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by
Drew Hayes
memoirs. I compiled these not in the belief that the stories within are so compelling they must be told, but rather because I found my unexpected life transition to be so shockingly uneventful—at least initially. I place the blame for my aggrandized expectations squarely on contemporary media, filling my head with the belief that a ticket to the supernatural also put one on an express train toward coolness and suave charm. This is simply not the case. Or, at least, it was not my case.
One’s nature is hard to change; sometimes even death is insufficient to accomplish such a task. But be assured that, while you might find yourself still more human than anticipated, you are far from the only one.
under the movie stereotypes, imposed mystique, and overall inflated expectations, each and every one of us is at least a touch more boring than our images would indicate. And that is not a bad thing.
I weighed the options for a few moments, pitting my desire for stylish secrecy against my nutritional needs. In the end, I forged a compromise, pouring the blood into my faux silver (obviously the real deal is off limits) flask, sealing it well,
I attempted to go hunting and feed; however, while I might have been a fearful predator of the night, I still chafed at the idea of physical violence. I can’t even watch slasher films without covering my eyes.
Without being crass, let me simply say an undead body handles normal food as a human one handles gum. While not built for nourishment, it is capable of disposing of such materials. A fact that was far from the first discrepancy I’d uncovered in my cinema-based education.
The only other vampire I had even encountered was the one who turned me, and he was gone before I awoke. I prowled the darkness at first, hoping to find others of my kind, but after a few movies depicting the vampire political system, I started staying in more. I didn’t really have the constitution for such constant subterfuge and betrayal. A pleasant evening with merlot, blood, and brie worked just fine, thank you very much.
I had always tried to be eco-conscious, but realizing that I could actually live to be affected by eventual environmental disasters had doubled my efforts.
I am a creature of habit as much as of the night. I slept my whole life. And I saw no compelling reason to change that in my undead incarnation.)
Ah, the crux of vanity. The upside of never having good looks was that I didn’t have to fear losing them with age. Pity I wasn’t pretty though; they would have kept for eternity then.
Brent was clearly aging though, which was pleasant to see in my former tormentor. I was hopeful that I could visit him in the nursing home one day and rub in that I was still young and fit while he had grown weak and decrepit.
“You mentioned your job was counter to relationships, but didn’t clarify what it was. Therefore, I asked what your job was.” “Oh. I’m a . . . cosmetologist. You wouldn’t believe the hours they make us work. No time for dates at all.
Officially, they are known as ‘parahumans,’ and part of my job is to hunt down the ones that get out of hand. I work for an agency without an official name or address. And I’m here because we learned that some local werewolves planned on using tonight as an all-you-can-eat buffet. You know, you can call me crazy at any point here and I’ll shut up.” “What about vampires?” I asked. From the look on her face, that was hardly the response she was expecting. “Um, yeah. Vampires are real too. They’re hard as shit to root out, though, and major league badasses to boot. Only the top operatives deal
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My therapist says I have confrontation issues. He’s not wrong. At least, he better not be at his prices.
Brent Colter. Looks like my old bully had traded up in the world. No wonder he was still so muscular and strong. Doesn’t it figure? I become an undead creature of the night, and I can’t even get a date. He becomes a glorified mutt, and he manages to pull off a grand murder plot. Jerk.
“So, when did you die anyway?” she asked. I started to choke on my omelet, then remembered I didn’t need to breathe. I swallowed the lump down slowly. “I have no idea what you mean.” “Sure you do. You’re a vampire.”
“You’re a nice guy. We’ve got a good history. Plus, you aren’t that hard on the eyes. And you actually know what I do for a living. Do you know how nice it will be to go out with a guy I don’t have to keep lying to?”
When I returned from my high school reunion, I came back to a mountain of new assignments that had arrived in my absence. I could have turned some of them down, of course, but that would have involved talking on the phone—and possibly yelling or shouting—and the truth is, I’m just not very good at confrontations.
(I know what you’re thinking; if I can hear so well, how did they catch me by surprise? Well, I don’t go around using my heightened senses willy-nilly. Just think how distracting that would be, especially when I’m trying to get work done!)
Again (as I often had since reuniting and striking up something of a romantic interlude with her after the reunion), I wondered if we were drawn together out of necessity—her living a life she couldn’t tell a normal man about, and me . . . well, me being of those things she’s not allowed to talk about.
“They don’t care that you’re dating a vampire?” I don’t think I did a very good job keeping the shock out of my voice. “Nope, that would be discriminatory. We work hard to maintain good relationships with all parahuman communities, and that includes Undead Americans,” she explained.
There are equal rights laws, a voting system, even tax benefits to hiring Undead Americans if you run a business. It’s a big, wide world, Freddy. You should really leave your little bat cave sometime and go see it.
For example, when Krystal wrapped herself around me like that, I heard her heartbeat increase, felt the warmth of blood flow to various places, and smelled the increase of pheromones she put out. It’s one thing to have a beautiful woman blatantly flirting with you; it’s a whole other thing to have biological evidence she really means it.
“One day, I’ll help you discover all the things you’ve gained. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by a few of them. I know I will,” she whispered to me
Our Lord Drake will be so pleased another nightwalker loyal to the cause has joined us this evening,” she said, slurring slightly due to the fangs. “Um . . . yay, and verily I hath come?” The look she gave me said quite clearly that my vampire impression had missed the mark.
