Bite Somebody

by Sara Dobie Bauer

  Celia smiled a little, because naïve as she was, even she knew when someone was lying.

  Imogene nodded toward the wall. “What’s walking wang doing over there anyway?”

  “Imogene, don’t call him that!”

  “What? I saw it the day we put him in the bathtub. No wonder he struts.” She wrinkled her nose. “But where does he put it when he bikes?”

  Celia rolled her eyes. “Speaking of, he has a race tomorrow. You know how he has to prepare.”

  “Oh, early night for him, then. Me and you should go out.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Let’s go bug him.” Imogene stood, and of course, Celia followed. She couldn’t wait to see Ian, not after last night. She couldn’t wait to give him a sloppy kiss.

  Imogene stepped out into the night and stopped, which made Celia smack into her back. Imogene dropped her bag of blood on the porch and kicked it backwards into Celia’s apartment.

  “Imogene, what the—”

  Celia glanced around her and noticed two people on the porch right outside Ian’s apartment. She saw the girl first and thought of a phrase from When Harry Met Sally: “your basic nightmare.” She was everything Celia wasn’t. She was everything even Imogene wasn’t. She was at least Ian’s height with silky red hair, big tits, big lips, long legs, and a dress that would have covered one of Celia’s arms. Her lips were the color of red paint.

  Then, Celia saw him and started screaming. She wasn’t sure why she was screaming. It wasn’t her usual response to things, but under the circumstances, screaming felt right—very right—because Danny was on their front porch.

  “Celia?” he said, and she imagined she looked all a mess with sexed up hair and unshaved legs in nothing but a damn robe.

  Of course, Danny looked picture-perfect, just like when they met at Tequila Sunrise. He was in a different suit, more summery this time: pastel and made of some sort of cotton mix, maybe even linen. He had on an equally summery sweet grass hat, which he removed when he saw Imogene. Celia thought he even bowed to her a little—to Imogene, not Celia.

  Ideal timing for Heidi to come out, screaming over True Crime, and Ian to open his front door in nothing but a towel and run right into Basic Nightmare. Thankfully, he held onto the towel, but the bitch put her hand on his chest and her newbie fangs audibly went Boing, capital B.

  “What in the Sam hill is going on out here?” Heidi said.

  “Heidi, go back inside.” Imogene’s voice sounded different and kind of scary. She stared at Danny, and Heidi went back to her apartment without question.

  Ian backed away from Basic Nightmare. “Celia, you okay?”

  “Uh…” she said.

  “Ian, get dressed.”

  “Imogene, what’s—”

  “Get. Inside. Now.”

  Celia caught his gaze for a second before he did as he was told. Celia guessed when a vampire gave commands, it was a good idea to listen.

  Imogene latched onto Celia’s wrist and pulled her along as they took a stand between their new arrivals and Ian’s front door. “You smell like a hospital,” Imogene said.

  Basic Nightmare glared down at them. “You ain’t no fresh daisy yourself, sweetheart.”

  “You like where your fake tits are right now? I can rearrange them for you.”

  “Whoa, ladies. Everything’s jake.” Danny pushed Basic Nightmare back and stood a half-foot from Imogene—whose hand was honestly cutting off all feeling in Celia’s arm. Danny smiled that dazzling smile of his. His chocolate eyes shined. “I can see you’re a bearcat.”

  “You must be Danny. What the fuck are you doing on this porch?”

  Danny paused. “Looking for Celia, of course. I missed you, baby.”

  Imogene kept Celia behind her. “Bullshit, you did. You bailed on her.”

  He shrugged, and Celia remembered what his body looked like under that suit: broader and with bigger muscles than Ian, plus more hair, like a wolf. “I’m not into commitment,” Danny said.

  “Me neither, bucko. That’s why I don’t turn people. I think you should probably leave and never come back.”

  He put his hat back on his head, covering his perfectly coifed swish of dark brown hair. “Look, we just need a place to stay for a little bit.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  Danny looked over Imogene and right at Celia. “Hey, baby, I had some trouble up north. I’m just trying to lay low for a while. You won’t even know we’re here.”

