by D. S. Ritter
“There’s a whole bunch of herbs and a couple of enzymes, I guess? They call them digestion agents.”
“So, you’re not sure what’s in the powder?”
“Well, no, but a bunch of celebrities say it’s great.”
“Did you know the FDA doesn’t have to inspect stuff that’s sold as a health supplement? Like, it doesn’t even have to be produced in a sanitary environment...”
“Well… uh, I’m sure this stuff is just fine, otherwise it wouldn’t get all those endorsements,” he said, his smile getting a little strained.
Sam nodded, throwing in the towel. Who was she to burst his bubble? If Matt thought some powder would give him his dream body, well, that was his business. If only he’d stop talking about it…
“So, I’ve only bought the basic recipes,” he said, “but, I’m going to get a new recipe pack coming up. They’ve got one specifically for energy, which I could totally use these days, you know? I’m used to being an early riser, so working late isn’t really something I’m adjusted to yet.”
Sam didn’t want to contemplate how much this diet was probably costing him and focused on helping the customers that came into her lane and counting the minutes until lunch. He really didn’t need that much training, but she overheard him say to several customers, “I’ll help you, but we’re working to make it so you’ll be able to do this yourself.”
And then, I’ll be out of a job… she thought to herself. She’d had managers like this in other jobs; the kind who came in and had to “fix” everything. Obviously, things would be better if the machines worked like they were supposed to, but she could already see him making plans to make her job harder to achieve that, if it achieved anything at all.
As the sun set, she found herself distracted by the street traffic. Were vampires actually a thing? Sam stared at the people walking by the garage and tried to guess if any of them might lack a pulse. But, this was Ann Arbor. Aside from the college kids, there were townies who dressed in usual ways. One of the local celebrities was a man dressed like a werewolf, riding a unicycle, while playing a violin. The local brewery had named a beer after him, for crying out loud. Spotting vampires in a crowd might not be as simple as it seemed.
Sam itched to check her phone, and normally, she wouldn’t give it a second thought, but Matt was right there, and as of the next week, he’d be one of her bosses. So, the minutes crawled on and on. Sam’s job involved a lot of downtime between helping customers, and when she’d first taken the position, that time was spent cleaning the parking structure. She’d taken a broom and a washcloth and walked each level, sweeping up cigarette butts and garbage, and time had flown. But then, things had changed. Suddenly, attendants weren’t allowed to leave the gates, or read, or look at their phones, or sit or even lean on things. This left staring. Occasionally, HQ would ask for a car count, and sometimes the machines needed a wipe down, but mostly, things were as exciting as watching paint dry. Eight hours of standing on concrete, bored to tears.
Matt nattered on and on about the benefits of the Liquifier diet, and Ashville, and his new apartment on the outskirts of Ann Arbor, and his newly leased Honda Fit. Sam held up her part of the conversation while her mind wandered back to vampires again and again.
It made sense, but it also made her skin crawl.
Chapter Three
Vampires weighed so heavily on Sam’s mind for the next few days, that on Sunday night, she was thinking about blood as she applied her lipstick. It was more of a cranberry-raspberry sort of color, but she couldn’t help but make the association, flashing back to the woman she found, half-delirious and bleeding from the neck. She swore when she noticed she’d gotten a bit on her teeth.
Sam didn’t usually do makeup or heels, but tonight was special. Carter had gotten around to proposing to his girlfriend, Kim, and Kim had just earned her degree in marketing, so they were throwing a graduation-slash-engagement party at the Nectarine Ballroom, downtown.
Hoping she wouldn’t be the only single person there, Sam put on her one and only little black dress and a pair of wedge sandals and felt pleasantly feminine, something she rarely went for, to be honest. Most of the time, she didn’t want to be bothered about whether or not she crossed her legs. There were more important things to think about.
