Crooked Fang

by Carrie Clevenger

  He turned and aimed that thing in my face, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “You ruined my chance.”

  “What chance? What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “With Elaine.” He talked through gritted teeth, slurring the words.

  I stared down the barrel of that gun, knowing he’d shoot me point-blank in the face. It’d hurt, oh hell yeah, but I’d probably survive. I’d recover, and then I would hunt him down and fucking destroy him.

  “You really don’t want to do that.” I held my hands out to my sides for his protection, not mine. Once I had been pushed beyond tolerance was when shit went bad and filled my mind with nothing but angry hissing static. Like hundreds of pissed-off snakes. The monster inside me would wake up.

  “Why not?” His voice was escalating. “You’re nothing, Xan. Nothing without me and Crooked Fang. Just a has-been drunk ass loser that knows two chords.”

  “Bitch, I am Crooked Fang.” Black acid dumped into my veins. Embers of resentment ignited into warning flames. “It’d be a real good idea for you to shut the fuck up and get out before I end your ass.”

  He was feeling bad for himself, but I was the wrong fucker to take it out on. Charlie was wrong about Serv. He wasn’t just looking to follow his dreams. He wanted to fuck with everyone else’s. He was wild, inexperienced and he’d end up causing a bunch of trouble for me and the rest of the band.

  His aim wavered so I grabbed him by the wrist to disarm him before flipping him over my back. He landed hard on the floor and glared up at me. I dropped down on him, pinning him there with a knee to the chest and tossed the gun on the bed.

  “It’s always you, it’s always about you.” I’d knocked the wind out of him, so he couldn’t yell at me at least. “Crooked Fang is going down without me.” He bared his fangs.

  “Don’t do this, Serv.” I’d hurt him bad if he drove me to it.

  “Don’t do what? You tell me that you can replace me. You tell me I can’t have a companion, like you have Tabby. You tell me what to do like I’m yours!”

  “Tabby? What are you talking about? If you were mine, I’d have killed you by now, you little shit. Now, shut the fuck up.” I kept my voice low. “Listen, I know you’re lost. I know you’re scared.”

  “You don’t know shit.” He sprayed spittle, but his fury was nearly spent, having burned all his energy out on being angry at the wrong person. “I don’t have friends to back my ass up. And now I’m homeless again. I’ve got nothing. I don’t even have Elaine.”

  “Dude, you can stay, okay? Just tell me what happened. Tell me what you told Elaine.”

  “I tried to do it.” He relaxed, so I released him from under my weight. He scrambled sideways from under me and wrapped his arms around his legs, dropping his forehead to his knees.

  “You tried what? Making her? Talk to me, Serv.”

  “No.” He shook his head and looked up at me with tears streaming down his cheeks. “I couldn’t. She has all these ideas, and she’s so beautiful, and I love her, and I can’t take that away from her. I can’t make her like me.”

  “I understand, man. You know I do. Why do you think I stay here? To be close to them. To be close to people and feel like I’m part of something.”

  He looked at me, tears threatening to fall. “We’re not part of anything but death.”

  “We can be, yes. But here, we’re safe. We can play our music, and do what we enjoy for a little while.”

  “A little while...”

  I gave him my hand. After a few moments’ hesitation, he took it and allowed me to pull him to his feet. “Yeah. A little while. It’s all about keeping occupied, get it?” I nodded toward the wall and the broken glass. “It smells like a fucking distillery in here. Clean that shit up. And get yourself together. We got a show tomorrow night.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You should be. I know this shit isn’t easy, but I will tell you, the next time you stick a gun in my face I’ll break your fucking legs for you.”

  He nodded quickly and picked up a half-filled garbage bag to start cleaning the mess he’d left the night before. I left him to it and went outside to chill out.

