Red-Blooded

By Brent Taylor Jake Peters

Draco thought he killed Bryan.

But Bryan unintentionally survived the end of the world. His mute, inhuman rescuer abandons him without answers. What scares Bryan most is the vampire bite on his neck.

Vladimir Drachobin will not allow prey to escape, but ancient tensions flare between him and those who rule the undead masses. Lur

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brent Peters
• Release date: Jan 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9781999554415

Book preview

ACT I

Chapter 1

Bloody fingers tighten around my throat and slam me against the wall. The other guys, ripped apart, fall dead on the floor. We didn’t even get one.

I look into the blazing crimson eyes of a vampire. His mouth is twisted into a wild grin that shows his fangs. His black moustache and goatee are matted down with blood.

The grip is like stone. I pull at his hand and kick at the empty air. The vampire lets out a low chuckle. He turns around and says, Is this the last of them?

A new voice says, Looks like it.

I tear my eyes away from the freak to see more of them marching into the room, all smiling and some laughing. All of them have orange eyes, not red like the guy holding me. A few of them are marked with bullet wounds that don’t seem to bother them. So, the guys at the front at least took a few shots.

But we couldn’t take one of these bastards down? Come on, you idiots! The monsters are laughing at us! We just wanted to take a couple of them down with us! We couldn’t get one?

I can’t look away as more of them stroll into the room; one undead idiot holds up his phone, probably taking pictures.

The grip on my neck tightens. Claws pierce . . . dammit! My body spasms with the pain. My feet kick out more from reflex than rebellion.

The red-eyed vampire looks at me and says, I don’t know if you were all here because you’re brave or if you’re just stupid. Either way, I suppose we owe you some thanks. We needed some more refreshments, didn’t we?

The other vampires don’t pay attention. They’re busy taking the corpses and casually ripping the limbs apart, drinking the blood, and passing around body parts. Skin rips, muscles snap, and bones crack, but the monsters do it all casually, like the bodies are just snacks. The pale flesh and red blood mix together in a haze as the room fills with the sounds of sloshing and wet ripping.

What the hell is this? All I can do is watch the disgusting scene. What are these things? We knew that they weren’t the clean, formal types that have been all over the news, but these things are monsters!

I’m about to be killed by vampires. Why are they keeping me alive? What’s going on?

The monster holding me speaks again: Answer me one question before I kill you: did you really expect to survive tonight?

There’s no use fighting the grip. We failed. We knew it was a bust. I knew we wouldn’t do half of what these morons wanted. I just wanted to take one down with me . . .

Just breathe. I close my eyes, grab the hilt of the knife at my belt, and answer the question honestly: No.

I plunge the knife into his chest. He glances at the knife, then looks back to my face. Tell me, what’s your name?

He didn’t even flinch. Nothing? That’s just unfair.

He slams my head against the wall. One bright flash of pain before the world dims; I can barely feel my spasming muscles.

The vampire repeats, Your name, boy. I’d like to join my guests.

Bryan! I choke the word out as everything dulls into shades of sickly yellow. Bryan Dawne.

Dawne? he says. Then, he chuckles. This rises into a long, deep laugh that pervades the room, eliminating all other sound. The other vampires focus on the blood.

No, it was supposed to be quick.

Suddenly, the red-eyed monster smashes my head against the wall. Everything disappears into white, vivid pain. With one hand, the monster pulls me back and throws me through the broken door. I smash against the ground. Something snaps.

* * * *

I pull the knife from my chest as the corpse rolls into the pool. His body will act as a tea bag; blood spreads across the water. On that matter, I should take measures to be sure some of the blood around me may be used for the liquor.

Turning to my guests reveals that I may be too late to prevent such an outcome. The bodies have been torn, and creatures in their finest attires are hunched around offal, gorging themselves in orgiastic bloodlust. There is some degree of civility to it, I suppose; a few of them offer some limbs to those behind the main group. Those with some anatomical knowledge are showing their fellow vampires which veins they should bite into for the greatest intake.

Some blood splatters near my shoes. By reflex, I step back. Hmm, there’s no real point avoiding a mess when I’m already covered in the substance. It was a good idea to wear my red waistcoat. A quick look over the room informs me that I won’t be able to get any blood right now.

