Vampires Drink Tomato Juice

by K. M. Shea

  “Okay. Goodbye,” Asahi waved before Frank shut the door.

  “Aww, he’s so sweet,” I sighed, releasing Madeline—who still clung to my arm.

  Madeline frowned. “Yeah,” she agreed. “But he kind of has to be like that in order to balance out Aysel,” she said before turning to wave to Frank. “Bye, Frank. I shall see you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, bye,” Frank said, scratching his head again.

  This time I was close enough to him that I swear I could see little black bugs hopping around him. “Frank, do you have fleas?” I blurted before clasping my free hand across my mouth.

  Frank yawned like a dog, snapping his jaw shut with a click. “Hmm? Yeah. I get them sometimes when I change and romp in state parks and stuff. I probably should have taken a bath Friday to get rid of them. And the ticks,” he said, thoughtfully itching his abs. “Thanks again, Morgan. I’ll be in class tomorrow.”

  I felt my jaw drop open.

  Frank. Had fleas.

  He was going to infect the whole class!

  Wait, scratch that. He was going to infect me! Oh, my gosh, I had been around him today! Did they jump onto me?! What about Madeline? She hung out with him! Did the fleas hop onto her?

  My internal balance was so upset that I didn’t notice when Frank left, and Madeline started towing me to the MBRC lobby.

  “Frank has fleas,” I said when I finally found my voice.

  “Yes. Loads of werewolves do. The shifters are a little better about it, but I think it’s because they’re more sensitive,” Madeline said.

  “Frank has fleas. I could have gotten fleas from him,” I repeated as we went down the stairs.

  “Hmm? Oh, maybe? I forgot about that. Vampires don’t get fleas. The whole being dead aspect tends to make bugs stay away from you. Well, a few days after you change, that is. I remember a hoard of flies swamped me the day after I changed. That’s when you still smell like a normal dead thing. After that, our magic flavors our scent so much that bugs stay away. Either that or maybe the tomato juice permeates our skin and insects don’t like that smell? But yeah, I think the bugs followed me until a week after I became a vampire,” Madeline reasoned.

  “We have to do something! Give him a flea wash, a spray, something! He could give the sphinx fleas! Her fur is too gorgeous to ruin!” I gaped, stopping at the base of the staircase.

  “Well, what can you do? Frank isn’t domesticated or house broken. Werewolves like him don’t see fleas as being something horrible,” Madeline asked.

  “I’ll think of something,” I promised before I started pushing my way through the sea of magical creatures. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Madeline.”

  “Right. Goodbye, Morgan!”

  13

  De-fleaing a Werewolf

  “So. Why are we in the dog aisle again? I don’t have a family pet, and you’ve only got a cat,” Fran asked, watching me stare at a wall of tick, flea, and bug dog repellants inside the Furry Friend’s Pet Shop.

  “Because I’ve got this friend who needs some of this stuff really bad,” I said, staring at a bottle of flea guard shampoo. “You can see the bugs on the animal.”

  “Man, what did their dog do? Roll in something dead?” Fran asked, wrinkling her nose.

  I hadn’t thought of that. After Fran said it, I wished she hadn’t mentioned it either. “My gosh, I hope not,” I weakly moaned.

  “Don’t tell me you’re doing this for Whitey or whatever his face is. You know, Señor Smith’s dog?” Fran said, flicking a finger at a tick spray.

  “What? No!” I squeaked, absolutely horrified on Frey’s behalf. “No, no, no. Whitey would never get fleas!” Frey was way too health conscious for that…right?

  “Fran? Morgan?”

  Even in my state of flea-induced panic I recognized that voice. “Hey, Brett,” I smiled, snapping out of it to address my longtime crush.

  “Hey. What are you guys doing here? Are you getting a dog?” Brett asked, smiling at us.

  “Hardly. Morgan’s friend has a dog with flea troubles,” Fran said, once again adopting her cooler temperament around Brett. Maybe she didn’t like him? The idea was odd. We had been classmates since elementary school.

  “What about you?” I asked.

  “Oh, I’m here to pick up a flea collar for my sister’s dog. She’s got one of those scrawny little purse dogs,” Brett said, reaching past me to pluck a box off the shelf.