  The cold air helped clear my head a little, but I’d nearly lost my temper again. Being the older of us two, I needed to get that shit under control. Whether he admitted it, he needed guidance. I couldn’t hope to help him if I let him set me off with just words and a gun pointed in my face. So, Serv was staying, which meant we could go on with Crooked Fang, which was somewhat of a relief. Maybe the reason he struck a chord in me was because he reminded me too much of what I’d tried to forget for years. The bitter resentment at being changed into something else against my will. Shoved into an existence I never wanted. Everything here–Crooked Fang, Charlie, even Pale Rider–was temporary. Our “little while.” But we’d go on. We’d go on and on and on, and I was scared of that kind of future.

  * * * *

  Weeks passed without repercussion from killing Freddie, and no more vamp-killers came around. Still, I worried. And I felt bad. After all that justification, I didn’t like the fact that I had been pushed into violence. I knew I was a vampire, but aside from isolated incidences, I didn’t feel like a monster. I did laundry. I cleaned the bar. Monsters didn’t clean or fix plumbing or help some old man heft kegs. I still resented Freddie labeling me as something that didn’t care. And it bothered me that over twenty-five years as a bloodsucker, I did still care.

  Charlie kept me busy, and the rest of the time I focused on music. I wanted to call Tabby and explain why I’d just kind of gone away. She finally had stopped calling. A little tinge of guilt struck me, especially how I’d just kind of freaked out at the thought of committing to anyone, so I used the phone at the bar just to see how she was getting on and whether she’d mind if I stopped by to visit so we could talk.

  “Nice of you to finally call back.” Her voice was snappy and sharp, tinged with a hint of sarcasm.

  “I’m sorry, Tab. I wanted to explain why, but I just got busy. And you seem busy too.”

  “I have to work to live, Xan, and I’ve waited for you to call me.” She sighed. “I have to tell you about something anyways. Come on over when you find the time.” She hung up.

  “Your lady friend mad at you, boy?” Charlie was standing in front of me.

  I lit a cigarette and rubbed my face. “I have no goddamn idea. Probably. She has a good right to be.”

  “When’s the last time you went over there?”

  I shrugged. “A month? I don’t remember. And now she says she wants to tell me something. Should I be afraid? Because I am.”

  Charlie laughed. “That’s the beauty of women. They leave it up to us to do the guessing game.”

  “Why can’t they just make sense like everybody else?” I tapped my ashes in the ashtray.

  “Like men, you mean.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  Charlie pulled a ring of keys out of his pocket to open the register. He opened a roll of quarters and dumped them into the tray. “Because then life would be far too predictable. You gotta have some action somewhere...”

  “I get plenty of action as is.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Not that kind of action. Go on and see what she want. It can’t be all that bad.”

  I shook my head and left him there to go upstairs and get my jacket. Pale Rider would be opening soon but it wasn’t a night Crooked Fang played, so I had the time to go over to Tabby’s house. Besides, it was eating at me why she sounded so annoyed. Okay, besides me taking off in the middle of the night and not calling for a while and–

  I had a life too, damnit.

  * * * *

  The light in the kitchen was the only one on when I pulled the RS into her drive. A light flurry of snowflakes swirled around in my headlights. I sat there for a minute to think about how to explain why I’d left. What I was going to do next. She felt entitled to time I wasn’t willing to give. The freezing air blasted me when
I got out, whipping my hair around and wailing in my ears. It looked like more snow was headed our way, judging by the bruised and starless night sky. Even the moon was hidden. I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets, and went to her door.

  She was already waiting for me and flipped the light on when I stepped up on the porch. Her mouth was set in a thin line and her eyes weren’t right either. I don’t know how to describe it. Hell, she looked pissed, maybe even hurt. I deserved it, so I greeted her with my usual bear hug. She didn’t return it, just patted my back like I was a stranger and stepped away to let me come in. She hadn’t dyed her hair lately–the blue was faded and she was showing about an inch of dark roots.

  “Hey.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “Hey.” She shoved the door shut and slipped past me like a ghost. Her voice was soft, and it was weird.

  “Got a guest somewhere?” I thought maybe somebody was sleeping.

  “Just you.”