Hmm, they didn’t shoot any of the cupboards, at least. It seems like my guests will lick the linoleum floor clean if they keep feeding like this.

Where can I put this knife? It really doesn’t matter, does it? I toss it into a sink.

Slowly, I weave my way through the hungry crowd. Has there ever been a gathering of vampires this loud? The time has come, for better or worse, when this is possible. A few decades ago, I wouldn’t have believed that we could celebrate so openly.

How long should I let this last? It’d be best to move quickly from here, I think. Yes, I should use their current enthusiasm to begin the next stage.

The hall beyond the kitchen is less crowded. I walk through— one of my paintings is crooked. I readjust it and continue to the living room. The once white carpet is soaked with red, and it looks like they’ve broken my leather sofa. I pity whoever ends up tasked with cleaning this.

Oh, my claws are still extended. There’s still fresh blood on them. I should wipe them off— I’m already licking them.

Draco, the sweet voice of the succubus calls out to me. Hopefully, she hasn’t noticed. I close my hands and force the claws to revert. Then, I turn to see her. Her auburn hair falls below her shoulders. She looks at me with mixed intrigue and professional annoyance. She is wearing a modest black dress. She still refuses to wear high heels, it seems. My gaze lingers over the form which my eyes know as well as my fingers.

Vladimir, she calls me by my first name. I look up to her crimson eyes; so rare, that eye colour. To have red eyes paired with red hair, she may be totally unique in this. Yet, sadly, I’m sure she would want to hide her true eye colour in favour of the typical orange.

Vivian, I step toward her. It’s been too long.

She forces a smile. We disagree.

And yet, here you are. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company? I raise my hand toward the stairs. May I offer—

You may not. She turns away from me and says, I’ve been sent here by the Council.

I roll my eyes and busy myself with trying to wipe some of the blood from my beard. This may be impossible, as my hands are coated in the substance and could only add to the mild irritation. Oh, there’s a dry spot on my left sleeve. I make a point of not looking at her as I reply, They’ve already conscripted me. What else do they want?

They want another report on your activity.

I smirk. You seem to want a lot of those. It’s almost like you don’t trust me.

She ignores the admittedly immature joke. You’ve ignored the last three members we’ve sent to you; we knew you wouldn’t do so to me.

Is that a fact? And you just happen to be here – for your report, of course – the night of my little contribution to your scheme? You’ve spent the past several hours enjoying yourself for the good of your position? You haven’t said a word to me thus far. What’s your reason for that?

She looks past me and ignores the question. The moment her eyes are off me, I scan the room. How many of those Council bastards are watching me? Nobody is looking at us now, but they may just be fighting over the remains of blood. Vivian steps past me and watches the chaos of the feeding. With every step, her hips swing in their same hypnotic rhythm which I have memorized. She says, You’re going to have to keep working with us after this is over.

Unlikely. How long will you be monitoring me?

Monitoring? she looks back to me with practised innocence.

Don’t feign ignorance. I know you’re here because no one in your damned Council expects me to follow our agreement. I agreed to help you in this instance, that should be enough.

Her expression becomes dispassionate. We don’t trust you. It’s that simple.

I chuckle, Even my agreement causes worry? I’m almost flattered. I’ll give you something to report, then. Tell your precious Council that, despite what they think, I’m not a fool. Their stupid plan could not be ignored. I’m adapting to a changing world for my own survival, not for any of their ideals.

Her expression hardens. They’re my ideals too.

If I breathed, I would sigh. Instead, I walk beyond her toward the entranceway of my manor. Here, a small pile of bloodless body parts is forming. It seems that much has already been drained. Hmm, yes, I think this place will work well. After a few moments of arranging, I step onto the pile. For the first and only time, Vivian, I’ll work with those ideals.

I call out: Attention! My fellow undead! All eyes turn to me; a hundred bodies orient themselves around me. The living room is filled in seconds. The kitchen empties; a few scale the walls to escape the crowd and watch me from an unrestricted view. "My fellow vampires, as you may know, I have been undead for a long time. So, let me tell you: we now have an opportunity about which no vampire has ever dared dream! All humans adore us! Half the world is in our grasp, and the other half is quickly turning to us as well. Tonight, my dear friends, is truly a cause for celebration! As you may have guessed, I invited you here for more than a simple party!

