Crooked Fang

by Carrie Clevenger

  “I figured I would and then grab a shower if that’s cool.”

  “Sure, but you’ll have to use the guest bathroom. Liz is in the bath.”

  I grabbed my cigarettes and we went upstairs and out on the back patio.

  “Kid asleep?” I flipped open my Zippo and lit my cigarette.

  “I think Chelsea’s still on the damn phone in her room.”

  “She tried to get me to come up and eat dinner with you guys.”

  Scott laughed and took a chair at the glass-topped patio table and I did the same. “Yeah, I figure it’ll be a challenge to continually make excuses for you to not ever eat.”

  “I’ll think of something. I’ve been doing it for a while now.”

  Scott looked down at his tie and loosened it. “I’m not sure how you manage. People ask questions.”

  “Yeah, but you’d be surprised. I’m rarely questioned on not ever eating. People just fill in blanks. Why would you suspect anything of a big healthy dude like me not eating? The mind just assumes. It’s good that happens.”

  “I guess you’re right.” He started to say something else, but Chelsea came outside with the cordless phone in her hand.

  “It’s for you.” She put it in Scott’s hand.

  He covered the mouthpiece. “Who is it?”

  “I dunno. Some lady.” She disappeared back into the house before he could inquire further.

  He raised an eyebrow and lifted the phone to his ear. “This is Scott... I’m good...Gabriel? Oh...no, he passed away some time ago...”

  I leaned forward, curious of who’d be looking for me under my living name.

  “Silvia...Silvia Redhouse? Of course I remember you. Gabe went with your sister way back–oh really? Really...wow.”

  “Silvia? What’s going on?” I asked, but Scott waved his hand to keep me quiet.

  “Wow...I’m so sorry to hear that...yeah, she was a sweet girl, err woman.”

  “Was?” I scooted closer, trying to pick up the other side of the conversation, but Scott stood.

  His face went from passive to horrified. “You’re serious? Holy–yeah, that’s terrible! Any idea who? Or...what? You mean like bites? From what? Oh. Damn, Silvia, I’m really sorry to hear that.”

  He wandered into the house and shut the door, leaving me outside to freak out. What the hell was going on? Why was Silvia calling? I tried to think of who I was related to that might be affected enough to make Silvia look for me. Well, me as before. I guess she hadn’t gotten the memo that Gabriel was dead.

  Scott came back outside with a cup of coffee, still on the phone. “Yeah...you too, hon. Bye.”

  He disconnected the call, sat his coffee on the table, and looked at me. “Fuck it. Give me one of your cigarettes.”

  I didn’t question his request and shoved the pack and lighter his direction. “Who died?”

  “Her sister. Heather. She was found in the park where she works. Bite wound to the throat.”

  The news was like a one-two punch to the gut. Heather had been my girlfriend in high school, and her family was close friends with mine.

  “A bite killed her?”

  Scott’s face was devoid of emotion, but his eyes held a glint of anger. “I’m thinking maybe one of your–”

  I stood. “Whoa, wait Scott. If you’re thinking that a vampire– We don’t just leave dead bodies hanging around.”

  “She said they don’t know what caused her death. The bite itself just seems to be an injury. But she’s dead.”

  “Did Silvia mention blood loss? When did this happen?”

  Scott shook his head. “Just that she was found during her shift after she stopped responding to her radio while checking out a noise disturbance at one of the campsites. And I don’t know when it happened. Silvia’s pretty shook up about it. I didn’t want to press her with a bunch of questions.”

  I sighed through my nose and thought back to Heather. She had definitely been a prominent presence in my life before. We had played together as kids, and when Silvia came to go to college in Denver, Heather moved with her and shared expenses, getting a job as a waitress while she attended high school with me. It was awesome having her around. I lost contact with nearly everyone after Dad took me off the reservation to live with him. Heather and I were still as good friends as we’d been as kids, but as young adults our hormones had taken over and we ended up dating instead. It took over a year for me to realize my feelings for her were just really strong ones of friendship and I broke it off. It destroyed our relationship completely and when Silvia finished her time, Heather went back home to New Mexico.

