Vamp-Hire

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Vamp-Hire Page 14

by Rice, Gerald Dean


  “Exactly what the name says it is. Church. People come here to worship.”

  “Is this one of those Imprean churches?” Impreanism was a religion that had started after the Conflict had ended. It had been created by Juke Kyander, a Finnish man who had migrated to the U.S. shortly after the war. It borrowed heavily from Christianity, but one of the major differences was that it acknowledged no deity. He had also coined the term ‘oxitheistic’, meaning ‘no god’. Nick wasn’t a follower. The way he figured it, if he was going to reject religion he shouldn’t do it halfway.

  “Sometimes.” She turned through a pair of double doors and into what looked to be a decent-sized, yet incomplete theater. There were several columns of seats to the left and only three on the right, the naked concrete exposed beyond that. At the far end was a raised stage with a pulpit. “Sometimes, it’s a synagogue, or a mosque, or a temple. It depends on who needs it.”

  “What, do they rent out?”

  “Yes.”

  Ti continued down the aisle, taking the four stairs at the side of the stage to get on top of it. Nick turned and looked back. On the ceiling high above there was a chandelier that caught the light and made it glitter in a thousand pieces. He followed her behind the curtains and to another door. This one took a key to get through and it opened into a big empty room. She made sure the door was completely shut before they continued.

  The floor looked like it was made of black glass. There was a bar on the far end, stocked with several brands of liquor.

  “What is this?”

  “This is Church. Open seven days a week, from sundown to sunup.”

  “How can this place run? I mean, I thought only essential services could be up during non-peak hours.”

  “And who’s to say Church isn’t essential services?” She turned to give him a challenging stare. “There is a loophole in the law that states religious institutions can be open at any hour. We provide those kinds of services for anyone who wants. There’s a group of monks who are going to be here within the hour. Also, it’s a refuge to vamps who don’t do quiet parties.” And, as if she realized what she’d said. “No offense. I use the ‘v’ word in front of my friends who are… like you.”

  A man came through a door behind the bar ahead of them and Ti sped up. She looked over her shoulder and saw Nick was still following her and stopped.

  “I need you to stay here. I have to talk to that guy for a moment.”

  Nick nodded and figured now was a perfect time for him to make a phone call. He dug his cell out of his pocket and thumbed in Lucky’s number.

  “Bruce’s Pizza,” Lucky said after two rings.

  “What the hell, Lucky?”

  “What?”

  “Ti?”

  “Oh, so you two met. Hot, huh?”

  “Unfortunately.” Nick’s response was intended for the first question and he felt heat rush to his face at the implication of his answer being applied to the second.

  “What happened?”

  Nick gave him a quick rundown including the purchase of her boots.

  “So they look good on her?”

  “What?”

  “The boots. They look good?”

  “I guess. Why’d you send her?”

  “I thought there was the possibility those guys would try to grab you.”

  “Any reason you didn’t tell me?”

  “Didn’t want to freak you out. I could’ve been wrong.”

  Nick was silent a moment. He could feel himself getting angrier without having a reason that satisfied him as to why. “What did you find out about the other job?”

  “You still want to?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right. It’s simple. A lady thinks she’s got somebody in her walls.”

  Nick made a face. “How am I supposed to help with that?”

  “Use those extra sharp senses of yours. Tell her if there’s anything in there.”

  Nick had never done anything like that before, but he supposed that would work. In the walls? That made absolutely no sense. She was probably a kook and wouldn’t be satisfied no matter what Nick told her.

  “Did you get paid up front?”

  “Seventy-five percent,” Lucky said.

  “When does she want me there?”

  “Anytime. Actually, now would be good.”

  “Okay. Where am I going?”

  Lucky gave him an address on the city’s northwest side. It wasn’t too far away from his house, still it was a long way to hoof it from here. He looked at Ti, who was still talking to the man behind the bar. The tall, Rastafarian-looking guy came in and breezed past Nick like he was invisible and sidled up next to her.

