Vamp-Hire

by Rice, Gerald Dean

  “We’re not supposed to feed them.”

  “Come on, Lucky. You’re the connection man. Even if you ain’t done it before, I know you know how to get it done.”

  * * *

  He climbs out of the cab of the truck and gently closes the door. He takes a moment to sniff the crisp night air. It is thick with life. He can smell them all, believing they are safe inside their cozy little homes. They are sleeping, or eating, or watching TV.

  Though they all smell delicious, there is only one he wants. He tips his head back and breathes deeply, employing a sense beyond smell. An extra canal opens in one ear and he can feel the low susurrus of heartbeats, conversation, footfalls, and many other routine actions going on. One by one, he begins shutting them out as he searches for her.

  This is as much natural sense as it is preternatural, evolved over a course of centuries to make finding humans easier. He has never used this sense before, but it feels natural. He pulls himself deeper into the sense, becoming completely still save for the shallowest of breaths taken only every fifteen to twenty seconds. He could go on in this state for hours if necessary, but at tremendous risk. It is a near hypnotic state, leaving him highly vulnerable to physical and percussive attack. If someone were to scream in his face at this distance he would be deafened and probably would lose this extra sense forever.

  That will not happen tonight. The curfew keeps the cattle off the street. He finds her and immediately blocks out all the other noises the humans are making and focuses on her. He lets his mouth hang open, the trace few elements of her collecting on the back of his lolling tongue and throat.

  He can tell she is sitting. Can almost feel her as if his arms are around her like a lover. There’s something in the blood that changes between a supine and lupine position. She is confused, frightened, not because of him, at least directly. She has spent a great deal of time being afraid. Has run for reasons she has never tried to understand. He understands and soon her worries will all be over.

  He presses deeper into his sixth sense. If any passersby were to see him they might mistake him for a mannequin dressed in clothes, so deep is he in this trance-like state, that if someone were to scream at this moment it would probably be fatal, like submerging hot glass in water. An essential part of him might shatter if he were disturbed now.

  His mind reaches out to hers, touching it cautiously, carefully, so as not to alert her of his presence, though he suspects on a subconscious level she already knows. He imagines her subconscious as rooms in a house and he quietly searches each one until he finds the core of her. He makes contact ever so slightly, ever so gently, giving a one worded instruction then immediately withdraws, coming fully back into his own oxygen-starved body, gasping for air.

  Come.

  He waits by his truck patiently while the minutes pass. For the briefest moment he doubts even though the master has not lied to him yet. Soon he sees her. He knows it is her as soon as he sets eyes on her. She is more beautiful than he would have imagined, though his desire for her is not sexual.

  Her gait is unhurried, automatic, as if she were a robot. She steps into the street without looking in either direction, without slowing, walking in a line straight toward him.

  The streetlight reveals what he should have already seen. She is naked. She closes the last few feet between them. No recognition crosses her eyes that he is there. She could just as easily walk past him and continue down the street. She stops in front of him, although it seems she still hasn’t seen him. She tips her chin up then cants her head to the side, offering her neck.

  For the first time tonight he feels nervous, excited. Even though he was told this is exactly what would happen he still can’t fully believe. Then the fangs spring out from behind his canine teeth and he rears his own head back. He feels the muscles up the center of his back tighten, winding his head back like a spring being pulled taut. This part is truly frightening, as he is not in control of these actions. His body shoots forward in a blur of motion and the fangs fasten onto the artery in her neck.

  It is more delicious than he would have believed had he been told. It is more than words ever could have described.

  Chapter 2

  Monday

  Nick opened his eyes. He didn’t move immediately, taking his time feeling his body. He felt so loose, so free, like he was wading into Emerald Lake.

  “Oh, crap. Lucky, I think you gave him too much.”

  Nick turned his head to see the man Lucky had called Earl, several feet lower than he should have been. Nick figured he was either in a bed or on a couch. Perhaps this was a bunk bed.

  “What?” Lucky said, coming into the room. His mouth dropped open when he looked at Nick.

  “What is it?” Nick said before crashing to the floor. He bounced up, startled and off balance, and immediately went down again. Lucky and Earl watched, that same look of shock on their faces. He made it to his feet, albeit a little shakily.

  “What the hell just happened?” he asked, out of breath.

  “You were—” Earl began, pointing someplace above Nick’s head and Lucky quickly pushed his arm down.

  “Why don’t you come get some breakfast? Take your time, we’ll talk there.” He herded Earl out of the room ahead of him and turned back before stepping out. “Take however long you need to get yourself together, okay?”

  Nick nodded, still trying to make sense of what had happened. He watched them disappear around a corner and sat on the bed.

  “Was I floating?” he said aloud. Assigning words to the thing he’d just been doing didn’t make it make any more sense. People didn’t float. “I’m not just people, am I?”

  He stood and was surprised at how steady he was. Nick felt strong. He felt like had he wanted, he could have run a mile, no sweat, maybe even three or four. He made a fist and that felt strong too. If he punched a guy right now that guy would be out cold.

