I, Vampire

by Jean Marie Stine

  "Ah 'eed 'ese har'," I mumble while keeping my face averted.

  "What's your problem?" Gary looks at the plate and sneers. "Ain't nothin' wrong with this. He wanna pay for two meals?"

  Fuming, I pull the ticket off the spindle, circle the word HARD (already written in caps), and shove it in his face.

  "So? What'dya want me to do about it?"

  Nothing, I realize as I follow Gary's gaze to the door. The trucker can't get out of the place fast enough.

  "This is comin' outa your pocket, baby. Not mine."

  "We'll seeh abou' 'hat." I glare back, then quickly walk away. I'm famished, but I still haven't resolved the moral dilemma of having to take another life to preserve my own existence ... not even one as disgusting and useless as Gary Nesmith's. To be honest, the idea of sinking my fangs into somebody's neck and sucking them dry makes me nauseous. So I've put off the inevitable. Bad move.

  According to the instructions Raven left behind, (a photocopy of an elegantly handwritten manual that makes me wonder just how long Raven has been a Prince of Darkness and how many sexual consorts he has gratefully converted over the years) it's an issue I'll have to come to terms with soon. Feeding is only necessary every three months or so, but the deadline is upon me, and there's no escape short of volunteering to have a wooden stake driven through my heart or exposing myself to the sun. Neither is an option. Dead or alive, the human will to survive is too deeply ingrained to subvert.

  Compounding the basic problem is that if I wait too long, the hunger will take over, and my first meal will be a victim of chance – not choice. The thought of draining the blood from a nice person is more terrifying than the need to kill.

  "Who lit the fire under that guy?"

  I jump as Chance Ryan storms in, his beady, black eyes blazing. His gaze settles on me when Gary points and sputters.

  "She did it, Chance. Musta smart-mouthed that guy or somethin' 'cause he left fightin' mad."

  Gary looks more and more appetizing.

  Chance, short, fat, balding, and a compulsive gambler who can't resist a long-shot, recognizes a golden opportunity when he sees one. He hits on me – again, slipping a flabby arm around my waist and fixing me with a lascivious leer.

  "Nancy, Nancy..." A heavy, disappointed sigh is followed by a possessive squeeze. "It's not like you to get uppity with the clientele. I thought you liked this job, but if you 're getting so burned out you're chasing away paying customers, I might have to let you go."

  Still unable to talk, I hang my head, looking suitably ashamed as I try to wiggle free and fail. Tears, of course, are out of the question. Vampires can't cry. I fake a few sniffles for effect.

  "Good God, girl, don't cry!" Chance pulls me into a chest-crushing embrace – not the effect I had in mind. "I'm a reasonable man. We'll talk about it my office after your shift. Okay?"

  I nod and step back, sniveling convincingly.

  "That's my girl." He grabs my shoulders and frowns. "You're looking kinda pale lately, honey. Get some sun. I liked you much better with a tan. Now – back to work." Grinning, Chance spins me around and pats my rump. I bolt for the ladies' room.

  It takes five minutes to subdue my rage and coax my fangs back into hiding. Chance has been after my ass since the day I was hired. I'd rather be dead. That thought has an immediate and stunning impact – I am dead – sort of.

  Finally accepting my fate and deciding to give notice, I emerge back onto the floor with a smile. I've had quite enough of the Lucky Clover Cafe, but as Raven's manual cautions, adhering to normal procedures is advisable until such necessities as financial security and a new identity are established. Both will be easily obtained in Las Vegas once I've gotten the hang of certain fringe benefits inherent in my condition – like hypnotic suggestion. I can stake myself working the street without having to service a single trick, buy a new ID, then discreetly hit the casinos for some additional cash.

  Nice and neat, but it still leaves me with the original problem. I'm starving!

  However, it's essential to kill and feed without alerting the authorities to anything more unusual than another random murder with no apparent motive, an unofficial, but generally accepted, law of the non-living adopted to minimize obvious complications. Easier done these days than in the past, perhaps. Unfortunately, Raven's Rules Of Conduct strongly advise against satisfying the hunger with acquaintances.