  “It might take a while to get there if I have to walk.”

  “I can come scoop you in about thirty.”

  “Okay.”

  Nick made his way over to the bar. He might not have been boyfriend material for Ti, but it bugged him when the tall Rasta put his arm around her shoulders. He realized with sudden clarity, like realizing the keys you were looking for had been in your hand all along, that they were siblings. It was kind of a built-in relationship detector that allowed him to perceive connections between people. He didn’t know if it was an actual Skill or if he was just perceptive; he put it on par with his ability to predict when commercial breaks were coming to an end.

  Nick checked the time on his cell. Still had a couple of hours before Phoebe got off work. He had no clue if she knew about her grandfather and figured he didn’t want to tell her that by phone. He could probably make this job and then walk home and sit down with her.

  “…going to need you to get those for me, Coco,” Ti was saying. He felt himself tingle with jealousy even though he had no idea what ‘those’ were and why she needed them. He wanted to be the one to get whatever it was she needed. Nick examined the thought. He felt like he was pulling himself in two directions. Did he want her or didn’t he? She probably was much too fast for him and she looked to be a woman of some sophistication. No way could he afford the lifestyle someone as beautiful as her probably demanded. He tried to stuff the whole line of thought into some deep crevice in his mind.

  “Ay, don’t call me dat!” the tall Rasta said. He took his coat off and slung it over the bar.

  “Cut it out with the accent. That’s enough already.”

  Coco said something so fast in severely accented English Nick couldn’t make out the words.

  “Okay. Keith.”

  So Coco preferred to be called Keith. Nick made a mental note.

  He could see by their body language and proximity to each other that they were more than siblings. They were close out of necessity. Maybe they had had to fight for each other, to stand up for one another. Siblings tended to be close simply because of a blood tie. Maybe when they were children Coco had taken Ti’s licks or maybe she had told a lie for him and gotten caught and still refused to confess.

  Whatever had gone on between them or what was still going on, Nick could tell the connection ran deep enough to where either one would lie down his or her life for the other.

  Nick figured Ti had said her piece to the man behind the bar and sat on the other side of her, resting his elbows on the bar. He pointed to the bottles behind who he guessed was the bartender.

  “Can I get I shot of one of those?” Alcohol was not forbidden; actually it was encouraged in social settings. Vamps actually metabolized pretty quickly and based on his body weight he could have up to three shots in an hour with no ill effects. Nick hadn’t actually imbibed yet and he figured one couldn’t hurt.

  “‘Old on. I serve up the greenie.” Coco slapped his palms on the bar as he side-leaped over it. “Whatcha want now? You got your rumpshaker, Irish Car Bomb, Devil’s ice cream—whatcha tum-tum achin’ far and I fix it right up?”

  Nick had never heard of any of those and was pretty sure Coco was making them up. “I’ll have the Devil’s ice cream,” he said and Coco begin grabbing random bottles a
nd pouring into a silver cup over ice. He capped the whole thing off and shook furiously, occasionally doing complex tosses over his shoulder and under his arm, catching and flipping it with casual ease.

  He poured it into a tall glass and then grabbed a can of Cool Whip from a mini refrigerator. He topped it off and slid the drink over to Nick.

  Nick looked at the glass, slowly unfolding his arms. He glanced at Coco and Ti, the other man standing back, watching him. Nick picked up the glass and downed it. Ti gasped and the grin on Coco’s face broadened.

  It burned. Nick tried his best not to pull a face, the muscles twitching and constricting on their own until he had a full grimace going. He could feel it before he knew what it was and the words came spilling out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying.

  “So how’d you lose your leg, Coco?” he asked.

  “What?” Coco asked in accentless English.

  “Your leg. You tell everybody you lost it after you got shot by a guy you beat up in a fight. Didn’t you fall down the stairs, though?”

  Coco’s mouth opened and closed.

  “And whose name is that tattooed on the back of your arm?” Coco raised his arm as if he were unaware of any such tattoo. He pulled up the short sleeve exposing the rest of the Jamaican flag tattooed on his triceps.