You see, my problem had started the minute good old Neil shouted those gibberish words. I was frozen like ice, unable to move even my own eyes. That spell of his had been real, and I was captured by it, which meant three things: 1. I wasn’t the only real monster here. 2. I was the worst possible race to try and stop him. 3. We were in deep shit. Again.
Silver doesn’t hurt me, per se, but it does weaken me and, if exposed to my skin, makes me break out in a terrible rash. Even with undead regeneration, it takes days to fade. Seriously, ten buckets of calamine won’t soothe the itch that gleaming metal leaves behind.
“I’m just a numbers guy, and that means I can see an obvious pattern when it’s set in front of me.
“Three things, shithead,” Krystal said as she released the Taser and Neil fell to the ground. “First off, you are under arrest for use of necromancy magic without a license. Secondly, never monologue. It gives away your intentions and gives everyone else time to prepare. And lastly, magic is fantastic, but it’s no match for my wand of brain shocking.”
“Zombies need a job, or they lose focus and create havoc. Your buddy here is unlicensed, so he can’t offer you employment. And it’s almost impossible for zombies to get work, other than with the necromancer that created them, so we usually have to terminate them,” Krystal explained.
“Hold on, Krystal,” I said, butting into the conversation. “Exactly what kind of tax benefits come from employing Undead Americans?”
“Zombies don’t eat flesh, Freddy,” Krystal corrected. “They don’t eat anything, not for nutrition. That’s what makes them perfect servants. They don’t need to eat, drink, or sleep. All they do is work, and in the case of yours, file documents.”
If Neil is so good at magic, why didn’t his mind control spell work on you?” “Pshh, no one tells me what to do,” she said with a wink. “That seemed like a dodge,” I said.
A lesser man might have objected to the woman taking the wheel on such a long journey. A lesser man would also have been a stupider man, and one with a severe crotch injury to boot.
“Dracolings are basically humans with dragon blood. They’re not much stronger physically than mortals, but those bastards have a touch of magic and are sly as foxes when it comes to money. Not to mention they own all of the casinos in Las Vegas,”
Perhaps it was because of the way he died or maybe it was simply who he was, but Albert could be a bit insecure at times. Then again, I was the last person to be throwing stones in that regard.
“You think things with Bubba and the dracolings will be that easy to deal with?” “I’m sure of it,” Krystal said. One day, one beautiful and glorious day, I will stop listening when she says things like that.
“Do you know how difficult it is to find a parahuman that is both capable and willing to balance books?” Morgan asked me again.
“Vampires are more than strong; they also have enhanced coordination, reflexes, and speed.” “The key word there is ‘enhanced,’” Bubba said,
“He’s right,” Bubba said curtly. “I’m a pony. I’m thirteen hands high, which makes me a big damn pony, but still a hand short of being a horse. Joust horses are supposed to be the biggest of the breed, so they can bring more power and height for their rider. If we use me, then we’ve as good as lost.” “Maybe,” I said. “But then again, I’m not anyone’s ideal jouster.
Today, the only cavalry we had was a werepony, a bumbling zombie, and a chickenshit vampire.
“I think someone might have a crush,” I said when Bubba was gone. “You noticed? I’m surprised. You’re not usually too perceptive with that sort of thing.” “Well, he’s not doing much to hide it,” I said. “No, you’re right,” she said. “I hope it doesn’t make you too uncomfortable, though. If you’re okay with it, I’m going to suggest Bubba set up roots in our city for a little while.
Krystal snorted out a laugh. “Hit on me? Freddy, Bubba is gay. Like really gay. Gayer than a unicorn butt-fucking a rainbow. You’re the one he has a little crush on.”
“It’s not me,” Neil said, the tears making a renewed entrance to his pupils. “It’s my mentor. She’s missing, and her place is a wreck. I think someone kidnapped Amy.”
The kid might have been all kinds of worked up and strung out. However, he was still a necromancer, and I was still a vampire. That’s not the type of dynamic where you go pissing off the guy with magical powers.
As I was forcibly marched out my own door, scarcely giving me time to secure the locks, it occurred to me that perhaps my previous fever of momentary bravery had set an unrealistic standard in my companion’s eyes.
“And we’re going to the top,” I said. “Yup, because this guy is the worst kind of criminal,” Bubba said. “Smuggler?” Albert asked. “Gun-runner?” Neil ventured. “Assassin?” I guessed. Bubba shook his head. “Politician.”
“Amy Wells is currently acting as a private tutor to a therian in my town. This therian is very special to me, so I do not take the abduction of her teacher lightly. I take it, in fact, as a personal insult.”
it had taken me a while to realize that I now regarded everyone around me as prey. I made peace with it early on, though, and had rarely spared a thought about the subject since. But I should have, because when I looked into Gideon’s purple eyes, my brain slammed me with the realization that my mind had been too stupid to comprehend. Prey wasn’t the only thing that existed in the world around me. There were also predators.
“A dragon,” I said, for what was approximately the seventeenth time. “How do we have a dragon in our city? I mean, it seems like someone would have noticed.”
