The Tome of Bill Series: Books 1-4 (Bill The Vampire, Scary Dead Things, The Mourning Woods, Holier Than Thou)

by Rick Gualtieri

  That caught my attention, and not in a good way either. Yeah, Dave was definitely starting to get a Dr. Frankenstein vibe to him.

  “I really hope you’re not suggesting I bite someone just so you can watch them go from living to undead. That’d be kind of fucked up.”

  He shot me a withering glare. He must have been taking lessons from Ed. “Do I look like I want to go to jail? Let’s be serious here for a second. I want a nice comfy research grant, not to wind up some convict’s bitch.”

  “Then how...”

  “Did you learn nothing in college? When science wants to test something, we turn to our four-legged friends.” With that, he pointed out a little tank sitting off in a corner of the room. Inside was a bunch of white mice.

  “You want me to put mice in my mouth?”

  Dave chuckled in response. “If I was going to do that, it would be to post the pictures to Facebook. No, while the thought of you chewing on rodents is amusing, I’d prefer to obtain a venom sample so I can test it under controlled conditions.”

  “Venom?”

  “For lack of a better word, yeah. Since I can’t seem to isolate a virus, it stands to reason there’s something else in a vampire bite that causes the change. It might be saliva, but I’d be willing to bet it has to do with those nasty canines you’re sporting.”

  I rolled my eyes (guess Sally was starting to rub off on me). “Did you ever think that maybe it’s beyond knowing ... supernatural and all that crap? Maybe it’s just magic.”

  Dave gave me a look that suggested his opinion of me was rapidly being downgraded. “In the Middle Ages, people thought the sun was magic. Hell, if you showed your cell phone to certain tribes in the Amazon today, they’d either worship you or burn you at the stake. Magic is just a bullshit term for stuff we haven’t figured out yet. I, for one, intend to figure it out.”

  “Okay fine, I’ll humor you. So how are we going to do this?”

  “The same way they milk snakes.”

  “Dude, I know you work long hours and don’t have much time for a social life, but no way are you milking me.”

  “Would probably be the most action you’ve gotten in a while,” Dave replied with a chuckle. “But let’s not be stupid here.” He grabbed a cup from a shelf. The top was covered in a plastic membrane. “Here, bite this.”

  To say I was somewhat less than impressed would be an understatement. “You do realize how batshit insane this is, right? I mean, outside of the stupidity of milking me for venom, you’re planning on using it to make vampire mice? Seriously, tell me that’s not a low-budget horror movie in the making.”

  “I have it covered,” he insisted. “I have welders’ gloves for any handling that needs to be done. The tank is reinforced Plexiglas, and it’s sitting right next to the window. All I have to do is open the blinds.”

  “And if one should escape?”

  “I bought three dozen mousetraps and a pound of raw, bloody, chop meat.”

  I blinked in surprise at that last one. “Well, okay that is pretty fucking clever.”

  “Thank you. Now bite,” he commanded, handing me the glass.

  I sighed. Oh, well, in for a penny. I extended my fangs then also blackened my eyes – hey, might as well make a show of it – and did as asked. About a minute later, he said that was good enough and took back the glass. I don’t know if it was venom or just my drool, but there was definitely something collected inside of it.

  “Just one more thing.” He placed it to the side and began rummaging in a nearby desk.

  “Let me guess, more blood samples,” I groused, starting to roll up my sleeve.

  “Not quite.” He turned back to me holding a pair of garden shears. “Take off your shoe.”

  “Why?”

  “I need a more extensive tissue sample so I can continue testing your regenerative abilities.”

  “More extensive?”

  “I figure one of your little toes should work. I’d ask for a finger, but I know you do a lot of typing.”

  I held up my hands and started backing away. “Whoa there, Hoss!”

  “Oh, don’t be such a baby. It should grow back before you even leave here today. Didn’t you say that other vampire’s entire hand grew back?”

  “Sally.”

  “Whatever. It’s not like I’m asking to cut off your dick. It’s just a little toe. Evolution-wise, they’re not even necessary anymore.”

  “I don’t care. I’m not letting you prune my digits, no matter how unnecessary they are.”

  “Pity. I was planning on dropping a vorpal weapon into the game. Doesn’t Kelvin use a saber?” he asked, referring to my character.

  “Not gonna work.” That lasted all of two seconds before I blurted out, “What kind of plusses are we talking about?” Damn my weakness for treasure.

  “Four at the least.”

