Fat Vampire Value Meal (Books 1-4 in the series) (29 page)

“Reginald, Nikki,” said Maurice. “Meet Karl Stromm, Deacon of the European Vampire Council.”
 

O
LD
W
ORLD

KARL WAS EVERYTHING REGINALD EXPECTED a vampire to be before he’d become one.
 

He was dark, tall, and slim without being frail. His robe was very long and dragged behind him when he walked. He had a kind of inner radiance but wasn’t classically handsome, and if Reginald had to guess at his human age, he’d estimate that Karl had been in his mid forties when he’d become a vampire. He had a gigantic nose, very dark eyebrows, and skin that looked weathered. His hair was long and black, tied back into a pony tail and bound with an ornate ring that looked as if it might be made of ivory. His teeth were crooked, and he had a large adornment in his right ear that looked like a massive fang or claw. Something white and sharp, anyway.
 

His bearing, despite what Maurice had said about the EU Council being like a small town government, was regal. It was something about the way he carried his head and used his body. Everything was dramatic. When he reached for anything, he rolled his wrist and flourished his palm before picking it up. When he entered a new room, he paused at the entrance, closed his eyes, inhaled, and rolled his neck slowly back in a semicircle. When he met Nikki, he’d taken her hand and kissed it. When he met men, he hugged them. His gestures were intimate and androgynous. And — this was interesting — Reginald thought he could smell powder on his skin.
 

Maurice made introductions around, but it was obvious that Karl already knew who they were and their entire backgrounds, including Reginald’s rebellious vampire past and Nikki’s humanity, which Karl promised “with a blood oath” would not cause her any problems while in his house. He didn’t seem remotely surprised by Reginald’s size, which Reginald found both strange and refreshing.

“So,” said Karl, turning back to Maurice. “I hear the angels are giving you trouble.”
 

Maurice looked like he’d been slapped.

“Is not true?” said Karl.

Reginald leaned closer to Maurice. “I guess you can stop worrying about how we’re going to convince him.”
 

“It’s true,” said Maurice. “I’m just… give me a minute.”
 

Karl looked at Reginald and Nikki. “Maurice is jet lagged?”
 

“I’ve just never… you believe in angels?” said Maurice.

“Of course. I have met one a few times. He is annoying when in human form, but amuses me nonetheless.”
 

“Karl…”
 

“You are still a skeptic?
Grüß Gott.
You have been in America too long. How many times have I told you about how I talk to angels?”
 

“I thought you were being figurative. Like how my crazy neighbor talks to angels.”
 

“Well,” Karl said to Reginald, slapping Maurice on the shoulder. “Now he knows, am I right? Come.”
 

Karl turned, made an extravagant little gesture with his hand, and pulled a torch from a sconce. He led them to the other end of the chamber and through a smaller stone archway.
 

“We are light this morning,” he said without turning. “I am sorry. Most here keep a traditional schedule and are already beginning for the sleep. This chamber we are coming to, you will see. It fills up when everyone is awake. You’ve seen
The Matrix
? The second one, where they have that big party and all are almost having sex? Is like that, but take out the ‘almost’ and add biting.” He laughed. “Is fun. You are exclusive?” He tossed a look at Maurice and Nikki.

Nikki was closer to Karl than Reginald. Unsure of how to answer the question, she simply nodded.
 

“Shame. I would like to have sex with both of you. You change your mind and decide to do the orgy, you let me know and I will be there.” He said it like it was an offer to loan them a belt sander.
 

They passed several corridors and chambers, and Karl pointed to each like a tour guide. He indicated residence areas, baths and showers, and even a kitchenette.
 

“Usually just coffee and cigarettes, which many of us still enjoy. But Maurice, he is a true friend to you,” said Karl, looking at Reginald. “So after he tells us how you like to eat and that you are bringing a human, we have gotten some special things to welcome you. You will see later. I will spoil one, is donuts. You know donuts? They are strange to me. They are round, but with a hole like a tire.” He turned and made a circle with his hands so that they’d understand.
 

