The Utterly Uninteresting and Unadventurous Tales of Fred, the Vampire Accountant

by Drew Hayes

  “So, when did you die anyway?” she asked. I started to choke on my omelet, then remembered I didn’t need to breathe. I swallowed the lump down slowly.

  “I have no idea what you mean.”

  “Sure you do. You’re a vampire.” She didn’t look at me or slow down her intake while making her accusations. Impressive.

  “I’m an accountant, Krystal, though tonight I was costumed as a doctor. I live alone in my two-bedroom apartment and watch a lot of movies in my free time. Nothing about me really screams vampire.” As I finished my rebuttal, she took a long draw from her coffee cup. Putting it down, she wiped her mouth and pushed her food to the side. She locked eyes with me.

  “Fact number one, you rescued me where the door to the corridor was locked, which means your only way in was to scale the wall. You did so without making any noise, or I would have noticed. Fact two, you were one of the most skeptical people I ever knew, and yet when I told you the world was full of monsters, all you wanted was information on one type of them. Fact three, I tailed you after you left the commentator’s box and watched your little circus show on top of the cars. You’ve never been nearly athletic or coordinated to pull anything like that off. Fact four, you jerked free of a werewolf and bit through a damn fire extinguisher. Despite what you might think, I’m good at my job and you’re not very practiced at hiding your nature. Now will you give it up and just answer my question so I can keep eating?” She cocked an eyebrow with her ending question, waiting for me to respond. I motioned for her to go ahead and she began shoveling her food again.

  “It’s nothing too exciting. I got grabbed off the street about a year ago and fainted from the shock. When I woke up, I was like this.”

  “Kept the same job, huh?”

  “Yes. I like what I do, and I didn’t see any reason to give it up.”

  “Makes sense. Want to go out tomorrow night?”

  “What?!!” In my defense, I didn’t have a lot of experience with beautiful women asking me out. She took it in stride.

  “You’re a nice guy. We’ve got a good history. Plus, you aren’t that hard on the eyes. Besides, you actually know what I do for a living. Do you know how nice it will be to go out with a guy who I don’t have to keep lying to?”

  I mulled it over. “How do you know I’m not a bad vampire? What if I’m the kind you have to hunt down?”

  “You aren’t. I called in your plates while I drove over here. You’ve got a spotless reputation. A pretty boring one, actually.” She gave me a wink with a grin tugging on her mouth.

  And there it was. My unlife was so boring that even the woman who hunted monsters saw me as harmless. The one risk I had taken had backfired horribly. I wound up chased, beaten, and nearly killed by werewolves.

  Of course, I was sitting across from a very good looking woman who was asking me on a date. Maybe my first risk hadn’t played out so badly in the end. Maybe it was time for another. After all, I did still have four days of clean clothes and blood. Plenty of time to schedule some spontaneity.

  “I’ll pick you up after sunset,” I told her, mustering all my courage and including a flirtatious smile with my invitation.

  A Zombie at the LARP

  1.

  When I woke up the morning after being turned into a vampire, I knew some things were going to have to change. I would not be able to make it into work at the accounting firm anymore, I would have to forgo any walks into sunshine, and I would need to get used to a far more liquid-based diet. These were things I understood and accepted with a humble grace. What I did not expect was that the accounting business I started to accommodate my new lifestyle would explode with popularity.

  At a time when most people were making plans for the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday, I was working around the clock trying to meet deadlines for all the new clients I had recently received. I’m not exaggerating, either. We vampires don’t have to sleep during the day; we just have the option. At night I can take enough Percocet to kill a bear and still be wide eyed. In the day, however, the mystical forces that animate my now-dead body relent and allow me to slip into slumber. At least they did before the rush of work had kept me up for three nights and days straight.

  It was really my own fault. I had taken some time off to attend my high school reunion and come back to a mountain of new assignments that had arrived in my absence. I could have turned some of them down, of course, but that would have involved talking on the phone, and possibly yelling or shouting, and the truth is, I’m just not very good at confrontations.