On this night, a greater opportunity lies before us. With little effort, we will take the world! Tonight, under the full moon, we shall rise! We have hidden ourselves in the shadows long enough. We are the undead Vampyre! The celebration will continue, but not here. The whole world is ours! We’ve already won!

Heads nod and excited chattering spreads through the group. The bloodlust is in full effect; they’re so intoxicated that I could excite them with anything. "On this night, the undead rise to bring everyone on this globe into immortality or into death! Let us show humanity what a nightmare is, and what our dreams are like!"

They all cheer. Even Vivian smiles. Raised fists and loud howls. I turn on my heel and rush to my front door. With a flourishing pull, the doors fly open. With me, my fellow undead!

The demons pour out all around me, screeching, howling, and screaming in hellish excitement. We charge ahead as the full moon shines on us. I leap into the air and transform. My limbs shorten, and my clothes mold into my skin to be replaced with hair. Membranous wings spread from my arms like lowering curtains. My face contorts as my nose juts forward and my ears lengthen into points. In seconds, I am a great bat, soaring above my kind with the same terrible speed. They cheer all the louder when they me flying above them.

* * *

What happened?

Why does everything hurt?

The cot feels less comfortable than usual. What time is it? It can’t be too late. They haven’t blared that stupid alarm yet. Ugh... what happened to me? Why is it hard to breathe?

My head throbs as I try to force my eyes open. My body feels heavy. Everything is out of focus. Wait, where am I? There’s a thin blanket draped over me, pulled up to my chin. I try to focus, but everything is blurred.

My throat burns.

What happened? How’d I get here? Shit, is the raid today?

Wait . . .

The raid.

They were all killed in seconds. After all that planning, all we did was feed the bloodsuckers. I saw them torn apart. What happened after that?

I open and shut my eyes several times. Come on, focus.

It was a massacre. One of them bashed my head around and I... I drowned.

Am I dead?

I try to look around and groan at the aching pain it causes. Each movement hurts. Every muscle aches.

Suddenly, my eyes fly open and I gasp. Chest hurts. Out of breath. It feels like I’ve been holding my breath for minutes. What—what—stop! Pulse pounding. Can’t think.

I shut my eyes as my stomach clenches. The image of those things feeding fills my mind. What the hell were those monsters? Those weren’t the smiling bastards who spilled onto the news, promising coexistence! What happened to all that talk of immortality for those who wanted it? What happened to all that peaceful cooperation bullshit? I . . . we knew they were lying, but we never could have known what we were up against.

Where am I?

As I heave and clutch at my chest, I notice the grey rag that covers me. I’m in a carriage.

The only sounds are my breathing and my pounding heart. I shut my eyes and force myself to breathe slower. Eventually, my heartrate slows to normal. I can hear a muted rumbling. Okay, let’s try this again, eyes open. I’m on a spotless leather seat located across from another; there’s enough room for another person to sit beside me but not enough for me to lie down. There are windows on all sides except the front of the carriage; there are opened black curtains on each of the windows. I throw the blanket off and look out the window to my right. It’s nighttime. Trees and bushes rush past me before I can focus on anything.

What’s pulling this thing? Wait, there are trees outside. How can the ride be this smooth and this fast if we’re not on smooth terrain? The door is on my right. I reach for the handle. Wait, no. The hell am I gonna do at this speed, jump? Whatever’s going on, I can’t do anything about it.

I sit back against the seat and stare out the window. Minutes pass in near silence. Suddenly, we break through the treeline.

Okay, where are we? I press myself against the glass and see the dark night sky above, dimly lit by stars and a crescent moon. Soon, we’re on a highway, weaving around the blurry afterimages of abandoned cars. Some might have broken glass. I think I see a few splotches of red throughout. Are those corpses?

The carriage practically glides onto a highway and down a road past a few scattered buildings that look partially demolished. I rub my eyes; this can’t be real. Am I dead?

No! No! Don’t be stupid!

Abandoned cars on the highway. Splotches of blood. Vampires. Those bloodsuckers didn’t go out and . . .

My heart pounds. I put my head in my hands. What do I know? Come on, there’s gotta be something to work with here! I look back to the sky. It was a full moon when we attacked the mansion. Now, it’s a crescent moon. How much time has passed? Didn’t I die that night at the mansion?