  "Why draw dangerous attention to one's existence?"

  I figure he knows what he's talking about, and I've always been a low-profile, no-risk person anyway. Sleeping with Raven is the most daring thing I've ever done, and look what that got me.

  So I've got to find an unsavory stranger – fast – before I embark on my new and exotic unlife as a creature of the night.

  As luck would have it, it's mid-week, and traffic into and out of California is light. An hour passes. Not one customer crosses the threshold.

  While Gary has made a great show of cleaning the grill and stocking the line for the morning man, Chance has stuffed himself with a steak, two baked potatoes, half a dozen rolls, pie, and coffee. I wait on him, catering to his many demands. In between trips to his table, I make a great show of refilling the salt and pepper shakers and stuffing the sugar caddies – looks like I'm hustling to keep my job and gives me an excuse to stay away from Chance Ryan's prowling hands. (I can't charge him with sexual harassment. Appearing in court to testify means daylight and becoming dead for good.)

  At last, he rises – no tip – and saunters toward me. His fingers brush my breast as he pauses to remind me of our six a.m. meeting. He winks at Gary on his way out the door.

  Obviously, Raven never waited on tables or he'd have included an exception clause in the "no acquaintances" rule. By five a.m. I'm beginning to think I should have nailed the trucker. I could have caught him, apologized for my little joke, and made a date to meet him somewhere before dawn. He was a jerk ... with a wife and six kids for all I know.

  Sunrise is at 7:11. Checking this vital detail is a habit even novice vampires quickly acquire. I'm running out of time and have to refrain from looking at Gary because every time I do, my fangs begin to drop.

  I consider casing the casino for likely prey, then reject that idea, too. All the employees who frequent the cafe know me. I've never set foot in the Emerald Isle. Going in there now and blatantly trying to get picked-up would raise a few eyebrows and arouse too much curiosity, even if I did just want to get laid. Certainly, I would become the prime suspect when the cops traced a missing person back to the casino – the last place the victim was seen alive.

  Instinctively, I know that I cannot postpone quenching my thirst another day and maintain conscious control of my actions. Determined resignation settles over me. The next person that stops for breakfast will be mine.

  Wrong.

  Chuck Henderson enters, tips his hat, and smiles as he slides into a booth. He's a regular, always pleasant, and a twenty-percent tipper even when he can barely swallow Gary's cooking.

  Okay. The next one.

  A young woman walks in with a baby in her arms. Her handsome husband follows, leading a toddler by the hand.

  I don't think so.

  It's five-forty and desperation calls for a re-evaluation of the situation. I am not totally unprepared. Taking Raven's helpful-hints-in-case-of-emergency to heart, I've stashed clothes in a late-model pick-up I purchased a month ago. I traded my old Mustang II and paid the balance in cash. The transaction cleaned out my meager savings and seemed like a foolish extravagance at the time, as did sealing the inside of the camper shell against lethal sunlight. Funny how these things work out. I'll have to ditch the truck before long, of course, but it'll serve my immediate needs.

  Gary is watching the clock, anxious to get home to a few beers and a dose of morning cartoons. I smile as I wave good-bye to Chuck and take the young couple's money at the cash register. They leave, and I pocket the night's receipts.

  The morning shift is habitually
a few minutes late, which suits me just fine today. I stroll to the window overlooking the side parking lot.

  "Damn"

  "What you bitchin' about now?" Gary shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

  "I've got a flat tire."

  "Ain't that a shame."

  I sigh and look at him helplessly.

  "Forget it. I've got better things to do. Call Triple A."

  "I'll pay you." I wave a fist full of bills.

  Gary walks over, snatches the money from my hand, counts it, and frowns suspiciously. "Thirty bucks? We weren't that busy."

  "I always carry extra."

  "Yeah, well, lucky for you I'm outta beer and payday's not 'til Friday." He heads for the door.

