Straight Outta Fangton

by C. T. Phipps

  “You could do that all the time?” Melissa asked.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Then why don't you?” Melissa surprised me by asking.

  “Because I'm not a monster.” I remembered cradling Sarah’s body in my arms in the ruins of the basement, screaming as I woke from the horrifying hunger that had destroyed my sanity and left me unable to do anything but feed. “Not much of one.”

  The doors opened then to the middle of Thoth's penthouse. I found myself surrounded immediately by an office that had fountain walls over black obsidian on both sides of the room, reflective marble floors, and a large stone desk resting at the other side with a window view of the casino floor below. There were weapon and armor racks scattered about, some enchanted, some not. The room was cold and austere, and evoked the kind of ambiance a castle might have if transplanted to the modern day. The place looked less like what I'd imagine a vampire hotel owner's place to look like and more like the office of Lex Luthor.

  I sensed my creator's presence in the adjoining room and looked back to Melissa. She was staring at a pair of katana mounted on the wall, ones I'd known Thoth to use. He'd actually given me an authentic one from the nineteenth century, which I'd frequently considered hocking to pay the bills. The problem was I suspected that would be construed as an insult, and I didn't know any place other than Ebay that wouldn't screw me out of the majority of its worth.

  “You guys stay here,” I said, starting toward the adjoining room. “I need to talk with him alone for a second.”

  Melissa, nodded, looking suspiciously back at the katana every few seconds. “Yeah, sure.”

  David just stood there, obedient and respectful as he'd been ordered to be.

  I paused at the door before turning around. “Oh, and a couple of things on the off chance you survive the next thirty minutes.”

  “Off chance?” Melissa asked. “What's that?”

  “Yeah, don't get into the sun. It'll kill you unless you're an Old One. Don't worry about garlic, but verbena is out. I once dated this hippie chick I went to the house of and I swear it was like being tear gassed. Stake through the heart will immobilize you but not kill you, but it doesn't need to be wood, which sadly means bullets can do the trick if they don't pass through you. I once had to have four surgeries to get me back up. Fire, holy items, decapitation, monster claws or teeth, and magic can also put you in the ground for good.” There were a lot of annoying little weaknesses too, like the counting thing, but was I embarrassed to share that. It was also unlikely to come up on her first night of unlife.

  “Magic going to be a problem?” Melissa asked.

  “If it can kill Superman, it can kill a vampire,” I said, shrugging. “Something tells me you already know a lot of this, though.”

  Melissa didn't answer that.

  I didn't know for sure she was a former vampire hunter, but those images I'd picked from her brain had been pretty intense, as had been the mention of her protest. If she was, though, then she'd probably be in the Vampire Nation's Database. For obvious reasons, they kept a “Van Helsing Watch List,” which was constantly updated in order to make sure they knew who to watch out for and why. I didn't blame her for wanting to kill vampires. It's what I wanted to at various times as a human. But you couldn't choose your family, and I was on Team Bloodsucker now for better or worse.

  Walking through the door, I thought about how things had changed. Laws protected us now against humans, badly or not, and things were getting better. Vampires were people too now that we were allowed to be out in the open and live among regular humans. Hell, we were practically normal now.

  That was when I saw, on the other side of the door, a huge, richly-decorated, candlelit bedroom. On one end was an “emperor-sized” bed with two fabulously beautiful vampire women lying on it, one black and one white, posing for Thoth as he painted a portrait of them. There were seven partially-drained naked models and two A-list celebrities spread around the bed too, their faces contorted in blissful senselessness.

  “Practically normal to Vampire Wilt Chamberlain,” I muttered, looking away and covering the side of my face with my hand. “Hell, Thoth, can you be less of a vampire stereotype? Some of us are trying not to live the undead Puff Daddy thing.”

  Thoth, shirtless and wearing a pair of silk boxers, held a palette as he stood before a terrible portrait of his surroundings. All of the people and objects looked like they'd been turned into squares before being cut up. He didn't bother to turn to me or even acknowledge my presence, which I found to be insulting.