Yes, I’m pretty sure I did. It’s amazing I was alive by the time I hit the water. There’s no way I could have escaped drowning. My head was bleeding. It felt like my skull caved in. I bring my hand to the back of my head.

No.

Come on. Please, no! What is this? My fingers run over stitches.

So, I’m alive?

This is wrong! I lean forward and, as I’m about to put my head in my hands, I notice the edge of a trunk at my feet. I pull it from under the seat and open the lid. Let’s see, a wooden stake, a garland of garlic, a small mirror, a pistol, a knife, and a bottle of red wine.

There’s a small piece of paper by the wine.

I lift it and find a handwritten message:

We don’t have the resources to stay with you. It is all we can do to leave you with the items you’ll find with this note. We have chosen a location where we think you can be reasonably safe. Do NOT try to look for loved ones. The world as you knew it is finished. Use what you’ve been given to ensure your own survival. We will try to come and check on you when possible, but we can make no guarantee. Good luck.

Hmm . . .

Alright . . .

Outside the window, I glimpse an overturned bus with blood splashed all along its side. It’s the fucking Apocalypse!

Stop.

Alright. It’s real. It sucks. Shit. Okay, this is happening. The bloodsuckers were as bad as those maniacs thought. No, don’t get caught up in that.

Who’s driving? Who saved me? I’m not gonna figure this out while I’m stuck in this carriage. Where are we going? What type of wine is this?

I freeze as I reach for the bottle. If the vampires have taken over, am I human? Heart racing, I feel my neck and find two little points on the left side of my throat. I grab the mirror and tilt my head until I see the unmistakable bite mark that was shown all around the world. I’m a— No, I can’t be! I have a reflection. In all their interviews, the vampires made it clear that they don’t have reflections, no exceptions.

But maybe they lied about that, too! I grab the garlic and take a long, deep smell of it. I lick it for good measure. Nothing. In fact, I enjoy the smell.

Okay, so I’m not a vampire, but I’ve been bitten. I was killed, but I didn’t die.

I kick the seat across from me. That’s not how it works! What the fuck is going on?

Suddenly, the carriage stops. The forced halt staggers me over the chest and onto the other seat. As I force myself up, the door opens. Quickly, I stuff the mirror and garlic back into the trunk and close it before hobbling outside the carriage. We’ve – whoever we are – stopped in a suburb. The roads are all empty. A few streetlights are still flickering, but no light comes from any of the houses. Most of the homes look like they’ve been demolished; several have missing doors and broken windows.

Hesitantly, I turn around. The carriage is black, and in front of it is a large black horse. That animal can’t be alive. I wouldn’t believe it could move if I hadn’t been in the carriage; it’s unnaturally still. On the seat at the front of the carriage is a tall figure covered with a thick grey coat and hat; he’s holding reins. All I can see of his face is a pointed nose, thin eyebrows, and glowering yellow eyes. His hands are sallow, and his fingers are skeletal with claws on the end. The inhuman figure turns toward the carriage and back to me.

What is he? I look back to the open door of the carriage and see the trunk. I grab it and pull it out. The driver nods. He points down the street. Before I can respond, he flicks the reins. Silently, the animal surges forward, and the carriage vanishes into the distance.

Come on . . . I mumble. I was supposed to be dead now, right? Where am I? Who’s left? Is anyone left? Who saved me? Where should I go?

I turn down the street to where the driver pointed. Am I just supposed to keep following the street? Can I really trust that yellow-eyed thing? I don’t have an option, do I? He wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble if he was just gonna kill me, right?

With a sigh, I pull the wine from the trunk and pry the cap off with the knife. I start drinking as I drag the trunk down the empty road.

* * * *

We did it! The mighty, diminutive warrior yells with a drink in each hand, clothed only in a baggy pair of dark green cargo pants. He stands on the rail of a balcony on the third floor of my mansion, overlooking my crowded backyard. The crowd applauds his repeated cry of victory.

I lift a toast to one of my few friends in the Council. The vampires have won. It is not traditional, but the world is always changing. We are the stronger species; we would have been in control eventually, no matter how much I opposed it.

Somewhere, Charles Darwin is smiling.

