Bill The Vampire (The Tome of Bill Book 1)

by Rick Gualtieri

  My hesitation to believe her was apparently obvious, as she quickly added, “It probably also doesn't hurt your cause that I can't stand the asshole.”

  “Hold on. Then what was that you were telling me about you and him?”

  “What? You've never slept with someone you disliked before? Hate sex is pretty goddamn intense,” she purred.

  I decided to ignore that last bit. I had enough to chew on at the moment. The whole thing was maddening. I shook my head for a second and then gave a little laugh as the irony of what they were doing hit me. “The hilarious thing is, not only do I not have any of these bullshit powers that they think I do, but I might have even picked up a few extra weaknesses.”

  “Eh?” Ozymandias grunted, sipping from his third cup of espresso.

  “Unless, that is, the rest of you have a major allergy to Optimus Prime.”

  He gave me a blank look in return. “And what exactly is an Optimus Prime?”

  “The patron saint of eternal virgins,” Sally replied without missing a beat.

  “Bite me.”

  “Not even in your sickest dreams, doughboy.”

  “Enough, children!” Ozymandias interrupted. “I believe I asked a question.”

  I brought him up to speed on the timeless – since the 1980's, at least – tale of the Transformers and their associated toy lines. When I was finished, Sally's look told me I had gone into far greater detail than probably necessary. Ozymandias's pained sigh likewise indicated I had done nothing to raise his opinion of me.

  “Thank you for that fascinating diatribe,” he said with a pained sigh. “However, of greater importance to me is the value your friend places on this doll.”

  “Action figure,” I corrected. Noticing the momentary silence, I quickly added, “There's a difference.”

  “I'm sure there is, but once again, I asked a question. I know it's difficult, but please try to focus.”

  “Sorry. Well, I think it's safe to say Tom, my friend, places a fairly high value on it. He told me that if there's ever a fire, this thing gets saved long before I do.”

  “Ah, that explains it then,” he replied. “Don't worry. This isn't some bizarre affliction or anything. The same thing would happen to any of us.”

  “Toys from the eighties burn vampires?”

  Sally let out a groan. “It's faith, stupid.”

  “This is a toy, not the Holy Grail. I've never been much of a churchgoer, but I'm pretty sure faith is all about...”

  Ozymandias leaned forward and held up a hand. Having an inkling of what he was capable of, I immediately shut up. “Forget what you know. Faith has nothing to do with Jesus, Muhammad, Odin, or whomever. Faith is a form of magic – protection magic, to be precise. As a matter of fact, it's probably one of the last forms of real magic that most humans can tap into.”

  Seeing my look of confusion, he continued. “Tales of vampires have been around for millennia. Obviously by now you realize that the reason there have been stories about us is because we're real. It's not much different with wizards, sorcerers, and the like. Mankind has legends about magic dating back thousands of years, and that’s because some forms of magic are real.”

  “Most of the real stuff is lost to history. That's why you don't see people shooting lightning at each other on the freeway during rush hour,” Sally added.

  “Exactly,” he agreed. “Personally, I blame the Christians for that. Once they decided to equate magic with the devil, which is completely idiotic, by the way, it was all downhill. All it took was a few short centuries for most of it to be completely forgotten. But forgotten doesn't mean it's entirely gone. Faith is one example of that.”

  “Okay, so how does faith translate into a vampire-burning action figure?” I asked between bites of my appetizer.

  “Faith is all about belief. All religions have that part right. What they have wrong is that it doesn't have to be related to God or angels. It can be in anything. If a person believes in something enough, there’s a chance they can actually invest it with a portion of their life force, energizing it with a bit of white energy. This energy, in turn, has an effect on our kind that is not dissimilar to that of the sun. The whole myth about crosses burning vampires is actually a misunderstanding. People assume they're calling upon the wrath of God when, in actuality, it's their belief in the symbols of the church that's doing it. It doesn't matter the vessel. A person could empower a cross, a star of David, or a ham sandwich if they believed in it enough.”

  “I think I get it. That certainly explains Tom's toy.”

  Ozymandias nodded. “Yes. It also explains that your friend has some seriously messed up priorities.”

  I thought about the whole thing for a moment and then asked, “So how far could a person take this?”

  “Therein lies the potential problem for us. The stronger the faith, the stronger the effect. Fortunately, most people can do little more than empower trinkets, if even that. However, in the past, there have been individuals...” He trailed off for a moment. “Problematic individuals with a belief in themselves so great that they became walking, talking weapons against us.”