  “Ah, hello, Peter,” the white girl on the bed said. She had short red hair and a body I was doing my best not to look at, but was of a classic shape, not too thin or too large, which sculptors would have loved to make.

  I almost fled out the door as I realized who it was. “Voivode Ashura. Doing some, uh, modeling I see?”

  Ashura was a four-hundred-year-old Turkish vampire raised as a slave in an Ottoman sultan's harem. Somehow, she'd caught the attention of an Old One and had been raised on the politics of the Vampire Nation ever since. I should have thought harder about the fact that Eaton had been downstairs. The voivode's favorite lackey was never too far from her side, and she was prone to using the Apophis as her place of business, other vampires’ territory or not.

  “Indeed, I am,” Ashura said, stretching her arms and causing Thoth to pull back from his canvas. “I believe you're familiar with my associate Fatima?”

  I didn't look at her, but the only Fatima I knew was Fatima al Ali, a killer of men who abused slave women during the time leading up to the Civil War. Her Muslim name wasn't her original one, but she'd taken on a new one, as many vampires did. Thoth had brought her over and trained her to be a weapon against his enemies. They were lovers too, though that wasn't exactly uncommon among the Old Ones, as they seemed to consider sex to be slightly more personal than a handshake. Last I heard she was working as a Magister for the Council of Ancients.

  If she was here, someone was going to die.

  Maybe me.

  Crap.

  Calm yourself, Thoth's voice spoke in my mind. Fatimah and Ashura are just here to discuss an upcoming conference of Vampire Nation leaders we’re hosting this weekend. Also, to have their portraits done.

  Oh, I said, ignoring the fact my creator was reading my thoughts again. That's all?

  Well, we're all going to have sex afterward, like we did before with those mortals, but that's the lifestyle you think is so stereotypical.

  Ha ha.

  We're vampires, Peter. I have no desire to lose our culture of sex, excess, wealth, and art for the mundanity of a human, monogamous, two-partner, white-picket-fence suburban hell. You'll come to appreciate it once you've made your fortune.

  Yeah, still working on that. I wished I could take a deep listen. Listen, I've got a serious problem—

  Thoth interrupted me. Yes, I've already read it from your mind.

  Thoth looked up from his painting. “Your Majesty, I should point out that one of my creations from Atlanta will be visiting the city. Her name is Melissa Morris and she's been working for me undercover.”

  I looked over at the two women, keeping them at eye level to gauge their reaction.

  “Oh?” Ashura asked, shrugging her dainty shoulders. “Why have I not been informed of her before?”

  Fatima raised an eyebrow but didn't make a comment, undoubtedly knowing her creator had never created another vampire other than me.

  “You never asked,” Thoth said, amused. “I, of course, will pay the tithe for her stay and make sure she obeys all the laws of the city.”

  “I haven't agreed to her staying yet,” Ashura said, her eyes briefly flashing red. It looked like she was going to tear someone's throat out. It was amazing how she could go from coquettish to terrifying in an instant.

  Thoth bowed his head. “I, of course, will send her away if you so desire.”

  Ashura was silent for a moment, then said, “Any
thing she does is on your head, Thoth. You and your child's. Remember that.”

  “Of course.”

  “I have lost my appetite for modeling. Leave it for when I return. Oh, and get a better quality of celebrity next time. More Hepburn and less flavor of the month.” Ashura proceeded to get up and throw on a robe before picking up a thousand- dollar dress off the ground, then casually walking to a secondary elevator built in the back of the room.

  Her disappearance from the room seemed to remove a considerable air of menace.

  Thoth glared at me. “Thank you so very much for dropping that in my lap.”

  “Where else is he going to turn, T?” Fatima asked, getting off the bed. “You banished him from your inner circle's territory, which includes much of his hometown. You should be grateful he trusts you enough to come to him.”

  I wasn't exactly happy about Fatima coming to my defense. I was a grown-ass man who could do his own fighting. That was one of the big things I hated about vampire society. In addition to all of the wealth being concentrated in the hands of a lucky few Old Ones, everyone was also so damned condescending even when they were trying to be nice.

