by D. R. Perry
I throw the car into reverse and step on the gas because nobody’s here at this hour and this vampire has a need for speed. A thud causes me to apply my shoe right back on top of it, making a rubber-scented squeal and probably the skid-marks to match in the parking lot.
I throw the car back in park and get the fuck out of my car to see what the hell just happened. And I already said I can't afford to get a traffic ticket right now. Forgive my Esther inspired vocabulary, but when you get in a vehicular tangle, it's hard to refrain from colorful metaphors.
“Shitballs.” I definitely hit something. No. Someone.
Chapter Six
There's a humanoid figure laid out behind my vehicle. It's taller than the average person and seems to be wearing what looks like a fur coat at first. As soon as my brain's gears catch on to the reality of who I hit with my car, I turn on the blood fueled speed and hightail it over to make sure the fellow on the ground is okay. And yes, I know it's a fellow absolutely for sure because I'm a huge fan of his blog. Practically everyone who reads it loves the guy. It’s Sasquatch. I fucking hit Sasquatch with my goddamn car.
I stare down at the supine form of the supernatural world's equivalent of the Crocodile Hunter. If he dies or gets permanently injured, everyone who's not a regular human will hate me forever. I try to get my hands around his wrists, searching for a pulse. But his thick hide and even thicker pelt prevent that. One glance up at his neck tells me I’ll have no better luck there. Sasquatch has a furry ruff almost as thick as a lion's mane. Who knew?
Sasquatch’s descriptive blog on the Internet was invaluable to me during my last case, probably saved a lot of lives at other times, too. I owe this guy big time, and I might've killed him. See what I mean about my luck? But at the moment, I'm way more worried about the creature I hit. If he was checking in with the Deep Ones back here, he might have been slimed with the bad luck wooj, which means I could absolutely have killed him. And for all I know, he’s an endangered species or something.
I'm about to start flailing, flopping around like a fish out of water, which is ironic considering I'm next to the entrance to a fishlike race’s lair. An angelic voice I believe truly might have been inspired by the heavens sounds behind me and heralds my hopefully imminent salvation. Well, its tone of calm confidence definitely chills me out, at any rate.
"Stand back, Tino. I've got this." I stand aside and let the woman go through. Well, technically she's a vampire, but who’s counting?
I'm clenching my hands into fists so tight my nails dig into my flesh. I'd bleed if I were still mortal, but I'm not, which is a good thing, considering whose company I'm in now. In case you haven't heard me wax poetic about her before, I'll cut right to the chase. Maya is the most amazing being I've ever met. She's comfortable in her skin, adept at navigating both combat and social scenarios, and has a smile that's the closest thing I'll ever see to the sun again.
Right now, she's got her hand directly above Sasquatch's nostrils. The nod and smile she gives me trigger a profound sense of relief as I realize she's detected breath. Then Sasquatch wiggles a toe or two, and I realize everything's going to be okay. I don't know if that says more about Sasquatch's constitution or Maya's ability to work miracles. Probably the former because the latter is just my bias.
I turn around because my physically unneeded but emotionally essential sigh of relief threatens to bring tears to my eyes. I'm not sure why I’m so emo all of a sudden, but I stop wondering in ten seconds flat. Because my car, the back end at least, is a hot mess.
Maybe it says something about me, the fact that I worried more about Sasquatch’s well-being than the damage to my vehicle. For most of the supernatural world, my reaction says nothing nice. Strike that, reverse it. It says too much nice. Not everybody who isn't human is a piece of shit, but most of them have a selfish streak a mile wide. You sort of need it when you need to lie through your teeth to most people on a regular basis.
Apparently, I'm too much of a nice guy to be a bloodsucker. So what else is new? It still doesn't prevent me from wincing at the bumper currently falling off my car, with a Sasquatch shaped dent caving in part of my trunk. I can't even take the bumper off and put it inside, because I don't think I can pop the trunk without the Jaws of Life at this point. I can see the inside of the latching mechanism. Yeah it's bad enough that I don't think it’ll ever open again. At least not without some serious help in the form of a blowtorch.
