Better Off Undead

by Martin H. Greenberg

  The other reason is, well . . . just about all the ones I know are regular folks, like me. We’re too busy making a living to go making out at some glitzy tourist trap.

  “Ma’am, I’m not going to hurt you, okay?’’ I took a careful step back. “I’m not into that kind of thing.’’ Moving slowly, I pulled my rosary out from my jeans pocket. “See? I go to church Sundays—midnight Mass, actually.’’

  She backed up a bit more, sliding around the other side of the beer bin. “But . . . but . . .’’ Her bottom lip trembled. She had that hollow eyed look the crack-heads got after a bad trip. Not good.

  I wondered what I was supposed to do now. The kid was terrified, and she sure wasn’t thinking. I backed up a bit more. There wasn’t really anything else I could tell her about my church. Not while she thought she was a slayer.

  The church was a plain old place that had been a country church before Houston’s sprawl swallowed it. Now it had a bit of a parish and a small congregation—and about a third of us were vampires. It’s kind of nice to be able to go into a church and not be told you’re headed straight to hell because you’ve got this eating disorder.

  Me, I went to the midnight service every week unless I was on shift.

  I glanced outside. There was a truck gassing up at pump five, and someone pulling into the parking lot. Just what I needed. It was going to look real good trying to serve customers with this kid wanting to slay me. The incident report on this one was going to be a real mongrel. Worse than the incident reports on the drug deals I sometimes saw in the parking lot.

  The store manager knew about me—he liked having a reliable graveyard cashier—but it hadn’t gone any further than that, at least not officially. No one has equal opportunity employment policies for vampires.

  The door chimed, and I automatically turned towards it to see who was coming in and greet them if I knew them. Habit, really. The store got a fair few graveyard regulars who’d stop in and sometimes hang around and chat until it was time to lock up.

  It was a dumb thing to do with Miss Grrrl Power Buffy Wannabe a shade shy of hysterics. Next thing I knew, I was coughing garlic powder, and coated with the stuff. The stupid kid had thrown it at me.

  Garlic doesn’t hurt vampires any more than onion hurts humans. I coughed and hacked for a while before I could get a good breath.

  When I stood up, Miss Wannabe looked liked she’d just lost her favorite puppy, and the customer—Lilah, an ambulance driver who looked like she’d just come off shift, and a regular who often shared a joke when things were quiet—had her cell phone out and was asking me did I want her to call 911?

  My eyes watered like crazy as I shook my head. “Just a misunderstanding.’’ If I called the cops on Miss Wannabe, I’d have her whole crazy outfit coming after me. Not my idea of a good time.

  “Hell of a misunderstanding.’’ Lilah didn’t sound convinced.

  I couldn’t blame her.

  Miss Wannabe shook her head. Now she looked like she was going to cry.

  What the hell. I’d had enough of this. It’d be funny when I told Tom, my manager, but right now it was just a pain. “Ma’am, you want to go easy on that stuff. Don’t you know too much garlic ruins the flavor?’’

  Lilah just about wet herself trying not to laugh.

  Miss Wannabe cried. The tough slayer act finished crumbling into something soggier than used tissue. “It’s not fair!’’ she gulped. “They said it would be easy! The vampire at the Hollow Tree store’s a push-over, they said.’’

  Lilah giggled. “Only if you’re trying to get him into bed, kiddo.’’

  I gave her a dirty look, which didn’t work too well because my eyes were still watering. “Just because you never made it there.’’

  “Sweetie, you know I don’t hang that way.’’ Lilah blew me a kiss. “Human males only.’’

  “Gee, that only cuts out about three quarters of the guys you date.’’ Okay, maybe it was cruel of me, joking with Lilah while Miss Wannabe sobbed into her oversized handbag. Lilah was a regular, and one way or another I wasn’t likely to see Miss Wannabe again. Besides, I was giving her time to pull herself together and slink out into the night. “What’ll it be tonight, your usual?’’

  Lilah nodded. “Yeah, the usual.’’ She shrugged. “I’ll quit one of these days.’’

  I retreated behind the counter and snagged her a pack of Newports. “That’s what you’ve said for the last year. I could help you quit . . .’’

