him. The fact that she couldn’t compel him bothered her. It wasn’t as if she had never failed to compel a being before, but she had never failed to compel a human being. She had failed to compel shape-shifters, wolves, and other paranormal creatures. They seemed to immune to it. From what she could tell, John was none of those.
He was just a regular guy.
