Dave is a third-year medical resident. He’s also one of the few humans, outside of my roommates, who know that I’m a vampire. Dave’s plan was to go into pure research after he finished with his residency. It wasn’t for any altruistic reason such as helping mankind. No, it was because Dave pretty much hated everyone he saw on a day to day basis. Probably a good call, as I think it’s safe to say that most of us prefer to put our lives in the hands of people who don’t openly despise us.
I had told Dave my secret because I needed his help to become a permanent telecommuter. In return, he had been almost giddy as a schoolgirl. Dave saw me as his ace in the hole. In return for his help, I agreed to give him tissue samples to use in his research. His plan was eventually to come up with some sort of miracle drug, based off of vampire DNA that would set him up for life.
We had to keep things on the down low, of course. Letting humans in on the secret of our existence was generally frowned upon. It wasn’t too hard to assume that human experimentation on vampires was probably an even more massive no-no...one that, if discovered, would most likely result in me, Dave, and everyone we know being wiped off the face of the Earth with extreme prejudice.
That concept in of itself made me nervous enough. That Dave had begun to exhibit signs of turning into a mad scientist was likewise starting to worry me. I had little doubt he conducted his research while giggling manically to himself. However, he was still my friend...no matter how nutty he was becoming.
Little did I know, he was preparing to ratchet up the crazy, although I should have suspected. Let’s face facts: when I step into a shit-storm, it rains down upon me with all the fury that Mother Nature has at her disposal.
I knocked on his door just as the first rays of sunlight were beginning to peek over the horizon. As expected, he was waiting for me.
“Come on in. I have a few new tests this morning.”
I just stood there looking back at him. “Hi, Dave.”
“Sorry. Hi, Bill. How are you this fine morning?”
“I’m fine, Dave. How are you?”
“Wonderful. Now get the fuck in here before I kill your character.” Yep, that’s Dave, straight to the point and not afraid to use threats to get there.
During my short tenure as a vampire, I had been poked, prodded, lanced, and burned so many times; I almost didn’t notice it anymore...almost being the operative word. That’s a bit of bullshit from Hollywood. You see, in most movies Dracula will just stand there, being pelted by bullets and laughing as his cold dead flesh absorbs the damage. Unfortunately, while real vampires may technically be just as dead, there’s nothing wrong with our nerve endings. Somehow, those work the exact same way as they always did. Therefore, while I could definitely absorb a hail of gunfire, that didn’t mean I wouldn’t wind up huddled in a fetal ball, crying. Apparently, when we get turned into vampires our bodies don’t get the memo to stop transmitting the ouchies to our brains.
Sadly, when asked if this was something he could look into during his research, Dave responded with, “Suck it up like a man.” Some days I think I need to find friends who are more human and less asshole.
I followed him in and shut the door behind me. Fortunately, his place was vampire safe during the day. The guy kept his apartment as dark as a cave. It was perfect for both gaming and not bursting aflame. Being that we still had a few hours before the rest of the party arrived, I followed him to the back room where he kept a makeshift lab.
“How’s the research going?”
“Same as usual,” he admitted. “Until I get some corporate backing, I’m stuck using whatever shit I can purloin from hospital storage.”
I laughed. “You’re like Dr. Evil...if he shopped at Walmart.”
“Tell me about it,” he sighed. “I’ve been working on this stuff for the better part of a year. Figured I’d have some breakthroughs by now.”
“Still nothing?”
“Almost. I mean I’ve isolated some bizarre protein strands in your blood, but I’m fucked if I know what they do. Originally I figured it was some sort of virus in your system...”
“Like in Blade?”
“Yeah, but no such luck.”
“Oh, well, you tried,” I said, turning back toward his living room. I can’t say I would be too sorry to see this end. I couldn’t help but feel like a lab rat around Dave lately.
“Not so fast. (Damn!) It doesn’t mean I’m giving up. I think it’s time to refocus my efforts.”
“Define ‘refocus.’”
“I need to take this back to square one, watch what happens during the vampire turning process.”
That caught my attention, and not in a good way either. Yeah, Dave was definitely starting to get a Dr. Frankenstein vibe to him.
“I really hope you’re not suggesting I bite someone, just so you can watch them go from living to undead. That’d be kind of fucked up.”
He shot me a withering glare. Apparently, he had been taking lessons from Ed. “Do I look like I want to go to jail? Let’s be serious here for a second. I want a nice comfy research grant, not to wind up some convict’s bitch.”
“Then how...”
“Did you learn nothing in college? When science wants to test something, we turn to our four legged friends.” With that, he pointed out a little tank sitting off in a corner of the room. Inside was a bunch of white mice.