  “Yeah, but your way would leave me with a taste for blood. Not on an ambulance.’’ She mock shuddered as she laid the change on the counter.

  I rang up the sale. “I’ve never changed anyone yet, and I don’t plan to.’’ I handed her the smokes, and counted the coins into the register. Lilah was good for the change slots—she’d pay for a ten-dollar sale in quarters and dimes. “Thank you, ma’am.’’

  “And thank you.’’ Lilah winked at me. “Hey, is the kid okay? I could take her home and park her on C.J.’s bed till she gets it together.’’ C.J. was Lilah’s son, and about the only thing she’d been able to prise off her ex.

  “Oh, God, would you?’’ The kid was still crying into her bag. What a mess. Whoever had taken that on as an apprentice slayer deserved to have his heart ripped out and eaten.

  “Sure thing, sweetie.’’ Lilah pocketed her smokes and ambled over to the kid. “Hey there, sweetie.’’ Her voice was softer when she spoke to the kid. I guess it was her “trauma victim’’ voice.

  Whatever it was, it worked. The kid uncurled a bit. She looked more dead than I did, what with the great streaks of mascara running down her face from her tears.

  “You won’t hurt me?’’ she asked in a small voice. She looked straight at me.

  Aw, crap. Poor kid. I shook my head and went out back for the broom. There was a buttload of garlic powder to get off the floor. While I was out there, I gave myself a good shake to get as much of the garlic powder as I could off me and onto the floor. Lilah could try and talk some sense into the kid and get her home or somewhere safe for the night.

  It could get ugly if someone didn’t get home safe and you were the last person who saw them. Cops had this problem with, “She left at half eleven and I never saw her after that.’’ They seemed to think that even if that was what the security taped showed you’d somehow met up with her after shift and done the dirty.

  Especially if the cop had you figured for a vampire. I mean, they won’t officially say we exist, but they know, and if they figure it . . . well . . . not all those police shootings you hear about use normal bullets, you know? Even though I know damn well there’s a vampire in the local branch. He’s one of the deputy sheriffs, even.

  By the time I got back, Lilah had her arm around the kid’s shoulder and was guiding her to the door. There was no one else inside—Lilah was about the only customer I’d leave alone in the store while I went in back. She might not want me for a boyfriend, but we were good friends anyhow.

  Lilah gave me a thumbs-up at the door, and left me to clean up the kid’s mess. And pay for her damn Doritos, since she’d squashed them with the dowel. I paid before I tossed the mangled bag in the trash, then I started sweeping up the garlic powder.

  Silly kid must have used a whole bottle of the stuff. My eyes still watered, and the store reeked of garlic. I’d have to mop to get the smell out, and that wasn’t happening until after I locked the doors at midnight. I picked up a few other odds and ends the kid had dropped when she tossed the garlic. Mirror, cracked. Empty bottle of garlic powder. Small bottle labeled Holy Water.

  I took a cautious sniff. The label was spelled wrong. Should have been holey water, because there was no way sulfuric acid wasn’t going to leave holes in whatever it touched. Did I mention I was studying chem when I got changed?

  Two more customers and some cleaning later, I got to lock the doors. After that, it was cleaning the store properly amid the usual parade of potheads looking for blunts and munchies. Five
hours of blessed peace, with nothing worse than doped-out morons trying to get themselves together enough to buy the container for their next hit.

  Once I reopened the door, I’d need to sweep up all the tobacco they dumped on the porch when they emptied their blunts, but that was normal.

  My mind still gnawed at Miss Wannabe Slayer. The little pile of her stuff I’d thrown into a plastic bag had a card for some group calling themselves the “Order of Cleansing.’’ I guessed they were her slayer mentors, although why they’d sent out someone who’d have trouble slaying a dead rat was something I couldn’t begin to guess.

  Something about the whole setup bothered me, and I couldn’t quite pin down why.

  The boss got in early and got the real story from me as well as my incident report. He laughed. “You get the best idiots.’’

  “I’ll swap you.’’

  He shook his head. “Get on home. Get some sleep. If she comes back, call the cops on her for assault. Jimmy’ll listen.’’