  “You’re thinking pretty hard over there.” Scott ground his cigarette out in the ashtray.

  “Yeah.” I did the same and immediately lit another one. “I want to go check out what happened. Because, if what you’re telling me is from a vamp, I need to find the fucker and end it.”

  “But how? You’re for all points and purposes dead, Xan. Even if you weren’t, there’d be no way you could go over there as Gabriel and have people accept that you’re fifty-two. You look young enough for me to be your dad.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I could be your son.”

  “What? Oh fuck no. No way. Be your own son.”

  I frowned. “My own son?”

  “Yeah, you know–Gabriel’s son.”

  “But, I never had a...oh, wait. I get it.”

  Scott rolled his eyes. “You look just like your old man, you know. Spitting image. Gabriel’d been proud.”

  “I could call her and tell her I’m Gabriel Nez, Junior.”

  Scott stood and brushed the cigarette ash off his shirt. “Liz is going to murder me for smoking.”

  “I’d say she’s going to blame me anyway.”

  “True, and yeah. You could go check stuff out posing as your own son. That’s actually kind of brilliant, man.”

  Conversation died after that. Eventually, Scott had to go to bed, and I fucked around in the basement ’til close to sunrise. I was restless. I don’t know why I kept ignoring my hunger. Worrying about what’d happened to Heather distracted me anyway. Once the sun came up, I lay down on the air mattress and, surprisingly, passed out.

  Footsteps on the stairs woke me the next evening. I was used to Liz venturing down there every so often to do the family’s laundry. I could smell the sliced beef before the plate even came into view. It was Liz, probably to come and try to get me to eat dinner with them. I groaned inwardly. The woman was persistent. I had to give her that. She was still in her day clothes: dress slacks and sensible beige pumps with a cream-colored ruffled blouse. A gold pin on her right breast spelled out her full name in elegant but clean black letters, along with the name of the bank at which she worked. Her mouth was set in a thin line, and her dark brown hair swept up off her neck save for a few precise curls. I sat up to acknowledge her. Nope. She’d brought dinner to me. On a plate.

  “Hey, Liz. Whatcha got there?”

  Her moss-green eyes swept over my things before her gaze settled on me. Sleeping in my clothes. Her frown deepened, but was tinged with a definite hint of concern.

  “I’ve noticed that you haven’t eaten dinner with us. Chelsea mentioned that you might be ill. I wanted to leave this plate for you, just in case.”

  I opened my mouth to object, but her face held a stern expression of defiance. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer. I looked from her face to the round white plate, piled high with sliced beef, as I’d already detected, mashed potatoes with gravy, green beans and a steaming-hot dinner roll. I licked my lips. If only I could eat that stuff. My brain told me it’d be delicious. My body was mildly repulsed by the thought of trying to consume it.

  I forced a smile. “Yeah? That’s really sweet of you, Liz. Looks good too.” I took the plate from her hands and set it on the mattress beside me.

  “Okay, umm. Thank you.” She nodded once and went back up the stairs without looking back. The aroma of her offering reminded me I really shoul
d get out around Denver and hunt down my kind of sustenance. I glanced down at the plate guiltily. First, I had to get rid of that without her knowing.

  The basement door was still open a crack. I started to get up so I could close it, but Scott walked in and thumped down the stairs.

  “Hey. How’s it going?” He was casual that evening in khakis and a gray button-down linen shirt without a tie. In his hand was a brown bag containing, I guessed, more whiskey for me.

  I grinned. “Good. Your wife is a pushy woman.” I tilted my head at the plate beside me. He handed me the bottle and I set it by my feet.

  “Yeah, she can be. Here, let me have it.” He took the plate of food and dug the fork into the mashed potatoes. I gave him a few minutes to eat while I outlined my plans for the night.

  “I need to run upstairs and take a shower then I gotta split for a few hours.”

  “Mmhmm.” Scott swallowed his food. “What for?”

