A waitress did brave my isolation, at least long enough to ask if I wanted to order anything. I asked for a beer to maintain appearances then went back to observing the crowd.
Perhaps an hour passed as I sat and observed the bustling humanity occupying the bar. Other than my conscious effort to appear to be breathing, I remained motionless in my chair. My beer sat untouched where the waitress had left it; grown warm I have no doubt. It was merely a prop to help me blend in so I did not give it another thought. I basked in the activity around me, letting my senses explore my surroundings, and just existing for the moment to experience the frenetic pace of the living. I listened at times to individual conversations that caught my attention, tuning out the music and random noise to focus on a couple or small group that seemed interesting. Most conversations circled around mundane topics such as jobs, dates, college classes, and the embarrassing behavior of friends. It was a pleasure to listen to the cares and worries of those who were not yet old enough to realize they had no true problems to concern them. It reminded me of how good I once had it, and I even became a bit wistful for the life I had left behind.
Suddenly disgusted with the direction my thoughts had taken, I shook off the melancholy before it could take root. Life was good now. I was strong, healthy, and eternal. I had no room to complain.
I inhaled deeply through my nose, taking in the smells of the food, drink and warm bodies around me. Some were quite pleasant: the strong odors of the alcohol, and the greasy bar food such as burgers, fries, and other unidentified deep fried offerings. Though I no longer ate from need, I still enjoyed some of my favorite foods from my past life. I briefly debated ordering something, but rejected the idea. As much as I might enjoy a snack right now, the aftermath, as it made its way through my useless digestive system, was often not such a pleasant experience.
Another intriguing scent caught my attention. A short brunette passed me, clinging to the arm of a muscular boy wearing a skin tight t-shirt. The girl stared raptly at the face of her date, smiling and nodding as he related the events of some recent, personal athletic heroics. The musky scent that reached my nose as they passed was sharp and overpowering. She was highly aroused, and although the jock she was with seemed completely unaware of it, I was not.
Her smell reminded me that there were other kinds of hunger that could still affect me. This particular girl might already be spoken for, but there were many more in the bar that perhaps could be encouraged to spend a little private time with me. It would be a pleasant way to spend the remaining evening hours.
I scanned the crowd more earnestly than before, this time with a more definite goal in mind.
The front door opened and closed noisily. It had been busy all night, so this was nothing unique, but the figure walking in grabbed my attention, pulling my eyes to him like a needle to a magnet. He was a tall man, perhaps in his later twenties, wearing a long, black leather coat and black baseball cap pulled backwards on his head. He walked only two steps into the room before stopping, as though he wanted to stay near enough to the door to flee if he decided he was in the wrong place. He had a bladed, narrow face; his chin long and pointed. His hands were buried in the pockets of his coat and he nervously flapped the coat open and closed, like a bat testing its wings. He paused, letting his cold blue eyes flick around the room, searching for something or someone. His gaze passed over me but did not linger, so he must not have recognized me for what I was, or else he just did not care. I recognized him, though.
He was a Friend.
How did I know? I could not see any scarring on his neck as the high collar of the leather coat covered him to his jaw line. He did not flash any secret hand signals or blink his eyes in a particular pattern. No, it was nothing so subtle. The idiot wore a cloth patch on one sleeve of his coat that said “Friend of the Night” in gold stitching over the stylized black outline of a bat in flight.
He was advertising!
Anyone reading that patch would likely assume it to be some kind of joke, or perhaps an emblem of a local subculture group. Wearing it openly was probably not as risky as it felt at first look. But as I stared at the gold and black announcement, I decided that before the night was over, I would tear it off of him. And he would count himself lucky if I didn’t take his whole arm with it.
The man moved suddenly after a few moments of searching his surroundings, strolling purposefully toward a booth at the far corner of the room. He pulled his hands from his pockets, grabbed the flaps of his coat and, with a flourish any matador would be proud of, he flipped them to the side as he slipped into the maroon vinyl seat. The booth was not empty, although the only other occupant made every effort to disappear into the shadows. A girl with long black hair hanging over her face sat hunched on the opposite side of the narrow table with her hands in her lap. After the man’s flamboyant entrance, she raised her head just enough to peer through her hair at the figure that had intruded into her solitude.
The girl also wore a black jacket, but it was cut short, high over her waist like a long sleeved vest. Under the jacket was a straight cut, white dress. The material of the dress was thin enough to be transparent and it showed off her black bra underneath. I could see her face was as pale as mine, maybe more so, but she had colored her lips with a bright crimson lipstick and circled her eyes with thick bands of kohl. Both stood out on her face in garish relief. Goth, I though. Very out of place for this bar crowd. No wonder she was sitting alone. Like me, she was almost completely ignored by everyone in the room. Everyone, of course, except the idiot with the gold and black patch.
I dropped to my feet from the perch of my chair and moved toward the booth at the back of the room. I had already decided I wanted to confront this “Friend” over his impropriety, and if the girl with him turned out to be at all attractive under all the hair and makeup, well perhaps I could kill two birds with one stone.