  “A flea collar?” I asked, growing interested. Maybe I wouldn’t have to tell Frank any product I gave him was a flea killer if it was just a collar!

  “Yeah. The collars last a few months, which suits my cheap sister just fine. Although it does make the dog’s fur sorta greasy,” Brett said.

  As I stared at the flea collars, a maniac smile spread across my lips. “That is the perfect idea! But…would one collar be strong enough?” I muttered.

  “How big is this dog?” Brett asked, watching me study a box for a flea collar that had a photo of a Saint Bernard on it.

  “Huge,” I said, picking up two of the largest flea collars available. I stared at it, narrowing my eyes. Maybe I could tell Frank they were bracelets?

  “I always wanted a big dog,” Brett said, looking at Fran. “They’re so much cooler. You don’t have to worry about killing them if you accidentally sit on them or something.”

  Fran shrugged. “I hate pets,” she said before glancing at me. “Except for Morgan’s cat.”

  “Hmmm,” I said. Even though Brett was there, I found myself occupied with a problem: how would I con Frank into wearing one of these? I looked up, about to ask Brett how obvious the flea collar was, when I saw Hunter walk past the far end of the aisle.

  “Hunter,” I called.

  Hunter stopped and turned towards us, momentarily flicking up his expensive looking sunglasses. “Morgan. Hey,” he said when I waved at him.

  Brett and Fran twisted to look at him and stared for a few moments before reacting.

  “Oh, that’s right! Hunter, you’re in our class aren’t you?” Brett grinned.

  “Really? I thought you were a junior,” Fran said, smiling at our quiet classmate.

  “Nope, he’s a sophomore,” I nodded as Hunter walked up to us. “What are you here for?” I asked, gesturing at the aisles around us.

  “We have a tank of saltwater fish at home. We’re about out of food for our sea horses,” Hunter said, his dark sunglasses hiding his glittering eyes. “And you?” he asked, offering me a smile.

  “Flea-bitten dog,” I sighed, looking back down at the flea collar I held in my hands before amending my statement. “Not mine, though! It’s a friend’s…. How can I convince him that he shouldn’t take it off?” I said, trailing off into another mutter.

  Hunter, oddly, looked amused.

  “Sir,” someone called.

  All of us shifted our gazes to a bald man wearing sunglasses and a black suit who was standing at the end of the aisle. He looked sort of like an FBI agent, but his complexion was really waxy and almost purple-hued. I’m not kidding. He looked like the dead bodies you see on the CSI shows.

  “Right. Good luck with the fleas, Morgan. I’ll see you guys in school,” Hunter said before tucking his hands into the pockets of his designer jeans and strolling towards the suit guy.

  When he disappeared down an aisle, Brett released a low whistle. “Man, I guess the rumors are right. His family must be involved in the mob!”

  Fran rolled her eyes. “For someone who didn’t recognize him ten seconds ago, you seem to be quite educated about his family history,” she snorted. “Not to mention that the idea is ridiculous. Besides, he lives in Oakdale, also known as ‘The-City-Where-Nothing-Happens.’”

  “Hey, we’re just a train ride from Chicago! Morgan, back me up,” Brett pleaded.

  I nearly did agree with him, just for the sake of being on the same side as Brett, but my honor won out in the end. “I’m going to go with Fran on this one.”

  “But didn’t you
see his bodyguard? The sunglasses and suit?” Brett protested.

  “Keep it down. He’s going to hear you,” Fran ordered before turning to me. “Are you set?”

  “Yeah, I think so. We’ll start with one, and if he keeps it on maybe I’ll come back for a second one in a few weeks,” I decided, putting the second box back on the shelf.

  “Right. Whose dog is this again?”

  “A friend from work,” I inventively replied.

  “Uh-huh. Well you tell this friend you aren’t his errand boy, and he can come get his stupid dog’s flea products himself next time.”

  “Of course, Fran.”