  He wasn’t hungry, but it was a good idea to eat something. Eating a balanced diet on a regular basis was good therapy too. Nick’s duffle bag was by his feet and he dug out his prescription, took the top off and dry-swallowed a pill. He wanted to be in the kitchen right now and took a step toward the door—

  —And his thighs were colliding into the edge of the dining room table, toppling the upper half of his body so he had to slap his palms down to prevent a face plant.

  “Oh, hey,” Earl said in that general southern twang. “That didn’t take long.” He seemed a little nervous for some reason.

  Nick only nodded, afraid to try his voice. He felt weak and on the verge of collapse. His thigh ached where he’d been shot with the arrow. It was all he could do to slide a chair out and fall into it.

  Earl stepped into the kitchen and a moment later he and Lucky began parading out food. Biscuits came first and as if the sight of them had activated his olfactory sense, the rich smell of food came to him. A moment ago he hadn’t been hungry in the slightest, now he was positively ravenous, though. Food, no matter what it was, had always had a dull taste for as far back as his brief memory could recall.

  Lucky set down eggs, sausage, and toast, all on separate plates.

  “Not sure what you’d like, so we made you a little of everything.”

  Earl came out with a pot of something whitish that turned out to be grits and ladled it out into a bowl before dropping a huge dollop of Shedd’s Spread in it.

  “Don’t know if you can have sugar or not,” Earl said, gesturing to a little bowl within arm’s reach.

  “He’s not diabetic, Earl,” Lucky said.

  “Yeah, yeah. Speakin’ a’ which, you like coffee? You like it black or…”

  “I don’t know,” Nick said. He was supposed to limit his stimulants. Had he ever had coffee before? He nodded when Lucky came back with a cup, steam wafting out of it.

  “Oh, I almost forgot…” Lucky held up a finger as soon as he set the cup down and dashed back into the kitchen and came out with a big plate piled high with bacon.
/>
  Nick’s mouth watered.

  He grabbed several strips off the plate, half hearing Lucky say something about not knowing if he liked it crispy or soft. Nick gobbled the first three in seconds and was working on the fourth when his taste buds went dead again. The bacon he was chewing was like working on a mouthful of rubber. He looked at Earl and Lucky, who were watching him expectantly, like he was about to sprout a new head or give birth.

  “It’s very good,” he said and forced a swallow. The food didn’t smell like food anymore. It smelled the same, Nick supposed, but it didn’t have the same appeal to him. He picked up the coffee and chugged down half of it.

  “Whoa, bud,” Earl said, “that’s still pipin’ hot!”

  Nick couldn’t tell if he had scalded himself. He focused on packing away the bacon because they were watching him like a couple of mother hens and he probably did need to eat. He coupled the bacon with two slices of toast, generously smearing grape jelly on them for show.

  How had he gotten here, though? Nick didn’t want to think about it, he supposed he needed to, though. He’d felt so strong a few minutes ago, like he could’ve fought a dozen men, then poof, he was suddenly here and barely able to stand under his own power.

  Nick didn’t think he’d fainted, but it was the closest idea he could concede to. He pulled away from his own thoughts and forced himself to make eye contact with Earl and Lucky, nodding at them.

  He finished eating and pushed away from the table. Surprisingly, they didn’t say anything to him about finishing the rest of the food, looking at each other a moment as if some sort of understanding were passing between them.

  “You guys going to eat?” he asked, pointing to the remaining food.

  “No,” Lucky said. “I don’t eat breakfast.”

  “I already had grits and eggs.” Lucky elbowed him in the ribs and he added, “I actually have to get goin’. Got to go meet with somebody about… somethin’.” Earl was gone in less than thirty seconds. “Hey, sorry ‘bout that arrow again,” he said before he left.

  Lucky began clearing the table. Nick stood and stretched, the ache in his thigh spreading into a cold throb. He was feeling a lot better than he had a few moments ago, though nowhere near as full of energy as he had before that. He mentally skipped over that weightless instant where he’d gone from there to here, not wanting to get bogged down with things he couldn’t have come close to explaining or understanding.

  Nick didn’t know the time. It looked like it was still morning by the slant of sunlight coming through the front window. He thought he should have been groggy.

  “How long was I out?” he asked.

  “Four days,” Lucky said, scraping the last plate out into the sink. He started the garbage disposal, rinsing everything down with cold water.

  Nick gently prodded at his thigh where he’d been wounded. It still felt tender, though marginally less so than when he’d been eating. It felt more like a bruise rather than a spot where a hole had been.

  “What do you mean four days?” he asked when Lucky turned off the garbage disposal.

  “Four days. No joke.” Lucky fixed him with a stare then turned back to throwing away dishes. Perfectly good dishes.

  “What are you doing? Nick asked.

  “Homeowners will be home soon. Got to get everything cleaned up before we go.”

  Nick thought it was odd to describe his friends as homeowners. Plus the fact he was throwing away plates was odd. He looked around and saw the boxes from the other night and the paperwork spread on the table were gone. The whole place as far as he could see was clean.

  Lucky cinched the garbage bag and picked up a backpack Nick hadn’t seen, sliding it onto his shoulder. The dishes clacked together, bulging inside the plastic bag. He went into the bedroom where Nick had been sleeping and came out with another bag of trash a moment later. He herded Nick to the front door and they were out. Lucky only stopped to deposit the garbage bags into a giant bin at the side of the house.

