Vampires Drink Tomato Juice

by K. M. Shea

  Frey walked up to a door that was marked “employees only” and pushed it open, dragging me after him.

  At this point, I was beginning to wonder if I was about to be murdered.

  We walked through some kind of boiler room, went down several sets of stairs, passed through two more employees-only doors, and halted outside a giant iron door where this huge guy was seated.

  “What are you doing here, Frey? I thought your case student is working in Oakdale?” the big guy said. His voice was low and so loud I swear I could feel the ground rumble beneath my feet. (Did I mention he was big?)

  “Hey, Tiny. We had a security leak,” Frey said, cocking his head in my direction. “We’re here to get her memory wiped.”

  “Hi,” I said, waving weakly.

  The giant—no, he couldn’t be a real giant—sympathetically smiled at me. “Sorry about this. We appreciate your cooperation. Let me take down the barrier,” Tiny said before turning around and fumbling with some gears.

  A bell tolled, and the giant iron doors faded, leaving behind an equally giant wooden door, which the huge guy opened for us.

  “Enjoy your stay,” he cheerfully said.

  “Thank you,” I said. “What was that?” I asked as Frey and I entered the doors and walked down a dimly lit hallway.

  “This place is guarded by a magical barrier. We can’t have outsiders getting in here. Tiny is one of the guards.”

  “And what place are you referring to?” I asked, seeing a light at the end of the hallway. (Here I really started to worry that I was going to die.)

  “This place. Morgan, welcome to the Magical Beings’ Rehabilitation Center,” Frey announced as we left the hallway.

  My mind broke.

  The dark hallway opened up into an auditorium-sized room that had to be several stories tall. Rooms and hallways branched off in every direction. The floor was tiled marble, and the architecture was beautiful, mirroring Union Station, but what was remarkable about it was the beings that swarmed it. Elves, fairies, nymphs, dryads, fauns, werewolves, vampires, chimeras, brownies, enchanters, shape-shifters, dragons—any kind of magical creature you can imagine, and then some—strolled through the rehabilitation center. At that time, I didn’t even know the names of all the animals, beings, and creatures that slithered, walked, and flew around me.

  A woolly mammoth ambled past, smacking its baby with its trunk when it stopped to stare at me.

  A herd of white unicorns followed it, gossiping and twittering to each other like elderly women.

  “What did that mammoth stop for?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Probably that human over there.”

  “The country bumpkins must have never seen one before.”

  “Be nice, Pink Sky! Not everyone has received the education we have.”

  The unicorns simpered to each other as they moved on.

  Nearby, a giant nearly trod on a pair of hobgoblins, getting a stir out of them, “Hey, buddy! Watch where you’re going! We’re walking here!”

  In the center of the room was a hexagon-shaped information desk. In it sat a chatty, three-foot-tall hobgoblin who answered about six phones while sending out a dozen emails, a large lizard/gator creature who patiently leaned over the desk and explained to a family of dwarves that mining in the rehabilitation center was strictly prohibited, a regal-looking centaur, a tiny fairy, and a baby dragon that chased after the fairy.

  “Come on. This way,” Frey said, dragging me in the direction of the desk. “Hey Toby, is Dr. Creamintin in?”

  The hobgoblin, who was rail thin and an interesting shade between gray and pale green, didn’t look up as he cranked out a hundred emails per minute.

  “Just one second Hold please If you’ll wait I’ll find out for you It will be one moment,” the hobgoblin said without taking a breath.

  Frey leaned against the desk. “Toby, I thought as part of your rehabilitation program, you’re supposed to stop drinking coffee.”

  I stared at the tiny fairy, which was probably the height of my hand. He whistled at me, suggestively wriggled his eyebrows, and cat-called. Because he was sidetracked by me, the baby dragon snatched him out of the air.

  “I’m not being rehabilitated am I no sir-ee I’m working in the rehabilitation center There’s a big difference you know because that means I’m not being rehabilitated Yes Dr. Creamintin is in and he is available Shall I message him that you’re coming?”

  “Yeah, thanks. See you guys,” Frey said, waving farewell.

  “Goodbye, Frey,” the centaur bowed.

