by T. W. Brown
Mmmm, Keanu Reeves. He couldn’t act his way out of a grade school Thanksgiving program if they cast him as Plymouth Rock and covered him in a gray papier-mâché lump that had the words written at the side. Still…there was something about him that really did it for me.
“But I’ve never met a vampire.” Lisa was on the verge of that whine that all teenaged girls learn early and have honed to perfection in their twenties to wrap boyfriends and husbands up in knots. “It would be so cool!”
She still didn’t remember that night in the grocery store and I was afraid that telling her how close she’d come to death—not for the first time that night—make cause her to decide that being my friend was too risky and not rewarding enough. The time would likely come when I would have to tell her myself…just not today.
“Until I can get a handle on what sorts of powers they have, you will stay someplace safe.” Not that the bedroom was Fort Knox, but at least it was something. “And I want you holding that cross until I come in and tell you that it is okay to come out.”
“Party pooper,” she whispered, knowing darn well that my hearing could pick up her grumblings if she were outside and two doors down.
“I don’t—”
A knock on the door interrupted my attempt at a reprimand. I shifted my focus to the door and heard the static hiss that I’d learned only recently was the sound of a vampire. The good thing was that I’d know whenever I heard that particular sound that a vampire was near. The bad thing was that I wouldn’t know who it was or if they wanted to gouge my shining black eyes out.
“Ava,” an irate voice whispered, sounding for all the world like a child who’d been forced to visit some smelly and embarrassing relative who pinched your cheeks way too hard.
I opened the door, not bothering to don my sunglass. A human would freak if they saw my all-black eyes staring at them from a primer-gray face, but the vampire at my door didn’t even blink. We stood there, staring at one another for a handful of seconds. I heard my bedroom door click shut and stepped aside.
Belinda was the first—and only, up to this point—vampire I’d met. She had her impossibly blonde hair twisted up into a dozen pencil-thin braids and was wearing a tight, black tee-shirt that revealed her too-perfect midriff. She finished the look with a pair of bun-squeezing white shorts. I felt a tingle in my toes and fingertips. I swallowed, refusing to let her goad me into anger with her obvious display of such a truly amazing body. Having talons sprout from my fingers wouldn’t be terrible, but I was wearing my brand new Nikes and didn’t want my toe-talons punching through.
“Well?” Belinda crossed her arms under her tiny breasts. She was bra-less…what a slut.
“Well, what?” I shook my head slightly.
“Are you going to stand there staring, or are you going to invite me in?”
I saw something flicker in her babydoll-blue eyes. It was probably in response to the obvious look on mine. She had to be invited in! Myth number one confirmed. I stepped back and said with as little of a smirk as possible.
“Please, come in.”
Belinda stepped past me, looking around the living room like she was entering the city dump. She paused, and I caught a flash of her fangs.
“Still have your little human friend,” she said, emphasizing the word “friend” in a very unpleasant way. “I suppose Morgan has her reasons.”
“Look,” I struggled to keep my fingers and toes from going switchblade, “we’ve got to work to—”
“We?” Belinda interrupted. “No, little ghoul, we don’t have a thing to do. You have a job. I’m only here to instruct you on what you need to do your job right.”
“Why can’t Morgan do it?” I asked. “I don’t really want you in my house.”
Belinda’s eyes went black—sorta like mine—and she hissed like she was being scalded. In a flash, she was back out my door and on my beat-up doormat with the plastic daisy that was missing three of its nine petals.
“Bitch!” Belinda snarled, barring her teeth.
“What?” I was stunned.
“You did that on purpose!”
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”
Dammit, I thought as my razor-sharp toenails tore through my socks and shoes. I was still so new to this whole supernatural thing. Seeing Belinda all fangy with her eyes like that and…
“Hey! You’ve got ears like Spock!” I couldn’t help but point.
“You rescinded your invitation,” Belinda growled.
“No I didn’t,” I protested.
