Anyway, she tossed me the bags of blood. “Here. These will get you through the day. Take them and go back upstairs. The door's unlocked. Oh, and maybe clean yourself up a little bit. You look kinda gross.” With that said, both her and Starlight turned back to the fat naked dude, who appeared to be rapidly bleeding out, and... began undressing?
“What are you doing?” I asked as they both stripped down to their underwear.
I was sort of hoping the answer was going to involve making out with each other and then asking me to join in, but no such luck.
“We're going to finish your leftovers, obviously,” Starlight answered.
“And you need to be undressed, why?”
“This is a seventy dollar blouse. Blood stains are a bitch to remove.”
“Now get the fuck out of here,” Sally cut in. “This isn't a peep show,” and with that, she kicked me out and shut the door in my face.
Coming Clean
I did as I was told, mostly because I didn't appear to have many other options with the sun still shining. I went back to the third floor and let myself in. I tossed the blood packs onto the table, my appetite temporarily quashed, due to being unable to vanquish thoughts of mouthfuls of ugly man flesh. So, instead, I decided to take Sally's advice and wash up a bit.
I found the bathroom and checked myself out in the mirror. Goddamn! Gross wasn't the word for how I looked. Ignoring for a second that I was covered in fresh blood, I had completely forgotten that I was still in the outfit I had been killed in. I looked like a bus had run me over and then dragged me through the dirt for a mile or two. I doubted I smelled much better. I was beginning to wonder how much of downstairs was naked dude stink, and how much was me. In fact...
Wait a second!
I could see myself in the mirror! Guess that's another one of those things Hollywood fucked up on. Well, that's convenient. I would hate to go through eternity not being able to tell if I was having a bad hair day. Guys like me have a hard enough time as it is.
Hold on a second... what's that on my forehead? Didn't notice it before, what with all the blood. Was that a... son of a bitch! Someone drew a dick on my face! ARGH!!
* * *
I stripped and filled the sink with hot soapy water. Starlight had a point about bloodstains, but maybe I could soak some of it out. I dunked my clothes in (being sure to retrieve my emergency twenty first) and climbed into the shower until I felt reasonably non-disgusting. Believe me, that took a while.
By the time I was done, I felt human again... or as close to human as I was going to be getting any time soon. I was just toweling off when I heard the front door open, followed quickly by a knock on the bathroom door.
“You in there, Bill?” asked Sally from the other side.
Feeling renewed after my long shower, I decided to try my luck, no matter how much of a long shot it might be. I pushed away the thought that her breath most likely smelled of naked, fat, sweaty dude at the moment, and replied,
“Why don't you come in here and find out?”
“Keep trying, stud. Maybe in another century or two that'll work,” came her snide remark (but hey, that wasn't an outright no, now was it?). “Put on a towel or something and open the door.”
I did as requested. When I popped open the door, she tossed me a large bundle of clothes and just as quickly closed it again.
“Something there should fit you,” she said.
I picked through the clothes. There were several outfits in all. Nothing was perfect, but I managed to find a pair of pants and a shirt that would do.
“Where'd this stuff come from?” I asked through the door.
“You probably don't want to know,” was all the answer I got. My thoughts flashed back to the naked guy, probably now a naked corpse, downstairs. I doubted he was the first, or would be the last, meal hosted there. Sally was probably right, I didn't want to know. Sometimes ignorance is truly bliss.
I got myself back into presentable condition and stepped out. Sally was sitting on a couch in what probably passed as the living room. She was holding a small mirror and wiping the last smudges of blood from her face with a wet wipe. As I approached, I said conversationally,
“Gotta say, I was surprised I could still see myself in the mirror.”
“Yep. Would be a pain in the ass to put on makeup, otherwise. So, how are you holding up?”
“Surprisingly well, all things considered,” I answered, and then asked, “How badly did I just embarrass myself?”
“Forget Alice. I wouldn't worry too much about trying to impress her. First time she tried to kill a meal, she wound up curling into a ball and crying for three hours. She's not your problem. I wasn't kidding about Jeff, though. I get the feeling he's going to be looking for an excuse to like you even less than he already does.”
“Dudes like him just seem to naturally hate guys like me.”
“Yeah, there's that, and you also turned his balls into mashed potatoes with your fist last night,” she commented with a smirk.
“Oh, yeah, I was kinda hoping he'd forget about that,” I replied with a grin.
“Would you?”
I thought about it for a second, then winced and smiled at the same time. “No, I guess I wouldn't forget that spectacular hit anytime soon. So where does that leave me?”
“In pretty deep shit.”
“What about all the others?”
“Outside of you, Jeff can compel pretty much everyone else in the coven. He probably won't have to, though. Almost all of the other guys are little mini Jeffs.”