“You want me to put mice in my mouth?”
Dave chuckled in response. “If I was going to do that, it would be to post the pictures to Facebook. No, while the thought of you chewing on rodents is amusing, I’d prefer to obtain a venom sample so I can test it under controlled conditions.”
“Venom?”
“For lack of a better word, yeah. Since I can’t seem to isolate a virus, it stands to reason there’s something else in a vampire bite that causes the change. It might be saliva, but I’d be willing to bet it has to do with those nasty canines you’re sporting.”
I rolled my eyes (guess Sally’s starting to rub off on me). “Did you ever think that maybe it’s beyond knowing...supernatural and all that crap? Maybe it’s just magic.”
Dave gave me a look that suggested his opinion of me was quickly being downgraded. “In the Middle Ages, people thought the sun was magic. Hell, if you showed your cell phone to certain tribes in the Amazon today, they’d either worship you or burn you at the stake. Magic is just a bullshit term for stuff we haven’t figured out yet. I, for one, intend to figure it out.”
“OK fine, I’ll humor you. So how are we going to do this?”
“The same way they milk snakes.”
“Dude, I know you work long hours and don’t have much time for a social life, but no way are you milking me.”
“Would probably be the most action you’ve gotten in a while,” Dave sniffed. “But let’s not be stupid here.” He grabbed a cup from a shelf. The top was covered in a plastic membrane. “Here, bite this.”
To say I was somewhat less than impressed would be an understatement. “You do realize how batshit insane this is, right? I mean outside of the stupidity of milking me for venom, you’re planning on using it to make vampire mice? Seriously, tell me that’s not a low-budget horror movie in the making.”
“I have it covered,” he insisted. “I have welders’ gloves for any handling that needs to be done. The tank is reinforced Plexiglas, and it’s sitting right next to the window. All I have to do is open the blinds.”
“And if one should escape?”
“I bought three dozen mousetraps and a pound of raw, bloody, chop meat.”
I blinked in surprise at that last one. “Well, OK that is pretty fucking clever.”
“Thank you. Now bite,” he commanded, handing me the glass.
I sighed. Oh, well, in for a penny. I extended my fangs then also blackened my eyes - hey, might as well make a show of it - and did as asked. About a minute later, Dave said that was good enough and took back the glass. I don’t know if it was venom or just my dro
ol, but there was definitely something collected inside of it.
“Just one more thing,” he said, placing it to the side. He began rummaging in a nearby desk.
“Let me guess, more blood samples,” I sighed, starting to roll up my sleeve.
“Not quite.” He turned back to me holding a pair of garden shears. “Take off your shoe.”
“Why?”
“I need a more extensive tissue sample so I can continue testing your regenerative abilities.”
“More extensive?”
“I figure one of your little toes should work. I’d ask for a finger, but I know you do a lot of typing.”
I held up my hands and started backing away. “Whoa there, Hoss!”
“Oh, don’t be such a baby. It should grow back before you even leave here today. Didn’t you say that other vampire’s entire hand grew back?”
“Sally.”
“Whatever. It’s not like I’m asking to cut off your dick. It’s just a little toe. Evolution-wise, they’re not even necessary anymore.”
“I don’t care. I’m not letting you prune my digits, no matter much unnecessary they are.”
“Pity. I was planning on dropping a vorpal weapon into the game. Doesn’t Kelvin use a saber?” he asked, referring to my character.
“Not gonna work,” I replied.
That lasted all of two seconds before I blurted out, “What kind of plusses are we talking about?” Damn my weakness for treasure.
“Four at the least.”
“I don’t know...”
“Oh, and did I mention that the lovely Princess Sheila was looking for a royal concubine? You did save her from those giants after all.”
“That’s low, dude.”
“I’m not above bribery. So about that shoe...”
“No. No fucking way. Not going to happen. I don’t care if you throw in the armor of the elder gods too. There is absolutely nothing you can say to convince me.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, there was a knock on Dave’s door. It was the cops. Guess his neighbors got a little freaked out by all the screaming. What a surprise. It’s amazing just how many nerve endings are contained in one little toe.
Diplomatic Immunity
Outside of a citation for disturbing the peace, the rest of the game was fun...especially my ill-gotten gains. I could tell the rest of the party were miffed that I seemed to be the golden boy this week, but oh, well. I didn’t see them offering up any digits in the name of science.
Dave was correct too. By the time I got home and took off my shoe (stuffed full of blood-soaked bandages), my foot was whole again. One wouldn’t have known that just a few hours earlier, in a fit of apparent insanity, I had voluntarily let my so-called friend dismember me. Why did I have a feeling all of this was going to come back and bite me in the ass? Oh, well, I’m sure that’s a horror to contend with for another day.