  Now, I know what you’re thinking. Who ever heard of a vampire that was scared of conflict? Well, I was non-confrontational in life, so I am still non-confrontational in death. Yes, we vampires are portrayed as a group of, for lack of a better term, “badasses,” but as far as I can tell, we are greatly similar to who we were when our hearts still beat, only with paler skin and more physical prowess. Granted, that is based solely on my experience because I have made no effort to seek out others of my kind. The only run in I had had with other supernatural beings happened at my aforementioned reunion, and it had been anything but low stress.

  As I clapped a pair of documents together and joined them with a paperclip, I let out a sigh. Yes, I can still sigh, and I still make a habit of intaking oxygen with my lungs, though I do not know if it still qualifies as breathing at this point. I was nearing the end of this week’s work, but I still had hours of filing and data entry left. It was tedious work that required no special skills and was usually outsourced to temps or assistants. Since I had neither and suspected none would be willing to work with someone of my . . . condition, that meant the grunt work fell firmly on my own narrow shoulders.

  I went to the fridge and pulled out a thermos, then popped it in the microwave. After a few minutes it was ready, and I all but cannonballed it. I overeat when stressed, which is why I was a portlier fellow in my living days. Now all I have to worry about is a larger bill for the blood I buy, but with all this work, it would be easy to afford. I could always cut that cost in theory, but my few attempts at feedings were less than spectacular. The last of these excursions, a pitiful effort capping off a string of failures, began with trying to skulk along a rooftop as I trailed a lone pedestrian, followed by tripping on loose brick and cracking myself in the mouth, then ended with me taking a tumble into a nearby apartment’s dumpster. That was when I learned the downside of vampire senses, along with the fact that the building in question hosted an unusually large number of babies still in diapers. There was no dry-cleaning out that smell from a pair of khakis. So, I just purchase my blood from a business acquaintance that runs a local hospital and has need for the services of an exceptional accountant.

  Dabbing my mouth with one of my black napkins (you can only imagine the stains I got when I still used white ones), I washed out my thermos and began heading back to my desk. I worked in my apartment, which was windowless and possessed excellent security. I also had all work sent and returned via a courier service. It made sure I could lead the lifestyle I desired in the privacy I loved. Aside from the courier, there were only a few people who knew my address, and my apartment complex was not the sort where uninvited guests could saunter in to talk to the residents about religion or the incredible savings opportunity that they were presenting to a select few.

  Which is the reason the thundering knock on my door garnered such a severe and shocked reaction from me, as I leapt several feet in the air and let out a small squeak. I am not exaggerating about the distance I jumped. I did mention the undead lifestyle comes with a few side perks. One of them is muscular ability beyond the range of human limitations. Another was heightened senses, which told me there was the heartbeat of one person outside my door at that moment. I know what you’re thinking; if I could hear so well, how did they catch me by surprise? Well, I don’t go around using my heightened senses willy-nilly. Just think of how distracting that would be, especially when I am trying to get work done.

 
Gathering my composure, I walked over to the door, undid several deadbolts, and pulled it open a few inches to see who would disturb a working vampire in the evening. As it turned out, the answer was a tall, curvy blonde in grey slacks and a red, buttoned-down, collared shirt. The colors didn’t do much to accentuate her chocolate brown eyes, but the confidence reflecting out of them was all the accentuation they needed.

  “Hey, Freddy,” Krystal said, slipping her way past the door and giving me a hug.

  “How did you know where I lived?” I asked. I was excited to see her, and should have really done a better job showing it, but at that precise moment, the fear from the surprise was still surging strongly through me.

  “We’ve been through this, Freddy. Mysterious agency, no name that I can give out, impossible connections and information sources—you know the drill. Got any beer?” She kissed me on the cheek and meandered over to my fridge. Getting a hold of myself, I shut the door firmly and re-engaged all of my locks, then turned my attention to the blonde rifling through my meagerly stocked refrigerator.