  “How much trouble are you in right now?” I asked, grimacing and accidentally cutting my lip with fang. I hated when shit like that happened.

  “It depends on how much she knows,” Thoth said. “But given she casually reads the minds of other vampires the way I do my children’s, I expect everything. Ashura just can't prove it.”

  “Oh,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Thanks.”

  Thoth walked up to me and put his arm on my shoulder. “You are my creation, even though I expected much more from you by now.”

  “Thanks, Dad, I really need all the verbal abuse I lost out on when my human father abandoned me.”

  Fatima laughed.

  Even Thoth smirked, then swiftly lost his cheerful expression. “You realize you've brought a vampire hunter into our midst.”

  That just confirmed what I'd suspected, but it was still disappointing. “Is it proven she's a hunter?”

  Fatima threw on her own black robe. “Thoth contacted me with the name. She is on the VHWL. Seven confirmed vampires killed and an unknown number of other supernaturals, but no more than ten. Interestingly, of all the vampire kills, six of them were confirmed to be murderers of the innocent.”

  In my experience, that was like saying six of them were confirmed to drink water. “So, what are you saying, she only hunted guilty vampires? What about the seventh?”

  “He was found guilty of rape,” Thoth said. “The seventeen-year-old girl later recanted her testimony, but only after Ms. Morris killed him.”

  I processed that. “So, what does this all mean?”

  Thoth's tone became grave. “David told me something intriguing.”

  “That's a first,” I said.

  “When the emperor has no clothes, only the fool dares mention it,” Thoth said. “He said this woman can speak the name of the Nazarene and other holy figures without pain. That she can actually wear a cross around her neck without harm.”

  “Is that important?” I asked.

  Thoth nodded. “It means I may know the name of her sire. If I'm right, then it's very likely he's come to kill us all.”

  I absorbed his words, taking note of the fact Thoth never engaged in hyperbole. “Man, do you ever have any good news?”

  “Not if I want to tell the truth,” Thoth said.

  “When has that has ever stopped you before?” I asked, joking.

  Thoth frowned.

  Fatima said. “We need you to seduce this girl and get her to lead you to Renaud.”

  I nodded along, then did a double take. “Wait, what?”

  Chapter Six

  “You want me to what now?” I asked, not sure if I'd heard that correctly.

  “Seduce her,” Thoth said, as if it were the most normal request in the world.

  “Is that going to be a problem?” Fatimah said. “Does she not prefer men? Even then, with the power you should be able—”

  “Please don't finish that sentence,” I said, raising my hands. “I don't know if you've noticed but I'm not a very seductive guy. I work at a fucking convenience store.”

  Thoth frowned. “You're a vampire, Peter, a primal force of sexuality and power before which all mortals are inclined to bow down. Princesses, duchesses, and queens have begged me to drink their blood.”

  “Kings too,” Fatimah said, reaching over to rub my chest with her fingertip. “Although I prefer an earthier sort.”

  “Guys, don't make this weird. Well, weirder,” I said, looking between them. “I think you really overestimate the appeal of the undead these days. I mean, have you been on 16th Street? Some of the homeliest undead you've ever seen. Not even hookers will take them.”

  “It's what you get when everyone knows about vampires,” Fatimah said. “You create just one wrong person and then their friends are created who create their friends and so on.”

  I really hoped I never became as classist (speciesist?) as these two. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but did you also miss she's a frigging vampire hunter? I don't think she's going to want to get down with the kind of guy she was raised to fight.”

  Fatimah snorted. “I've slept with six. Some of which I let live.”

  “There is a fine line between love and hate,” Thoth said. “Plus, she's in a vulnerable state now and you're a sympathetic ear. She also drank your blood during her transformation, so you should be able to influence her, as Fatimah was alluding to.”

  I sighed. “How about I not get all mind-rapey? Okay?”

  Thoth sighed. “You were the best servant I ever had. Fine, do this your way. We need to find Renaud, no matter the cost.”