"Oh, man." The voice is a warm tenor, not what I expected at all. "Dude, I'm so sorry. Your car’s totaled. Look, if you need help with repairs, I'm happy to throw you some green."
I blink, not sure what to say, or whether I even want to turn around and face a guy I hit with my car, cryptid or not. But I have to. This is worse than adulting, something I avoided for as long as possible while still mortal by living in my parents' basement. But that's another story and trust me it's way more boring than this one.
Anyway, I do turn around. Sasquatch is sitting up, rubbing the back of his head. When he pulls his hand away, there's nothing on it. For whatever reason, I expected some kind of blood or gore, but he’s unscathed. Thank God.
"No, I'm the one who should be sorry. With vampire senses, you'd think a guy like me could look where he’s going." I extend a hand downward. Sort of. The intention is to help him up, but Sasquatch is built like a linebacker. I'm almost reaching straight across toward him.
"Wow, thanks." Sasquatch grips my hand in his, completely engulfing it in his furred mitt. He doesn't pull on me. It’s more like he uses my offer of assistance for balance instead of leverage. The world would be a fairer place if the people in it were more like Sasquatch.
"Don't mention it." And I honest-to-goodness hope he won't. Mention this whole fender-bender, that is. To anybody. Like I said, Sasquatch is extremely popular. He gets along with anyone and everyone. I don’t know how he manages it. Maybe he’s Canadian.
"So Maya," Sasquatch grins. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"
"Sorry, Sass. It seems I dropped my manners in the rush to make sure you were okay." Maya grins back. "Tino, this is Sass. He writes a blog, which is really cool. You should check it out. And Sass, this is Valentino Crispo. You know, the new vampire I told you about? He's Stephanie's."
"Wow!" Sasquatch claps his hands, which makes a sort of muffled flapping sound instead of the usual sharp slap.
"Wow?" I'm not sure why everybody's favorite neighborhood cryptid is so excited to meet little old me.
"Yeah. Maya told me all about the whole kerfluffle between the vampires and the Deep Ones.” I can’t believe the words coming out of Sass’s mouth. I mean, who says kerfluffle anymore?
“Really?” I raise an eyebrow. If I had a heartbeat, it’d be going a mile a minute because he just said Maya actually talks about me.
“Oh, yeah, she did. And then they told me about it themselves." Sass brushes something off his fur, collecting it in his hands. "I just came back from getting an update and they're way more well-behaved than they used to be, so thanks."
"Uh, well, Raven's the one who actually convinced them to play nice." I shrug.
"I know. But they wouldn't have negotiated in the first place if you hadn't gotten involved." Sasquatch shakes the ick off his fingers like Taylor Swift shakes off haters.
Whatever it is splatters to the ground to glisten in the orange-toned glow of a streetlight. I'm not sure I want to hear what my very recent enemies have to say about me. But it looks like I have no choice in the matter, so I have a gander at what fell off Sass’s coat.
It smells like Deep Ones and looks like a handful of their scales. Score! But no. They’re covered in the bad luck slime. Well, at least that explains why the fender-bender happened. I rummage in the pocket of my big opera cloak for some crime scene supplies and find some gloves but no bags. I’ll have to improvise then.
“Um, sorry. I space out sometimes.” I realize I’ve left the big guy hanging, so I stop trying to collect samples for now. “You were saying?”
/>
"The Deep Ones said if it wasn't for your meddling, they might've taken over the world." Sasquatch shrugs. "That wouldn't be good for the magical ecology, you know what I mean?"
"Um, no, not really." I shuffle my feet. Awkward Tino is awkward.
"That's okay. Not everyone is into cataloging supernatural creatures, after all."
"That's right." Maya smiles. "Some of us are supernatural vigilantes instead."
"Uh, I wouldn't put it that way. I'm a PI. You know, private investigator.” I shrug but punctuate it with a grin. "I'm not Batman."
“Supernatural vigilantes has a nice ring to it, though.” Maya chuckles, a velvety sound.
“Well, maybe that’s too high-brow for someone like me. I’m just a busybody, Maya. Nosy Parker, at your service." I make a little flourishing bow.
"Well, I'm a Nosy Parker, too, I guess." Sasquatch chuckles. It sounds like claws scratching tree bark. "Journalists and investigators. Next-door neighbors to Nosy Parker, for sure."