The man in the black coat was talking when I approached. He kept his voice as quiet as possible in the noisy surroundings, but he sounded excited or agitated about something.
“He’s not going anywhere. We’re ready to start whenever you want to...”
I clapped my hands down loudly on the table, interrupting him, and leaned in between the two of them, turning my head to look at the girl first, then over to the man. “So tell me, children,” I said, my attention now firmly on the man in the black jacket. He looked shocked by my sudden appearance, but I did not see any of the fear I had hoped for. “Do you fear the day?” I asked.
There was a pause as he digested what I had said. Then he responded, “No. But I am a Friend of the Night.”
“Your life is in peril.”
“I offer it freely,” he said to complete the exchange.
The girl at my right recovered enough to speak. “Are … are you a Friend of the Night?”
I turned back to her and gave her my most endearing smile. Bringing one hand up to her face, I caressed her cheek, at the same time moving her hair to the side. She flinched, but did not pull away and I could see that she actually was quite pretty behind that curtain of dyed black hair. “Baby, I am the fucking night.” I told her.
Her eyes flicked to her partner then back to me. I straightened up in time to see the man shrug his shoulders and hold up two fingers. I wasn’t sure what it meant, and frankly I didn’t care. Some sort of code between them, perhaps. I slipped into the booth next to the girl and this time she did shrink away from me a fraction of an inch.
“So what are your names, friends?” I asked cheerfully.
“I’m Brad,” said the man in the black coat. Then he gestured to the girl, “and this is Nat.”
“Gnat?” I asked, looking questioningly at her.”
“Natasha,” she clarified. “But everyone calls me Nat.”
“I see. Well it is a pleasure to meet you, Nat.” I folded my hands on the table and looked at Brad. “You, however, I am not so pleased with.”
Brad looked stunned and I could see his pro
minent Adam’s apple move up and down as he swallowed thickly. The fear I had expected earlier began to manifest. “Wh-what do you mean? Did I do something?”
I lunged across the table, and before he could react I grabbed the patch and tore it from his sleeve. I slapped the round piece of material face down on the tabletop, then sat once more perfectly still, hands folded on the table between us. I was mildly disappointed to see that the threads holding the patch had all broken neatly away, leaving the jacket undamaged.
Brad’s eyes widened and his left hand rose up to touch the now unadorned coat sleeve.
“My patch?” he asked. “That’s what you’re upset about?”
When I nodded, Brad settled back into his seat and laughed. I noticed that Nat began to relax a little as well. She even moved closer to me in the booth.
“You think it’s funny?”
Brad quickly composed himself, but I could still see the laughter in his eyes. “No, no, it’s not funny. I just thought that…. Well, it’s not important what I thought. If the patch bothers you, then please keep it. I only wore it as a joke, anyway.”
“I don’t get the joke,” I told him.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he said, waving his hand dismissively at the patch. I won’t wear it again, I can promise you that. “Is there anything that me and Nat can do for you? Besides the patch, I mean. Do you need,” he paused and glanced around the bar as though anybody could possibly overhear our conversation in the surrounding noise, “blood?”
“Not tonight,” I assured him.
“Do you want something else then?” Brad leaned forward and placed one of his hands over mine. Nat took his cue and curled herself up against me. Her left hand settled across my right thigh.
“If you’re interested, maybe we could find someplace a little quieter to go,” Nat said. “A little more private?”
Her hand slid further up my leg until she could feel for herself that I was, in fact, quite interested. “I think he wants to go,” she said with a giggle, and gave me a gentle squeeze.
“We have a nice place not too far from here,” Brad said. “We can walk there in about half an hour.”
He slid out of the booth and stood up. Nat gave a few gentle nudges of her shoulder against mine urging me to follow his lead. Somewhat reluctantly, I acquiesced. I didn’t like Brad’s cavalier attitude about the patch, or his easy acceptance of running into an actual vampire at the bar. Still, there was no denying I was very interested in seeing whatever Natasha might have to offer.
Even dead, my dick was still running the show.
I left the patch on the table figuring one of the staff at the bar would throw it away while cleaning up. I didn’t care what happened to it so long as Brad did not try to reclaim it.
He didn’t.
Brad marched straight to the door of the bar and outside into the night. Nat laced her arm around mine and we followed in his wake. We walked less than a block along the sidewalk, then slipped through a narrow alley between two buildings into the wooded park I had noted earlier. While we worked our way along a dirt path through the trees, I briefly wondered if the two planned to have our tryst there in the private shadows of the woods. However, before that thought could even truly solidify, we re-emerged from the park and I found myself moving through the blacktop paved grounds of a local high school. Our destination turned out to be just to the east of the school.
True to his word, only about thirty minutes had passed before Brad fished a key out of the front pocket of his jean and unlocked the front door to a private, two-story residence.
The house was white with a light green trim and an old fashioned façade, complete with shutters and planter boxes on the windows and a wraparound front porch. From outside, the home looked quaint and inviting. A light illuminated one of the upstairs windows adding to the welcoming effect. The yard was large and well-manicured, with a brick walkway leading to the front door. The neighboring houses, though close enough to be visible, were still situated far enough away on all sides to give the property an isolated feel. Trees planted along the perimeter provided additional privacy.
