Bill The Vampire - 01 (21 page)

“Okay, sorry. Please excuse me,” he mocked. “Let me guess, you live right upstairs from Mommy. Lets her still pack your lunchbox and wash your underwear. Am I right?”

I tried to ignore his taunts, be the better man, but he apparently took my silence for affirmation, as he then said, “Yeah, I thought so. As I said, pathetic. It's almost not going to be worth the time it's going to take to rip your fucking spine out (
okay, well at least that was a step closer to him not wanting to kill me
), but I'm still going to.” (
Or maybe not.
)

I tried not to show that his last statement had brought me a fair way along toward a complete panic attack, and, instead, gave him attitude right back.

“This is all really fascinating. It’s good to know I don't need to pay for a therapist as long as I have you around. But it's kind of ignoring my original point,” I said, trying to steer him away from thoughts of brutally murdering me.

He gave a contemptuous sigh, and said, “I can't believe you even need to ask this shit. You're a vampire now. A superior fucking being!” he looked at me from the corner of his eye, “In theory, anyway (
fucking douchebag!
). Still, there are plenty of ways you can seal the deal.”

“Very well, enlighten me, oh, master of the night,” I snipped.

“For starters, there's compulsion. It doesn't work as well as it does between us... or most of us. Usually, though, a vampire can plant a suggestion in the mind of a weak-willed human, if they concentrate enough and are of sufficient skill and power. But since you have neither (
fuck you!
), I guess that's out of the question. Relying on charm and charisma is probably also out for you.”

“It's great to hear about all the ways I'm
not
going to score. Really, it is. But how about something that might help me?”

“You could show them your fangs,” he answered. “Some girls still go nuts for that
Twilight
bullshit. There is, however, one method that
never
fails, even for someone like you.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small vial which he then tossed to me. I held it up and examined the contents, a fine white powder.

“You want me to coke them up?” I asked incredulously.

“They don't call it whore bait for nothing.”

* * *

The second we entered the club, Jeff ditched me - so much for this being a father/son outing. Of course, before doing so, he warned that the next time he saw me, I better be covered in blood. Wonderful! But when in a meat market, it’s best to get shopping.

Okay, so that turned out to be easier said than done. My first few attempts to strike up a conversation were met with me being completely ignored. My third was a bit better. I got laughed at when I tried to show off my fangs, but better reaction than indifference, I suppose. Guess I don't look effeminate enough for that one to work. It was then that I spotted a girl sitting alone at the bar. She was a cute, petite thing in a white dress that left little to the imagination (
including that she was either chilly or sitting under an A/C vent
). Most importantly, judging from the empty shot-glasses in front of her, she looked to be pretty well on her way to Margaritaville.

I approached her and tried to think of the best way to strike up a conversation. In the end, however, I couldn't come up with anything appropriately smooth sounding. So, I opted instead to just dangle the vial of drugs in front of her face and say,

“Hey. I got coke.” Okay, so maybe there's some small part of me that can understand all of Sally's eye rolls.

Credit where credit is due, Jeff was right. Her eyes immediately lit up at the sight. She gave me a naughty little grin and licked her lips. “You thinking maybe a blow for a little blow?” she purred. Damn, and to think I've wasted the last decade or so trying to actually talk to women. I was about to respond with something appropriately cool like, “okay,” when I saw her eyes go wide at the sight of something behind me.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” I heard an angry voice growl. “You macking on my woman, asshole?”

I spun around and came face to face with the owner of the voice. He was an ugly son of a bitch, with a shaved head and several bad tattoos running up and down his tightly muscled arms. Twenty-four years of instinct came into play and I immediately tried backing down.

“Sorry, man. Just a mistake,” I said as I tried to slip the drugs back into my pocket.

However, the girl, proving that all women are sisters in that they all share a gene that lets them become instant bitches, decided to 'help' the situation along.

“This fucker was trying to slip me something, Mike,” she said in an accusing voice. Oh, shit.

“Oh, yeah?” growled Mike, balling his hands into fists. “Trying to slip my girl some X? Probably only way a faggot like you is gonna get laid.”

I was about to try the old “I don't want no trouble, pal” routine to weasel my way out of this, when I suddenly remembered. I'm a goddamn, supernatural creature of the night. Why should I be taking shit from anyone? I could take apart this whole place with my bare hands if I wanted to.

I decided to play it tough.

“Back off, fuckface!” I sneered. Oh, yeah, this felt good. “Your bitch is a lying little slut. Before you came back, she was practically begging for my dick,” I said as I got in his face. I could get used to this alpha dog thing.

We both made a move at the same time. I was faster. I was stronger.

Unfortunately, he was
better
.

Several years back, I saw this movie called
Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires
. It was a low budget flick that pitted kung-fu masters against vampires. Here were these karate guys kicking the ever (
un
)living shit out of a pack of vampires who had ravaged the land. At the time, I had laughed. Maybe I shouldn't have.