“Yes, you did,” Belinda insisted. I was impressed with her ability to speak so clearly with fangs. “When you said you didn’t want me in your house.” Wow, even her esses are clear. Of course, I get an entire mouth full of fangs, top and bottom.
“Well, I didn’t mean to.”
We stood there in silence for a moment until Belinda finally broke it with one of those snotty little huffs and blew a strand of hair out of her eyes that had reverted to a softly glowing blue.
“Oh, sorry,” I tried not to grin, “please come in.”
I moved to my couch and sat down. Belinda looked at my furniture like it might be covered in doggy vomit, but eventually took a seat.
“Just for the record,” Belinda glanced over her shoulder and stared at the wall that separated my living room from my bedroom, “I’m only doing this because Morgan demanded it.”
“Uh-huh.” I kicked my newly ruined Nikes off, glad that my claws had decided to retract. “So, then maybe you can tell me why you aren’t talking care of this problem yourself.”
I’d done my research. (Actually, Lisa had, and then she filled me in. But, to my credit, I paid attention when she told me what she discovered.) The Kiss is what vampires of one unified group are called. Each Kiss has a king or queen who is responsible for policing their group and handing out punishment. Something tells me that Belinda really likes that aspect of her role.
“Vampires have a code of honor.” Belinda’s voice took on the quality of somebody who was giving a lecture to a group of second graders during take-your-mom-or-dad-to-school day. “We never enter another’s territory without prior permission. To do so is considered an act of war.”
Okay, trespassing bad…got it.
“If I acknowledge this…intruder,” she said that word with more distaste than when she said the word “ghoul,” she must really be mad, “then I must determine where he or she came from and demand justice.”
“So?” I knew I was missing something, but give me a break…I’ve been a ghoul for less than a month.
“Nobody wants a vampire war,” Belinda said in a voice that was scary enough to make my fingers and toes tingle.
“I’ll take your word for it,” I said with a shrug, trying my best to sound like I could care less. “So…you’re here to teach me…what exactly?”
“Do you know how to kill a vampire?” Belinda asked.
“Stake through the heart,” I answered cautiously. Certainly the answer would not be that simple if Morgan felt the need to send the jailbait queen over to give instructions.
“Okay,” Belinda shrugged, “that is great for the movies. Only, how exactly will you get said vampire to sit still long enough for you to accomplish such a…simple thing?” Once again she had that tone of somebody talking to an absolute idiot.
“Do you practice the whole ‘I’m-queen-bitch’ routine, or it is something in your natural self that made the jump with you when you became a vampire?”
“I could ask the same of your…ignorance.” The pause before that last word was long enough to let me know that she had several nastier words floating around in her head.
This wasn’t getting us anywhere, and honestly, I just wanted her out of my house. Vampires smell really bad to ghouls. For example, imagine taking your finger and swiping a big, wet dollop of filth from the bottom of a Dumpster. Now, imagine spreading it across your upper lip.
“Okay, Belinda…I’m listening.” I folded m
y hands in my lap and did my best to look attentive.
“First, you’ll need to find where this intruder is sleeping.”
“But I can’t go out during the day—” I began to protest.
“I know,” she cut me off. “But this vampire likes to roam at night, hence the recent deaths. So, you find the place while this rogue vampire is out. That way, you have a couple of options.” There was a long pause, and I could tell that Belinda was uncomfortable.
It hit me like a bolt of lightning. I know that is a used up phrase, but it really was that sudden. She was about to divulge a secret that could be used against her. To make it just a shade worse…she was telling somebody that she didn’t get along with.
“You’ll need a jar of poppy seeds…or sesame seeds,” Belinda began. There was something in her voice…the closest thing to a real emotion I had ever heard in our brief exchanges. What’s funny is that I was almost certain that the emotion I was hearing was embarrassment. “You’ll want to find the lair and pour them all around where the vampire sleeps.”