  I dump my tickets on the floor by the open cash register, grab the spare ignition key from my purse, which I leave behind, and hurry after him. No one is in sight outside the casino, and the motel desk clerk has her attention glued to a TV. Gary circles the truck, then comes to an abrupt halt and whirls to confront me. "What's the deal, bitch? You ain't got no flat…"

  Enormous energies flow through me. The look on his face as I bare my fangs, snarl, and knock him out cold will remain one of my fondest memories throughout the centuries to come.

  After tossing him into the back of the truck, I climb into the cab, start the engine, and pull around to the office entrance at the rear of the motel. I hesitate, watching Chance through the window, acutely aware that I've already broken Raven's "no acquaintances" rule once. Gary will appease the hunger for weeks, and the incidence of indigestion at the Lucky Clover Cafe will diminish dramatically. Small justification, but I have taken measures to minimize the risks.

  The cops will think we were both kidnapped and eliminated as witnesses to a robbery. I'm in the clear. I should just drive away, but if I do, a golden opportunity for sweet vengence spiced with justice will be lost. I'm not the first, poor, working girl my obnoxious employer has tormented with his lecherous passes and roving hands. But I could be the last.

  Las Vegas, the gambling capital of the world, is just down the road. I'm smart, immortal, and very hungry. Low-profile, no risk be damned. Sometimes a person has to take a Chance. Gary for breakfast, and the boss for dessert. He's not chocolate, but he'll do.

  THE CAGE

  DAWN MARTINEZ-BYRNE

  WE KNEW WE WERE IN TROUBLE when Ian got staked.

  We were all living in this California city called Riverside. It's not real big, it's not real wild, and it's fairly quiet. Nobody looked for us there. They look for us in Hollywood and LA, and they look in the big houses rich people build on the hills near Laguna and Malibu. But they never look in places like Riverside.

  Al found it for us. Al's real name is Alessandro, but I call him Al. We've been together for a while now. He found me when I was hanging out with Georges LaFleur in San Francisco. Al thought I was way too young to be with Georges. But all Georges said was "Tasha, she outbite us all. You know?" Al said he knew and he didn't care, I was too young and he wanted me to come with him. That was when I knew I wanted to be with Al. Nobody ever cared what I did before.

  We moved around and finally came to Riverside. We had a security apartment and stayed quiet. We hunted together and met up with some others from around here. Ian was pretty flamboyant; he rode around in a big limo and had all these gold rings he made people kiss when they got into his car. He'd make his driver go around and around while he fed in the back. He had this list of all the vampires in the area and whenever he had a party he called us. Al didn't really like him; he said Ian was going to get us all staked if he didn't settle down. Ian didn't listen. Now he was staked.

  We saw it in the paper: a little article about a weird murder in Canyon Crest, the posh area of Riverside. Alessandro made me read it out loud to him five or six times. He wanted the hunter, because this guy was a pro. Ian was staked, and then his head was cut off and his mouth filled with garlic. If he'd just been staked, then maybe Alessandro could have helped revive him. But with the head cut off, and the mouth stuffed with garlic, it's all over. The police were looking for the murderer. Now so were we.

  We heard more about Ian from Jamey. He called and warned us that Ian's list had disappeared, and that we'd better move. Jamey showed up with some friends to help us. He was like a lot of us, quiet and respectable. He worked at a blood bank, getting us the bottled stuff that the doctors couldn't use. Alessandro mixed it with some other things so it'd be potent enough for us to drink. That way we weren't hunting all the time and drawing attention to ourselves. You'd never take any of us for vampires. And I think that's why I was so shocked at Ian. He was flashy, but he was also careful. He didn't take anyone that might get missed. He knew where the people are who no one misses, and he always took them for rides.

  After we loaded Jamey's van we went inside to talk. He had an idea, and he wanted us to hear it.

  Al locked the door and closed the drapes. "Tell us what you think."

  "Why don't we use Tasha as bait?"

  "What?" I yelled.

  "Listen. It'll work. You work at that arcade, right?"

  I worked at the Castle. You know, the place right off the freeway, Arcade and Golf, family FUN FUN FUN! That place. The arcade is made like a Castle, with a big, bright garish miniature golf course. "Yeah, I work there."

