Bloodsucker Blues: A Vamps in Vegas Story
Page 4
By the end of the night, the Vegas vampires had taken some 25 million dollars in winnings out of Brigham’s pockets. He’s worth way more than that, of course, but 25 million dollars is a painful chunk of change for anyone to lose all at once, no matter how much money they’ve got.
And me? I had another mission to accomplish, a delivery of sorts to make. After I hit The Royal for a cool half million, I set out on a personal quest, one that would put my particular skills to use. I knew that Brigham would know it was me behind Black Sunday, so I didn’t bother trying to hide it.
In fact, I made damn sure of it.
Epilogue
Wallace Brigham awoke with a start. His jaw ached, and his head was groggy. He slowly blinked his eyes and rubbed the back of his head. He looked around, and saw that Raven was still passed out next to him. She had done her part admirably, he thought to himself, delivering the vampire directly to him. The bruise she’d sustained when the vampire blindly swung at her was already gone.
He sat up, looking around the luxury apartment he reserved for special occasions. It was situated on the top floor of The Royal, and it was big enough to put most people’s houses to shame. He wasn’t foolish enough to stay at his home outside of Vegas where he could easily be found, instead choosing to go through The Change in this apartment that none but his closest associates knew about. The drapes were drawn, and he realized he had no idea what time it was. He surmised that it was early in the morning by the golden light that was peeking through the cracks at the bottom of the drapes.
Brigham stood up and walked over to the full-length dressing mirror next to his closet. He didn’t look any different, but there was no way the conversion hadn’t worked. He had done his research meticulously. Drinking the vampire’s blood was the key to his immortality. He flexed his muscles and clenched his fists, looking for something to indicate that he was now a vampire. As he reached up once again to rub his aching jaw, it dawned on him. He drew his lips back into a rictus grin, and there, right above the gum line over his canines, were two small protrusions sticking out. Fangs.
Brigham laughed out loud, and then looked closer in the mirror. There were the tips of two fangs sticking out, just enough so that he could see them when he pulled his lips back, but not enough for any normal human to catch sight of them. It was his understanding that they would come out automatically when he was about to feed. In time, he’d learn to control them, which was perfectly fine with him. It would be much harder to pass off being a normal human businessman with a pair of fangs sticking out all day.
He walked back to the bed to get his phone and see what time it was, and he noticed the indicator stating that he had 47 messages. What the hell? He hit the voicemail button and listened to the first message. “Mr. Brigham, this is Albert Haskell over at The Palm. We seem to have a bit of a situation that I wanted to get your take on. Please contact me at your earliest convenience.” Brigham skipped to the next message. “Mr. Brigham, this is Joe Antonucci, head of gaming over at The Lucky Slot. Can you please give me a call as soon as—?” Brigham hit the delete button before the message could finish. The remaining messages played out in this fashion, Brigham deleting each of them as their desperation seemed to grow with each new voice mail.
As he stood up to get dressed, he noticed a package from the hotel’s courier service at the foot of the door. He opened it up, and inside it was a simple piece of paper. It was folded in half, and it had the words “Mr. Brigham” written on the outside. He opened it up and began to read.
Wally,
By now, I hope you’re aware of what happened at your casinos last night. Now, I’m not a businessman, but I’m guessing that losing some $25 million in one night has got to sting, even for someone like you. Let me assure you of one thing: this was the easy way. I’m not of a believer in forgiving or forgetting, but I am willing to call us even and let this thing die here if you get the hell out of Dodge. You got what you wanted out of me, and in return I got what I wanted out of you. I don’t want to ever see or hear from you again, and I expect you’ll probably be more than happy never to cross paths with me again. The long and the short of it, pal, is that you picked the wrong vampire to fuck with. Do it again, and things won’t end quite so nicely. I know you’re a man who’s used to getting what he wants, but in this case, let’s just let this be the end.
Because at the end of the day, you may have been a bastard longer than me, but I’ve been a vampire for a hell of a lot longer than you.
Enjoy your newfound life. Just enjoy it somewhere other than Las Vegas.
- Alex J.
Brigham crumpled the paper and let it fall to his feet. On the bed, Raven was starting to stir. He looked over at her as she groggily opened her eyes.
“Raven, my dear,” he said, “It is time for us to embrace our newfound lives. First, we’re going to take these new bodies out for a little test drive. And then… then we’re going to settle some unfinished business with our dear Mr. Jarczynski.”
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Author’s Note:
Thanks for picking up Bloodsucker Blues: A Vamps in Vegas Story. I really appreciate it and I hope you enjoyed it. This is the first in a series of short novels that will ultimately be combined into one full-length novel, and eventually a series that will continue past that.
If you enjoyed the book, I’d really appreciate it if you could swing on over to your favorite ebook retailer and leave a review for it. You may not realize this, but reviews are simultaneously one of the most important things for an independent author to succeed as well as one of the hardest things for an independent author to get.
If you’d like to keep up with the future of this series and many other books I have available, please visit the various weblinks in the book’s front matter or on the next page. Once again, I thank you for journeying into my little corner of the vampire fiction-verse.
Best,
Mike Spring
About the Author
Mike Spring has been writing entertainment reviews, news, and opinions since 1997. He has a Bachelor’s Degree in English and Journalism from The University at Albany and a Master’s Degree in Business Administration from The College of Saint Rose. Mike lives in upstate New York with his wife Melissa, and his twin children, Ava and Jackson.
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