  I hooked my bottom lip behind my fangs and shrugged.

  “Oh, you mean...oh. I see. The vampire thing you have to do.” He sat beside me on the mattress, making it poof up underneath me with a hiss, and dragged a piece of his roll through the lake of brown gravy on his plate.

  “Yeah. Every so often I’m reminded I’m not human.” I snorted and pulled the bottle he’d brought from the bag. “Mm.” I nodded at the name on the label. Scott didn’t buy cheap booze. He could’ve. I’d been happy with whatever, really. I spun the cap off and took a nice long drink. Scott raised an eyebrow as I wiped my lips with the back of one hand and gave a satisfied sigh. “Good stuff.”

  He finished my dinner and laid the fork over the empty plate before setting it on the floor with a momentary clatter. I laughed as he leaned back on his elbows with a sigh.

  “I need a dog for the next time Liz decides to feed the vampire downstairs.”

  “I was thinking...” Scott was staring at the washer and dryer.

  “What?”

  “I was just thinking that you don’t have to go out if you don’t want to. At least for that.”

  “For blood? It’s a good idea if I do. It’s not going to go away. I need to take care of the problem.”

  He eyed me, turning his head only slightly. “What about me?”

  “What about you?”

  He rolled his eyes. “You know. Take me instead.”

  I frowned. If I had one rule I followed well, it was once people became friends, they were off the menu permanently. Friends were definitely not food. Even Tabby, whom I’d slept next to many nights while dealing with the inner beast until I could break away upon the next sunset to find relief was no longer on the menu.

  “No.”

  “What do you mean ‘no’? It’s not like you’d kill me.”

  “I mean no, Scott. I don’t feed on people I care about.”

  Scott sat forward, his arms draped over his knees. “I think you’re looking at it the wrong way.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Would you let me fucking finish, Xan?” He sighed. “As much as I want to, I can’t really help you much besides let you stay here and offer you money, which you’ll refuse.”

  “You bring me whiskey. It’s enough, man. I’m not biting you. There are plenty of people out there–”

  “Oh, so let me get this straight. You’d rather steal it from a stranger than accept it from a friend.”

  I shook my head. Was he nuts? I couldn’t drink his blood. It’d be wrong on so many levels.

  “So then what is it exactly? Afraid you’ll hurt me? You didn’t hurt other people. You said you leave them a little disoriented and they don’t remember a thing except that they felt really good.”

  “Why are you asking this of me?”

  He rose to his feet and so did I. We eyeballed one another like it was the first time we met. “Because I want to.”

  I was hungry. That was no lie. Even standing there that close to him, I was aware of the throbbing pulse beneath his skin, the shallow breaths he took and the muffled rattle of Tic-Tacs in his pocket, as well as the scent of his aftershave. Physically, he was no different than many of my other snacks. But Scott was probably one of the most precious people in the world to me. Still, the room brightened as my pupils dilated, my vampire side sputtering into action at the possibility of a meal nearby. It was something I held a firm grip on most of the time. I was afraid I’d hurt somebody, much like I had that kid, Freddie.

  “Let me give this to you.” His gaze was direct and unwavering. Those dark eyes seared into mine and I looked away. I couldn’t tell if it was the thrall talking or if he’d really come up with the idea on his own. Talking about it made the symptoms worse. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt without a word, and stood his ground. I growled softly, frustrated by the temptation to drink from my best friend. It was like dangling a fresh raw steak in front of a hungry Rottweiler.

  I closed the distance between us with one step. “Just a few seconds. To take the edge off maybe.” My mind was screaming no, but my body was all about yes. And it was my body that reached out to take him in my arms in a quick, fluid motion to sink my fangs deep into his throat.