  “Doggy! Spit Gristles out this instant! You have no idea where he’s been,” the gator/lizard creature lectured the baby dragon as we left.

  Frey led me through the main chamber, barely yanking me into a hallway in time to avoid being run over by a huge dinosaur.

  “I thought dinosaurs were extinct,” I whispered to Frey, staring over my shoulder as I followed him down the hallway.

  “No way,” Frey snorted. “They were tired of the racism, or in their case speciesism, so they decided to go underground with the woolly mammoths, chimeras, and pegasus. The Fairy Council ruled that the dragons should hide with them, but those greedy guts fought the proclamation until the knights started hunting them down in the medieval era.”

  “So, the whole asteroid thing?” I asked.

  “A sham. And here we are,” Frey said, pausing outside an ordinary-looking door. “Dr. Creamintin is one of the doctors who help magical beings rehabilitate into normal, mortal society. Either he or one of his staff members can easily wipe your memory for us,” Frey said before opening the door.

  A ruffled-looking owl the size of a barn cat was fluttering in the air, shouting at a wincing faun. “I told you to keep your glamour on at all times, you stupid goat!”

  “You didn’t mention Dr. Creamintin was an owl,” I observed.

  “Oh, that’s his assistant, Aristotle. Dr. Creamintin is a sorcerer,” Frey said, herding me farther into the doctor’s office as the shouting owl followed the faun into a back room.

  “How many times do I have to tell you, boy? I’m an enchanter—not a sorcerer,” an old voice warbled.

  “Dr. Creamintin, I’m so glad you could see us on such short notice,” Frey smiled, reaching out to shake hands with an old man. He had shaggy white hair, a long, well-trimmed beard, and a craggy nose. Dr. Creamintin looked like a stereotypical illustration of Merlin, King Arthur’s legendary wizard, except he wore a lab coat instead of wizard robes.

  “No problem, no problem at all. Sorry, but all of my examination rooms are full at the moment. We’ll have to talk here. What is this trip about, my boy?”

  I looked around, calmly taking in the strange sights. (I was handling this all very nicely.)

  The receptionist was a mermaid, I kid you not. She sat in a tub of water behind the desk, a headset strapped to her head. She typed away on her computer, occasionally stopping to adjust the straps on her shell bikini.

  There were shrieks and snorts of laughter coming from the examination rooms behind her. The doors were closed, so I wasn’t sure what was back there. Besides Frey and me, there were three other patients seated in padded chairs in the waiting area.

  One patient was a nervous-looking pixie who kept rolling a gold coin across her tiny knuckles. The second patient was what I would eventually learn to call a gnome. Don’t be fooled by those ridiculous lawn statues; gnomes actually look a lot like short monks.

  Finally, there was a young dryad, a tree spirit, who was standing in front of a large mirror, fussing with her clothes. The poor thing looked like she was trying to be a human but had failed pitifully.

  She was wearing a pair of bootcut jeans and a green, long-sleeved t-shirt. Perched on her head was a garland of oak leaves. Some of the leaves were entwined in her red hair. She wore no shoes, and her green shirt seemed to emphasize her fair skin and make it look a little green, like she was a large plant.

  “We have a pro
blem,” Frey told Dr. Creamintin. “Dave and I accidentally revealed ourselves to one of his students.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Dr. Creamintin said. “Everything that vampire starts ends in disaster.”

  I stared at the dryad some more before speaking. “Are you trying to look human?” I nosily inquired. (Hey, if my memory was going to be wiped, I might as well be rude and obnoxious while I had the chance.)

  The dryad was startled and turned to face me. “Yes,” she said in a whispery, soft voice. “I am scheduled to start high school in three days.”

  “You’ll want to ditch the leaves,” I suggested.

  “Why?” the dryad asked, fingering the greenery tucked in her hair.

  “It’s way too bold, even if you’re trying to make a fashion statement. Everyone will think you’re either doing drugs or need drugs. You’ll want some shoes, too.”

  “Shoes?” she asked.

  “Shoes,” I said, pointing to my feet.