  “Sorry, Charlie, you missed on that one.” The accent was back, the smile less so.

  “Oh,” Nick said. “Why don’t you pour me another one? Make it strong this time.”

  “Hey, we got a bris coming tonight,” the other man said.

  “Irie, I got it covered.” Coco took out a five and slapped it on the counter in front of the bartender. Ti seemed to be watching with interest as he went to work, shaking up another Devil’s ice cream and pouring it into the same glass. This time he put a maraschino cherry on top of the whipped cream.

  Nick wasted no time, plucking the cherry up by its stem and grabbing the glass and drinking it down as fast as he had the first one. He slammed it down and swiped the whipped cream off his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Hey, don’t do that.” The other guy grabbed the glass off the bar. “This is oak.”

  Nick resisted the urge to look down at himself to see if he’d caught on fire. He pushed on. “So, about that tattoo? Whose name is that?”

  “I don’t have a tattoo of anybody’s name on my arm,” Coco said, slamming his palms down on the bar.

  “Hey, the oak,” the other guy protested weakly.

  “Sure you do.” Nick looked at Ti, who seemed mildly interested. “You tattooed that flag over it. What is that name, though?”

  “You shut your—” Coco had telegraphed the punch by letting his hand drop to his side. He may have caught Nick had he simply swung from where his hand had been on the bar, even though the blow would not have had any leverage. His sentence died prematurely when Nick casually turned his head, braced his feet, and rolled away from Coco’s swing, using his forward momentum to yank the taller man off his feet and over the bar. Nick brought him down hard on the floor, the wind exploding from his lungs.

  Nick kneeled into his chest and wrenched his head to the side by a fistful of coily hair. He saw the big artery pumping in the side of his neck and for one long second wanted to open it. He was aware of his free hand, pulled back to right behind his hip, fingers pointed straight like knives, poised as if ready to slice that artery open.

  He felt Ti’s foot coming before it struck his head and he slapped it out of the way. She lost her balance and almost went down and he was on his feet, catching her in one arm.

  “What are you trying to do, kill him?” she said.

  “I… no.” Nick knew that wasn’t exactly true. There was a big difference between Coco and the other two human beings in the room. Coco was the only one who smelled delicious. He let Ti go, examining the feelings going through him and trying to shove them back where they came from. He also realized he’d misinterpreted the relationship between them. They weren’t siblings and they weren’t just like siblings, either.

  Somewhere along the way, Coco had fallen in love with Ti. She loved him too, just not like that. He’d tattooed her name on his arm and it had had the opposite effect by pushing her further away.

  Ti watched him and he retreated to a far wall. She knelt and checked on Coco—Keith. Nick had been close to what—tearing his throat out? He looked at his hand and saw the fingernails were a little longer than they had been last time he’d paid attention to them. They also appeared to be thinner than his fingernails typically were, and sharp. Nick ran them over the back of his other hand and was surprised by a paper-thin cut.

  He’d never done anything like that before.

  Nick waited where he was, watching Ti and the other guy hover over Coco.

  In a few minutes they were helping him stand. They sat him at the bar and he propped himself up on one elbow. Ti turned furious eyes on Nick. If she were going to kill him, now would probably be the ideal time. He thought about running. Then again, he thought about running a lot lately. Nick didn’t want to run anymore. He didn’t want to be afraid.

  He braced himself as she approached. No, he wasn’t scared. He even held his chin up and smiled to show her he was happy to be there.

  The right cross dumped him on his butt.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” Ti said.

  * * *

  The cold helped clear the cloudiness. Nick eyed Ti suspiciously, half expecting her to take another swing at him. Thankfully, she didn’t. Silence stretched between them and Nick had no clue how to fill it.

  “You embarrassed him,” she said. “I don’t know how you were right but you were.”