  Celia finally found her voice. “You’re not staying at my place.”

  “Just for a little while.” He pointed at Ian’s front door. “Tall drink of water your man? You could stay with him for a couple days while we stay at your apartment.”

  “No way,” Imogene said.

  “I don’t think he was talkin’ to you,” Basic Nightmare said.

  “Put a muzzle on her, fancy pants, or I’ll rip her fuckin’ face off.”

  Celia had never heard Imogene talk like that, and she hoped never to again. Even she wanted to run, and Imogene was her best friend.

  “Vixen, calm down,” Danny said.

  “You’re Vixen? Stripper name much?” Imogene snickered.

  “Exotic dancer.”

  Imogene guffawed just as Ian’s front door opened again. Celia looked up at him. She must have looked totally freaked, because he stood up even taller. “I’m Ian. Why are you on my porch?”

  “They were just leaving,” Imogene said.

  “Ian. I’m Danny.”

  “The Danny who left her?” Ian nodded down at Celia.

  Danny held his hands up in front of him—a symbol of surrender. “Hey, man, I got cold feet.”

  Ian took a quick breath through his nose. “Why don’t you walk those cold feet back to wherever you came from.” It wasn’t a question.

  Danny’s pretty dark eyes found Celia, crushed between the people she cared about most. “Does he know what you are?”

  “Yes,” Ian said.

  “Ain’t that cozy?” Danny smiled at Ian. Celia wanted to pluck every straight, white tooth out of his head—and she thought Imogene might actually do it. “Ian. Man to man, could you give me a second with your girl?”

  Ian looked to Celia for a response. Imogene was either consciously or subconsciously shaking her head no. Celia took initiative. “Guys, go into Ian’s apartment.”

  “Merk—”

  “Just gimme a second, okay?”

  Imogene finally let go of her arm, which was now just a limp piece of flesh, and Ian kissed Celia’s forehead before they both disappeared inside.

  Vixen gave her a hard look, and Celia could tell every inch of her was being analyzed. “How’d an ugly girl like you land a piece like that?”

  “Vixen,” Danny hissed.

  She gave him an angry face.

  All it took to calm her was a hand to her arm and Danny’s warm brown eyes staring her down. “Baby, would you give us a second?”

  “Yeah.” She pouted, but at least she walked away.

  Danny turned back to Celia and put his hands in his pockets. “So. Ian?”

  “What do you want, Danny?”

  “I told you. I need a place to stay.”

  “Get a hotel.”

  He shrugged. “I’m a little short on cash. Come on, baby.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  He smirked. God, he was gorgeous…like a rattlesnake or a Great White. “Let me stay at your place or I’ll tell Steve not to deal to you anymore.”

  Celia felt her mouth open in a shocked “O.” After all Danny had done to her, he would take away one of the only gifts he’d given? “You can’t do that,” she said.

  “Yeah, I can. I own him. I own half the dealers in the American South.” He leaned closer and licked his lips. “Your pretty boyfriend probably gives you, what, two bags a week? You can’t live on that. How do you think he’d feel if you started feeding on other guys, huh?”

  Just like that, Celia felt things pulling away
like the tide: her blood, her Ian, and her unexpectedly happy life. Danny once said he could make her better; this was the second time he was just making things worse.

  “Fine,” Celia said. “You can stay.”

  Danny tried to take her face in his hands, but she batted him away. He laughed—a high-pitched, unpleasant noise. “See? We can all get along.” He turned toward the beach. “Vixen!” Then, he turned to Celia. “Got any blood in your fridge, baby?”

  “Just get away from me.” Celia backed into Ian’s apartment as she heard Vixen’s stiletto heels on the porch.

  Imogene was on Celia like a vamp to a fresh vein. “You get rid of them?”

  She shook her head. “He threatened my supply. He said he would cut me off from Steve if I didn’t let them stay.”

  Imogene’s eyes went to the ceiling.

  Ian sat in a chair wearing jeans and a wrinkled Bonnaroo t-shirt. “Danny seems like a dick.”

  “Totally,” Celia agreed. “How did he find me?” She fell into Ian’s lap.

