That's How Vampire Roll

By W. H. Beswick

Since vampires, along with other creatures of the night, now live among us. Business is good for vampire slayer Chei Duguay for hire. Since killing a a master vampire, she has even upped her rates. It is not business that brings Chei to the small college town of Cornwall. She is here for a wedding. The young slayer is looking for a relaxing weekend with an old friend. Best laid plans...

• Language: English
• Publisher: W. H. Beswick
• Release date: Mar 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005931612

W. H. Beswick

Lives in Corvallis Oregon

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

NOT SUNNY CALIFORNIA

I killed my sister. Granted, she was going trying to kill me, so it seemed to be a good idea at the time. Granted, she had scammed me into doing something that still bugged me. Granted, she was a vampire, but I really didn’t have the legal right to kill her. But the bitch had it coming. Sister or not, sometimes even family can cross the line.

A few years back like the gays the vampires came out. In their case not out of the closet. The coffin. This confirmed a lot of people’s nightmares about the creatures of the night, most especially the blood sucking part. That would be human blood, straight from the neck or some other body part. No bottles or animal blood for them! Just the sweet nectar that flows through our veins. Congress knew it had to act, and they passed a bunch of laws called The Vampire Acts.Most the laws dealt with what a vampire could or could not legally do, where they can live, and who they are allowed to suck on. But in passing all these laws, they overlooked one small detail. No law enforcement agency had the legal right to kill a vampire. All the police, sheriffs, state troopers, FBI, or anyone else with a badge could do was show up and give them a stern warning or ticket. So the vampire continued to suck blood in some case suck people dry. Finally one vampire hunter said. Screw it and killed a vampire who had been sucking on a teenager’s neck. He was put on trial. Those of us in the profession got the best lawyer money could buy. It pretty showed that Congress really wasn’t doing anything about the vampire problem. Like this should surprise you. Wanting to keep their cushy government jobs they came up a solution.

Which brings you to me.

My name is Chei Duguay, and I am a licensed vampire slayer. This was the answer that Congress gave to the vampire problem. Of course, that doesn’t mean I can just go out and kill one of the bloodsuckers. I need what we in the business call paper. This paper is your complaint against the vampire, the report from the police who had contacted the vampire, and informed him or her that their law-breaking could lead to a stake in the heart sometime in the future. Actually, thanks to a genius friend at UCLA, I have an arsenal of other weapons that can take down a vampire, but I still use a stake when I can.

Call me old-fashioned.

It is after this stern warning that the cops give the vampire the equivalent of a ticket.

Like I said, that’s all they can do.

Needless to say, this is not enough for the parents of some kid who thinks he or she are in love with a vampire. These concerned parents bring the above papers to me, and then we sign a contract. Then they hand me a big wad of cash.

I don’t take checks or credit cards.

They need to tell me where to find the vampire. I am a slayer, not a hunter. You want someone to hunt down a vampire? I can give you a few names of really good hunters, and most them take checks and credit cards. Heck, I know one guy who will take installments - or your TV, if it’s a really good one.

You may ask what the big deal is. It might be cool to hang out with a vampire. If you are over eighteen, be my guest, just wear a turtleneck.

That’s legal.

What’s not legal is a vampire making his moves on a minor. Sadly, nine out of ten times in human-vampire relationships, the vampire is trying to seduce a minor.

Which is a big no-no.

These pretty boy or girl vampires aren’t allowed to set foot on any school properties, including college campuses, according to most cities, all states, and the feds. This gets complicated, because most vampires do have a sexy look about them. They are big into cologne, or perfume, to cover that body odor problem:

The smell of blood sticks.

Add to this to the fact that most them are over a hundred years old, which gives them a keen insight to human behavior, so they are pretty good at putting the moves on teens and staying on top of what the kiddies consider cool and hip. Especially if these young romantics have bought into all the crap they have seen on TV and movies, or read in some popular books. Kids just don’t get it. Pretty boy and girl vampires are not interested in love, they just want the blood running through their veins. Why? Well, as I understand it, young blood is sweeter, and virgin blood is like a tasty treat to a vampire.

Just think of vampires as addicts, and blood is their drug. They want it, need it, and will do anything to get it.

Most of my kills are pretty easy, because most of the vampires in America are sixth generation or more. These younger-generation vampires were sired by older vampires, but it turns out these younger vampire are less powerful than the older ones. This means most of them lack the powers you may have read about in books or seen in the movies.They do live a very long time, drink blood, and have some mesmerizing powers, but with these new ones you have to be really weak-willed, or be some lovesick teenager, to fall under their spell. Sunlight will kill them, and so will a stake through the heart. Like I said, my preferred method.

The older, more powerful vampires are in Europe, mostly in France, who seems to have a love affair with the bloodsuckers.Rumor has it they pretty much run the country, which explains why I can’t get a visa to see the Eiffel Tower.Second- and third-generation vampires are something I try to avoid because they are a bitch to kill and do have all the vampire powers, though I am not sure about the bat thing. I have only seen one vampire ever turn into a bat, and once is enough.