  Since Jimmy was the county sheriff and his wife was a vampire, he probably would, too. He and Lenny—the vampire deputy—ran the night shift. Unlike most cops, they took a dim view of wannabe slayers staking folks who weren’t doing any harm.

  So, I changed out my register and finished off my paperwork while Tom took the morning customers.

  Dawn was starting to clear the sky while I drove my old pickup to my apartment, but no sign yet of sunrise. All to the better—I was ready to sleep.

  There was a message from Lilah on my machine when I got in. “Anna’s okay. Can you come over before work tomorrow? Say, eight-ish? Catch you later, sweetie.’’

  Eight . . . that gave me enough time for my evening quickie. I could do it. Heck, I didn’t want to disappoint Lilah. There was a lady worth fighting for.

  I pulled off my clothes and tossed them in the laundry basket, then stumbled over to the shower. I sluiced off, more a rinse than a wash, and staggered from there to the closet where I kept my mattress.

  By then, I was only just conscious enough to kick the closet door closed and collapse onto the mattress.

  As always, some inner sense woke me as soon as the sun was below the horizon. I showered again, properly this time, and got myself ready.

  I don’t like doing the quickies, but Miss Mindy doesn’t mind my weird bent and even pretends she enjoys it. It’s enough. Better than going out hunting.

  It was a few minutes shy of eight when I got to Lilah’s place. I knocked on the apartment door.

  “Come on in, sweetie. The door’s unlocked.’’

  That set off a dozen different alarms in my head. Lilah had come out of a divorce from an abusive ex about a year back. She was paranoid about security. Nothing in her place was unlocked, and I knew she had a concealed carry license. I knew what she carried, too. That sucker might not kill me, but it’d sure give me a real bad day.

  If the kid had . . . I shoved the thought down. The kid probably didn’t know better. But I was about to be the star attraction of a nice little slayer demonstration.

  Screw them. I wasn’t missing a night’s work over this crap.

  I pushed open the door like I wasn’t expecting anything, grabbed the wrist of the guy who tried to stake me right in the doorway, and did a neat little pull and twist I couldn’t have done before I’d been changed.

  Nice thing about being changed; I could do the coolest physical crap with no training and no idea what I was up to. I was just that much faster when I revved up.

  The guy took a header into the cement foyer. There was a nasty cracking sound, and he didn’t try to get up.

  By then, I was all the way inside and I’d kicked the door shut and got my back against it.

  Mister Eager Ex-Slayer hadn’t been the only one. I faced about a half-dozen guys with stakes, and behind them I could see a tall skinny fellow with dark hair. He was half-familiar, like I’d seen him somewhere before. He was also on the sofa beside Lilah, and he had a silver knife at her throat.

  That pissed me off. Lilah was good people. She didn’t deserve to have some jerk poking a knife at her because one of her friends was a vampire.

  There was no sign of Miss Wannabe. I didn’t know if that was good or bad.

  When Mister Eager didn’t bash on the door to get back in, the slayers looked at each other. I guess they’d practiced—I didn’t want to know on whom—because they all came at me at once.

  I grabbed the first stake-holding hand I could, and swung its owner into the others. A twisty crackling noise almost got drowned out by his scream. I guess I broke his arm. Oops.

  They stumbled into each other and then scrambled clear. The one whose arm I’d twisted or broken scurried back, holding the arm.

  Four slayers.

  “I think that’s enough.’’ The fellow with a knife on Lilah sounded angry. “Any more resistance, sucker, and your friend will suffer for it.’’

  I snarled, letting my fangs show. It didn’t impress the slayers, but it made me feel better. “Listen, moron. You can come chase me all you want. But if you want to go poking sharp stuff into ambulance drivers, you’re no frigging better than the ’spawn of evil’ you’re trying to kill.’’

  He laughed. “Oh, nobility. Anyone who associates with a bloodsucker is a traitor to the human race.’’

  I thought for something smart-mouthed to say. While he was talking with me, he wasn’t concentrating on Lilah, and she was poised to do something. Probably something with that man-killer she had under her jacket. “Oh, har har. Better hope she doesn’t remember that when she’s called to come get you ’cause you suck so hard your teeth come out your butt.’’

