The only part I left out was the Gentlemen, but that wasn't a topic that came up easily. I was more scared to talk about them than I was about Harry, and it was more out of superstitious fear. You know that fear you get about just mentioning someone’s name? That just a mention of their name would make them appear? Just thinking of the Gentlemen was the absolute personification of that fear.
Claude was at a loss for words. He thought for a moment, and I wondered if he was going to let me go back to sleep, but no such luck.
“Good thing I got here when I did then. You're suiciding out of guilt, and I don't think I can let that happen.”
I threw back the blanket and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Ow. “I'm not suicidal,” I muttered, but Claude was in my closet, pulling out clothes for me. “What are you doing?”
“We're going to see your mom.”
“What? Dude it's still daylight. I'll fucking burn to a crisp.” My ears caught up to my brain. “I don't wanna go see my mom. She'll freak out on me, and I hate it when she freaks out on me.”
“If you're worried abut the eyes I got that covered. I got you some colored contacts that you'll wear. No prescription required.”
Fuck me, that was pretty damn simple. The simplicity of it was probably why I hadn't thought of it before.
“Can't we do this later? Like after dark?”
“You don't even know what day it is do you?”
“Is it Monday? Or is it Tuesday? Must be a Tuesday. I could never get the hang of Tuesdays.”
Claude threw a sweater at me. “Don't you own any baggy pants that can fit over your splints? Dammit dude.”
“Bottom drawer. So am I right? It's Tuesday isn't it?”
“It's Thursday actually and it's also...” he paused dramatically. “Your birthday.”
All of my perceived negotiating power went out the window.
“Fuck me,” I said, still stunned.
“No, thanks. You're not that pretty.” Claude threw a pair of over-sized cargo pants at me. “Put those on. We're going for a day trip.”
“Claude you seem to forget the important part that I'm a vampire here. Sun and me do not play well together, and I already had a good reminder of that today.”
“You worry too much. I got you covered.”
***
Fifteen years of friendship buys a lot of favors. Buy, may actually be the wrong word to use here, but it's the only one I can think of. Maybe what I'm actually trying to say is that after 15 years of friendship, you can get away with almost anything short of murder. Any yelling matches are automatically forgiven, almost all but the worst transgressions are all but forgotten, and even the ugliest sweaters are eventually re-gifted years after the other person should have forgotten about them.
Claude drove, and I huddled under the thick blanket in the back seat of the car wondering how he had talked me into this.
He hadn't been lying when he said that he had me covered. I had thought he meant figuratively, but silly me: he had meant literally. He had taken a page from Beatrice's book of day-tripping and had picked up some special clothing on the way over to my place.
I had felt more like a member of a S.W.A.T. Team than anything else when I'd finally gotten all of the clothes on. Claude had provided a ski-mask with holes cutout for the eyes, and a pair of thick black goggles that all but blocked out the worst light. From what I could see of myself, I was completely covered from head to toe, ready to go out into the sun.
Even so I was more than a little apprehensive.
“It will be okay dude, really.”
“I'm still a little worried. I've already had enough of me burning today so excuse my nervousness.” I reached for the door and paused. “Can't we just do this tonight?”
“It takes four hours to drive to your mom's. By the time we get there it will be dark. This is the only way it's gonna work.”
“What about work?”
“Sammy's covering for you. I already talked her into it.”
“Oh fuck it,” I said.
I pulled open the door and stepped out into the sun. The lack of any flames or even pain was a blessing. Claude stepped out next to me.
“You could have done that a lot slower you know... put your arm out, test it out a little bit.”
I grinned, but he couldn't see it under the mask.
“Wouldn't have been as dramatic.”
I fell asleep in the car, disturbed only on the rare occasion by the itching sensation in my legs as the bones knitted and healed. It itched like a bitch, and sleep was the only escape. Claude put on his Leonard Cohen collection from his iPod and drove north, heading towards my mom's house.
I woke up once when the car stopped.
“Wait here,” Claude had said and then vanished. I thought nothing of it and dozed for a while, at least until the car shook and the door slammed. The car started and tore off, and I realized that Claude was laughing.
“What happened? What did you do?”
“You'll thank me for it later, I promise.”
Claude drove like the devil for a few miles and then I felt us getting back onto the freeway. I sat up in the backseat then and just glared at him. This was entirely ruined by the fact that I was wearing a mask, but I gave it my best shot. It might have been working too because after a while Claude turned down Leonard Cohen and looked at me.
“How're your hands doing?”
“You're not going to tell me what you just did?”
“Nope. How are yours hands?”
“I'm not telling you until you tell me what you did back there.”
I spotted the bag on the front seat, a little black velvet bag and a million alarms went off in my head, especially when I saw the little monogrammed “V” on the side of the bag.
“Is that what I think it is?” I looked to Claude. “You just pulled a job didn't you?”
“Best for you not to know, so you should probably continue not knowing, whaddaya say?”