Thanks to that very talented guy over at UCLA, I have a more than sufficient arsenal of non-stake weapons that will kill any bad ass vampire. I also kill werewolves, ghouls, zombies, and any other nasty creature that needs slain.

I will quote you a rate on any of the above. Ghouls and zombies are expensive to kill, mostly because a bullet in the head isn’t going to cut it. That’s movie crap. Zombies are a real bitch to kill. On top of that, there is usually a voodoo master to deal with. Those guys have no sense of humor.

I did run into a Master Vampire. A creature that everyone, including me, thought was a myth until I had to go one-on-one with it. I did manage to kill the bloodsucker, but I almost got killed, and came close going to jail to boot, for my efforts.

Thanks to a police captain (who I would love to get into bed) and my brother’s rich and powerful girlfriend, not only did I walk away but I walked away with a big chunk of change and a couple of new scars to go with my others. My most visible scar runs down from forehead across my face and down to my right breast. That and my red eye patch tend to make most everyone take a second look when they meet me for the first time.

I don’t have a wide circle of friends thanks to a new law, just passed by a senator who would like nothing better than to lock me up. An out-of-town vampire slayer must now check in with the local law, even if they are just in town to wear an incredibly ugly dress that my friend assures me is the color coral.

It looks orange to me.

Mags is one of the few friends I still know from high school. I took the GED when I was sixteen so I could go into the family business. The Duguays have been killing vampires for centuries. Mags went to USC after graduating at the ripe old age of seventeen and got her medical degree by the time she was twenty-three. Mags is not technically a genius, but she comes pretty damn close. She moved from L.A. for an internship in this small college town and never left.She is getting married, and her groom is a doctor, too.I hadn’t really stayed in touch with her except for the occasional greeting card, so I was surprised when she asked me to be in her wedding.I would think she had closer friends or relatives.My first response was no way, but after my ma laid some guilt on me I left sunny California and found myself in Cornwall, Oregon.

I pulled my old Cherokee jeep into a parking lot beside the police department and sat behind a very impressive white building with a clock tower. It looked like one of those courthouses you’d see in those old black and white movies. This must be the courthouse Mags told me about. I turned off my engine and watched the rain pound down on my windshield, and I do mean pound. We never get rain like this in L.A. I was wearing a t-shirt, jeans, and a thin cotton jacket. It did have a hood.

Big whoop.

My God, how do people live here? I grumbled, climbing out. The downpour immediately soaked my jacket and my brand new Nike sneakers, which had cost me a small fortune. Geez.

GO FIGHTING OTTERS!

I whirled around, thrusting my hand into my pocket and pulling out stake. I grumbled as I watched an SUV drive off. It had two bright purple and red flags attached to the hood.It was then I noticed almost everyone was wearing purple and red; some of the shirts and jackets had an angry looking otter. Who picks these college mascots? I pulled my useless hood up over my head and walked across the lawn around the courthouse.

A short time later, and a lot wetter, I walked up to the counter in the police station. A nice-looking, though heavyset, sergeant walked up and gave me big smile, but it was a forced smile. I could tell he was trying not to look at the red eye patch and white scar. I give him credit not moving his eyes down over my soaked, white shirt.I ran my hand through my short black curls and smiled back.

California, right? he said, glancing at my drenched clothes.

How did you know? I asked, yanking back my hood and wiping some water off of my sleeves.

That jacket is useless up here, he said with a big smile. You may want to invest in a better jacket if you plan on staying a while. It rains here.

I didn’t notice, I said pulling out my laminated ID and holding it up. Chei Duguay, I am a vampire slayer out of Los Angeles. I am not here to do a job, I am in for a wedding, but I believe I still have to check in.

Really, he said, taking the plastic-coated card and studying it. Wow, an honest to God vampire killer. We don’t get much call for vampire killers up here.

Yeah, they are like me; they don’t like the rain.

Really?

Yes, really. They like cold and dank, but not big fans of rain. Now, according to the new federal law, I have to check in with you.

Really? Why?

Because the law requires it, I said, thankful I left my weapons in the car, because he was really beginning to annoy me. Really, it does.

An older guy in a black uniform walked up and nodded at me. He had an inch on me. He was a little heavy around the middle but wore the uniform well.

It all right, Pete, he said with smile that made me smile back. He turned to me. I am Captain Douglas. I know about the law, and you can consider yourself checked in. I heard you say you were here for a wedding?

My friends, Mags Dawson, is getting married, I said, taking back my ID.

Oh yeah, Mags is getting married this weekend. I will see you there! You have any weapons?

Not on me, but in a lockbox in my car. You want to check them out?

Naw, I think I read something about you, killed some hotshot vampire or something.

Or something.

"You keep