For a moment, as she got ready, she thought about John. The cowardly chaos magician had disappeared after they’d defeated the hoard and she hadn’t heard from him since. He’d also taken the Amulet of Kings, a priceless artifact from the archaeological museum. Had he disappeared into another dimension, like he’d been planning, or was he avoiding her because he suspected she’d make him return it? He wasn’t wrong about Sam wanting him to give it back, but they’d saved the world together; returning her texts was the least he could do.
As she inspected herself in the mirror, she wondered what smartass thing he might say about how she looked. Nice shoes, wanna fuck?
Why did she care what he thought? She grabbed her “fancy” purse, an impractical little black number, only big enough for a makeup tube, a house key and some cash, if she didn’t fold it too many times.
Not feeling at all like herself, she left the apartment and almost fell down the stairs in her awkward heels.
***
The Nectarine Ballroom was dead, but it was Sunday night. The bouncer looked bored as Sam tottered up. “I’m here for the engagement party?”
“Head down to the Red Room, over there,” he said, half nodding to some stairs.
Sam eyed the steep diamond plate steps and wondered what the chances were of avoiding a wipe out. “Thanks.”
Clinging to the industrial-style railing, she navigated the stairs with little grace and found herself in the Red Room, a tiny clone of the bigger dance hall upstairs, complete with a bar, stage and stripper poles. It was already half full with Carter and Kim’s friends and family, milling around and sipping cocktails.
Though she wanted to head straight to the bar for some social lubrication, Sam waded into the crowd, looking for the happy couple. They were sitting on a black-vinyl upholstered couch near the stage, surrounded by guests.
“Hi guys,” she said, feeling shy in front of so many people.
They both stood up and hugged her hello. “Any more vampire sightings?” asked Carter by way of a greeting.
“You want to get out of here so bad, don’t you?”
“You have no idea,” said Kim, smiling. “If one more relative asks me when I’m going to be having kids, I’m going to scream.
“I just got my degree guys, let me have a career for five minutes first, right?”
“Sorry, nothing to report,” said Sam, wishing she had a drink in her hand. “I’m hoping I just imagined it. Dealing with monsters was more than enough weird shit for my lifetime.”
“Oh, come on,” said Carter, the murderous glint returning to his eye. “You had fun.”
“I had huge, nasty barbs tearing up my arm and a minor concussion. You had fun.”
“Not everybody enjoys monster slaying, Sweetie,” said Kim. “I know I could definitely pass on that experience if it ever came around again.”
“I feel you.” It was great they saved the world, and Sam would have done it again if she had to, but she wasn’t looking for trouble. She would be happy enough to find a better job some day, maybe continue her education. Get a boyfriend. Leave the heroic stuff for people like firefighters and paramedics.
Carter, on the other hand… Well, she worried he and Franklin might spend the rest of their lives trying to recreate that thrill. Who knew what that might lead to? Hopefully, not bank robberies or something.
More people walked up to greet the host and hostess, so Sam excused herself to the bar which sat like an island of relief in a sea of people she’d never met. She ordered a Screwdriver and tried to decide how long she would have to stay before leaving didn’t seem rude. Parties weren’t really her scene. Never had been. Plus, she hated drinking on an empty stomach and there
seemed to be no snacks going around.
The Screwdriver was bitter strong, and she sipped it gingerly, scanning the room for someone she knew. Sam saw Franklin, but he was talking to a girl in the corner, and seemed to be enjoying himself. He saw her too, smiled, and went back to his conversation. Taking the hint, Sam went back to looking around.
Her gaze fell on the entrance as Yolanda made hers, wearing a little black dress and knee-high leather boots with three-inch heels. Silver bracelets adorned her arms, jingling with every move she made. She had a diamond stud in her nose and hoops in her ears. Sam watched as she strode through the room like a queen in those boots, exuding a level of confidence reserved for the catwalk.
Yolanda greeted Kim and Carter and then made a beeline for the bar. She stood next to Sam and made eye contact with the bartender. “SoCo,” she said, slapping her money down. “Hey, girl.”