“Back in high school, assholes tended to hang with other assholes.”
“Exactly.”
“So I'm fucked,” I said, sitting down next to her, but not too close. I had been hit enough times for one weekend.
“More or less. If you stay here, then definitely. So, if I were you, I wouldn't.”
My head snapped toward her, “What!?”
“You heard me.”
“Is that even an option?” I probed, not really letting myself sound hopeful, but feeling a bit of it creeping in, nevertheless.
“I'm pretty sure that's what I just said,” she went on, “Besides, Jeff really doesn't want you around... at least until he's allowed to have the type of fun with you that he wants to.”
“But he said last night...”
“Yeah, well he had a little while to think about it after he knocked you on your ass. He eventually calmed down enough to think things through. Under normal circumstances, he'd probably enjoy fucking up your shit for the next three months. However, this isn't normal. You're actually problematic for him.”
“How? I got in one lucky shot,” I pointed out. “He wiped the floor with me outside of that.”
“Yes, but you're missing the point. You got in that one lucky shot. Nobody else ever has, or would probably even get the chance to. And if you get in one lucky shot, who's to say you won't get in a second or a third? No matter how well Jeff keeps an eye on you, ninety days is enough time for anyone to let their guard down once or twice.”
I finished the thought for her, “Because he can't control me.”
“Give that man a cigar! You're a potential source of embarrassment for him. For starters, you talk back. You saw how quickly Jeff shut up Alice last night. That's par for the course around here... at least before you showed up. From what I've seen of you, I think it's fairly obvious that you're the type that just gets more obnoxious as the beatings go on (she probably had a point. I tend to be strictly of the 'If I'm going to get an ass-kicking, I might as well deserve it' mindset). Lastly, you've already shown you're not above taking a cheap shot if the opportunity presents itself.”
“Can you blame me?” I asked.
“No, but it makes you unpredictable. It's not like Jeff can just chain you up somewhere for the next three months either.”
“Because of James’ protection?”
“Yes,” she replied with a nod.
“And if he did,
I'd squeal like a pig to James just to fuck him over, no matter what the threat.”
“Bingo! And James knows how Jeff thinks. He'll definitely be paying a few visits between now and then.”
“So?” I asked hopefully.
“So, we compromise a bit. Play with the rules a little,” Sally answered.
“How?”
“The ninety day protection is supposed to give you a chance to learn how to survive as one of us. What better way to learn to survive than finding your own way? At the same time, as part of the coven, we're honor bound to provide you with basic support, which we will. The fact that you seem to be a wuss (she saw the look I gave her)... have an aversion to killing, that is, actually works in your favor, here. It makes things easier for us since it means we probably don't have to worry about cleaning up any of your messes. So, to cover that, on the weekends you'll report back here and we'll give you enough blood to make it through the week.”
“And what if I don't come back? What if I just make a run for it?” I asked, but she smiled as if expecting this question and got up. She walked over to a desk, opened it, and pulled something out. She then tossed it to me. As I caught it, I was not surprised in the least to see it was my wallet.
She said, “If you run, or try to disappear...”
“You know my name and where I live. You hunt down and kill my friends and family, I suppose.”
“Smart boy.”
“I watch a lot of TV.”
“That doesn't really surprise me.”
I ignored the barb. “And Jeff came up with this plan?”
“Fuck no! This was all me. Jeff just dumped your ass on me and washed his hands of the whole thing.”
“So you came up with all of this?”
“Don't sound so surprised,” she said, sounding a bit snippy.
“Sorry, I just wasn't expecting it from...”
“From someone who looks like me?”
“Well, yeah,” I said sheepishly. “It's just that, well, this area of the city and all, I kind of had you pegged as...”
“As?” she glared hard at me.
“Well, either a model, or...”
“OR?”
“Or a stripper,” I said in a small voice.
“You know, you call Jeff an asshole, but you're just as big of one!” she exploded. “What would you say if I told you I was a physics major working toward my doctorate when Jeff turned me, huh, asshole?” I turned beet red as she continued to berate me. “I worked my ass off day and night for a perfect GPA. So I really don't appreciate dickheads like you coming along and assuming that all I'm good for is shaking my ass up on a stage!”
“Oh god. I'm sorry,” I stammered. ”I didn't mean anything. It's just that...”
Suddenly she was smiling again as she said, “Just fucking with you! I was a stripper.”
Bitch!
The Long Road... err, Train, Back Home
I sucked down the blood packs Sally had given me earlier (no point in getting hunger pangs on the way home and finding myself contemplating chewing on some dirty homeless person), and then got myself together as best I could. While this was going on, Sally ran downstairs to fill up a backpack with my week's blood rations. I was still pretty much fucked, but, nevertheless, I felt like some of the weight of the previous evening had been lifted from my chest. Sure I was still dead, but once I was back in my own place, I was pretty sure I'd be able to clear my head and think my way through this mess. Maybe not the being dead part, but some of the rest of it was sure to resolve itself.