  He hissed and half rose.

  Lilah squirmed away from him. She hadn’t even gotten up off the sofa before she had her piece out. She aimed for his head.

  Guns are loud. Lilah’s man-killer in a tiny apartment sounded like the crack of doom on speed. And that was the nice bit.

  I was facing the boss slayer, so I got to see what happens when a man gets a high-powered bullet in the face. Let’s just say it ain’t pretty, and Lilah was going to need new paint and carpet. Not everything that splattered around was blood.

  Fortunately for me, the smell of burnt gunpowder overwhelmed the smell of blood. I can control the cravings some, but that much blood would send me over.

  The other four turned, too slowly. Lilah’s next shot did really ugly things to one man’s chest before they’d turned their backs on me.

  I took advantage of that, grabbed a head, and gave a sharp twist. There was a satisfying crunch, and he dropped like a rag doll.

  The hammer of doom went off again, making unsavory ketchup out of number three’s paunch. Number four got the head treatment from me.

  About then, I realized I could hear screaming, and it sure as hell wasn’t me. I was panting, and now that I could smell blood everywhere, I was trying not to let it take over. I hauled open the door and poked my head out for some fresher air.

  A vampire around too much blood gets like sharks in a feeding frenzy. It ain’t nice. You don’t want to be around me if that happens. My fangs ached.

  “Shut up, kid!’’ Lilah snarled. “You called them here!’’

  Miss Wannabe’s voice rose in a teary wail. “I didn’t know! I didn’t think they’d hurt anyone, but they . . . they . . . he’s not waking up, Lilah, he’s not waking up!’’

  Oh, no. Not Lilah’s kid.

  I took a deep breath and ran through the blood-soaked living room to the bedroom. Lilah’s son C.J. was lying on one of the beds. He had a darkening bruise on the side of his head.

  I took a closer look. The boy was alive. He’d better get checked out for concussion and all the usual crap like that, but he’d be okay.

  I turned around, and saw Lilah and Miss Wannabe—Anna—crammed in the doorway looking anxious.

  “He’s not hurt too bad.’’ How did I know? It’s a vampire thing. Get close enough to someone and I know how much life they’
ve got in them. C.J had plenty. “You’ll want to get him to a hospital to get checked over, though.’’

  The tension drained out of Lilah’s body, and she sighed. “Okay. So, what are we gonna do with all the corpses? I can’t see the cops taking self defense.’’

  Crap. Someone would have called the cops. The screaming and shooting guaranteed it. If this lost me my job I was going to kill that Anna kid myself.

  “Um. Yeah.’’ I tried to think. The smell of blood was getting to me.

  “Jason sold drugs,’’ Anna said in a wobbly voice. Her face was all red and blotchy from crying. “He said . . .’’ She swallowed. “He said it was to finance the war, and to weaken the traitors.’’

  It told me where I’d seen him and his boys. Out in the store parking lot, doing their deals. I’d called Jimmy and given him the car number and a description, but the cops never did get any of them.

  Lilah snapped her fingers. “That’s where I’d seen the bastard before! Called the cops on him ’cause he and a bunch of others were making a ruckus two doors down. Talked their way out of it, but I know the kid there’s a crackhead.’’

  I nodded. “Drug thing gone wrong. You got a crowbar or something in your car? Get it up here and get someone’s prints all over it.’’

  Anna’s gulped, but her mouth tightened and her chin got firmer. “Get it out of their cars. They’ll have keys on them.’’

  In the end, the three of us set up the scene just in time. I got the hell out of there before the cops arrived—driving real carefully—and hoped Lilah and Anna would be okay. Hoped they’d get C.J. to ER, too.

  I got to work just in time. Clinton, the evening shift guy, gave me a funny look, and I gave him a “don’t you start’’ one back. He didn’t.

  Lilah dropped by a few hours later, about five minutes before I was due to close the doors, with Anna in tow. “C.J.’s in for observation,’’ she said. “They don’t think there’s any damage.’’

  Anna edged over to the counter. “I’m . . . sorry, sir. I really didn’t . . .’’ She shook her head. Her eyes filled. “I’m sorry.’’