  I followed her into the den and we sat together on the sofa, at opposite ends. The TV was off. I could hear the clock ticking in the kitchen. She was dressed in pale blue pajamas with little sheep printed on them that doubled as clouds. She wasn’t tearing off my clothes or yelling at me for being away so long without word. I expected more out of her and raised an eyebrow in suspicion. She fiddled with the fringe on a burnt-orange throw pillow and avoided my gaze. I moved it and scooted up next to her to take her hand in mine.

  She stared at our laced fingers in her lap. “What do you think of me, Xan?”

  I frowned. We were friends for sure, but anything past that I still wasn’t looking to get into. “I like you, Tab. You know that.” Not exactly what I wanted to say, but it was an automatic response. Well, partially because I really did like her, as long as she just let shit be and enjoyed time with me.

  “You do? That’s cool.”

  Cool? At times like those I wished I had the magic vampire mind-reading capabilities. Of course if I did, I’d probably understand women better too. We sat there for a few more minutes staring at the blank television screen like two teens before prom in their parents’ parlor.

  “What’s up, Tab?”

  “I don’t know if I should tell you.” She was baiting me, had to be.

  I waited it out as long as I could before worry overcame stubbornness. “Tell me what?”

  Tears spilled down her cheeks and she gave a deep, shuddery sigh. Concerned, I pulled her to my chest and rubbed her back while she bawled into my leather jacket. Unsure of what else to do, I let her have a good cry, and afterward she raised her head and looked up at me with a trembling lip. “Last time you were here, I was waiting for my period to show up.”

  “Your period.”

  “Yeah.” Her voice wavered, making her words hard to understand. “Xan, I’m late.”

  “Late for what?”

  I hadn’t had to deal with that shit in almost three decades, so I wasn’t really thinking along the right lines. But those weren’t words I wanted to hear when seeing a girl before I became a vampire. They didn’t mean late for a class or an appointment. “Late” to a woman was a very important thing.

  “My period.” The sharp edge crept into her tone.

  “Are you sick?” Yes, I was stupid. I didn’t have to think about using protection or worry about pulling out in time.

  “No, you jerk. I took a pregnancy test. It came out positive.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh? Oh! Is that all you say, is oh?” She jumped to her feet with a scalding glare and it finally dawned on me.

  Oh, hell fucking no.

  “If you think I’m the daddy, you’re wrong.” I stood.

  She took my hand and pulled me to her with hope pasted on her face. Cute. Definitely the ultimate woman’s weapon.

  “What do you mean? You were the one I’ve been with–”

  “Yeah, I was and no, Tab. You see, it’s physically impossible for me to get you pregnant.”

  “What do you mean?” She dropped my hand. I could almost hear her bubble bursting.

  “I’m sterile.” I hoped that’d be the end of it. I felt bad anyway. The girl was probably hoping the guy that actually treated her decent would be The One, but I had to turn her on to some truths. Last thing I needed was some weird baby-drama where I ended up on the Jerry Springer Show, defending myself while an audience full of pissed-off feminists booed me and told her she didn’t have to put up with my shit, girl. I wasn’t getting roped into responsibility for some other fuckhead’s cock-up. She was sleeping around–it was simple as that. Was I disappointed? Not really. It wasn’t like I was her boyfriend.

  “Maybe you’re not anymore.” She was about to cry again. I could tell by her reaction to my answer that she’d planned on this working. She needed it to work. What was the alternative? “Maybe you’re okay now...how did you get sterile anyway? Did you have a vasectomy or something?”

  “I just am.”

  “But are you sure?”

  I snorted. “Oh yeah. I’m positively, absolutely, without-a-doubt-in-the-world-sure.” She was not going to fucking give up. I couldn’t take a paternity test. I needed to stay the hell away from doctors and especially blood tests, for obvious reasons.

  “But how? How the hell do you know? Have you been tested? How are you so fucking sure, Xan?” She clutched my jacket with both hands, shouting at me. Sure, I could’ve lied some more. I could have made up some fantastic-yet-tragic story about a freak accident involving a dinner fork, a malfunctioning microwave and my balls. But I didn’t. My back was against the wall. Tabby was the type of woman that would never give up until she had proof. Ever ever ever. Could I trust her? I gave a deep sigh and poked my tongue with a fang.

