Bill The Vampire - 01

by Rick Gualtieri

  And that brings us back to the here and now. I guess that also explains why I was slowly starting to regain my senses, as opposed to standing in front of the pearly gates with St. Peter reading back to me a list of all the times I masturbated. Unless I was seriously hallucinating, I've seen enough movies to know that I was most likely going to wake up with a serious overbite and a hankering for a hunk of blood. Oh, well, as long as I wasn't also all sparkly, because that would be just fucking weird.

  I have to admit, now that the wooziness was starting to clear, I didn't feel half bad. Not only was I not feeling like someone who had just gotten their neck chewed out, I was starting to feel pretty goddamn excellent. I could feel myself coming to. I was just about to flutter my eyes open when the screaming started. Loud screaming. Too loud, as if someone were yelling into a megaphone cranked to eleven.

  I raised my hands (hey, they work again!) to my ears, when suddenly the scream became a choked gurgle. Almost immediately afterward, there came a *WHOOOSH* noise, followed by a brief wall of heat washing over me.

  As I opened my eyes and tried to say, “What the fuck,” (which came out a bit slurred, thanks to my new canines... guess that solves the mystery of what I cut my tongue on earlier), I felt powerful hands grab me and haul me to my feet. That did it. I was awake now. I took a quick inventory of my surroundings and noticed that I had been backed up to one of the walls. Sally was on one side of me, holding my arm in a grip that belied the fact that she was a fraction of my size. Another muscled douche was on my other side, doing the same. Suddenly Jeff's voice caught my attention from off to the left.

  “Not bad, Starlight. But you lose two points for the screaming. That was just fucking annoying!” he was saying. With that comment, several other voices, presumably vampires, as well, chuckled and voiced their agreement. I craned my head to see what was going on. What I saw did not exactly lighten my mood.

  I was being held in a lineup of sorts. Most (most!) of the guys that had been singled out with me were likewise being held in place. They were all covered with blood (I hadn't quite built up the courage to look down at myself, yet) and appeared to be in different stages of coming out of what I assumed was the same dying-like thing I just did. Jeff was standing at the far end of the lineup. He was addressing a dark-skinned brunette (brown sugar... how come you taste so good?) who was giving him a pouty look in return.

  Oh, yeah, there were two other quick things I couldn’t help but notice: Jeff was holding what looked like a sawed off, sharpened baseball bat, and, secondly, there was a smoking pile of ash next to the brunette. I don't think one has to have the entire series of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on blu-ray (it was a gift!) to figure out what had just happened.

  “No fucking way!” whined the brunette. “That's not fair, Night Razor! (night razor!?) How was I supposed to know he was going to completely freak!?”

  “What was that, Starlight?” Jeff, or Night Razor, or maybe Douche Razor, asked in a clear warning tone.

  “Nothing... my lord,” the girl, Starlight, I presume, meekly replied.

  That seemed to satisfy Jeffy-boy as he moved to the next person in line. Jeff's presence seemed to snap the accountant look-alike out of his funk.

  “What are you!?” he mewled. “Please. I won't tell anybody. Just let me go!” Jeff just smirked at this and started to raise the makeshift stake. “I have money!”

  “Hold him,” was all Jeff replied.

  The accountant lost it. He started screaming,

  “OH GOD! PLEASE! ONE OF YOU, PLEASE HELP ME!” Jeff's arms were extended, and the stake was pointed straight at the accountant's stringy chest. “PLEASE! I HAVE A WIFE AND KIDS, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!”

  Jeff answered quietly, “Then you shouldn't be at a party like this,” and brought the stake straight down into his helpless victim's ribcage. The accountant made a strangled noise, but it was cut short as there was a flash, and his body self-immolated from the inside out. Holy shit! It's one thing to see it happen in a low budget movie, but to see it in real life... well it's a little hard to grasp. I mean, people just don't normally do that.