There was a little crest pinned onto the bag. I reached for it, already knowing what I would find. As soon as I had seen the bag I had known what it was, and worse, who it belonged to. Me not knowing was no longer an option, and sure enough my fears were confirmed when I turned the pin over.
“Oh fuck...”
Claude just glanced at me.
“What? You know what I do for a living dude. This was the one opportunity I had here, so I had to take it, but you just gotta know there is absolutely no risk to you.”
“That's not what I'm 'Oh fucking' about.”
“What is it then?”
“Do you know the name of the woman you just robbed?”
“Yeah. She's some duchess from France. Duchess Vera Montclair. She's worth millions and millions.”
“Well, she should be. It's very old money.”
Claude was oblivious. He hadn't gotten my reference to old money. Maybe a more brutal reference would do...
“One can almost say, 'blood money'...”
Claude was oblivious for a second and then it hit him all at once. His eyes popped open, and his jaw practically hit the floor. He grabbed the bag of diamonds and stared at them, looking at the crest for the first time.
“There's a bat on the coat of arms thingy.”
“I know. Did you see the wolf too?”
“'In Blood We Share'” he read. He shook his head in amazement.
“What's that?”
“That's what the latin says on the crest. Big fucking clue right there. I even read it on the wall in the fucking office, and I didn't even think twice about it. Fuck!”
“You just robbed a vampire.”
Something occurred to him then, and he grinned.
“Don't you owe her some money?”
I nodded, wondering where he was going with this.
“Take a diamond. In fact, take two, and happy fucking birthday dude.”
I have to admit that after that, I was in a much better mood. My hands were itching like cr
azy, and I was finally able to take off the bandages to peel off the cracked skin. Claude complained about me leaving my DNA all over the car, but I didn't care. I just itched too much to be able to bear it.
My legs were feeling a lot better as well and were pretty much driving me crazy, but I managed to ignore them and stared out the window for a while, forgetting that I was completely covered from head to toe in protective gear from the sun. It wasn't until a car of teenagers drove by us that I remembered, but that was because they were all staring at me, the freak behind the glass. I gave them the finger and watched as they drove off.
I watched the sun go down, just a pale blur behind my goggles, and I found myself longing for the night to hurry up and come. The novelty of being in the daylight again had worn off, and I wanted to retreat again to my twilight hours, the beautiful light after sunset, and eventual night. There I could walk unrestricted without fear of burning, without standing out too much and I missed that. It was part of me now, my entire existence, and there was no escaping for me.
I wondered now if I could finally turn things around, buy myself a second chance, and stop fucking things up so much. I wondered if I could give myself the chance to not fuckup so often, and silently vowed to be a lot more careful.
“I think the doctor was right.”
“You mean sugar tits, from the hospital?”
“Yeah, her. I think she's right about the blood thing. It's not me. It really isn't, and I wonder why I think I need it so much. I mean, I was fine before. I was doing really well, actually adjusting to life, and making use of this fucked up second chance I had gotten. And then Harry got to me...”
“You ever thought that Harry did this to you on purpose? I mean from everything you're saying, this is one rich and powerful dude. He knew who you were before you even got there. Dude probably knew everything about you including if you hang to the left or to the right, so maybe he knew that you were a fuck-up and an addict... Maybe he knew that all he had to do was get you hooked on something, and you'd continue to be a fuck up.”
It made sense, and it was something I had thought of a few times, just not with the level of coherency that Claude had managed. It was a bit of a mindfuck and made me wonder how many times Harry had fucked me over. The better question would be: how many times had Harry NOT fucked me over.
“I don't think I want to do the blood thing anymore. I don't wanna be a stereotype.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah,” I said. And I meant it.
***
My mom was ecstatic to see us both and swept us into the house, remarking at me with my crutches and asking what I had done to myself.
We had arrived in the late dusk, and the light was vanishing from the sky, so I had long since taken off my mask and other protective gear. Putting in the contact lenses had been a bit of a challenge, but I'd finally managed to get one in and then the other, no thanks to Claude. Putting in contact lenses while driving is an activity I recommend to everyone. Please, you must try it for yourself. It is the most fun you can have in any car without actually poking your eye out. First you have to get the case open and then chase around the lens in the solution for a while since your driver is by this point either being clueless or just a complete dick. Once you mange to get the lens on your finger, I recommend watching the driver very, very carefully as he will be watching you out of the corner of his eyes, and every time your finger hovers near your eyeball, he'll either be braking or accelerating. So if you don't want to lose your eyeball, wait for a moment that he is otherwise occupied and not intent on causing you bodily harm, and then pop that little lens onto your eyeball. Adjust carefully and once it is secure and not about to fall out, get the other lens. Repeat the procedure if you dare.
I spent about fifteen minutes trying to put in the second lens before Claude got distracted by a cop car in the rearview mirror.
“Why are you so nervous? The car isn't stolen is it?”
“Well, it's more borrowed, but they shouldn't notice unless they return early and not a chance of that happening since they left for Japan this morning.”