  At that, I gave my best Keanu Reeves impersonation. “Whoa!”

  “Indeed. We, as a people, have not always lived in the shadows. In the past there has been, at differing times and locations, both open relations and outright warfare between vampires and humans. Some of history's legendary heroes were actually those of great faith who waged war against us. They were known as Icons, short for Icons of Faith, obviously.”

  “Icons? Okay, so like...” I egged him on. No way was he telling me a story like this and weaseling out of the details.

  “Achilles would be a good example,” he said after a moment's thought.

  “Achilles? Didn't he fight at...”

  “Troy,” he finished the thought for me. “Yes, this much every student of history knows. What people don't know is that Troy was a vampire city.”

  “No way. Really?”

  “Oh, yes,” he went on. “Some of our kind had to go to great pains to convince Homer to leave out certain details from his tale. Anyway, as the story goes, this was a bit before my time, mind you, there actually was a Helen of Troy who sparked things off. However, she was just a lesser mistress to the head of one of the Greek city-states. The Greeks had apparently been looking for an excuse to wage war on us. Nothing silly like 'kill the demons,' of course. Troy was a major trade rival to Athens and Corinth. When one of our ambassadors made the mistake of turning Helen, the Greeks used it as an excuse. Forget any romantic claptrap you learned in school. Nobody sieges a city for a decade over a single woman. This was all about gold and jewels.”

  “And Achilles?”

  “A raging egomaniac, but also one of their best warriors. Since his belief in himself was genuine, though, he was all but untouchable to our kind ... an Icon. Over the years, his lethality to our people has been twisted into a legend of semi-divinity.”

  “That's ... pretty badass,” I had to admit.

  “Badass, unless it was your ass he was frying,” said Sally.

  “Exactly.” Ozymandias took another sip from his cup. “Fortunately for us, persons like him are every bit as rare as you, Dr. Death, which brings us back to what I was trying to tell you earlier. If you want to have a chance in Hell of surviving, you need to play that up. There isn't a vampire within five hundred miles who is old enough to have met another Freewill. There’s no reference point, thus you're an unknown. Amongst an ageless people who are used to seeing and knowing all, that's a frightening thing. It is in your best interest to become the thing that’s hiding under the monsters' beds.”

  “So, how do I do that? The entire coven practically saw me piss myself with fear last week.”

  “Practically?” quipped Sally. Bitch! “Don't sweat it. Everyone freaks out when they're first turned ... especially those who immediately have a stake shoved in their face. The fact that you had enough sense to fight back actually imp
ressed the hell out of a lot of them. Not that they'd admit it to Night Razor. They're also aware that you got away as opposed to being kept under lock and key. That stirred the gossip pot even more.”

  “About that 'got away' part...”

  “I may have exaggerated a few of the details.” She flashed me a sly grin. “Night Razor had me tracking you down all week.”

  “You have my driver's license. What did you need to track?” I asked, amazed at how differently my return to the vampire fold was playing out than I had expected.

  “As I just said, I fudged the truth on a few things. You're still my problem, as far as Jeff's been concerned, so I've been tasked with the job. Who's to say you haven't disappeared into the bowels of the city for the last several days?”

  Ozymandias stepped in. “And now you've had a whole week to adjust and get used to your powers. The vampire who returns to them tonight will certainly not be the same one who escaped them out of desperation last week.” He said that part with a wink.

  “I think I get it,” I replied, not getting it in the slightest.

  “Good. After this weekend, your reputation will only spread.”

  “How?”

  “You'll see.” He flashed me a predatory grin. “For starters, though, you're going to have an eventful night tomorrow.”

  “I am?”

  “Indeed,” he confirmed. “I have arranged for a little hunting expedition for you, having reminded Night Razor that, as your master, it's his job to make sure you're able to survive. Now that you've been found again, he can do just that.”

  “He's done a pretty shitty job so far.”

  “Which I have also mentioned. Thus, you and he will be going hunting together tomorrow night.”

  Uh oh. Jeff kicked my ass fairly easily last time. I wasn't really enjoying the idea of a little alone time for a repeat performance. “Just the two of us?”

  “Building castles in the sky...” Sally sang.

  “Yes,” said Ozymandias, ignoring her asshole remark. “You've been rogue all week. That’s problematic for him. Any carnage you caused could come back to haunt him. At the very least, you’ll need to learn to find and hunt prey in a way that's subtle ... or as subtle as we get. As your sire, it’s his duty to show you this. If you're alone together, then anything that happens will be open to speculation amongst the rest of the coven.”