Reginald hoped they’d gotten more than just sweets. He was fine with junk food, but Nikki was normally a very healthy eater. He didn’t trust vampires to understand nutrition, as well-intentioned as they may be. It was like a set of lame parents trying to pick out cool clothing for their teenager. It just wasn’t something they knew much about.
 

They came to an intimate chamber with brick walls and another low ceiling. In the center was a large wooden conference table, and Reginald found himself remembering Logan’s old wooden throne. Apparently that bit of paranoia hadn’t made it overseas yet, either. But then, the walls were also lined with wooden torches, and he’d seen many wooden supports and beams. The crossbeam architecture in some of the places they’d passed reminded him of pictures he’d seen of Switzerland. It felt a bit like being deep beneath an elaborate gingerbread house.
 

As they entered the room, Reginald realized there were other vampires already present. All were dressed similarly to Karl. Two of the men had large white hairdos that Reginald suspected were powdered wigs. The men were holding hands. All of the women were either wearing corsets or simply had tiny waists and huge breasts with massive cleavage that came up to their chins. Reginald counted the vampires already present in the room. There were twelve of them.

“Here is our Council room. And here is the Council members.” He named them all, then named Nikki, Maurice, and Reginald. Every member of the Council embraced each of the newcomers. The men kissed Nikki’s hand, as Karl had. Too late, Reginald wondered if he was expected to kiss the female Council members’ hands. He had one left to meet, so he took her hand and raised it while lowering his head. Her chest got in the way, and his face planted firmly in her cleavage. He looked up, embarrassed, but the woman giggled and grabbed his crotch. Next to him, Nikki reddened, but Reginald told her with his eyes to let it go. Nikki greeted the woman cordially, but then grabbed Reginald’s crotch herself to make it clear who it belonged to. Across from them, the two men in powdered wigs grabbed each other’s crotches and one of the women put her face into the cleavage of one of the other women.
 

“So,” said Karl, motioning to the table, “tell us about your angel issue.”
 

Reginald watched the others. Nobody reacted.
 

“I’m sorry,” said Reginald. “Just to get this out there, do I take it that you all believe the story of the Six founding fallen angels?”

The vampires around the table looked at each other as if unsure how to answer the question.

“They do,” said Karl. “They hesitate because the question is strange to us. It’s like you asked if I believe in… in Maurice.” He put a hand on Maurice’s shoulder.

“Did you know this about them?” Reginald asked Maurice.
 

“I understand why you are surprised,” Karl said to Reginald. “Maurice was always a skeptic. I have always known, of course, but Maurice has not met one in person yet.”
 

“But you have?”

“Sure.”

Maurice put his head on the table.
 

“Go ahead and tell us your story, Maurice” said Karl.
 

Maurice looked up and, after a moment, began speaking. He told the Council about the two incidents at the American Council meetings and about Reginald’s deductions. The deductions involving the existence of angels didn’t, of course, surprise anyone at the table, but they became more interested when he explained what he thought of Balestro’s ominous declaration, the waiting period, and the difficulty (and likely futility) of redemption.

“So,” said a man with brown hair and a prominent mole on his forehead, “you think they mean to end all of us?”
 

“I think it’s very possible,” said Reginald.
 

“All of us, or just the Americans?” said Karl. “Because he goes to you, not us. This is the first we are hearing.”
 

“Not to be pigheaded,” said Reginald, “but does it matter?”
 

“Yes,” said Karl. “Is okay with me if they kill the American Council.”

Several of the others made noises of protest.

“What?” said Karl. “American vampires are
sheisse
. I am just saying what we are all thinking, right?”
 

“Karl,” said Maurice, “
we
are American vampires. I know there’s been a bit of a schism in relations and thinking, but it wouldn’t just be the Council; it’d surely be all of us. You can’t be condoning genocide.”

“
Fine
,” said Karl, sighing. “American vampires are A-number-one.”
 

“Besides,” said Reginald, “I don’t think it’s just the American Vampire Nation’s problem. The place where Balestro will return in —”
 

“About three weeks,” said Nikki.