Lisa has told me that I would make a lousy criminal. She says that my face—even though it is death-grey when we don’t airbrush on my make-up—and my eyes, which are nothing more than two shiny black orbs, gives away exactly what I’m feeling. In this case, I was totally confused.
“There is a flaw in the vampire psyche, what many would call OCD,” Belinda explained, “If you can dump those seeds, the vampire will not climb into bed until finished with counting every single one.”
“So I sneak up on it while it is counting?” I said skeptically.
“I wouldn’t advise it,” Belinda sneered. “OCD doesn’t mean that the vampire would just sit nicely and let you stake him or her.”
“Then—”
“Dammit, Ava!” Belinda barked. “Are you truly this dense or do you work at it?”
Despite the brave face I try to wear, I hate it when I am forced to feel supremely grateful that I’m not blonde. I wouldn’t be doing any favors in dispelling the ‘dumb blonde’ myth. However, I was making a hell of a case for women with black hair being a blonde’s dim-witted sister.
“The vampire will count the seeds until sunrise. They become so focused on the task that anything short of a direct physical attack will go unnoticed. If the sun doesn’t hit them and incinerate them because they are underground or something, then they will slip into day sleep which is just like death. They would be defenseless, and thus—”
“Easy to stake!” I blurted.
“Yes,” Belinda hissed after a brief pause. “And I am certain that you will enjoy it ever so much.”
And in a blink…she was gone. My door was still open, but she’d done that freaky-fast vampire exit. That part had me worried. If all vamps were that fast…one tiny screw up and it was all over for me.
I closed the door, doing a scan with my senses of the apartment complex. I didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary: a few verbal spats; a couple having sex; a guy arguing with the referees of a televised sporting event.
Okay. I’m a girl. I get it. So maybe I’m missing something, but what the hell is the deal with the whole arguing-with-televised-sporting-events thing that guys do? Hello…they can’t hear you! Do you realize how silly you look and sound when you yell at your television or radio? And the language? I dated this really sweet guy. He was kind of a dork, but did all those little things like open doors and ask me what I wanted when we went to dinner…and then ordered for us both! Now I know that some gals don’t like that sort of thing…but there are a lot of us who do. You’d be surprised. It’s like a hairy chest. Many of us will profess to want a smooth chest on guys…until we snuggle into a soft, clean, well-kept hairy one. Mmmm…
Oh, sorry, I lost my train of thought. Where was I? Oh, yeah…yelling at televised sports.
So, when this normally mild-mannered sweetie would watch sports, it was like he was suddenly possessed by a foul-mouthed sailor or had some sort of sports-induced Tourette’s. I can’t say I found it very appealing.
“You really know how to annoy people, don’t you?” Lisa’s voice snapped me back to the here-and-now.
“Now do you believe me about the vampire?” I pointed to the door like it represented some sort of proof.
“I never doubted you, Ava,” Lisa said, looking at me with a quirky half-grin. Is that considered a bemused smile? I’ve always wondered what one of those looks like. “I’m simply telling you that I have no recollection of meeting one.”
“Or that I kept it from biting you,” I whispered.
“You don’t even see why that vampire was so pissed?” Lisa pulled the suitcase out of the closet that I’d prepared after Morgan left.
“Hmmm…‘cause she’s a bitch?” I flipped open the lid and pulled out the Super Soaker pistol that I’d had Lisa fill with the holy water she’d gathered from a few area churches. (The water was my idea…the squirt gun was Lisa’s.) I tossed the wreath of garlic bulbs to Lisa.
“Not that there isn’t the possibility that you might be correct about that,” Lisa made a face as she put on the garlic like a necklace, “but you probably shouldn’t sound so excited about killing a vampire when talking to a vampire.”
I tried to find a place to stash the foot long stake and rubber-headed mallet. Lisa had a teensy point. Still…Belinda was, is, and shall forever be a slutty looking bitch that makes it a point to dress like a dancer from a Britney video
“So, where do we get poppy seeds?” I jammed the stake into the back pocket of my jeans and slipped on my jacket. It was an old Navy pea coat I acquired from an ex-boyfriend…or a Navy guy who I picked up in a bar during the Rose Festival when a dozen or so ships tie up at the Waterfront Park in downtown Portland.