Before I knew it, I was immobilized in an arm lock, and my face was being repeatedly smashed into the top of the bar. I was just starting to see a head shaped dent appear in it, when I felt multiple sets of arms grab hold of me. Security had arrived to save me. Of course, by save me, I mean drag my ass to the exit and toss me out into the street. Well, that could have gone better. Figures that the one time I try to pick a fight, it turns out to be with someone who could do a reasonable impersonation of Chuck 'the iceman' Liddell.

I could feel whatever damage had been done to my face already starting to heal, so I picked myself up and hurried away. No way was I about to sit there and wait for Jeff's laughing face (
and camcorder
) to catch up with me. As it was, I very much doubted he had missed my unceremonious exit from the club. Hopefully, he hadn't also captured it on tape. If so, I could count on a lot of bad times in my foreseeable future.

I wandered for several blocks, not really paying much attention. I didn't realize at the time that I had been walking in the opposite direction I probably should have been. Getting one’s face smashed into hardwood tends to do that.

I was finally pulled out of my funk by a husky female voice calling out to me, “Hey baby, wanna party?” I turned my head toward the sound and found myself staring at a woman, obviously a prostitute, standing at the mouth of an alley. She looked... well, she looked pretty bad. She was overweight and was wearing a far too small tube dress. Her face lacked several teeth and looked like it had seen its fair share of fists. When people think of hookers, they often want to imagine beautiful and classy ladies of the night, maybe women who look like Rebecca De Mornay from
Risky
Business
(
sorry, but I'm not one of the dozen or so guys who sat through Pretty Woman
). The truth is, that the vast majority probably look a lot closer to what was standing in front of me than some glamorous coed working her way through college.

“Huh?” I wittily replied.

“Wanna party? Ten bucks for an appetizer. Twenty for the full menu,” she said in the bored tone of someone who has seen far too much of the world and found it to be an ugly place.

I remembered the purpose for the outing. This was a hunting trip and, despite not having any great desire to go on a killing spree, I couldn't return empty handed. Unfortunately for her, I needed to make a kill, and she happened to be someone who probably wouldn't be missed. Besides which, she'd be better than noshing on a fat naked dude... if only marginally.

I dug out my wallet and pulled out a twenty. “I'm kinda hungry tonight,” I said as I waved it in front of her. Figures, the best line I've had all night and it's wasted on a crack ho.

She turned to walk down the alley, beckoning me to follow. I did, mentally steeling myself to act as soon as we were deep enough inside to avoid unwanted attention. I planned to make it as quick as I could. No point in causing needless suffering (
for either of us
). I'd move to take her from behind, and then quickly snap her neck before biting into her. It would be fast and minimize any screaming... hopefully.

Luck just wasn't on my side, however. She reached a corner and then stopped. “Afraid I'm gonna have to charge you a little more, sweet thing,” she said.

“Like what?” I indifferently asked, preparing to close in on her.

“Like everything you got, motherfucker!” said a voice from behind me. I immediately felt the barrel of what I assumed to be a gun pushed against the back of my head.

I was rapidly learning that enhanced senses don't mean shit if you aren't paying attention, and I hadn't been. I had been so wrapped up in my little killing fantasy that I had completely missed someone hiding in the shadows waiting in ambush. I really have to learn to be a little less introspective in the future.

As the gun barrel prodded me forward, three more guys stepped from the corner in front of me. This wasn't exactly good news. However, I was also betting that none of these guys were ninjas like that creep back in the club. The advantage might still be mine... if I could avoid a clip of bullets to the brain. Vampire healing aside, that didn't sound like much fun.

I was going to have to make this fast... so I did. The next time I felt the gun owner give me a push forward, I put everything I had into it. I spun on my heel and brought up my right hand in a fist. Before my would-be assailant's neurons could fire off a message to his fingers to shoot, my fist backhanded into his wrist. I heard the snap of bone (
not mine, which was cool
), and the gun went flying off into the shadows. The former gun holder screamed and doubled over, holding his shattered arm.

I almost couldn't believe that worked. I stood there in front of him and gloated, “You picked the wrong guy to fuck with tonight. When I'm through with...” *CRUNCH*

Oh, yeah, forgot about the other guys trying to mug me. Note to self: make sure
all
the bad guys are down before spouting off one-liners. In the meantime...
holy shit that hurt!
What connected with the back of my head had the consistency of a crowbar, which meant it probably
was
a crowbar. Stars exploded in front of my eyes and I found myself on the ground looking up as my three... make that four (
my lovely crack ho friend was joining in
) remaining assailants started to stomp on me.

However, before I could see whether or not I could recover enough to get up and fight back (
my ego said yes, my logic center said doubtful
), I heard a wet tearing noise. Suddenly, a human-shaped projectile flew into two of my attackers, knocking them away. Before any of us could make sense of what had just happened, a bloody fist erupted from the chest of the last guy standing above me. A gurgle erupted from his throat and he immediately collapsed on top of me.