I chuckle. How many are mourning now instead of celebrating? Here’s to the Council, who never revealed that biting a person only turns them into a vampire if some blood is left in their veins. How many bodies have been drained, never to move again? How many are still waiting for loved ones to rise into eternity with them?

Drachobin! Alexander roars, returning me to the festivities as he bounds off the railing. With his feet on the same level as my own, his head barely reaches my chest. The small soldier rushes to me, wraps his thick, muscular arms around my waist with force that threatens to crush my spine, and lifts me into the air to spin me several times. He loses most of the liquor in his cups in this process; I somehow save most of my beer.

Alexander! I return his cry with equal vivacity

Laughing his hearty laugh, he puts me down and lifts a hand up to my shoulder. Magnificent, isn’t it!

I laugh as the greatest recognized warrior of the undead gestures to the madness in my backyard.

It’s always a spectacle to see a newblood’s first days. They revel in their abilities to smoke, drink, and fornicate without limit or consequence. They’ll be in for a cruel surprise when they run out of blood.

Come on, Drachobin! Alexander hits my abdomen with his elbow in a motion that displays all the gentleness of a mad bear. Enjoy the celebration! After all these years of boredom and shadow politics, we put the damn mortals in their place! We— He stops his rant to lean over the railing. He puts his fingers to his mouth and whistles for a woman who is beginning to do a striptease on the bridge which goes across my pool.

I can’t help but smile. It’s good to see Alexander again. When was the last time I saw him? It still surprises me to see how menacing he truly is. What little flesh he has on his small frame consists wholly of muscle. He is my friend, but what do I know of him?

His origin is effectively unknown. Every time somebody asks him where he came from, his answer changes. Sometimes, he claims to have been a Mongolian warrior who served Genghis Khan; at other times, he claims to have been a Hun who rode with Attila. There is a less-spoken theory that he was an average barbarian. The only thing known for certain about his past is that, although he has named himself after Alexander the Great, his origins are from beyond the easternmost borders of that empire. None press for the truth. Nobody is fool enough to try his patience.

I tap his shoulder. You were saying we’ve done something.

He leans over to me, and his voice lowers to be just barely audible to me over the pandemonium: You know damn well what we did. His eyes don’t leave the bridge, where a small group slowly forms. Interestingly, as more individuals step onto the bridge, the average amount of clothing decreases. Alexander continues, it may be unnatural, but we get to reset some things.

I chuckle. I know your ambition.

To my mild surprise, he averts his eyes from the alabaster nudity to face me. Do you now?

Yes, I nod, taking a drink from my beer. It ought to be obvious.

Good! he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close to him. I almost drop my cup with the motion. We will end all the improper deaths in the world!

I chuckle as he releases me and jumps once again onto the railing. He shouts: We’ve stopped people from massacring each other with missiles and bombs and the like! When I’m done, there will be no more missiles or bombs! I’ll hunt them all down and remove them from the world that we’ve burned!

A few eyes turn up to him. Everyone in the backyard is quickly distracted as my bridge collapses under the weight of an impromptu orgy. Alexander continues, No! Now, in this new world which I helped create, we’ll kill each other properly! Yeah! If one of us wants to kill another, he’s got to beat his enemy to death with his own hands! Knives and fists! Enemies will need to look each other in the eye as they slaughter each other! Death will be proper again! I hope there’s a war when I’m done, so I can fight all who oppose us!

With that, he rips off his cargo pants and releases a howl that would make a rabid wolf quiver. The beings below stop and turn to the sound, concern turning to exuberance as they recognize a victorious reaction from one of their own. Alexander leaps from the balcony and dives into the pool.

I stand on the balcony attached to my room. Yes, it’s nice to see that he hasn’t changed much. When did my beer empty? Oh well. I pull a cigar from my jacket and light it. I might be the only silent figure on this whole property. If I time this right, I’ll be able to hire some of these fools to clean it all up for me. At least my room will be clean. Only a few are permitted in here.

Let’s see, is there anyone down there I recognize? I look over the faces and see only strangers. I don’t know what I was expecting. All the vampires I care about are too busy with their own affairs to come here. Who knows how many orders Alexander is neglecting with his presence.

The door to my room opens behind me. I turn around to see Vivian enter. She smiles as she closes the door.

With a grin, I step back and shut the doors to the balcony, softening the sounds of madness. Welcome, Vivian. I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t come.