  "What would you have her do?" demanded Alessandro.

  "They have a change booth, right near the pool tables. See if you can get them to let you work that. That way, we can be all over the arcade watching you, and he can't get at you. See?"

  Al looked at the floor for several seconds. "We would all have to be there, to stop him if he should appear."

  "That's right. Then we can deal with him."

  "What if he gets me?" I asked.

  "I have a bulletproof vest you can use," said Jamey. "He can't stake you."

  "He cannot harm you," said Al. "We will be there."

  I knew that tone. It was decided. "OK," I said.

  I HAD to trade with another girl so I'd get the Change Booth. This was the best arcade I'd worked in, and I'd worked in a lot of them. They took care of the games here. If you're the gambling type you could play Skeeball or Boomball or Twenty-One and save the little tickets for prizes. Most people cashed them in right away for little bits of junk, but some hung on to them and waited until they had ten or twenty thousand and then cashed them in all at once. There was a color TV for 25,000 points once, and I'm glad I didn't work when it went. Each one of those damn tickets has to be counted by the prize person, and then the big things have to be listed in a log. And then you have to go and get the stuff. The TV was in a glass case right next to the prize counter, so that wasn't too bad, but some of that stuff is buried. I liked prizes the best. Some of the toys were fun to play with when there was nothing else to do. I'd never worked the change booth before, but I knew it couldn't be too bad.

  I was worried about the hunter all day. We fed on bottles before we left so we wouldn't get weak. Sometimes they shut real late on Saturday. That could give this hunter all the time he'd need. Al wanted that. He sometimes hung out with me at the Castle, so nobody'd care if he played the rifle shoot game or some other quick win game all night. And he might spot the hunter and take care of him. There's a lot of dark corners on the golf courses.

  It was already dark when we got there. I went into the break room to put away the vest, then hung around the clock until it was time to punch in. Terry came in while I was waiting, whistling and swinging his catcher's mitt. I like Terry. He's a nice, smart guy, majoring in business. I think he kind of knew about me and Al but he never mentioned it. He kind of hinted, but that's all. I think he thought we were cool.

  Ron the manager came in. "Ready, Tasha?"

  "Yeah."

  "Have fun in the Cage," said Terry.

  Ron led me out to the booth. It was bright blue and white, with this flashing yellow sign that said CHANGE. It only had a half door, so you had to get down and crawl in. He unlocked i
t and let me in, then handed me the cash drawer and a bag full of change. "Have fun," he said, and locked the door.

  I saw why Terry called it the Cage. It was just barely large enough for me to sit in it and still be comfortable. There was a drawer with a notepad in it, a couple of pencils, and room to stick money. Overhead was an old-fashioned lamp, with three big white globes, and a fan. I flipped the switch and the lights and fan came on. A nice breeze filled the little room, cool and relaxing after the breathless June day.

  I was glad I was in here, where it was cool and safe. Golf would be miserable, because there's open windows to the course and the hunter would have a clear shot at me. And every kid for miles around would be playing golf tonight. Prizes would be bad, too, because this was the kind of night where people decide it's time to trade in ten thousand one point Skeeball tickets ten minutes before you shut. I pitied the girls in the snack bar. The line was already long and on Saturday night it doesn't go away until we're closed, usually around one or so in the morning. I hated the snack bar. Orders get screwed up, both because the airhead taking the order isn't paying attention and because the customers change their minds four or five times and then get mad when you don't know what they want. Then there's people who want exotic things, like the veggie burgers or veggie dogs with veggie chili and cheese. And of course the snack bar gets hot, and the longer the shift, the hotter it gets. I was nice and cool in the Cage.

  I pulled the rolls of dimes and quarters and started filling the dispensers. They looked like mutant microscopes. They give you fifty cents a pull, so you have to hit them twice for a buck. That confuses some people. After I loaded them I filled up the roll holder that's built right into the Cage. I unscrewed the little thing that blocks the change hole and I was in business.