  I was still gawking when Jeff spoke to the accountant's redheaded companion. “Pretty good. Two points off for the whining, but I'll give you one back for the wife and kid thing. That one always makes me smile.” By the time he finished the sentence, all that was left of her date was a pair of eyeglasses sitting atop of another pile of ash. Jeff once more moved down the line.

  By now, every one of my recently dead group had regained their senses and they were all doing some combination of begging or crying, except for one portly fellow who seemed to be in denial, and was chanting over and over,

  “Not happening. Not happening.” I was last in line and, seeing how much good begging did the last guy, I decided to use my last few minutes to try to figure a way out of this death trap, or un-death trap, as it were.

  I scanned the room. The rest of the party goers were off to the side, giving Jeff their full attention and cheering him on. Wait, not all of them. In the far back of the room, I saw one fellow leaning against the wall. He had sandy blond hair and was of slimmer build than Jeff, although he still looked like he could have walked straight out of an LL Bean catalog. He was busy picking his nails and otherwise looking bored. He seemed to sense me staring, and looked up. We locked eyes. He grinned and gave me a shrug before going back to the far more important business of making sure he didn't have any dirt under his pretty little fingernails. Asshole! Okay, no help there, and a quick whoosh of heat told me Jeff was getting closer.

  This was not good. I was trapped, alone, dead, and, judging by the idiotic ratings that Jeff kept giving out, the unlucky guest of a supernatural pig party. What a fucking weekend, and it was still only half over! Okay okay, I needed to stop feeling sorry for my somewhat both odd and terrifying predicament, and get my head back into the game... the game of saving my own ass.

  It was time for me to pay attention again. There were windows in the place, but a quick look confirmed that they all appeared to be painted black. No one was going to be watching. The music was pretty loud. Besides which, if the original screamer didn't attract anyone, I doubt I would do much better. And besides, who was I kidding? In the middle of the city on a Saturday night, would anyone even think twice if they heard a loud yell? None of it looked good, and my two captors were still holding me in an iron grip with their unearthly, undead strength.

  Wait a second... unearthly, undead strength?

  *sigh* Sometimes I am such a fucking idiot! These dipshits were super strong vampires. I was now a vampire, too. Thus, as a newly minted deadly predator of the fucking night, shouldn't I have access to the same powers? Thank you very much, circular logic!

  I gave my muscles a quick flex to test that theory, and, sure enough, they definitely felt stronger. Okay, that probably doesn't mean much. Kind of like how someone who just started working out will swear they can see results. Tom went through that phase a couple of years back. He had started dating this chick who was into fitness. For an entire month (oddly enough, the full length of the relationship) she managed to drag him to the gym with her, and, for an entire month, the rest of us had to put up with him flexing his non-existent (to everyone but him) muscles, like he had just stepped out of Pumping Iron. But still, delusions or not, I felt stronger, much stronger, and, bullshit or not, it was all I had to go on at the moment.

  I waited until Jeff was staking the guy next to me. Sorry dude, but if only one of us is going to get out of here in something other than a dustpan, I'd prefer it be me. Jeff ashed the poor guy, and then turned to the cheering crowd to give his judgment. At that moment, I stomped down hard on Sally's foot. Okay, so it wasn't the manliest thing in the world to do, but, considering the circumstances, I figured the other side threw the rules of fair fighting out the window a long time ago.

  She squealed in pain and loosened her grip enough for me to wrench my arm free. Before anyone could react, I balled my free hand into a
fist and sent it crashing into the head of the asshole holding my other arm. To both of our surprise, it actually worked, and he went flying back with a grunt. Holy crap, I was a genuine badass!

  Unfortunately, that was probably the wrong time to mentally pat myself on the back. The whole scenario played out in just a few seconds, but, by the time I turned to run, Jeff had already stepped over to block me.

  “Cute,” he smirked, looking to either side of me, “but playtime is over.”

  Fortunately for myself, I didn't agree. Before he could advance on me, I crouched down and launched myself effortlessly over his head.