  “If I tell you why, I’m going to be breaking a very important rule.”

  “What, are you some kind of illegal alien? In the Mafia?”

  “How in the hell would either of those make me sterile?”

  She went quiet and we engaged in a staredown contest for about a half-minute.

  “I don’t get why you can’t give me a simple explanation. Or accept your responsibility. Or at least take a test to be sure. Does being a father scare you?”

  I laughed. “No. It wouldn’t. In fact, it’d be great. If I could. I really wish you wouldn’t push the issue, Tab.”

  “I deserve a straight answer.” Her blue eyes did not waver. “Please. Just once.”

  I think that if she’d used the words “trust me” I wouldn’t have told her. “If I tell you, it has to stay between you and me. No one else can know. Not your mom, not your best friend, nobody.”

  “Jesus.” She shook her head. “What reason could be that horrible? Of course I won’t tell anybody else. Just answer the question. Why shouldn’t I force you to take a blood test?”

  “Because Tabby, I’m not human anymore. I haven’t been for years. I’m a fucking vampire.”

  She stared at me then threw her head back and laughed, letting me go. “A real vampire. Xan Marcelles, of all the bullshit you can feed me to shrug off responsibility–”

  “No, Tab, I really am.”

  “A bass-playing, groupie-fucking Dracula.”

  “Ha! I seem to remember you taking advantage of me that first night–”

  “How dare you!”

  “–but yeah. Undead. Blood drinker. Vampire.”

  She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand and squared her shoulders. “I don’t believe you. Prove it.”

  “Well you’ve seen my fangs...”

  “Dentists make those for a hundred bucks. What else do you have?”

  “Tell me when you’ve ever seen me in the sun.”

  “You’ve worked on Charlie’s truck before during the day. You go outside and smoke here in the daytime.”

  “Yeah, in the shade. I just can’t let direct sunlight hit me else I get burned and probably would poof into a pile of ash or something.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “What? You don’t know?”r />
  “No, Tab. How in the hell would I know without trying it? I’ve been burned before by the sun. That was enough encouragement to avoid further experimentation. I can die, you know. I’d prefer not to go out on fucking fire.”

  She hugged herself and trained her gaze on the carpet. “I can’t believe this.”

  I sighed through my nose, annoyed that I was being forced to prove shit that she shouldn’t even be privy to in the first place. I felt like such a dumbass, but she’d already stuck her foot in the door and pried open my true self. I’d told her my biggest secret and now she wanted proof besides? Fine.

  Without another word, I went to the kitchen. She appeared in the doorway while I was rummaging through her silverware drawer.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Gonna show you.” I snatched a black-handled steak knife from the tangled mess I’d made of the contents and slammed it shut. Her eyes widened at the potential weapon and she shrieked.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, fucksake. Calm the hell down, woman.”

  I peeled off my jacket and let it drop at my feet. With my gaze locked to hers, I drew the blade deep through the muscle of my forearm, teeth gritted as the blood began to flow. If I hadn’t been so mad, I’m pretty sure it’d have hurt even more, but I wasn’t about to show her that it did. And it was fucking excruciating, seriously. For just a minute before my body did its thing and started to repair itself, I dimly realized just how much I took that ability for granted.

  She started to hyperventilate. “You’re...you’re fucking crazy. I’m calling the police right...” Her words dropped off as she watched what had been a nasty gash begin to heal. My dark blood plopped into the stainless-steel sink–the only sound in those moments. Cautious, she inched forward, undeniably compelled to bear witness to the impossible. I licked the blood off my arm and then my lips.

  It was a confession of the worst kind–to try to convince her that not only was I a monster thought to be imaginary, but also that I wasn’t going to hurt her, no matter what I was. I could almost see her struggling with her human sensibilities, but I kept my resolve. “You’ve been fucking someone else, Tab.”