“Hey.” Sam hoped the relief she felt didn’t show on her face. “Where’s Jesus? I figured he’d be coming with you.”
“His abuelita’s sick, so he’s staying home with her.”
“Dude, that sucks.”
“Yeah. It’s just a cold, but man, I did not want to come to this thing by myself.”
“That’s what Heather was saying. I don’t think she’s going to make it.”
“Is Drew still jerking her chain?” Yolanda took a swig of her Southern Comfort and made a face. “That guy is such a douche.”
“They’re still broken up, I guess, but he just keeps calling her. He’s been dating other people too,” said Sam, looking out at the crowded room. “Total asshole.”
Yolanda clicked her tongue and sighed. “Kim was telling me she had some hot friends, but I am seeing nada.”
It was hard to disagree. Half of the room was older people, Carter and Kim’s extended family, many of them looking like they’d prefer not to touch anything. The other half seemed to be couples. Slim pickings for the two single girls. They sipped their drinks and clung to the bar like it was a life raft as people flowed around them. After a little while, Yolanda finished her drink and checked her purse. “Want to go upstairs for a smoke?”
Sam shrugged. “I don’t smoke, but I’ll come up for some air.”
They picked their way through the growing crowd and headed up the back stairs, past the bathrooms and into the club proper. The bass was thumping, but the Nectarine Ballroom was half-empty. Around the corner was the courtyard they used as a smoking lounge. There were half a dozen other people out there, two of them vaping. Sam caught a whiff of synthetic lavender scent and it made her stomach turn a little.
“So, how long before you think we can leave?” asked Yolanda, lighting up a slim, white cigarette with a little butane lighter.
“Like, a half hour? I wish I could drink a bit more, get nice and fuzzy.”
“Why not?”
“I gotta drive back to Ypsi after this. I can’t be spending money on a cab...”
Yolanda shrugged. “I’m probably going to crash over at Heather’s.”
“Yeah, you can tell her all about how she didn’t miss anything,” said Sam, nudging a pebble along the concrete with her toe. “I mean, I’m thrilled for Carter and Kim, but I hate these things. They remind me how long I’ve been single.”
“I don’t need a party for that. My mom does it every time she calls.”
“She’s given up on you and Jesus?”
Yolanda laughed. “That was a long time ago. We’ve been friends since we were kids. She figures, if it hasn’t happened yet, it never will. Or she thinks Jesus is gay. Mostly ‘cause I haven’t told her I’m the gay one yet.”
The cigarette had almost burned down when they heard a yell inside. As general chaos ensued, Yolanda stubbed it out, and they went over to the doorway to see what was going on.
Two young men burst out of the bathroom, locked in each other’s arms. The embrace was a passionate one, though anything but romantic. The small crowd that had gathered watched as they wrestled, slamming into the wall and cracking the plaster. One, with dark hair and angular, pale features, tried to claw at the other’s face with one hand. The other, ginger and heavier, tried to crush him, but had little luck. They continued to grapple with each other, and no one looking on was brave enough to break them up. The crowd just gasped and muttered with each blow.
“What the hell?” whispered Yolanda.
They watched, riveted, as the red-headed man lifted the other and pile-drove him into the tile floor. They heard a crunch, drowned out by screams. The pale, skinny one’s neck had bent at an angle they simply didn’t do and his eyes bugged for a second before his body went limp in the other’s arms.
“Oh, what the fuck?” said Sam, turning away. Yolanda was already getting her phone out to dial the police.
The victor stood there for a moment, just panting over the body, not saying anything, or trying to get away. The crowd backed away from him.
There was another scream, and Sam turned to see. The man with a broken neck struggled to his feet, shaky, but alive. He grabbed the head of the other man, and turned it with a swift, sharp snap.
This time the crowd scattered as the guy fell to the floor like a bag of vegetables. But, rather than try to escape, the dark stranger bent down and bit into the dead man’s neck, spraying blood on the white-washed wall beside them.