“— in three weeks is just outside of Holzkirchen. A hill, with a giant stone at the top, like an altar…”
 

“I know the place,” said Karl. “I’m from München. Is a place of some note in the past, but it is now just a sled hill.”
 

“So if he’s going to come back there, and that’s in Europe…”
 

“Then why were we not told?”
 

“There’s no way this won’t sound self-centered,” said Reginald, “but it seemed like he was coming to
me
. It seemed like he was telling
me
. It wasn’t about the American Council versus the other Councils. It was about me instead of anyone else.”

“Why you?” said the man with the brown hair.
 

“I have no idea.”
 

“So,” said Karl. “To ‘right the game,’ as you say, Maurice, we do what?”
 

“I really don’t know. What would make you want to keep playing a game of chess after you were nearly checkmated?”
 

Karl nodded toward a beautiful woman across the table. “If Lola takes her top off during a chess game, I will stay interested.”
 

“If you could somehow get pieces back,” said Reginald, ignoring Karl’s joke. “If your opponent lost some of his pieces. If the rules of the game changed so that you were no longer at a disadvantage.”
 

“How can we do any of that?” said Lola. “Turn people? Kill people?” She sighed. “I’m over three thousand years old. I’ll be honest; I’ve lost my taste for both.”
 

There was a loud sound. Reginald looked over to see that Karl had slapped the table with the palm of his hand.
 

“So!” he said. “We could keep guessing, but why? Let’s ask.”
 

“Ask who?” said Maurice.

“Santos.”
 

“Who is Santos?”
 

“
Engel
,” said Karl.
 

“Wait… you know where to
find
one of the Six?”

“Of course,” said Karl. “He is usually in town. When he is not, we wait and he always returns.”

Maurice squinted and shook his head. Then Lola cleared her throat.
 

“We, um… used to date,” she said. Then a shiver ran through her and she added, “I don’t like to talk about it.”

S
CHEISSKOPF

SANTOS THE ANGEL WAS MAYBE five-foot-four, pudgy, and smelled bad.
 

It took ten days to find him. Karl, Maurice, Nikki, Reginald, and Lola headed out the day after their first meeting and came up empty. They tried the following day and the day after with the same result. Each time they failed, Karl threw up his hands and said good-naturedly, “So, he is not back yet. We should orgy?” Reginald, Nikki, and Maurice declined, but it was getting harder and harder to refuse. Karl made it sound like an invitation to imbibe the local culture, and turning him down was beginning to feel dismissive of his hospitality.

On their tenth day in Differdange, they found Santos exactly where Karl said he always eventually showed up: at a local bar called
Getränkspeiel,
passed out in a booth in the corner. He was wearing a shirt that was too tight, stained, and ripped, and he had at least three days’ worth of beard growth on his face. He’d slumped sideways, his face against the side wall of the booth, his lip pulled up to expose a row of black teeth. His beer mug was on the floor, intact but sideways. Beer on the floor mingled with what appeared to be vomit. He was snoring loudly.
 

Lola had explained that a very long time ago, she’d lived in Egypt as a slave. The pharaoh (“one of the Ramesseses, I forget which, it was a long time ago,” she said) had called in a group of female slaves, and the pharaoh had been particularly taken with her above the others. That was how she first met the man who today called himself Santos.

“You hear how the pharaohs were worshipped, like god-kings?” she said. “Well, most were just men, but this one was actually a god. He only ruled a while, then got bored. He wanted a consort, and I was flattered and glad to no longer be a slave. He liked me. He made me a vampire so I would not become old. Then, after a few hundred years, I got tired of him and left him. He’s been obsessed with me since.”

“Angels get obsessed?” said Nikki.

Lola nodded. “They become like humans in order to exist here on Earth. But when they are like humans, they are subject to human emotions, needs, and desires. Santos has spent so much time pining that he is almost handicapped. He is in human form most of the time, and to me he is a constant pest. He cannot force me to love him because of free will, so he becomes depressed and he drinks.”