  At least that's how it played out in my mind.

  In actuality, my legs were up to the task, sharing the same unholy strength as my arms now did, but there was one teeny little problem. In my rush to escape (and look cool doing so) I kind of didn't bother to notice the ceiling wasn't exactly high enough for that sort of move. So, what actually happened is I launched myself vertically about two feet, until my head crunched into plaster, and then came down to land in a heap at Jeff's feet, along with a good chunk of ceiling. Spider-man, I was not.

  I looked up to find the crowd staring at me incredulously. Perhaps they were all in awe. Probably not, but, hey, we all have our own personal delusions. Anyway, for a moment all was silent, but then a loud chuckle erupted from the back of the room, snapping me out of my daze. Figuring it had worked well a few moments ago, I launched my fist at Jeff as I rose. I was strong and fast. I could do it!

  Or not. Jeff was stronger and faster as it turns out.

  He caught my fist with his hand. Whatever grip Sally and the other vampire had on me earlier were an absolute joke compared to him. It was like sticking my hand in a fucking vise. He started to squeeze and I could feel the bones in my hand begin to bend. He put on a maniacal grin as he continued to increase the pressure until I was forced to my knees in front of him.

  “I told you (squeeze) you're nothing but cattle (squeeze). Cattle (squeeze) doesn't (squeeze) fight back (squeeze). Cattle (squeeze) just go (squeeze) quietly (squeeze) to (squeeze) the (squeeze) SLAUGHTER!” (squeeze...*crack*... ow!) He looked down at me as he continued his rant, “You have the nerve to think you're now our equal, but you are not one of - UGH!”

  Just for the record, should you ever find yourself in a similar scenario, the middle of a monologue is the perfect time to send your free fist smashing into the bad guy's crotch. Simultaneously, Jeff released my hand and doubled over in pain as another loud laugh, from the same voice as earlier, rang out from the back of the room. Oh, yeah, I'm comedy gold.

  As Jeff sank to my level, I looked him in the eye and quipped, “I am the terror that flaps in the night, motherfucker!” Yeah, it sounded a lot cooler in my head than out loud, but you take whatever your brain comes up with in a stressful situation. I shoved him to the side and made a break for it before the crowd could react. There were too many vamps off to the right where the door was, so I made a dash straight ahead.

  The only one standing in my way from that direction was the LL Bean model. As I approached, he smiled at me and then just stepped aside with a quick bow and an 'after you' gesture. I distinctly heard him chuckle softly,

  “Good luck, Darkwing Duck,” as I passed.

  Since the door was out of the question, that left only the window. Normally, diving out of a third story window might give me pause, seeing as how there's that whole dying in a messy splatter thing at the end. But that was before. Now I was beyond death. Nothing could stop me! I would swoop out of the window on wings of darkness. I would become insubstantial like the wind. I would...*CRASH!*

  I would realize that flying was apparently not one of my new powers. Goddamn it! Once more, Hollywood had lied to me. I had just enough time to think “Fuck SoHo!” before I slammed into the sidewalk below and all went black.

  It Sucks To Be a Vampire

  I was only out for a few moments, at least I think I was. I might not have been able to fly, but my new vampire body was, fortunately, a whole lot tougher than my old non-vampire one. I don't know about you, but trading a pulse for the ability to shake off a thirty foot face-plant onto concrete doesn't sound like too bad of a deal to me. Unfortunately, those few moments were enough to erase any lead I had built up. I had only a second or two to notice I had landed in an alley behind the building (and apparently not woken any of the neighbors in doing so) when I felt rough hands grab me by the shoulders and spin me around. Jeff's very angry looking face was right there, and then it wasn't as I doubled over from the force of his fist impacting my stomach.

  More hands dragged me back to my feet. “This time, hold him!” growled Jeff as he raised the stake in front of me. The fall and the punch had taken the fight out of me. I saw there was no way I was going to break free in time to avoid becoming ashtray remnants. I thus did the only thing I could think of... I closed my eyes and hoped it wouldn't hurt much.