  “That's the second time you've mentioned this guy. Who is he?” I asked, wondering just how deep of a pile of shit I'd fallen into.

  Very deep, Thoth said in my head before speaking aloud. “Renaud de Bures is the hunter who hunts the hunters. He is an Old One, a former Knight Templar who was scheduled to be burned at the stake with Jacques de Molay in 1314. You are familiar with the Knights Templar?”

  “I watch the History Channel,” I explained. “Big Bad Crusaders, killed a lot of Muslims, became bankers, got killed by a French king who wanted their money. Subject of a lot of Dan Brown novels.”

  “More or less the sum of it,” Thoth said, pulling on a pair of leather pants and putting on a silk shirt, which made him look like a Black, bald Lestat. “His creator, an unknown woman who may have been our founder Lamia, proceeded to change him in the dungeons of Philip the Fourth. Christoph was unusual as a churchman in that time, as he actually believed in God and took his transformation poorly. He travelled to Jerusalem to beseech his God for the power to destroy all vampires.”

  “Must have been disappointed when the Big G didn't answer.”

  “Something did, actually,” Thoth said, his voice sounding haunted.

  I blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “There are many things beyond this Earth. Things that make even the Ancient Ones wary,” Thoth said, frowning. “Whatever he spoke with, Renaud emerged from Jerusalem with the power to kill Old Ones and an unquenchable thirst for the blood of those he deemed to be sinners. He was immune to the traditional weaknesses of vampire kind and possessed an ivory curved blade capable of stealing the power of other vampires.”

  “So he’s an evil version of Connor MacLeod?” I asked, trying to process that there was a seven-hundred-year-old religious fanatic Old One running around killing vampires. That seemed to me to be the kind of thing you'd tell newborns.

  Thoth and Fatima stared.

  “Right, you probably never saw Highlander. You poor bastards,” I muttered, embarrassed by my statement. “Can't this guy have just lived to be two hundred years old, become an Old One, and develop the psychic powers to do that naturally?”

  “That's what I believe,” Fatimah said. “Still, he has a mystique, and even the
Council of Ancients is terrified of him. The fact that his creations are all immune to religious symbols helps us track them. That's part of the reason I was in the area, tracking down the trail of newborn vampires he's left behind.”

  “Wait, guy who wants to kill all vampires makes other vampires?” I said, trying to keep up with this.

  Thoth nodded. “He's made thousands. One of the easiest ways to make a massive witch hunt against the undead is to create lots of vampires, let them turn into draugr, and unleash them on the public. It's triggered mass hysteria and persecutions and killed countless innocents. I don't really care about human life all that much, but he even sickens me. There is no greater doer of evil than the one who believes he is doing it for a noble purpose.”

  That was sobering. “Are you sure he's the guy who made Melissa?”

  “Melissa, now is it?” Thoth said. “No, I'm not. But Renaud has been sighted in the New Detroit area. It represents everything he despises most: human acceptance of the undead and a turning away from superstition-driven fear of the other.”

  I frowned, not liking his attitude. “If you don't care about human life, why do you give a shit about Detroit?”

  Thoth shrugged. “They might become a more interesting species in a few centuries. Besides, we come from them. Humans also sometimes create someone truly exceptional, and we can make another one of our race. Besides, as the people on the ground can attest, they have their amusements.”

  “Yeah, right,” I said, realizing this conversation wasn't going anywhere good. Thoth had once been a lot more forgiving of the human race. I wondered if he'd changed his opinion on mankind or if he'd just stopped lying to me. “All right, I'll see if I can get the information out of her.”

  “Good man,” Thoth said, heading to the door.

  “What's going to happen to if we do find and kill this Big Badass Vampiric Vampire Hunter?

  Thoth looked back. “What do you think?”

  That wasn't good. Not entirely unexpected, but not good. I hadn't exactly bonded with Melissa over the course of our three hours of acquaintance, but I wasn't eager to see her killed either. Maybe it was the fact that she'd feasted on my blood, and I could sense her fear and uncertainty, sense that her entire worldview was crumbling. Indeed, reaching out, I sensed …