  “Where are we going?” Nick asked.

  “I have a shift at the Big Pig in about an hour and you need to get up close and personal with a shower.”

  A car pulled into the driveway of the house they had just left and a man and woman climbed out. They were dressed like they were returning from business, both in suits. His tie was missing and collar unbuttoned and she had her suit jacket off. Lucky gave them a half salute and they looked half confused. If Nick had been a guessing man he would have said they didn’t know him at all.

  “We can meet up for lunch if you don’t mind hot dogs.”

  The bacon was still sitting in the pit of Nick’s stomach like a stone. The thought of adding more food on top of it left him feeling nonplussed.

  “Why are you in a hurry?” Nick asked, turning around to watch the couple ascending the stairs to their front door. The woman gave them one last glance once they were too far away for Nick to make out the look on her face. “The Big Pig is a twenty minute walk.”

  “I got another job I might be lining up for you. Minus my ten percent, of course. Speaking of which, where’s my cut from the other night?”

  “I never got it. Guns were shot at my head, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah. That wasn’t the deal.”

  Nick looked at him as if to say ‘You’re telling me’.

  “Okay, so go over what happened again.”

  Nick explained, leaving out the part about his intense desire to eat her when actual contact was established between them.

  “She told me her husband was in the Conflict and never got to kill anything. I was supposed to be a gift for the both of them. And it was cool because I’m a vampire and I can’t die unless I get staked or have my head chopped off.”

  “But you’re not vampire.”

  Nick repeated his look from before.

  “You sure you don’t already know about the job I’m working on?”

  “How could I? You haven’t told me yet.”

  “Right. You still in?”

  Nick thought of the bills that he still needed to cover and quickly nodded. “Yeah.”

  “I’ll call the number I have for Nancy and let you know when I see you later.” He slid the backpack off and unzipped it, taking out Nick’s little duffle. “Your phone was dead and I charged it. I didn’t turn it on, though.”

  Nick took the bag and put the strap over his shoulder. There was already heavy traffic on the road at whatever hour this was. He and Lucky said goodbye, Nick remembering to ask for his cell number at the last moment, and went their separate ways.

  He turned his phone on and saw it was Monday morning, a little after eight.

  “Wow, it really has been four days.”

  Phoebe should have been at work and he hoped that meant ‘Pop-Pop’ was busy finding something to do and he could go home and sneak in a shower. Then his cell began chiming as several text messages and voicemail alerts started popping up.

  When he read the first text message, he began to walk faster. By the time he’d listened to the second voicemail, he was running.

  When he and Phoebe had established their living arrangement, the rules had been simple. After ten o’clock he was not allowed upstairs. Conversely, she and Randy were not allowed in the basement, though he suspected she was probably afraid to go down there regardless of the time of day. If either of them intended to have guests, they had to give at least a twenty-four hour notice, which probably contributed to her agitated state the other night when she’d asked him to leave; he hadn’t even gotten one hour’s notice. Their last rule and probably most important to Nick and currently being violated—had been no changes to the house.

  Nick spotted the scaffolding before turning onto his street and then the three men actively ripping shingles off the roof.

  The men on the scaffold were pulling away the vegetation that had attached itself to the siding and gotten the chimney in a stranglehold. As he was passing by, he spotted a rectangle of the concrete driveway
broken up and removed. The slab had already cracked from the root of a tree which had grown underneath it and there were two men in the process of leveling the dirt there.

  All they were doing was making repairs, repairs that he had to admit needed to be made. Still, it agitated him. They were changing his home from how he had known it. His house, despite its flaws, was comfortable, like a beat up old shoe.

  Worst of all was the big black Hummer parked in the driveway. His mind flashed back to the Sesame Street skit where the puppets would sing about one of these things not belonging. He’d never seen such a huge vehicle before outside of a semi-truck. It was so wide he didn’t think another car would have been able to park in the driveway.

  Nick had stopped without realizing, intending to keep walking as if he were going down the street to some other house. A heavy hand clapped him on the shoulder.

  “Take those bricks around back, would you?”

  Nick turned to see a much older, taller man half looking down at him. He seemed to be surveying the house, like he owned it. This must have been Pop-Pop.

  He didn’t know how the man had gotten the impression he was the help and it seemed the perfect opportunity to be near his actual home. Nick nodded, then headed toward the wheelbarrow of bricks a dozen or so feet away. He dumped his duffle bag on top of it, then grabbed the handles and began circling around the house.

  Once he was in back he found men around a flattened section of bare land. They had begun putting in sections of brick and what looked like the beginnings of a patio.

  This further angered Nick even though he could see once finished it would be very complimentary to the house. He came to the realization he didn’t like change, although he had such little memory of anything at all, just about everything was change.

  A sweaty olive-skinned man with a mop of black hair and scruffy beard came up to him and nodded, digging into the wheelbarrow with both hands and taking the bricks over to one of the other men. It was unseasonably warm for this late in autumn and a day primed for doing outside work.