Little did I know that other horrors were even now awaiting me...and it was just the first day of the goddamn week.
* * *
I was sitting on our living room couch, still marveling at the fact that I had ten toes again, when our front door opened. Tom walked in, but before I could voice a greeting, his girlfriend, Christy, entered in tow. Wonderful. Just how I like to end my weekend - in the company of my would-be killer.
I started humming the refrain from Rob Zombie’s Dragula, specifically the part about burning through the witches. I found myself doing that a lot lately while in Christy’s presence. For some reason it was soothing. Go figure.
Tom took her coat and put it in the closest. Great, that meant she would be staying for a while. I was just getting ready to stand, intent on retreating to the relative safety of my bedroom, when Christy walked over and sat down next to me. That was surprising. She and I had a bit of an unspoken rule about not being in the same room together for extended periods of time.
Thus, I was caught even more off guard when she said, “Hey, Bill. How’s it going?”
I did nothing but blink for a few seconds, most likely looking like a moron. Christy and I had said maybe ten words to each other in the past few months and most of them were inarticulate grunts of begrudging acknowledgement.
I opened my mouth, not really sure what would come out...although expecting something like, “Hey, yourself. Eaten either Hansel or Gretel lately?”
Before I could say anything, though, Tom jumped in. “Want a beer, Christy? How about you, Bill?” he asked, rummaging through our fridge.
“No thanks, hon,” she cheerfully called back.
“I’ll take one,” I said. I had a nagging feeling I’d need it.
“So,” she started. “Tom told me about the peace conference.”
What? Christ, I really need to stop telling Tom everything. The guy has a big fucking mouth, especially when it comes to women. He’s one of those people for whom it does not take a lot of effort to fuck their brains out.
My eyes narrowed at Christy, but I answered pleasantly, “Excuse me for one second.” With that, I grabbed the TV remote, turned, and chucked it at Tom; hitting him square in the side.
“Ow!” he yelled while I turned back to Christy.
“Now what was that?”
She replied as if I hadn’t just assaulted her boyfriend with a hunk of plastic. “Tom filled me in on the conference. I talked it over with my coven (witches have covens too...the assholes stole the idea from us vampires) and they think we should go too.”
I’m glad Tom hadn’t retrieved my beer yet because I would surely have choked on it at that moment.
“What?”
“Well, at least Harry does,” she said. Harry Decker was the leader of Christy’s coven, the VP of marketing at my company, and a complete nutcase. He was a firm believer in some dumbass prophecy proclaiming my existence heralded the end of wizard and witch kind. Thus, through faulty circular logic, he concluded that if I were to die, then this magic apocalypse wouldn’t occur. He had come pretty close to making good on the threat too. At the end of things, though, I managed to live and he wound up with a bloody nose (among other parts). Since then, (outside of a petty attempt to get me into trouble with our HR department) he had been lying low; however, I knew it was only a matter of time before he became a thorn in my side again. Guess it was springtime, because it looked as if that flower was blooming.
“Really?” I asked, arching an eyebrow at her, Mr. Spock style.
“Yes,” she replied conversationally as if we were discussing shades of paint rather than vampires and Sasquatches.
“Why?”
“Because this has potential repercussions for us all. If this goes badly, it could have a ripple effect for all of the races: Fae and demonic alike.”
“You’re shitting me right? Fae?”
“Fairy kind,” she explained.
“I always suspected there was a bit of fairy in Bill,” commented Tom, walking over and handing me a beer.
“Don’t make me look for the remote,” I warned. He sat and I addressed Christy again. “So let me get this straight. This meeting between the vampires and a pack of shit-flinging monkeys has dire consequences. As a result, your coven, a group who doesn’t exactly have my best interests in mind, wants to tag along?”
“I already told you, the prophecy is nothing personal.”
“Sorry. I tend to take being killed somewhat personally.”
“That aside, the Forest Folk are not to be...
“Forest Folk?” Tom and I asked simultaneously.
“Yes, the creatures you’ve upset with your...”
“Hold on there. I haven’t upset shit. Your kindly ‘Forest Folk’ were the ones who tried to put a kindly forest rock through my sternum.”
“Regardless of what happened, open warfare is simply not an option here.”
“Be that as it may,” I said, “you’re still not invited to...wherever the hell it is.”
“That’s not for you to say. My master has already reached out to
your people in Boston.”
My eyes opened wide. Holy shit! Not only was this bitch hell bent on frying my ass, but now she was going over my head too. Talk about sticking it in and breaking it off.
The Mourning Woods - 03 Page 5