  “Find you?”

  Celia looked up at Imogene who looked down at her like she was dumber than a dung beetle.

  “It was mere coincidence that you live here, Celia,” she said.

  Ian stood and almost knocked Celia over. “What are you talking about?”

  Imogene, whose hair was growing bigger the more irritated she became, put her hands on her hips. “What did they smell like, Celia?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Gauze. Sick people.”

  “A hospital?”

  Celia nodded.

  “They came here after they saw angry Steve. Who else saw Steve this week?”

  “Ian.”

  Imogene gaped at her.

  Celia stood up, too. “You’re saying they’re here for Ian?”

  “Not as dumb as you look, Merk.”

  “Imogene,” Ian said warningly. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Imogene sighed. “Both of you, sit your asses down. You need to understand the world we live in.”

  Ian glanced at Celia. She felt fidgety, nervous, but when he took her hand, they sat together on his couch. He put his arm around her shoulders, and she felt a little bit better.

  Imogene didn’t sit. She paced. “Where do you think Steve’s blood bank comes from?”

  “Blood donors,” Celia said.

  “Right.” She pointed at her. “But some blood costs more than other blood, right?”

  “I guess,” Celia said. “Steve’s offered, but I’m fine with just…whatever.”

  Imogene stopped pacing. “Are you? Lately?”

  “I don’t understand,” Celia said.

  “Ian, where’s the best weed in the country come from?”

  “Southern California.”

  Imogene smiled something sinister and covered her eyes with the red sunglasses she’d stashed in her back pocket. “Well, right now, the best blood in the country apparently comes from Admiral Key.”

  Celia was silent, and so was Ian until he finally blurted, “Wait. Me?”

  Imogene crossed her arms.

  “No, no, no,” Celia said. “You’re saying Danny is really here because of Steve—because of Ian’s blood?”

  “I’ll ask again: how’s the bagged stuff taste after Ian?”

  Celia shook her head.

  “It tastes like shit, doesn’t it,” Imogene said, “now that you’ve had top shelf.” She nodded at Ian and sat down. Celia was squeezed between them. “I blame myself for letting you take Ian to meet Steve the other night. I never should have done that.” Imogene sighed. “Look, I didn’t want to ever have to tell you this, but there are enterprising vampires who hunt for people who smell like Ian. They kidnap them and make them blood slaves. Bleed ‘em until they die, and it can take years. That’s where the expensive shit comes from.”

  Shakily, Celia muttered, “And Danny wants to do that to Ian.”

  Imogene nodded.

  “Oh my God.” She waved her hands in front of her face.

  Meanwhile, Ian put his head between his knees. “I don’t feel good.”

  “You have to turn him,” Imogene said.

  Ian’s head popped up just as Celia said, “What?”

  “Turn him before he’s dead.”

  “I feel sick…”

  Celia looked at Ian, who looked literally green. “Are you gonna puke?”

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you get me a whiskey? Imogene, can you get me a whiskey?”

  “Yeah, dude.” She moved at vamp speed to the kitchen.

  “Ian?” Celia put her hand on the back of his neck. He felt about a-hundred-and-ten degrees.

  “I’m okay,” he said.

  “I’m not.”

  He looked up at Celia, and his blue eyes were smiling. “You’ll keep me safe.”

  She didn’t know if he was right.

  Imogene returned with a big bottle of whiskey, no glasses, and took a drag. She then handed the bottle to Ian who took enough sips to make his Adam’s apple jump.

  Celia ran her fingers through his hair. “Should you be drinking? You have a race tomorrow.”

  “Shit,” he said. “My parents.”

  “Huh?” Imogene looked up.

  “My parents are coming tomorrow morning.”

  “No, they are fucking not,” she said.

  They both gawked at Imogene.

  “Ian, do you know where babies come from?”

  “I think so,” he said.

  She dragged the bottle away from him. “If you smell like liquid gold, what do you suppose your parents smell like?”

  “A lot like me,” he said.

  From behind her sunglasses, Imogene looked around his apartment. “And you better take down any evidence of your brothers. If Danny finds out there are four of you, your whole family is fucked.”