I was just waiting for Alexander to leave. She holds one of my antique chalices in her hand. Does the great former Count Vladimir Drachobin have anything to drink? she asks.

I take a self-portrait down from beside the door to the balcony and open the safe behind it. From within, I pull out a bottle of wine and a small golden vial full of blood. I’ve been saving this for a special occasion. Does this suit you?

How can I refuse such an offer? She walks over to me, her hips swaying in a familiar, entrancing rhythm as she glides across the floor. I fill her cup, pour some wine into my own, and pour half of the vial into each.

Cheers, I say. To an eternity of night. And the best possible company for such an event.

We both take a drink. I’m curious, she says. Why did you come back here?

Because I hoped you would be here.

She responds with a knowing smile. How are you enjoying the party?

I haven’t, really. I was nice to see Alexander again, but I’ve never been much for these sorts of things.

Oh really? Then why come back at all?

As I said, I was hoping you’d be here. I walk to an inner chamber, revealing my special hideaway which I have prepared for this occasion. In it is a large bed, and on one side is a tray with another bottle of her favourite wine, along with two glasses, two vials of blood, and a box of the finest cigars. In a corner of the room is a stereo and a collection of her favourite albums.

The corners of her ruby lips lift into a beautiful grin. She brings those lips to my own as her smooth arms wrap around me in an anticipated embrace. I shut the door, and all the noise of the outside world fades into muffles. Finally, she whispers. It’s over.

I don’t correct her.

* * *

My stomach lurches, and my head feels like it might roll off. Shouldn’t have had that much wine so quickly, on an empty stomach, no less. Well, what else is there to do? I lie back on the dusty couch, trying to spread out sips as I stare out into the street through a broken window. Crazy thing, the apocalypse. Never would have guessed I’d be around to see the aftermath.

What happened and how long was I out? As I lift the bottle back towards my lips, I see a vampire strolling down the road. About damn time. Hey! I call out to it. It turns toward me with unnatural speed. Yeah, you! I wave for him to head this way. Over here.

Let’s see, did I get everything ready? Think so.

The corpse walks to me. Poor freak looks confused. I’ll bet. As the freak gets closer, I see he’s just a young guy, maybe not even in his twenties. He’s got headphones in his ears and a cord leading into a pocket. Huh, he could hear me over his music. Vampire hearing, I guess.

He stops outside the window and pulls one of the headphones out. I overhear some techno hip hop crap. You . . . you’re human? His orange eyes are wide. He looks nervous.

Been a while since you’ve seen one?

A few weeks.

Oh, has it been that long?

What? the poor kid looks so confused. How does he think I feel?

You want some? I hold out the bottle.

Eventually, he steps through the demolished wall and nods, Sure. As he reaches out, he freezes. Wait, I can’t drink that.

How come?

Vampires can’t drink anything that doesn’t have blood in it.

Oh, that’s a hell of a fact for those undead pricks to skip over during their interviews. Think you could answer a few questions for me?

He stutters a bit, but eventually nods.

Alright, first, have the vampires – you guys – taken over now?

Yeah . . . The whole world’s been vampire for about three weeks.

Three weeks? Don’t get distracted. There any humans left besides me?

Not many. I’ve heard rumours. Can’t say I believed it until now. Where have you been hiding?

Good question. I had someone helping me out. Now, the important question: Any idea what this means? I turn my head and point to the two red dots on my neck.

His jaw drops. He points at me with a stupid expression on his face. That’s a vampire bite.

Yeah, so my question is: why aren’t I a vampire?

I . . . that doesn’t make any sense.

You’re telling me. I picked a real genius, didn’t I? Now, one last question: There a lot of you guys around here? This immediate area, I mean.

Yeah, a couple dozen at least. Rumour started spreading that there was a human around here. I came by to see if it was true. Guess I got my answer. He lets out an uncomfortable, forced laugh.

I respond with a semi-genuine smile. I guess you did.

Awkward silence follows. Eventually, the freak says, Can I ask you something?

You may.

Why did you want me to come up here to you?

Mainly the question about the bite. If I couldn’t get an answer, then maybe try to get it done right this time.

How do you mean?

Vampirize me, or whatever you call it. I got the bite marks already. Just go for it.