  “We need her memory wiped. She handled it well and didn’t draw any attention to us. There’s no additional clean up,” Frey said, continuing his conversation with Dr. Creamintin.

  “If it’s just one girl, why don’t you try hypnosis?” Dr. Creamintin said.

  “But Aisis left for a two-week assignment,” Frey reminded the doctor.

  “Why do you humans wear shoes?” the dryad inquired, removing the oak garland from her hair and combing out the extra leaves.

  “Our feet aren’t tough. We need them, or we would scrape them up every day. Plus, they’re loads of fun to accessorize with,” I said as I eyed the dryad’s feet. Her soles looked as thick and hard as tree bark. “Your jeans are nice, but I think you should change your shirt.”

  “What’s wrong with my shirt?” the dryad asked.

  “Come now, Frey; it’s just one girl. If you wipe her mind, there’s no telling what kind of dolt she’ll turn into,” Dr. Creamintin scolded.

  “Maybe you didn’t hear me,” Frey said. “She saw us. She saw me as a wolf, and she saw Dave looking vampiric.”

  “Truly, I suspect more damage was done by bringing her here,” Dr. Creamintin said, sounding amused. “If you had let her be, the situation would have smoothed itself over. Humans think themselves to be rational creatures. Eventually, she would have talked herself out of what she saw. I know Dave is not your first assignment, Frey, but there is no need to be this cautious.”

  I considered the dryad’s clothes. “Nothing, strictly speaking. But you’ll want to dress it up and put on earrings or something. It makes you look a little plain. Do you have a jacket or something?”

  “Earrings?” The dryad said, her eyes brightening.

  “Yeah. Like these,” I said, pointing to my ear lobes. I was wearing sterling silver earrings shaped in a Celtic knot.

  “They never mentioned earrings,” the dryad smiled.

  “I know what I’m doing, Dr. Creamintin,” Frey bossily asserted.

  “Fine, fine. I’ll take her in back in a moment; just give me a minute. Now Nyla, please. I’m telling you normal humans do not wear leaves in their hair,” Dr. Creamintin said, turning to the dryad I was chatting with. “Hm?” he said, blinking when he set his sights on her leafless head.

  “I need to go shopping again,” the dryad, Nyla, informed the good doctor. “For shoes and earrings!” she said, smiling in my direction.

  I nodded in approval. “Very good. And remember to vary your wardrobe colors. The girls will criticize you if you stick to green shades. Try browns and golds. Or some blues,” I suggested.

  “Right!” Nyla smiled. “I’ll see you later, Dr. Creamintin!” she called over her shoulder before hurrying out of the office.

  Dr. Creamintin watched her go. “I have tried convincing that dryad for two months that humans don’t don greenery. What on earth did you tell her?”

  “I said people would think she did drugs,” I truthfully shrugged. “Can I go home yet?”

  Dr. Creamintin narrowed his eyes. “No,” he said before whipping around to face Frey. “I refuse to wipe her memory.”

  “What?”

  “It’s foolish to wipe her memory and potentially harm her brain. No, we’ll wait until Aisis returns. In the meantime, I want you to bring her with you when you report in after school.”

  “Why?” Frey complained.

  “I think she could assist me with one of my more difficult patients,” Dr. Creamintin said.

  There was a roar from one of the back rooms. “And we’re very busy now, so I must go. Good day, Frey.”

  “But, Doctor!”

  “No buts, Frey. You made the mistake. It is your duty to resolve it in a civilized manner. If you’re so worried she’ll blab our secrets, you can keep a close eye on her,” the doctor paused to turn around and scrutinize me. “But something tells me she’ll be fine. Good day, Frey,” he said before disappearing into a back room.

  “Great,” Frey muttered.

  Apparently I was the newest short-term volunteer of the Magical Beings’ Rehabilitation Center, whatever that was. “I’m not sure my parents will let me get a job,” I listlessly said. “Probably only if I can keep my grades up.”

  Frey hustled me out of the MBRC and had me back on the train ASAP.

  “So,” I said, noisily sipping on the Jamba Juice he had bought in Union Station to shut me up when I started complaining about missing lunch. “What now?”