This time when he chuckles, I'm right there with him. I guess it makes sense for a big hairy guy who seeks out interviews with even the most inhuman supernatural beings to have a good sense of humor. Hopefully, he has better luck than I do, though the whole car accident implies otherwise. At least he’s more resilient than I am.
My mirth tapers off when I realize that Maya must have called, emailed, or otherwise chatted with Sasquatch only hours after we finally got out of the tunnels. She’s got him on speed-dial or something. Either that or he was already in the area for some reason. My gut tells me that second guess leans toward the truth. Sass was here visiting somebody. But who?
"How long have you two known each other, anyway?" I'm trying not to sound like an envious jerk, but it's a losing battle. Because I am actually jealous. Of a big hairy dude. Who Maya probably could take in a fight. Yes, she is almost a literal beast in combat, but that's beside the point.
"Oh, yeah, we go way back." Sasquatch gives Maya a pointed glance. I'm not sure what that look in his eye means, and I get the impression Maya doesn't either. Could she have memory problems too? Older vampires are rumored to need some help with that when they come out of hibernation. But then again so do I, and I'm the youngest.
"I can honestly say I can't remember a time when I didn't know Sass." Maya’s eyebrows draw nearer to each other. Either she's trying to remember and can't, or she's got some sort of vampiric obligation not to say too much. I'm familiar with that sort of evasiveness from Stephanie, so I take it in stride. Maya doesn't make a habit of vagueness like Steph, at least.
"Cool." I swallow the green monster threatening to rise up from my throat. There's no time for jealousy right now. Or really ever. It's better to just talk about stuff like that.
"So, are you on a new case Tino?" She changes the subject. Like I said, Maya’s wise.
"Yeah. For an old, um, friend. From my high school days."
"Your Hunter contact?" Maya is talking about Kayleigh Killarney, my ex-girlfriend turned Hunter, who I still happen to owe a favor to.
"No, a guy from a different school. Used to compete against each other all the time." I'm not sure I want to mention Zack's name. These two probably know who he is. Even though he didn't specify a need for privacy, I know I wouldn't want strangers poking into my business if I'd lost a week. Hey, I try to be professional while working a case, you know?
"Okay." Maya lets it go. She’s cool that way. Well, in every way, but who’s counting?
"Well, I was here trying to track someone down for an interview. New rare creature seen here a few months back, in the company of Baba Yaga."
"Shitballs. Now I have to apologize again, Sass." I shake my head. "You’re looking for Sparky. I sent him running home. Maybe the hut’s still in the cemetery across the way."
Sasquatch takes a few strides that cover the ground between the parking lot and the sidewalk. With one hand held up to his brow like he’s shielding his eyes in bright sunlight, he peers at the graveyard. I wonder whether he’s nocturnal, and if so, whether the moon makes a glare that gives his eyes trouble. Or maybe he’s diurnal and just can’t see in the dark.
I pace up to stand at his side, wondering whether I ought to offer him a favor to make up for ruining his interview. Because of course, I already know Baba’s hut is gone. Vampires have eyes made for seeing in the dark after all. Apparently, Sasquatch doesn’t.
“Is it really Sparky you want to talk to?”
"Yeah, the salamander kid. So you know him?"
"Sort of." I grin. “I might be able to help you get in touch with him again. He comes around pretty regularly.”
"Oh, yeah, that sounds great! Next time you see him, drop me a line at my blog. I’ll be in Rhode Island all month."
"Will do.” I nod and extend my hand. We shake again, and this time it’s less weird than before. I guess handshakes with Sasquatch are something you can get used to. Who knew?
“If you don't mind, Sass, it's getting close to sunrise." Maya gestures at the sky, which is still thankfully dark. "We've got to run along to someplace sunless, you understand."
"You bet I do." Sass nods. "I'm sorry about your car. Don't worry, I’ll make sure you’re compensated for any repairs. It might take a few weeks, though."