“Fuck,” whispered Yolanda, forgetting all about the phone in her hand. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
“Let’s go,” said Sam, pulling at her arm. “Come on, we gotta go.”
They turned to leave, rushed along with the fleeing crowd. The whole club started to empty out and someone pushed them toward the main exit, past the bar on the upper floor. Sam caught movement at the corner of her eye. When she turned to look, she thought she saw a young man with messy, dirty blonde hair go through a door in the opposite direction.
He wore a black cape.
“John?” she called, but he didn’t hear her over the screams and yelling as everyone poured down the stairs and onto the street.
Liberty Street was already full of red and blue light, with two police cars and a van full of SWAT-looking guys pulling up. Parking at the corner were a fire truck and an ambulance.
They found Kim and Carter pretty quickly, standing in the middle of the crowd from the Red Room. “What is this crap?” asked Kim, though she didn’t look too upset about having a reprieve from the party.
“Murder,” said Yolanda, who had gone a little pale. “I mean, I think murder?”
“Definitely something,” said Sam. This felt too much like the jumper incident. The guys had even looked similar... “Pretty sure we just saw a guy rip another guy’s throat out.”
“What?”
Franklin walked up to the group, sans the cute girl he’d been talking to earlier. “What the hell’s going on, guys?”
“Ann Arbor’s getting weird again,” said Sam, rubbing her bare arms in the chilly late-summer breeze.
Chapter Four
Waiting for the police to gather contact information and interview witnesses had taken forever, but Sam was grateful to be driving home in the daylight. There was no question anymore; vampires were more than a corny movie monster, and they didn’t sparkle much either. What she’d seen would have been more at home in a nature documentary or a cage match than up on a movie screen.
Sam sighed as she dragged herself up to her door. Sleeping before dawn was about to become a regular thing, not that she had long to wait after work got out.
She crawled into bed bone-tired and closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. Instead, she kept hearing the cracking of vertebrae and imagining blood splattering across white plaster. After a while, she got out of bed, went to the tiny corner of her studio apartment that doubled for a kitchen and found half a head of garlic. It smelled a little moldy, but it wasn’t like she would eat it.
She woke up close to two in the afternoon and found the garlic still clutched in her hand, thrust under her pillow, which now smell
ed like it. “Why does everything have to mess with my sleep?” she sighed, rolling out of bed and tossing the old head on the table. She’d need to get more coming up.
She flashed to witnessing the man ripping another’s throat out like pulling off a Band Aid.
Yeah, she’d need a lot more.
She poured herself some cereal. Vampires had a lot of rules. No garlic, for one. Crosses were an issue as were fire and wooden stakes. She vaguely remembered something about crossing moving water, not that that would be much help. There was so much vampire lore floating around though everything she knew came from pop culture. She’d read Dracula in high school, but that struck her as nothing more than soft-core Victorian wet dreams, not so much a primer on how to protect herself against the denizens of the night.
She picked up her phone to do a quick search about vampires and noticed a new text.
[unknown number]:
Meet me at the House of the Sun at 8pm
“Son of a bitch,” she mumbled, staring at the text.
***
“It’s him, isn’t it?” Yolanda somehow knew what was going on just from the tone of Sam’s voice over the phone.
“I think it’s him,” said Sam, inspecting herself in the mirror before work. “It’s only been a freaking year. I thought he might be dead, or something just as bad...”
“Do not text him back. You don’t need that in your life.”
“Need what?” Sam could hear Jesus asking questions in the background.
“John’s blowing up her phone,” said Yolanda, much like an old lady reprimanding her husband for not listening properly.
“Yeah, I don’t like that guy,” admitted Jesus, his voice getting closer.
“He wants me to meet him somewhere tonight...”
“Girl.” This one word was absolutely loaded, the way Yolanda used it.
“Dude’s trouble. You can’t trust him,” said Jesus. “He spied on you, remember?”