“Anyone else home?” I asked as Brad pushed the front door open.
Nat slipped an arm around my waist and guided me in. “Nope,” she said. “Just us. Feel free to make as much noise as you like. I admit I sometime get a little loud when I’m having a good time.”
The inside was as welcoming as the outside. A tiled foyer led to a living room decorated in tasteful tans and browns. A couch, long enough to allow a tall man to stretch out full length, and a very comfortable appearing recliner were angled in front of a fireplace. There was no fire burning, but I could imagine myself sprawled along the couch enjoying the warmth of a roaring blaze.
To the left was a staircase that led up to the second floor of the house and, I presumed, the bedrooms. To the right was a hallway that led to a dining room and kitchen. With the bedrooms and living room both so close and available, I was a bit surprised to find myself being led toward the kitchen.
The kitchen was floored with heavily varnished hardwood. The heels of the work boots I wore that night thumped heavily on the wood flooring, an interesting counterpoint to the staccato tapping of Natasha’s own high heels. The light tan of the floors matched the wooden cupboards and accented the black tile countertops. The room was functionally well designed, and perhaps at another time I might have taken the time to properly admire it, but this night I was not in the least bit interested in home décor. My mind was on decidedly baser things. I reminded my hosts of this fact.
“My, my. You are so impatient,” chided Nat. “Has it really been that long since you had some nice girl to take care of you?” She paused as if a thought had just occurred to her. “Or maybe you would prefer Brad?”
“He’s not my type,” I assured her. “He seems very nice, but I prefer a more feminine touch.” I placed my hand once more along the side of her face, stroking her cheek with my thumb.
Nat took my hand in hers and kissed it gently. “Then let me give you a little sample of the feminine touching I can offer.”
She released my hand and placed her palms on my chest. Slowly dropping to her knees in front me she let her hands trail down my torso to the button clasp of my jeans. “Remember,” she said, as she used one hand to caress me through the material of my pants, “feel free to make as much noise as you want.”
I closed my eyes and let my head fall back, enjoying the pleasure of her touch.
Without warning, searing hot pain detonated in my chest, like a fiery explosion underneath my ribcage. My eyes flew open, at the same time Nat stood up and began to back away from me. Fine liquid drops of garnet covered her face and discolored the white of her dress. Confused and in shock, I did not immediately understand the significance of the blood covering her or have any idea where it might have come from. But as I looked down, trying to find the source of the pain in my chest, I found five inches of sharp, pointed metal protruding from the front of my body. Dark streaks of blood decorated the end of the weapon and I watched in stricken disbelief as a single fat drop of ichor detached from the tip and fell, spattering silently at my feet on the hardwood floor.
I stared numbly at the drop of blood between my feet and only then did the full realization of what happened strike me. It was all a trap. Blinded by my own self-confidence and sense of superiority, I had stupidly allowed myself to be led to slaughter.
And now I was going to die.
CHAPTER 15
Brad had surprised me from behind while Natalie kept my attention on her. A ridiculous tactic I all too eagerly fell for. Brad still stood behind me, I realized, and I turned to face my murderer, to defend myself. But it was already too late. The strength fled from my limbs. I fell to the floor, still struggling to control my body enough to retaliate against the people I believed had just successfully killed me, but though my brain continued to function, nothing else did. Brad and Nat watched impassively as I twitched and spasmed on th
e floor, unable to effectively fight back.
After only a second or two, I lay completely still. The pain still radiated out from the wound in my chest, although I could do nothing about it. My body failed to respond when I tried to move. I tried to focus on one hand, to curl just one finger, but it was like trying to move an inanimate object with my mind. I was paralyzed. But, surprisingly, I was not dead. And not only was I still alive, I was fully conscious. I could think and see and hear what was occurring around me, I just could not react to any of it.
I had fallen face down onto the floor, and my head bounced on the hardwood awkwardly like a boxer hitting canvass after a knockout blow. The fall drove the knife backward from its impact on the floor, enough to send a new flash of agony through my chest and into my brain, though not far enough to free me from my paralysis. Lying with my right cheek pressed against the cold floor, I could see Brad’s feet where he stood next to my immobilized form. He wore gray hiking boots with what appeared to be steel reinforced toes. I hadn’t noticed them earlier. Now they were all I had to look at.
Neither Brad nor Natasha moved or said a word for several more seconds. They just observed and waited patiently. As soon as they were convinced I was no longer a threat, by some silent agreement, they knelt beside me and rolled me over onto my back. Each of them grabbed one of my arms, lifted them over my head and dragged me across the kitchen hardwood, I’m sure leaving a long streak of red gore behind me. They struggled a bit with my weight as they pulled me along behind them, until stopping at a door that I had earlier assumed concealed nothing more sinister than some type of pantry. Nat released the arm she had been holding, grasped the metal handle in front of her, and jerked the door open. She flipped a switch on the inside wall revealing a hidden staircase leading down to a space beneath the house. She retrieved the arm she had dropped and the two proceeded to wrestle me down the stairs into a concrete lined basement.
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