You wanna be a vampire?

Yes, please. No real point in keeping on living anymore is there? Come on, get on with it; before someone else comes along who would drain me dry.

Gradually, he steps closer, opening his mouth to bare a set of fangs. The idiot doesn’t even notice when I reach for my pistol. When his face is right in front of mine, I put the barrel beneath his chin and pull the trigger. Thick, black blood spurts out the top of his head as the lifeless heap collapses.

Okay, okay. There’s rumour of humans. There’s gotta be a few left.

More importantly, if there are dozens of vampires around here, and they have ears like this one, something might have heard that gunshot. This guy will probably wake up soon, anyway. I remember those broadcasts with the religious protesters. Any vampire that got shot in the head would get back up after a few minutes. Good thing everything’s already set up.

I haul the corpse to the basement. This room is untouched compared to upstairs. The floor is a worn-out grey carpet. At the other end of the basement is a pool table, and beside that is a mattress against the wall. There are two doors down here; one leads to a bathroom and the other to a small workspace full of tools.

I lift the freak onto the pool table and set to work. I grab the stake from the trunk and set it on the table. Using duct tape from the workspace, I bind the thing to the table. If he gets a final jolt or a muscle spasm as I stab him, I don’t want to get killed because of it. I put a few strands over his mouth just in case there’s a final scream.

The vampire moans. Impressive, guy got shot in the head and managed to wake up after only a few minutes. Should I use another bullet to put him right back out? No, better save it.

Even if this stake breaks, I have back-ups, courtesy of some broken pool sticks. I put the garlic around my neck, take in a deep breath, and grab the hammer I found in the other room.

The guy moves his head and tries to move his arms; guess it’s time. I rip open his shirt over his chest and place the jagged point of the stake right over the heart. I lift the hammer. Hope this is how to do it.

The young freak opens his eyes.

It doesn’t seem right to just end like this. I look the thing in its orange eyes. He returns the glance, and his eyes fill with terror. He tries to scream, and the tape stretches as he realizes he can use that strength of his. Too bad for him, the hammer’s already in motion. It slams against the thickest end of the stake and drives it down several inches, cracking the wood in the process.

Suddenly, an ear-piercing shriek peels from the freak’s throat, barely muffled by the tape. His body convulses and shakes the table.

No, dammit!

I pound the hammer on the stake again; the shriek grows louder. Shut up! He’ll attract others! The tape is ripping in several places. I drop the hammer, jump onto the stake, and push it down with all my weight. Black blood bursts up around the stake.

Its shriek becomes a deeper groan. The sound quiets as blood spurts and leaks from under the tape. Finally, the sound dies, and the body stops moving.

Finally . . .

I collapse beside the thing, heaving for air. Suddenly, I don’t feel the buzz anymore. I sit on the edge of the table and let out a deep sigh. Maybe I should have stabbed it as soon as it was out, but it might have gotten up at the first hit.

I turn around to look at him. After all this time, I got one of you bastards.

There’s no feeling of victory. The guy’s face doesn’t look like it did a minute ago. Somehow, the face seems stiffer. The colour is slightly different. It isn’t pale now so much as drained of colour altogether. Hesitantly, I poke its shoulder and feel that its muscles are stiff. I dangle the garlic above its nose, no effect. So, this is the difference between a vampire and a proper corpse. It looks more human than it did a minute ago. Instead of an odd orange colour, his eyes are a dull brown, just like mine. The guy looks just like a person, a person who has a broken stake driven into their chest.

Well, buddy, for what it’s worth, I hope that death was a sweet release like so many of the stories promise.

Finally, got one. Got one.

Where’d I put the wine?

* * * *

The mansion is silent. Only Vivian and I remain. We sit in my study, one of the few rooms untouched during the chaos of the party. If one book from either story of this room had been damaged, I think I would have killed whoever was responsible.

I shouldn’t be bothered by such thoughts. I have the luxury of sharing a pleasant, quiet moment with Vivian. While she’s absorbed in The Art of War, I work once again through Frankenstein. Both of us like the slow jazz record that’s playing. Yes, these moments of peace should be cherished.

Vivian’s cell phone rings. She picks it up at the first note. I mark my page, put the book down, and light a cigar as she talks. Yes. I understand. I’m on my way.