I'm about to open my mouth, refuse his help and tell him I've got it covered. It’s not like I don’t have insurance. Rhode Island sort of requires that. No, not sort of. I was an officer of the law; it absolutely does. But before I can say anything, Sasquatch claps his furry mitts together again three times, and the next thing I know, he's gone. I flare my nostrils, trying to catch a scent. Which works, but it's getting fainter by the second. I don't know if Sasquatch has a teleportation ability or some sort of invisibility. I put my money on the latter.
I saunter back toward my car. Something shiny on the ground catches my eye. It’s the slime and scales. Good thing I’m seeing them again now or I’d forget to pick them up. I still can’t remember exactly why I want them, but it’ll come to me eventually, I guess.
Putting on the nitrile gloves is second-nature for me. I scoop up all the Deep One goop in my right hand, then turn the glove inside-out while taking it off with the left. After that, I take off the left glove and bundle them together, with the full one inside. I stick them back in my pocket and hope I remember them before they leak any slime. For good measure, I brush my hands off on the outside of my cloak.
“Well, he seems like a salt-of-the-earth kind of guy.” I shrug and shoot Maya a lopsided grin. “Uncanny for some reason I can’t put my finger on, but I can see why everyone’s cool with talking to him.”
“Uncanny?” Maya throws her head back and laughs. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. It’s probably because even we vampires can’t hear Sass’s heartbeat.”
“Wait, what?” I blink, thinking back to walking in on Stephanie. “Sasquatch is undead?”
“Not one bit.” Maya rubs her sides like all that laughter isn’t something she’s used to. “Thick fur and thicker hide just make it impossible to hear.”
“Hmm.” I’m wondering whether Sass was the mysterious guest in my apartment last night. But Steph seemed awfully cagey about that whole evening. Even though I could technically ask Maya what she thinks of my wild idea, I know for sure that my sire wouldn’t appreciate it.
Even though the silence between us persists, it’s not awkward. Being with Maya is easy, and probably the most uncomplicated interaction I’ve gotten since becoming a vampire spending much of my time with same. Whether that’s as mundane as personal compatibility or some sort of power Maya has, I don’t know. At any rate, I sure do appreciate it. And the only way I can express that without acting like a total douchebag is with words.
“Hey, Maya?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“For what?” She blinks.
“Just being yourself, I think.” I stare down at my thumbs, which are circling each other as they act out one of my nervous tics.
“You make everything feel almost normal.”
This time, the silence feels longer than it probably is. Still more comfortable than not, though. I don’t dare look up and risk breaking it. I'm Catholic, so confession is something I’m more accustomed to doing without the other party seeing my face, after all. But she doesn’t tell me to say the rosary or any Hail Marys. Instead, she asks me a question.
"Where are you headed, Tino?" There’s more to her question than plain old geography, but it’s unclear exactly what else is there. I make the mistake of looking Maya in the eyes as she speaks.
"Um." I'm lost. Gone. Tumbling in the depths of her gorgeous brown eyes. I forget what she even said. Do vampires get amnesia? Apparently, I did as a mortal, so maybe it's just me.
"Tino?” Her eyebrows rise in tandem. “Earth to Tino?"
"Sorry. My brain went on a little jaunt." I grin. Can’t help it.
"Are you sure you're okay after that accident?" She peers at my chest. “Nothing in the car broke off and got you near the heart or anything?”
"No?" I look down, pat my chest a few times. "I think I’m unharmed. Maybe? I'm not sure?"
"Why don't you come back to Warwick with me?"
"Do you think Raven would be cool with that?"
"I don't see why not."
"It's just that I'm hesitant to ask them for any more favors."
"I know. But hospitality isn't a favor between vampires." She grins. "It's an obligation. Do you want to come with me or not?"
"Oh.” I hope my grin isn’t as sheepish as it feels. “You know, I’d forget my head if it wasn't attached. I'm glad you're around."
“I think you need to be with people, not alone.” She nods, as though answering her own question. "You’re staying the day at Pickering House, just to be safe, Tino."
I don't say anything after that, just nod and let her get in my car. I drive half the posted speed limit. It’s three and a half miles to the house on Ocean Avenue, which used to belong solely to the living members of Raven's family. Now it's theirs in every way except the name on the deed, which makes sense. They are the oldest member of the Pickering family, after all.