  “Look, he took a swing. I was only—”

  “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about what you said. Coco and I—Keith and I have known each other since kindergarten. We’ve been best friends since second grade. When the Conflict started they were grouping people up in houses, figured safety in numbers. For a while he slept in a room with me and my brother.

  “A vampire, they called it a leaker because of all the black gunk that came out of its eyes and mouth, killed my brother right in front of us. It was one of the few that could walk around in daylight. You probably know all about them, being a vamp and all.”

  “Actually, I don’t.” Nick had heard there had been differing breeds of vampire during the Conflict, but they had never gone into detail at the Center. He supposed he could find out all about them now that he was out.

  Ti gave him a doubtful look and continued. “It would have killed me, but Keith was there. He protected me and it almost tore his leg off. A doctor thought he’d managed to save it, but when Keith fell down the stairs he broke it and it had to be removed. So, if you guessed we’re tight, you’re right.”

  She examined his eyes as if expecting him to jump in with the next part of the story.

  “I thought you were brother and sister at first,” Nick said. “Then I realized it was more complex than that. Does he see every guy as a challenge for your affection or is it only the vamps?”

  “It’s not like that. He’s not like that. Keith likes the vamps, thinks you people probably got screwed more than anybody else out of this whole thing. He attends the Imprean services sometimes to learn more about you people.”

  “It’s nice to know you think of me as a ‘you people’.”

  Ti looked stung and he supposed that wasn’t entirely fair.

  “Look, vamps didn’t even exist ten years ago so I’ll take a pass on the prejudice. This is new for everybody. What I mean is Keith and a lot of people are trying to… digest this new dynamic, and that includes me too. So if I use the wrong words it’s because I’m still learning the right ones.”

  Nick was silent a couple of beats. “Fair enough. There’s a simple way to get to know somebody like me. Talk to me.”

  “Let’s start again.” She stopped. “I’m Ti McGregor.” She put out her hand. Nick had to smile. That was the same h
and she’d punched him with. He shook it, noticing for the first time the necklace around her neck with the black circular medallion. Nick knew enough about Impreanism to recognize it as their version of a crucifix. He’d seen ones like the medallions on many people, most wore it wrong. The inlet was empty, where so many others had diamonds or zirconia. Empty meant you were a humble beginner and over time with piety and practice, the Facilitator, or Reverend, would grant a practitioner a token jewel or stone to fill the inlet. Ideally, it would take more years than the average person had to live to fill it, thus showing how even in humility, Imprean vamps were incomplete.

  “I’m Nick. Just… Nick. You practice?”

  Ti looked down as if noticing the medallion for the first time. “No, I… it was a gift.” She looked embarrassed. She raised a hand and cupped it in the palm of her hand and seeming to have second thoughts, dropped it to hang free again. Many of the devout didn’t believe humans should be allowed to practice. Nick even felt a tug of envy that she had it on and forced himself not to care. He would have liked an explanation, though. She didn’t offer one.

  “You’re not the first person Keith has given the jerk act and truth be told, it’s not you. It’s Lucky.” Nick made a face and Ti sighed. “We used to date. I was all into the hardcore underground thing and Keith—”

  “—just didn’t do it for you because he was too much like a brother.”

  She nodded. “He thought I saw him as less than because of the leg, but I just can’t with him. It took him years before we got to a point where he understood it was never going to happen.”

  “So because he and Lucky are kind of the same he took it personally when you dated him.”

  “I don’t think they’re anything alike at all.” Ti’s eyebrows pinched closer together. “I guess he might think of it that way. I never thought about it before.” They turned and began heading back. “When Lucky called and asked me to tail you, I told Keith where I was going.”

  “So Coco’s still not over you.”

  “Oh, no. He is. We’re probably closer now than ever.” Nick imagined being ‘friends’ with this woman. Ti was so beautiful. He didn’t think it would be possible. There were probably a few dozen guys she thought were perfectly fine with simply being her friend. He could even see himself lying in wait, always ready for the right opportunity. Maybe when she was lonely or needed a shoulder to cry on.

 

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