  “I don’t know,” Frey said, covering his eyes. “What is Dr. Creamintin thinking? If anyone from the security department finds out, we’re all going to get hauled in for questioning, and I’ll be held accountable!”

  “It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone,” I said, fully occupied with my Mango-a-go-go-flavored juice.

  “Really?” Frey drawled, obviously not believing me.

  “Yeah. This is freaky business. My parents would haul me off to some sort of shrink if I started talking about it. Why don’t we just leave well enough alone? You and Dave-the-chubby-vampire leave me be, and I’ll forget all about what happened,” I proposed.

  Frey stared me down with his green eyes. “And you couldn’t have said this before I hauled you down to the MBRC?”

  “I was in shock,” I informed him. “Besides, it’s not like you gave me a chance to talk. I wasn’t sure if you guys were even friendly. For all I knew, you might try and kill me so Dave could drink my blood.”

  “And what changed your mind?” Frey asked, quirking a silver eyebrow.

  “Buying me Jamba Juice. And seeing the MBRC. But mostly the Jamba Juice,” I considered, sipping at my delightfully fruity smoothie. “Besides, I might be hallucinating. I’m about ninety-eight percent sure I have a concussion.”

  Frey looked like he wanted to slam his head into a wall. “I can’t leave you alone. Not now. Dr. Creamintin requested that you return with me, and I have to follow his orders.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s the doctor I report to.”

  “For what?”

  Frey sighed. “I guess there’s no getting around it. The MBRC is all about rehabilitating magical beings into mortal society. While the MBRC is our main headquarters, we’ve got agents and handlers—magical entities who have successfully rehabilitated into mortal society—across the world. We handlers help other magical beings make the move from hiding underground to successfully integrating with humans.”

  “So, when were you rehabilitated?” I asked, noisily reaching the bottom of my Jamba Juice.

  “I wasn’t. My siblings and I were some of the first werewolves to be born into human society,” Frey proudly said. “I’m in the first generation of the magical beings that grew up with humans.”

  “I see,” I said, popping off the lid of my drink.

  “You know you’re taking this all rather calmly.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? Now I know I have to be dreaming,” I said, sadly observing that I had finished my Mango-a-go-go.

  “Why do you say that?” Frey asked.r />
  “Because none of this,” I said, waving my hand through the air. “Is like the stories. Everything is far too dorky. I mean really, the MBRC? What is this, Sesame Street-the magical edition?”

  “Dorky?” Frey scoffed, mildly offended.

  “Yeah, dorky. Where are the hot vampires, the magical wardrobes, the beautiful elves, and the daemon companions?”

  “Only a fraction of Americans are as beautiful as Hollywood portrays them to be,” Frey said.

  “Oh. That’s true,” I said, thinking it over. Generally speaking, stories are written only about good looking people. Why wouldn’t that same rule apply to magical creatures? But that didn’t mean I had to like it.

  “Well…I still think I’m having a nightmare,” I decided.

  “I thought you said you had a concussion.”

  “You are a jerk,” I grumbled.

  “No, I’m a werewolf,” Frey corrected.

  Ten minutes later, Frey and I wandered back to school. We had spent so much time at the MBRC, we only had one class left, which would begin in approximately 15 minutes.

  “I’m not going back to the MBRC today,” Frey whispered as we stealthily kicked up our heels outside the school building, waiting until the bell rang so we could slip in the school while students moved to their final class. “But tomorrow is Friday. After his work day ends, Dave has classes to attend, and I have to give my weekly report. You will come with me.”

  “Yeah. Sure. Right,” I said to the brick wall, leaning against the cold surface.

  The bell rang, and Frey straightened up. “I’ll see you in Spanish tomorrow before finding you after school.”

  “Yeah,” I said, pushing off the wall, following the silver-haired werewolf into the building. “See you.”

  Frey disappeared in the stampede of students that swarmed the hallway, leaving me wondering if I was utterly mad.

  I was practically a zombie when I got home that afternoon. Right after dinner, I collapsed in bed and slept like the dead until my alarm clock went off in the morning. I tried to convince myself it was a terrible dream, but even with that hope, I was somewhat surprised when I strolled into Spanish class the following morning.