By the time Sally came back upstairs, she told me that the sun had set enough for it to be safe to go out. One good thing about the city, the buildings provided plenty of cover from direct sunlight, especially around dusk. She gave me my wallet back and assured me that copies had been made of my IDs before I could get hopeful of the contrary. She also gave me her cell number with instructions to call if I got myself into any messes (oh yeah... I got a phone number! Who's the stud?).
In actuality, I had a ton of more questions. So far some of the stuff I thought I knew about vampires was true, but just as much turned out to be utter crap. Ignorance of my condition could come back to bite me in the ass. I mean, what if I turned into a bat accidentally and couldn't turn back? What if I discovered I couldn't cross running water while my train was barreling under the East River? What if I got home and discovered I couldn't enter until Tom or Ed invited me in? I wouldn't put it past them to make me sleep in the hall while they laughed their asses off.
Unfortunately, though, now wasn't the time for twenty questions. Freedom had been dangled in front of me... well, okay, not really freedom, but a week long furlough, at least. I wasn't about to risk screwing that up because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. Trust me on this. I've fucked up enough things in my life by being unable to shut it when I should have. I was going to have to be mindful to not screw up my death in a similar fashion.
Fortunately, Sally seemed to be sincere about letting me go. Don't get me wrong, the bitch lured me to my death. It was going to be a while before she was getting any friend requests from me. Still, whatever her motivations, she was either directly or indirectly helping me out now. I'd have to remember that and maybe cut her some slack in the future. A small voice in the back of my head was telling me I was only doing so because of how she looked. If she had been an ugly chick, I probably would have staked her ass, myself, and rolled around in the ashes to celebrate. Maybe. Hey, I never said I wasn't shallow.
She walked me to the door and held it open. “Remember, you're back here at the end of the week, no later than Saturday night. If not, there will be people looking for you, and they won't be friendly.”
“Yes, Mom.”
She sighed and began to close the door behind me before adding a quick, “Good luck.”
I was going to need it.
* * *
To say that the short walk to the train station was trippy would be an understatement. Since most of my undead life (is that an oxymoron?) had so far been spent either preoccupied or unconscious, I hadn't realized how much my perceptions of the world had changed. Everything seemed sharper. I could overhear the conversations of the people around me (no small feat in the city). The smells were all sharper and more pronounced (not entirely a good thing). Best of all, everything was crystal clear, even the deepest shadows didn't seem to daunt my eyes. I had a flash of insight and took off my glasses (dinged up, but miraculously unbroken after the last twenty-four hours).
Fuck! Still nearsighted. That figures. However, I could apparently see pretty damn well in the dark now. I just still needed my glasses to do so. Oh, well, win some, lose some. I wonder if vampires can get LASIK.
I don't know if it was the elation of being free, that I had just recently eaten, or just an overall side effect of being a vampire, but I felt good, damn good for a dead guy. In fact, I was feeling pretty invincible, something that I dare say I haven't felt too much of during my lifetime. I couldn't help all of the fantasies that were running through my head. I could ditch the train and outright run, full speed, back to Brooklyn. I could stroll, untouchable, through the worst neighborhoods between here and home. No, fuck that! I could scale a building and stare down upon the alleys, waiting to smite evil doers like the goddamned Batman!
In the end, I just got on the train; it seemed less complicated that way.
Sadly, there weren't too many incidents requiring super heroics to report during my trip. Sure, I got accosted once for spare change, but that hardly seemed a smite-worthy offense. Jeez, in the comic books, Peter Parker can't take a shit without the Green Goblin and Venom trying to take over the city. In the real world, I imagine super heroes would get a lot of downtime to work on the NY Times Sunday crossword. So it was with me. It was late enough on a Sunday for the trains to be uncrowded, but too early for the real weirdos to be out. So I just sat and rode to my stop, pretending to be ever vigilant for the danger that I knew wasn't coming.
I g
ot to my destination and walked around the block a few times to try and psych myself out for finally going home. I probably looked like quite the nutball to my nosier neighbors like, for instance, Mrs. Caven. She was this creepy old lady who lived downstairs from us and liked to be in everyone's business. She just barely kept herself from being a complete nuisance by being a sort of self-designated one-woman neighborhood watch. If someone was hanging around the building who wasn't supposed to be there, you could be sure Mrs. Caven knew about it and was telling everyone in the building (those who would listen, anyway) about it. The downside of this was that Mrs. Caven had the cops on speed dial and she was happy to call them at even the slightest provocation, as my roommate, Tom, had found out a few months back.
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