  “So, now that I have it, how do I give it to Frank?” I wondered, patting the pocket of my coat where I had neatly arranged the flea collar in a nice, white box. (I mean come on, it’s not like I could hand it to him in the wrapping I bought it in! There was no way I was telling him this was a flea collar.) “I better not be next to him when he puts the collar on. Those fleas and ticks will be abandoning ship!” I muttered to myself.

  “Moooor—gan!” Madeline sang, popping up next to me. “How are you?” she asked in a sing-song voice.

  “Hey. I’m good. But hopefully in a few minutes I’ll be excellent,” I said as we pushed our way through the MBRC lobby.

  “Really? Why?” Madeline asked.

  “I think I have a solution to Frank’s fleas. What’s going on?” I asked, nodding towards a group of oddly dressed, humanoid-looking people. (I knew the MBRC well enough to know that just because they looked human didn’t mean they were human.) They were dressed in dark, somber-colored cloaks—wine red, black, midnight blue, maroon, and dark purple. They perfectly fit the description of a wizard from Harry Potter.

  “Oh, it’s a vampire coven,” Madeline said, standing on tip toe to have a look. “Some old, foggy, ruling vampire—we call them Elders—must be visiting the MBRC. They always have trails of followers. I’m not exactly sure why. They just stick to them like flypaper. See, that greasy, cripple-looking guy in the center is the Elder,” Madeline explained, pointing out the male vampire in the center of the group. He had greasy hair, a pinched expression, and he looked quite unhealthy. “Come on, we can push through just in front of them if we’re quick,” she said, pointing to the gap some distance in front of them before scurrying off.

  I followed her, sniffing the air as we moved. The MBRC never smelled normal per say. There was always a faint whiff of singed hair from the fire elves, flowers from the dryads, dirt from the dwarves, and brimstone from the dragons. But today, the lobby just reeked.

  And I don’t mean it smelled like Michael’s dirty gym socks when he hasn’t cleaned them for three weeks, I mean it really reeked! Like, like rotten eggs left out in the sun smeared over the carcass of an animal that had been soaking in formaldehyde.

  “Oh, my gosh,” I gagged, covering my nose and mouth with one hand as we hurried through the open gap. “What is that horrible SMELL?”

  Everyone in a twenty-yard radius of me froze, including the vampire coven.

  Perhaps I said it a little louder than I meant to.

  Okay, yeah, I definitely said it a lot louder than I meant to. But I didn’t think it would stop everyone dead in their tracks, Madeline included.

  The vampire groupies stared at me, their mouths open in shock. In the midst of them, I could see the vampire Elder guy glowering at me.

  Madeline abruptly swung on her heels and started bowing at the shell-shocked clan. “I’m sorry. Excuse my friend. She’s just a human, and she didn’t know what she was saying! Excuse us. We apologize. Sorry,” she groveled before grabbing my hand and backing away, bowing as we backed out of the rock-still area and immersed ourselves back with traffic.

  The Elder kept up his glare as we disappeared from sight, one of his eyebrows twitching with anger.

  When Madeline twisted so we faced forward, she took off running, dragging me with her. I have never seen her run up so many stairs so quickly before. We didn’t stop running until we darted up the dragon hall.

  “Oh. My. Word,” Madeline said, her breath coming in great gasps. “I have never before been so close to decapitation in my life!”

  “I don’t get it. What happened?” I asked, sucking in air.

  “You insulted an ELDER, that’s what happened,” Madeline laughed, leaning against a wall before collapsing on the ground. “I can’t believe you! You’re even more incredible than Devin said you were!”

  “…What?”

  “Hahah!” Madeline freakishly giggled, apparently she was on some kind of adrenaline high.

  “How did I insult that Elder guy? I didn’t even talk to him!” I complained, rubbing my wrist.

  “You complained about the smell,” Madeline said, arranging her skirt around her while she chuckled.

  “Yeah, well, I think it was pretty founded. The lobby smelled horrible!” I complained.

  “You don’t get it,” Madeline said through a snicker while shaking her head. “That smell was the Elder!”

  “…Huh?”

  “Vampire Elders are the leaders of vampire covens. They’re very, very old. Naturally, your body is going to start to smell when you’re dead but still walking around for several hundred years. The magic we have keeps our bodies from decomposing, which would keep us from reeking like a rotting carcass for the first few centuries, but we haven’t figured out a way to get rid of the smell for good, and it generally flares up around the fourth or fifth century after changing.”