  “I don’t know...”

  “Oh, and did I mention that the lovely Princess Sheila was looking for a royal concubine? You did save her from those giants, after all.”

  “That’s low, dude.”

  “I’m not above bribery. So about that shoe...”

  “No. No fucking way. Not going to happen. I don’t care if you throw in the armor of the elder gods, too. There is absolutely nothing you can say to convince me.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Ten minutes later, there was a knock on Dave’s door. It was the cops. Guess his neighbors got a little freaked out by all the screaming. What a surprise. It’s amazing just how many nerve endings are contained in one little toe.

  Diplomatic Immunity

  Outside of a citation for disturbing the peace, the rest of the game was fun ... especially my ill-gotten gains. I could tell the rest of the party were miffed that I seemed to be the golden boy this week, but oh well. I didn’t see them offering up any digits in the name of science.

  Dave was right, too. By the time I got home and took off my shoe, stuffed full of blood-soaked bandages, my foot was whole again. One wouldn’t have known that just a few hours earlier, in a fit of apparent insanity, I had voluntarily let my so-called friend dismember me. Why did I have a feeling all of that was going to come back and bite me in the ass? Oh well, I’m sure that’s a horror to contend with for another day.

  Little did I know that other horrors were now awaiting me ... and it was just the first day of the goddamn week.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  I was sitting on our living room couch, still marveling at the fact that I had ten toes again, when our front door opened. Tom walked in, but before I could voice a greeting, his girlfriend, Christy, entered as well. Wonderful. Just how I liked to end the weekend – in the company of my would-be murderer.

  I started humming the refrain from Rob Zombie’s Dragula, specifically the part about burning through the witches. I found myself doing that a lot lately while in Christy’s presence. For some reason, it was soothing. Go figure.

  Tom took her coat and put it in the closet. Great, that meant she would be staying for a while. I was just getting ready to stand, intent on retreating to the relative safety of my bedroom, when she walked over and sat down next to me. That was surprising. Christy and I had a bit of an unspoken agreement about not being in the same room together for extended periods of time.

  Thus, I was caught even more off guard when she said, “Hey, Bill. How’s it going?”

  I did nothing but blink for a few seconds, most likely looking like a moron. She and I had said maybe ten words to each other in the past few months, and most of them were inarticulate grunts of begrudging acknowledgement.

  I opened my mouth, not really sure what would come out, although expecting something like, “Hey, yourself. Eaten either Hansel or Gretel lately?”

  Before I could say anything, though, Tom jumped in. “Want a beer, Christy? How about you, Bill?” he asked, rummaging through our fridge.

  “No thanks, hon,” she cheerfully called back.

  “I’ll take one.” I had a nagging feelin
g I’d need it.

  “So,” she started, “Tom told me about the peace conference.”

  What? Christ, I really needed to stop telling him everything. The guy had a big fucking mouth, especially when it came to women. He’s one of those people for whom it did not take a lot of effort to fuck their brains out.

  My eyes narrowed at Christy, but I answered pleasantly, “Excuse me for one second.” With that, I grabbed the TV remote, turned, and chucked it at Tom, hitting him square in the side.

  “Ow!” he yelled while I turned back to Christy.

  “Now, what was that?”

  She replied as if I hadn’t just assaulted her boyfriend with a hunk of plastic. “Tom filled me in on the conference. I talked it over with my coven (the assholes stole the idea from us vampires) and they think we should go, too.”

  I’m glad Tom hadn’t retrieved my beer yet because I would surely have choked on it at that moment. “What?”

  “Well, at least Harry does,” she said. Harry Decker was the leader of Christy’s coven, the VP of marketing at my company, and a complete nutcase. He was a firm believer in some dumbass prophecy proclaiming my existence heralded the end of wizard and witch kind. Thus, through faulty circular logic, he concluded that if I were to die, then this magic apocalypse wouldn’t occur. He had come pretty close to making good on the threat, too.

  At the end of things, though, I managed to live and he wound up with a bloody nose. Since then – outside of a petty attempt to get me into trouble with our HR department – he had been lying low. However, I knew it was only a matter of time before he became a thorn in my side again. Guess it was springtime, because it looked as if that flower was blooming.

  “Really?” I arched an eyebrow at her, Spock-style.

  “Yes,” she replied conversationally as if we were discussing shades of paint rather than vampires and Sasquatches.

  “Why?”

  “Because this has potential repercussions for us all. If this goes badly, it could have a ripple effect for all of the races, fae and demonic alike.”