“Walmart?”
Sounded like as good a place as any to start.
***
“This is the place,” I announced as I pulled my 1990 Ford Escort Wagon up to the curb on a street that only had one working streetlight in a five block stretch.
“Not stereotypical at all,” Lisa whispered.
“Morgan says that the vampire has been working in a ten block square. This is the top of that square.”
“You know,” Lisa turned in the seat to face me,” there’s no way this is gonna be this easy. We aren’t just gonna show up, see the vampire bite something, follow it back to its lair…or whatever…pour out some poppy seeds that you shoplifted from Walmart, and stake the monster.”
Lisa was still peeved that I’d stolen the plastic jug of tiny, black seeds. What else was I supposed to do? Those things cost a fortune, and my bank account was still on life support from purchasing my airbrush kit to do my make-up. I guess I probably shouldn’t tell her how I obtained her squirt gun. Please tell me who in the hell has that kind of money for a child’s water toy! As nice as that house was…I imagine those folks could just buy their kid another; plus, serves the ungrateful brat right for just leaving it out in the yard.
I rolled down my window a crack and sniffed the night air. Being a ghoul, I have a bionic sniffer when it comes to dead things. Vampires smell rotten, so if there was one nearby, I’d know. The savory sweetness of new death hit me first. Could that be the latest victim? I’d learned that, the more recent the death, the stronger the underlying sweetness. That was different from the smell of children. Dead children smell like candy to me. I wasn’t a fan of candy before I turned, and perhaps that might explain why I’m not drawn to them now. Of course, I’d like to think it is because deep down, I’m basically good.
“Find something?” Lisa whispered in my ear unnecessarily. Seriously, with my hearing, she could mouth the words and I’d hear her.
“Murrgllmpht,” I replied. Dammit! Shark mouth.
Any time I smell a dead person, my teeth turn into rows of razor-sharp, needle-tipped chompers complete with upper and lower fangs. There is also a widening of my jaw that extends all the way across my face, making my mouth look like an orally-mounted buzz saw.
I opened the car door and took a bigger sniff. There it was alright, the tummy gurglingly yummy smell of fresh death. Only…there was a hint of—
THUD!
A man was suddenly crouched on the hood of my car. When I say ‘man’…I’m not kidding. This guy was the type that makes us ladies bump into posts…walls…closed doors or any other awkwardly solid object…because we’re so busy looking back over our shoulder when they stroll past. His blonde hair was cut close…sorta like Dolph Lundgren in that Rocky movie…Rocky X or whatever. He has a jaw so square and solid that I bet he could use it to drive railroad spikes.
“And just who might you be?” Oh. My. God. His voice sent shivers.
I wasn’t sure if that was a vampy thing or what. Belinda’s voice never did that. Also, he sounded Irish, like that guy from the Crying Game, not Lucky the Leprechaun from the Lucky Charms commercials. And did I mention the part about being hunk-a-licious?
“Mrryl?” I whimpered. Ava likey. Ava want to touch.
“Proper,” hunky vampire laughed, causing my naughty places to feel warm and tingly. “I’ve not seen a ghoul since…Mother Mercy, it’s been since that Second World War.”
I took in a big whiff of vampire, the rotten garbage scent caused my teeth to quickly revert back to normal. It was worse than introducing yourself to that cute guy in the bar and discovering he was gay.
“And who might you be, lassie?” the vampire asked, sliding off the hood of my car.
“I’ll tell you if you’ll tell me.” I folded my arms under my breasts, pushing them up just a bit in one of my classic attention getting moves.
“Adrian McGill,” the vampire bowed and took my hand, kissing the back of it. Hey! When did he get so close? “Now…turnabout’s fair play, lassie.”