  The effect was instantaneous. I moaned softly as his blood welled up and flooded my mouth, which I drank greedily. My best friend was fucking delicious. It attracted me more that the blood was freely given, without fear of discovery or interruption. His knees buckled under him, but I kept him upright in a vise-like grip as I lost myself in that sea of bright red, floating. His heart thundered in my eardrums as he gasped and clutched at my shirt. I wondered what he was feeling. Did it feel good? The moment I counted twelve seconds, I slashed my tongue on my fangs and brushed it over the wounds before I released him from my bite. He felt so fragile to me, but I knew from his scent, sound, and now his blood, that he was as healthy as an ox.

  He dangled in my arms for about half a minute before coming to. “That was nice,” he said and smiled dreamily as I lowered him to my mattress to give him time to collect himself. He rolled over on his side and stared at the wall.

  “Dude. Scott...are you okay?” Was I bad for taking his offer? Was it horrible of me to enjoy it more than with a stranger?

  “Oh yeah. Totally.” He rolled over on his back.

  “Really? I mean you remember it?” I hovered over him, watching his face.

  His eyes focused on me. “Not really. But it was...like nothing I’ve ever felt before.” His hand went to his neck and felt around. “You didn’t even leave any bite holes.”

  It felt funny, discussing this kind of stuff with a living person, even him. I backed away and rummaged through my bag, looking for my shower stuff.

  He got up from the bed and kind of staggered sideways before finding his balance. “Wow. What a fucking rush.”

  I knew what he meant. Even then I was shot through with unspent energy, feeling like I’d been recharged completely. It helped me feel human again. I hummed in response and left him down there while I sought my diversion in the shower. I had to think about what had just happened, and fight not to feel like a complete heel. I stepped in under the scalding hot water, washed, and let it pound on me until it ran ice-cold.

  By the time I got out of the shower, Scott had disappeared into his bedroom. My plate was gone from my basement room. Everybody was really nice to me here. It wouldn’t have been so bad sticking around longer, but I wanted to check out what had happened to Heather in New Mexico. That would mean going back to where I came from and facing people who knew my mother. They wouldn’t recognize me. I hadn’t been there since I was about eight years old. My childhood was all but lost to memory. Vague recollections passed through my thoughts like steam escaping out the bathroom door after my shower.

  My mom had died after fighting cancer for almost two years before her body just gave up. My dad had gone on to Colorado and was working on buying a restaurant. I didn’t know much about him besides what my mother had told me and a couple of pictures she kept put away most o
f the time. I think she still loved him. Manny had been a big womanizer, charming the ladies out of their panties, but never settled down. He’d towered over me and scared the shit out of me when he came to take me away to someplace I’d never been called Denver. It was 1966, and we got in his big black car and drove home. He lived in a suburb of Denver in a nice place–a three-bedroom brick, two-story house. The neighborhood was quiet, and all the kids were curious about me, of course. I guess I’d always been a “curiosity” around the white kids. Being a half-breed made life fun, to say the least, and the less said about it, the better.

  Scott found me poring over maps on his computer when he came out for coffee that Saturday morning. The rest of the family was still asleep.

  “So I take it that you’re really going to go to New Mexico.” He took a cautious sip of his coffee and stood at my side with his hand on his hip. I glanced up at him and snorted at his hair, which was still standing on end from sleeping. It was also the first time I’d seen him not in work clothes. That morning he was in pajama bottoms, a turquoise Billabong shirt with rows of sharply pointed waves, and his feet were bare.

  “I thought I might, yeah.” I eyed his cup, which depicted a hand grenade with a number one on the pin. The bold black font informed: Complaint Department. Please Take a Number. “I like your cup.”

  Scott looked at the thing like he didn’t realize which cup he’d grabbed from the cabinet. He folded an arm up behind his head and yawned. “Thanks. It was a Boss’s Day gift last year.”

  He leaned over and looked at the site I was browsing. “Are you planning to drive down there?”

  I stared at his neck and thought of the night before. A wave of guilt washed over me as I realized he probably didn’t remember a goddamn thing. One thing was for sure though: friends tasted good. I think it was because of the care I had. It was a different experience than just chomping on some random girl in a club. I also decided then and there that we were lucky and I shouldn’t try it again. I shouldn’t have done it in the first place.