  “If we're alone, he can also drag me into an alley for an all-night ass kicking,” I protested.

  “Doubtful since he knows I'm in town. However, it’s possibly a necessary evil that you'll have to endure.”

  “At least he can't compel you to stand there and take it,” Sally added, the look on her face telling me she wouldn’t lose any sleep regardless of what happened.

  She did have a point, though. In such case, all I’d have to do was somehow spin running away from him like a pussy into a positive story for the rest of the coven, and I'd be all set.

  Goddamn, this was going to be a long weekend.

  Date Night

  Sally and I left James sitting there, drinking espresso – damn, that was going to be one wired vamp – and walked back to the village. As we got to within a few blocks of the loft in which I’d been turned, she informed me that we were about to enter their (our) territory and that there would, no doubt, be eyeballs watching us.

  “Stop slouching. Walk straight with your head up and facing forward. You need to look like you own the place,” she said.

  “I don't slouch.”

  “You look like you're studying the sidewalk. You might as well have a sign that reads ‘Professional Victim’ hanging around your neck. Walk like I do.”

  “Like my ass is available to the lowest bidder?”

  “I'm surprised you haven't made me an offer yet. You look like somebody who needs to pay for it.”

  “Thanks. Maybe I should just pledge my undying loyalty to Jeff.” I adopted a mock-sniveling tone. “Oh, and by the way, master, Sally's trying to fuck you over behind your back.”

  “Touché. But it still doesn't change the fact that you need to exude a little bit of this thing we call ‘confidence.’”

  She was an arrogant bitch, but an arrogant bitch with a good point nonetheless. I stood straighter and tried to put a bit of a swagger in my step.

  “Tone it down a little, Superfly,” she said out of the corner of her mouth.

  “What? You said to walk with confidence.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn't mean you have to shuffle like some seventies pimp.”

  I tried what she suggested until she finally agreed that it was acceptable.

  “Oh, there's one other little detail,” she said, stopping. “To give things an air of authenticity.”

  I was about to ask her what when she suddenly flung herself into a pile of trash on the sidewalk. Before I could even speak a word, she was back on her feet and launching herself face-first into the side of the nearest building.

  “What the fuck?”

  When she was finished with her insane self-inflicted assault, she stood before me covered in grime, small cuts, and with several bruises on her face. “Ta da!” she said with a smile. “Now it looks like I successfully tracked down the ferocious Freewill.”

  Holy shit, this chick was psycho. What the hell had she and Ozymandias dragged me into?

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  We went straight to the loft from there, and Sally let us in. I was trying my best to look stone cold pissed off, but I felt it was only a matter of time before I shit my pants. If I was going to do this, though, I'd have to dive in feet first. Otherwise, I might find myself remembering that this was a nest of hardcore killers and start looking for another window to throw myself out of.

  There were about a dozen vampires scattered around the room, far less than the week before. No party scheduled for that night, I guess. There were three vamps, a male and two females, seated on the couch. I recognized the guy as one of the goons who had dragged me back up to the loft following my impromptu skydiving lesson the week before. On the floor in front of them was a dead, presumably exsanguinated, body. The trio on the couch was all covered in blood, so I assumed we had entered just as they were finishing up a meal. This was the perfect opportunity ... the best way to show dominance to a predator was over a fresh kill. Hopefully it wasn't also the perfect opportunity for me to blow it and get my ass put through a wall.

  I shoved past Sally (who fell back much more dramatically than the push warranted) and approached the couch. All three vamps glanced toward me and I could’ve sworn I noticed a little air of uncertainty about them. However, when the male spoke up, his voice had nothing but douchebag bravado behind it.

  “What the hell are you staring at, cockface?”

  Okay, it was now or never. Guess it was time to see if that semester I put in with NJIT's drama society paid off. “My name is Dr. Death,” I replied calmly.

  “My apologies, Dr. Death,” he spat, eliciting a few giggles from the lady vamps.

  “I don't believe we've been introduced,” I continued, my tone even, almost friendly sounding.

  “Name's Dusk Reaper.”

  Jeez, every moniker here was stupider sounding than the last.

  “Nice to meet you. Now listen up, Dick Reaper. You're sitting in my fucking seat.” I willed my voice to be calm and made sure not to break eye contact. Hey, it worked for dogs, figured I might as well try it here.