Great. My best friend was pretending to be Ferris Bueller.
The cops drove past us, and we made it to my mom's house without getting arrested. I must say that was the best my day had been all day.
Mom bustled me and Claude into the kitchen, pausing only once to remark on Claude's expensive taste in cars and look at how well he must be doing. All because of a Lexus. I could have stolen a Lexus, and she would have just asked me to take it back before the cops got here. I was the corruptor as far as Mom was concerned, and she was mostly right. It's just that Claude happened to be the felon (though he was unconvicted), but she never called him on it.
“Oh Claude, I saw you on TV a few months ago,” Mom said as she closed the door behind us. I grinned, finally vindicated. Busted!
Claude punched me and Mom continued.
“I knew it was you the instant I turned on CNN and saw you driving that car.”
“Ah, you know how the cops are and those reporters. Did you see where that officer swung at me at the end there? I had bruises for days. They really don't lie when they talk about Police brutality you know.”
“It's a terrible shame. Well, I hope the case is going well. “
I sighed and gave up. By the end of the night, Mom would be singing Claude's praises again and going around telling everyone how awful the police were, and don't you know how many cases of mistaken identity end badly?
“I hope you know you're playing a serious game of Karma Roulette right now dude. One of these days it’s gonna come right back and bite you in the ass and my Mom is going to be leading the charge.”
Mom came back into the kitchen and motioned to us to join her.
“Come on you two, everyone's waiting for you.”
So we followed her into the living room, where everyone was waiting with a cake, and where they all sang Happy Birthday, and where I met the other vampire.
***
Invite a vampire to your birthday party. Go ahead, I dare you. It's loads of fun, especially if he happens to be dating your psycho sister. You know the one I mean. The sister that no one talks about, or even better, knows about because she's such a fucking bitch and has been permanently banished from your life. Yes, that sister, and that guy with her, the one who purposely dresses in all black and is way too pale and is obviously wearing a cheap pair of bad contact lenses that make him blink way too much, that guy is a vampire, and doing a very bad job of it.
Harry had once explained to me how lucky I was that I was a city vampire, and had their influences around me to align me with a better perception of reality. The King, in one of our blood binges where we were completely stoned off our asses, had confided in me that he'd once met one of the country vampires on one of his tours. There is a big difference between country vampires and city vampires, much like the story with the two mice. In the city, we have the advantage of the social atmosphere. We talk, we have jobs, and we exist side by side with humans. You wouldn't notice us at all because we know who we are. Guidance is important, and most vampires are mentored. The others, like myself, we're smart enough to figure it out.
The country vampires do not have the social structure that we do. They are usually turned by some vampire who has at some point lost his freaking mind and is either insane or is desperately lonely. Some of them survive. Others are burned to a crisp when the sun comes up, because they don't have a clue of what they are, and if they do, they just want it to end. And so it does, but very painfully.
Others that survive learn all they know about vampires from movies and books, all of which are woefully misinformed. They discover by trial and error which myths are bullshit and which ones are incredibly accurate. Sometimes they even survive the trials, and they go on to have successful lives. Others just go by what they hear from the movies, and they feed mostly on blood and eventually are put down like the rabid dogs they are. Some of them are a l
ittle more quiet, but as equally clueless. The poor misguided fools even sleep in coffins.
“You sure he's a vampire?” Claude was asking as I was deliberately not looking at the vampire who called himself Daemien. It probably wasn't even his real name.
“Yes I'm sure. If there's one thing I've become extremely good at, it's spotting other vampires. It can get a little embarrassing if you're both trying to suck each other's blood.”
Claude thought for a moment.
“So on a scale of one to ten, just how hot are these female vampires?”
“Focus dude. I still haven't thought of a good way to screw with them.”
“Seriously though, I just want to know what he's doing with your sister. I didn't think that any man on earth would ever want that bitch as a girlfriend.”
I glanced over at the happy couple and shuddered. I couldn't even imagine it myself, but there it was my bitch of a sister and her freaky vampire boyfriend. I wondered if she even knew that he was a vampire and if he knew how much of a psycho she was.
Let me tell you about my sister so you don't get the wrong idea.
She hated me from the time I was born, and I suspected that she might have even tried to kill me while I was still a baby. While that is only a guess, and an approximation of the amount of hatred she bore towards me, I can however give hard solid facts about her level of psychosis.
She was three years older than I was, so we'd fought viciously while growing up. It was because of her that I had learned how to run away quickly and efficiently, and also about multiple pressure points on the body that could incapacitate or distract an older sister long enough for me to run away. We got into a fight when I was 5, and she reached up to the kitchen counter and threw a knife at me.
A year later she tried to drown me at the community pool. I barely managed to get away by kicking her in the throat. That time I was blamed for playing too rough.
I woke up one night when I was 8 to find her standing over me with a kitchen knife and just smiling down at me.
“I'm going to kill you one of these days,” she said. She hadn't killed me that night, but she had started cutting herself soon after that.
So You Might Be a Vampire Page 16