  Krystal and I had gone to school together and had run in similar social circles. By that I mean we were both shunted to the bottom with the rest of the dregs and forced to be friends with other people no one else liked. Time, along with a good dietician and an active lifestyle, had changed her body and found her in the employment of an agency dedicated to dealing with supernatural creatures and events. We had become reacquainted at our high school reunion during an attack from a group of former football-star werewolves, and struck up something of a romantic interlude before I had returned home. Again, though, I wondered if we were drawn together out of necessity, her living a life she couldn’t tell a normal man about, and me . . . well me being of those things that aren’t allowed to be talked about.

  “We have got to get you stocking some beer. Merlot, blood, and brie are all that’s in here. You’re killing me, Freddy.” She shut the fridge door and gave me one of her careless smiles. Whatever her lifestyle had done to her over the past ten years, it had certainly made her beautiful. Perhaps this wasn’t just about convenience.

  “Well, I would have prepared if I had known you were coming by. I haven’t seen you since our date after the reunion fiasco,” I said.

  “Ugh, I know. Sorry about that. Had to fly to Greece to track down some marauding ghouls. Took forever, and the company plan doesn’t cover unauthorized international calls to undead romantic interests,” she said, waltzing over to my couch and plopping down.

  “Ah yes, well . . . they, um . . . they don’t actually know we went out, do they? I mean, I imagine they would be less than chipper to learn one of their agents is dating a vampire,” I said, sitting down in the chair set catty-corner to the couch.

  “Of course they know. I reported it in before we even went out. No cares about that though. They just wouldn’t pony up to pay the long distance charges,” she said.

  “They don’t care that you’re dating a vampire?” I don’t think I did a very good job keeping the shock out of my voice.

  “Nope, that would be discriminatory. We work hard to maintain good relationships with all parahuman communities, and that includes Undead Americans,” she explained.

  “You must be making this up.”

  “Totally serious. There are equal rights laws, a set up voting system, even tax benefits to hiring Undead Americans if you run a business. It’s a big, wide world, Freddy. You should really leave your little bat cave sometime and go see it. You’d be surprised at some of the things out there,” Krystal said, getting up from the couch and coming over to my chair. She set herself gently on my lap. “For example, you could come out with me tonight. We could go to a greasy diner, pick up some decent beer, maybe take in a midnight showing at a movie theatre and not pay attention to what’s on the screen.”

  “I, uh . . . um . . . yes . . . well . . . ” Being a vampire grants you many things. A sudden burst of intuition and confidence with the opposite sex sitting directly on top of you is sadly not one of them.

  Krystal laughed. “Glad to see you still get flustered so easily. It was always one of your more adorable traits. So, you want to come?”

  “Well . . . ahem . . . I suppose I have almost caught up on tonight’s work.”

  “Great!” Krystal hopped from my lap and pulled me up with her. “It’ll be tons of fun. Just you, and me, and the city at night.” She began unlocking my door and pulling it open. “There’s just one little thing I have to stop and do while we’re out. Quick errand, won’t take a minute.” With that she unlatched the final lock and all but bounced out the door.

  “What kind of errand?” I asked as I hurried to catch up, stopping outside to lock all of the bolts. She paid no attention to me though, galloping down the hallway and out into the parking lot.

  “Krystal?” I called as I finished locking and moved briskly out into the parking lot. “I’m serious. Where are we going? What kind of errand?”

  2.

  “Welcome, everyone, and thank you for coming to this week’s Black Banshee Role Playing Game.” The speaker was young, maybe sixteen or seventeen, wearing what had to be a suit from the 1950’s and sporting glasses and a haircut that matched. He moved with a strange confidence; then again, perhaps it was just strange because it was confidence of any kind in this setting.