  Ian took the bottle back. “I need to call my parents.”

  “What are you going to tell them?” Celia asked.

  He took a chug. “Yellow fever outbreak?”

  Celia looked back to Imogene. “So what do we do now?”

  She looked at Ian. “Keep an eye on him. ’Til they leave.”

  “How do we get them to leave?”

  She shrugged. “I’m sure we’ll think of something. We’re all moderately intelligent.” She stole the bottle back from Celia’s boyfriend.

  Celia put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault,” he said.

  “What are you talking about? None of this would have happened if you hadn’t met me. Before me, you only had the ocean to be afraid of, and you can avoid that unless there’s a tsunami, which doesn’t happen on the Gulf Coast anyway, so why am I even talking about tsunamis?”

  “Wow,” Imogene said. “That’s the first time I’ve heard her go Rain Man in a while.”

  Ian shushed her. “I love you. I wouldn’t have found love if I hadn’t found you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Imogene groaned. “Just turn him already.”

  “No,” Celia said. “I like him just the way he is.”

  “Fragile. Breakable. Delicious. Yeah, I like him, too, until he’s dead.”

  “I really think I’m gonna be sick,” Ian said.

  “We’re going to get through this.”

  “Listen to that,” Imogene said. “I almost believe her.”

  “How do you turn someone anyway?” Ian asked.

  “Easy,” Imogene said. “If you’ve been bitten recently, all I have to do is slip some of my blood in your food.”

  Ian looked up at her. “Imogene, that sounds like a threat.”

  “Is it really, though?”

  “If you turn him,” Celia said, “I will tie you to a picnic table and wait for sunrise.”

  Imogene smiled. “I swear she’s the dominant one.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  They were in lock down. Imogene thought if Danny didn’t know that t
hey knew about the hunt for Ian, then he and Vixen would go away whenever they got bored of Admiral Key—which shouldn’t take long because Admiral Key sucked (Imogene’s words).

  Celia moved into Ian’s apartment. He put tin foil on his bedroom window, so now they didn’t have a hydroponic apartment; they had a hydroponics farm where three vampires lived and two fridges were filled with blood. (Ian had to move all his kale.) If the cops showed up, they were going to have to just kill all of them—if Danny and Vixen ever took a break from constant shagging.

  Ian and Celia heard them all night and sometimes in the middle of the day—shagging. It wasn’t like in the movies where you heard the bedframe shake. No, this sounded more like someone being murdered and liking it.

  Celia was just glad she’d already gone over there and collected all her new clothes, but she was now without a television. She couldn’t hide behind her cheerful eighties films, and Ian had to work, so he couldn’t even keep her occupied.

  Imogene would leave to sleep but be back at 8:30 sharp every night. She would just sit there and stare at Ian. She hadn’t mentioned turning him again, but Celia couldn’t help but think the thought was on repeat in her deviant brain, like a scrolling headline: “Must turn Ian. Must turn Ian. Must turn…”

  Maybe that was why Celia hadn’t bitten him lately. If he hadn’t been bitten, Imogene couldn’t sneak blood into his food, and he wouldn’t turn. Then again, maybe Celia shouldn’t have given herself that level of pre-planning. She really hadn’t bitten him because they hadn’t been alone, and even when they were, they had to listen to Danny and Vixen murdering each other.

  Even worse, Celia hadn’t gotten laid since their first time together. She finally found a guy she wanted to fuck (Imogene’s voice in her head again), and they were in crisis mode.

  Celia told Omar at Happy Gas she needed to go on sabbatical. Apparently due to her use of a big word, he agreed and gave her two weeks off. Celia just hoped that was enough time to get her vamp daddy and his whore the hell away from her boyfriend.

  Celia and Ian sat in Dr. Savage’s waiting room, and Ian read Psychology Today.

  He had missed his big race Saturday morning because he’d accidentally gotten drunk the night before and couldn’t stop puking—not from the alcohol, more from his nerves. He told his parents he had the flu, which made his mother threaten to drive down immediately to take care of her son. At that point, Celia had been coerced onto the phone and forced to talk Ian’s mom off a cliff.