  I gaped at her. She couldn’t be serious!

  “Since the Elders can’t get rid of the smell, no matter how much perfume they use, it became an unwritten rule that you simply don’t mention the reek. Ever. Whether you’re vampire, fairy, or animal,” Madeline said, slowly standing up on shaking legs. “Go figure we forgot about ignorant humans,” she said before erupting in laughter.

  I frowned. “I don’t know what is so funny about this. I find it downright creepy. Your bodies would rot? Although…I suppose that’s logical…you being dead and all. Man. Hollywood really has everything wrong,” I said, shrugging in my hot jacket.

  Madeline leaned up against the wall again and kept laughing.

  “Right. Well, I’m going inside. Feel free to join us when you’ve regained your composure,” I said before walking to our room and opening the door. Madeline was still laughing when I shut it behind me.

  Asahi was already seated, pouring over yesterday’s notes (although he looked up and greeted me when he heard me come in). But, of course, he was not alone.

  The giant/ogre guy was there, too. He was talking, very quietly, with Esmeralda. The fairies multiplied over night. There were now three others who sat separate, away from the Pastels. These three were dumpy looking, all dressed in browns and greens with pale skin, dark hair, and dark eyes. They didn’t give off that snotty feeling the other fairies did. They were more like scared baby bunnies. Sitting with them was the drabbest looking elf I could ever expect to see in my life.

  The sphinx was sitting on the ground again, this time chatting with a dryad who sat next to her.

  The group was finished off with Frank, who was shivering in his seat like a nervous coyote.

  I smiled as I set my sights on him. “Frank,” I said before dumping my backpack on the ground. “Just the werewolf I was looking for.”

  Frank’s eyes widened. “D-did I do something wrong?” he asked, shrinking in his seat as I approached him.

  “Not at all,” I said, shaking my head as I dug out the white box that held his flea collar from my pocket. “I just wanted to give you something,” I said, holding the box out. “I was out shopping yesterday with my best friend. When I saw it I totally thought of you. It so matches your style,” I said with my most convincing sales smile.

  “What is it?” Frank asked, staring at the box.

  “Open it up,” I said, placing the box on his desk.

  Frank carefully lifted the lid off the box—very aware that the Pas
tels were watching him. “It’s a…a…” Frank trailed off.

  “It’s a necklace!” I happily chirped, mentally congratulating myself. “I got black because I thought it would totally match everything you wear,” I added.

  “So, this goes around my neck?” Frank asked as he unbuckled the collar. He didn’t sound put out. If anything, he appeared to be pleased; he was no longer shivering like a wet dog in January.

  “Yep! Here, do you want me to put it on you?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Frank eagerly nodded.

  “Okay, you put it around your neck like this, and this strap slides through the buckle,” I said, quickly slipping it around his neck.

  “Wow, thanks Morgan! This is so cool!” Frank beamed.

  “Uh-huh. No problem,” I said before backing away, shrugging off my jacket, joining Madeline by the computer. I hoped the dollish girl wouldn’t make a fuss that I gave Frank a present and not her—she entered the room just in time to watch me put the flea collar on Frank.

  Madeline frowned as she stared at the werewolf. “What is Frank wearing around his neck?”

  “Don’t ask,” I said between clenched teeth.

  “Really? I think it looks cool. Can I get one?”

  “NO.”

  “So, why is it so important not to mess with humans?” the pink Pastel fairy sneered as I finished my lecture on cheerleaders. “I think it’s hilarious.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, placing my hands on the podium as I frowned.

  “Everyone constantly talks about how we need to integrate with human society. Why do we have to? Why can’t we just bother humans like we’ve done for centuries?” she continued.

  I tapped my fingers on the podium. “This sounds more like an ethics issue rather than something I can teach,” I said.

  “What she means, fairy, is shut up,” Esmeralda translated, drawing the Pastels’ scorn.

  “But it’s not fair. Why do we have to hide? Shouldn’t it be the humans hiding from us?” the blue fairy demanded.