  “Wait!” a voice from above suddenly cried out. When no feeling of being impaled came, I chanced opening my eyes a bit. Jeff was standing there, frozen in place, a vein throbbing in his forehead (how did he do that with no heartbeat?). He slowly lowered the stake and looked up. I lifted my head to follow his, and saw LL Bean leaning out the window.

  “What!?” Jeff shouted to him.

  “Bring him up,” answered my well groomed benefactor.

  “This is none of your concern, Ozymandias!”

  “I'm making it my concern. Now, do as I say, and bring him up!”

  I had no idea what was going on, but in this pissing contest, the guy called Ozymandias apparently had the bigger dick, because Jeff backed down, following the exchange. He lowered the stake and addressed the two thugs holding me.

  “Take him back up.” He then glared at me. “Not over,” he whispered in a barely audible voice.

  Okay, so I was batting about five-hundred here. I wasn't a pile of dust, but then again, I was far from free. Still, any reprieve from the reaper was a welcome one, and also meant that another opportunity to escape might present itself.

  The goons dragged me, none too gently either, through a back door and up the stairs. I'm not exactly a svelte fellow to begin with, and I wasn't exactly being super helpful toward their effort, nevertheless, I seemed to inconvenience them little more than a bag of groceries might. We quickly made it back to the loft where I was dragged to the center of the apartment and tossed unceremoniously back onto the floor.

  I looked up to find LL Bean/Ozymandias standing over me with the same bemused grin as he had just before I did my best impression of Greg Louganis diving onto solid concrete. Jeff came charging in the door a few moments later, looking slightly less than bemused. Oddly enough, despite the fact that my opinion of his douchebaggyness was growing by the minute, I found my mood closer to matching his. I was finding it hard to enjoy even my momentary reprieve, since I had no freaking clue what Ozymandias' game was. He might be saving my ass, or, for all I knew, he just wanted to kill me, himself, for no other reason than to tick Jeff off (it was rapidly becoming obvious that Jeff's annoyance was his amusement).

  I got back to my feet just as Jeff got into Ozymandias' face. “What's your game? I gave you a chance earlier to take your pick. You declined! That means you let us finish the ceremony by our rules.”

  In this, at least Ozymandias and I were of the same mind, as we both blurted out simultaneously, “Ceremony?”

  Despite our mutual answer, Jeff ignored me and addressed only Ozymandias, “You know what I mean! We bring them, bite them, judge them, then dust them. Those are the rules I created for this. Don't forget, this is my coven!”

  I should know better in situations like these (not that I've been in too many like this) and just keep my mouth shut, but I don't, so I interrupted Jeff.

  “’Scuse me, but aren't covens for witches?” Jeff gave me a look that said he wanted to punt me into next week, but Ozymandias just kept grinning and answered in a casual tone as if we were discussing the weath
er.

  “Who do you think they stole the idea from?”

  Jeff ignored this exchange and continued as if I hadn't spoken. “You seem to forget where you are. I rule this coven!”

  Ozymandias suddenly lost his casual tone and the temperature in the room seemed to drop a dozen degrees. “And you forget your place. You rule this one little coven. I oversee all the covens for this region. You're under my jurisdiction.”

  “You've never pulled rank before,” Jeff sputtered, having apparently been put firmly in his place. You go girl... err dude... vampire, or whatever.

  “First time for everything.”

  “I'll file a complaint with the Draculas!” (Draculas!?)

  “Go right ahead,” Ozymandias continued with the same icy tone, “I represent the Draculas in the Northeast. Your complaint will just wind up on my desk. It's safe to say that investigating it probably won't be at the top of my priority list.”

  Okay, did you follow any of that? Because I sure as shit didn't. But I'm guessing that the guy who doesn't want me immediately dead is higher on the food chain than the guy who does wants me immediately dead. So far, that seems like a good thing.