  Scattered around me were a variety of people, ranging in age from the frequent teenager to the more elusive adult. Most were wearing somewhat elaborate costumes. Many of them sported fake fangs and were wearing makeup in order to pale their skin, a few wore heavily furred gloves and wolf masks, and there was even one person who looked to have stolen his ghost-sheet costume straight out of Charlie Brown.

  “As all of you should know, my name is Neil, and I will be your Game Master this evening. Now, since all of you registered your characters beforehand, my assistant Albert will be working the table near the front. We do ask that you check in, take your badge, and keep it somewhere visible all night long. Your badge identifies your character name, race, and what faction you belong to, if any. I’ll remind those of you who are new to our LARP, any information on the badge that is in black is considered general knowledge, and information on the badge that is in red is known only to those of you in the same race. Gaining that information will have to happen through interaction, so please, no metagaming. Albert will also hand you our general rules sheet, so check in as soon as possible. Once everyone is accounted for, we can get this game started!” He threw his fist in the air at that last line, then took a deep bow. He left his soapbox of a stage (yes, it was actually a soapbox; no, I have no idea where he found such a thing) to the sound of scattered clapping.

  If you are wondering, I was most certainly not one of those clapping.

  “Please explain to me how this is an errand,” I told Krystal with as much unfriendliness as I was able to conjure into my voice. It wasn’t much.

  “It’s no big deal,” she said, taking my hand and leading me over to a line that had sprung up around a large folding table decorated with badges, sheets of a paper, and one solo attendant (presumably Albert) doing his damndest to keep up with the influx of people swarming him. “There have been some reports of a shambling figure seen here after hours, and a few reports of missing animals. Ten bucks says it’s just some kid staying late to practice his act and a coincidental upturn in runaways, but I have to come check this out anyway.”

  “Well . . . how long does it usually last?” I asked, already feeling the familiar symptoms of caving in to doing what someone else wanted me to.

  “Only three hours, and we should be gone in half of that,” Krystal said. She wrapped her arms around me, then slithered her hand up to my head and gently raked her fingernails through my hair while pressing close to me, making her . . . non-mental assets very apparent. “I promise there will still be ample time to go ignore a movie,” she purred.

  One thing about being a vampire that doesn’t entirely suck, pun unremorsefully i
ntended, is the ability to sense and pick up on things humans miss all the time. For example, when Krystal wrapped herself around me like that, I heard her heart beat increase, felt the warmth of blood flow to various places, and smelled the increase of pheromones she was putting out. It’s one thing to have a beautiful woman blatantly flirting with you; it’s a whole other thing to have biological evidence she really means it.

  “Um . . . well . . . we . . . okay,” I said, giving in, to no one’s surprise (especially not my own). Krystal kissed me on the cheek and pulled back her body while dialing down the sex appeal, though not quite letting either slip away from me entirely.

  “You’re the best, Freddy. And who knows? You might even have fun.”

  “I seriously doubt that,” I said as we moved ever so slowly through the throng of would-be players clamoring for their badges.

  “Why not?” Krystal asked.

  “I can’t do pretend very well. I mean, I like the idea of acting, but I get so nervous. Remember when I tried out for the theatre program sophomore year? I vomited all over the stage before I finished my first line.”

  “Oh yeah, you know I’d forgotten that,” she said. “Still, it wasn’t as bad as when you tried out for choir.”

  “Let us not visit that rest stop on memory road. My stomach is churning already,” I said.

  Krystal let out a surprisingly throaty laugh. It drew looks from the few un-distracted players around us. I suppose they were sensitive to the idea of laughter, but upon seeing it wasn’t directed at them, most just turned their attention back to the table. There were a few who didn’t, and given how Krystal looked in comparison to most of the others there, I could hardly blame them.

  “You can’t throw up, dum-dum,” Krystal told me when she was done giggling. “I mean that literally. Your kind doesn’t have the ability to do that.”