  “You’re shitting me right? Fae?”

  “Fairy kind,” she explained.

  “I always suspected there was a bit of fairy in Bill,” Tom commented, walking over and handing me a beer.

  “Don’t make me look for the remote,” I warned. He sat and I addressed Christy again. “So let me get this straight. This meeting between the vampires and a pack of shit-flinging monkeys has dire consequences? As a result, your coven, a group who doesn’t exactly have my best interests in mind, wants to tag along?”

  “I already told you, the prophecy is nothing personal.”

  “Sorry. I tend to take being killed somewhat personally.”

  “That aside, the Forest Folk are not to be...”

  “Forest Folk?” Tom and I asked in unison.

  “Yes, the creatures you’ve upset with your...”

  “Hold on there. I haven’t upset shit. Your kindly ‘Forest Folk’ were the ones who tried to put a kindly forest rock through my sternum.”

  “Regardless of what happened, open warfare is simply not an option here.”

  “Be that as it may,” I said, “you’re still not invited to ... wherever the hell it is.”

  “That’s not for you to say. My master has already reached out to your people in Boston.”

  My eyes opened wide. Holy shit! Not only was this bitch hell-bent on frying my ass, but now she was going over my head, too. Talk about sticking it in and breaking it off.

  “You talked with Boston?”

  She nodded in response.

  “The same Boston that’s aware of what you guys did while Gan was over here?”

  Another nod.

  “And they didn’t freak out, threaten you with death, any of that stuff?”

  “No. They were quite cordial, actually. This one vampire my master talked to -Colin, I think his name was – he didn’t seem to like you very much.”

  Motherfucker! I put my face into my hands while I absorbed all of this.

  “Really?” Tom asked. “I would’ve thought the vampires wouldn’t be too big on you guys.”

  “My people aren’t at war with the vampires, just...”

  “Me,” I finished.

  “Pretty much,” she confirmed. “Besides, we reached out to them diplomatically. There are protocols around these types of things.”

  “Jesus Christ, does everyone know these protocols except me?”

  “Yeah, it does seem you’re always the last to find out about these things,” Tom said, echoing my sentiment. “Maybe you should get Sally to keep you in the loop a bit more.”

  I shrugged in return and took an extra-long pull on my beer. The way this was going, I might need a chaser of significantly higher proof.

  While I did so, Tom said to Christy, “Cool. I guess we get to take a vacation together on the supernatural world’s dime.”

  “It’s not really a vacation, dear,” she chided. “We’re going to be in different parties and we’ll be traveling there separately. Technically speaking, we shouldn’t even fraternize during it.”

  “Not at all?” he asked, a mock-frown on his face.

  “Well, I guess we could sneak away for a little...”

  “I don’t need the details,” I interrupted.

  “Oh, yeah, speaking of details, did the vamps tell you where this was all going down?” Tom asked.

  “No,” she replied. “That’s still being worked out. We should know in a week. They said, once that’s decided, they’re flying in a special envoy to work with Bill.”

  “They are?” I asked, looking up.

  “Let me guess,” Tom surmised. “They didn’t tell you that part either.”

  Hell’s Hair Salon

  By Wednesday, I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t get anyone in Boston to return my calls. James was apparently busy and Colin was being a prick. I hadn’t heard anything from Sally, either. Between that, the stress of not knowing, and the added agitation of being certain that the love of my life had left for parts unknown, I was getting absolutely nothing done at work. Fortunately, my boss was too busy trying to figure out his own paperwork to bug me much. Gotta love downtime.

  After the sun had set, I decided to head over to the coven. Maybe someone there could fill me in a bit more about this ancient war with Bigfoot. At the very least, the women of the coven were distracting eye candy. A little T&A wasn’t exactly a bad way to kill a few hours. Hey, I never claimed I wasn’t shallow.

  I made my way first to the Loft. It was located right in the middle of SoHo. Back when I was alive, you couldn’t have paid me to hang out there. There’s only so much vacuous smarm I could take without retching. As luck would have it, though, I just so happened to be in charge of a group of vampires headquartered there. Yeah, life sometimes had a funny way of telling you to go fuck yourself. Anyway, the Loft was where it all started for me, it being the place where I was turned. It just so happened to also be one of the coven’s more popular hangouts. Sally in particular had a fondness for it, often using it as her home when not at the Office. If she was lying low, there was a good chance it would be at the Loft.