She puts her phone back into a pocket. She stands, shuts her book, looks at me, and smiles softly. It’s been fun, Draco.

Yes, I nod. I suppose the king is calling you back?

She rolls her eyes. You’re still calling him that?

Every vampire I know who isn’t in the Council calls him the king.

She walks to me and kisses me. Let’s not get into this. I have to go back to work.

I hug her and kiss her cheek. It’s been lovely spending time with you, Vivian.

Yeah, I’m glad it worked out this way.

She turns and walks away. Then, she halts a few metres from the door. You know that you have to follow our laws now, right?

Somehow, I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Whatever the king decrees, I must follow.

She scoffs. Stop calling him that. Besides, the Council as a whole has decided upon the laws, not just him.

I take a deep breath of the tobacco. After a moment, I say, I hope we can spend more time together, Vivian.

Her professional expression cracks for a moment, showing a tired resignation. We’ll see.

She leaves the room and closes the door behind her.

* * *

If I was out for a few weeks, how did I not starve? Did that thing keep me on a feeding tube? What even was he?

What lovely thoughts to wake up to. Well, at least I didn’t have nightmares.

I rest my head in my hands and groan, laying my groggy vision on the empty bottle. Looks like the wine has seeped into the ancient rug. This is too much. I overslept and missed the end of the world. A few streaks of the morning light pour into the room and illuminate yesterday’s kill. My stomach lurches and my throat contracts at the sight of the thing.

I was ready to go out fighting, and I’m one of the few who lived! How the hell did that happen? So many people . . . but I’m still here!

Suddenly, a soft, calm voice says: Not what I expected.

I recoil from the voice, tumbling off the mattress as I look for the sound. Is it even possible for things to get weirder?

Perched on the stairs is a young girl with skin like faded bronze, wearing a grey hoodie and loose track pants. She’s barefoot, her eyes are a lifeless grey, and her short hair is a mess of tangled black curls. She rests her hands on her knees.

A kid vampire? No! That’s impossible!

Too many questions.

I know that all vampires are technically dead, but looking at her, she looks like a corpse ready to be buried. The guy on the pool table looked almost alive yesterday. It felt like I was talking to someone, no matter how weird it was. But, somehow, it doesn’t feel right to see her and know that she can move. She looks more like taxidermy than a living thing.

I force myself to talk. A vampire kid?

You can call me Eliza if you want, she says.

How old are you?

I don’t know.

She doesn’t blink. She just stares at me with those vacant grey eyes. She seems bored. When she speaks, it looks like a detailed puppet is speaking; no muscles move except those strictly necessary for the motion. Why can’t there just be some simple answers? Why more questions? Wait, if she’s here to check up on me, then could she be part of the ‘we’ mentioned on that card that was in the trunk? Is she with the yellow-eyed thing?

I force myself to sit upright. There can’t be vampire kids.

She straightens a bit, as if only now interested in me. She says, It’s rare, yes. What makes you say there can’t be vampire children?

My bite itches. I scratch at it. Biting kills kids. I say. The bloodsuckers never told us . . . but biting kills kids, doesn’t it?

She raises an eyebrow. You’re right. But there are other ways to become a vampire.

What? How? Kids can be vampires? Then, why did—

No, don’t get distracted. I scratch at my bite, and Eliza’s expression changes. She leans back and gives a small sneer.

One question fills my mind: Are you gonna kill me?

Somehow, she looks even less impressed. I’ve never seen a person look so morbid. No.

I nod. Okay, what’s going on?

I’m here to check up on you. I’m allies with the carriage driver who brought you here. He thinks that you have some potential. She looks to the body on the pool table. Maybe he’s right. Was killing that vampire difficult?

Yeah, getting to the heart was harder than I thought it would be. Thought for a second that he just might get free and kill me.

Only her eyes move. She looks over me, appraising me.

Several seconds pass. I say, Is that the wrong answer?

There’s no wrong answer. Was killing him hard on you emotionally?

I don’t know what you mean.

Was it difficult for you to kill your fellow man?

Hey! That thing, I point to the corpse on the table, was not a person. He was a bloodsucker!

What do you think I am?

Where is she going with this? A vampire.

"For one with such a low view of us, you haven’t tried to attack me. I would have thought you’d attempt to shoot me by now