In my mind, I envisioned my Elven battlemage. He wouldn't take shit from anyone. He once stared down an entire tavern full of angry bugbears. No way would he back down from this asshole. I let years of role playing experience take over and envisioned that this was simply another random encounter. It was time to throw down my twenty-sider.
I sneered at him. “You heard what I called you. More importantly, you heard what I told you. You're in my seat. Get. The. Fuck. Up. Now.” My emotionless tone would have made a Zen master proud.
“Or what?” His voice still held its original menace, but I could see a glimmer of doubt in his eye (I hoped). He wasn't expecting this.
Ignoring his question, I casually swept my gaze toward the body on the rug. “Is this your handiwork?”
“Damn straight. Drained him like a stuck pig.”
“Nasty what happens when a human gets drained by a vampire,” I said conversationally. This was it, sink or swim. Please work! “Ever see what happens when someone like me drains a vampire?”
That stopped his attitude dead in its tracks. I could see it in his eyes. Goddamn it, Sally and James were actually right.
“N-no,” he stammered.
I put an edge into my voice. “Well, you're going to, if you don't fucking move ... NOW!”
There was a tense pause as we locked eyes ... and then, amazingly, he blinked first. Looking like a petulant child who had been sent to bed early, he got up without a word and stalked off. I, in turn, sat down, leaned back, and put my feet up on the corpse (gross!) like I owned the place. The two ladies got up to follow him. As they did, I said in my best arrogant tone, “When you decide you've had your fill of Dick Raper there, come on back and I'll show you how to make a Dr. Death sandwich.”
One flashed me a look of outright disgust as she stormed off, but the other gave me a much less hostile glance that said that maybe, just maybe, there'd be a chance in hell of that happening. Damn, I'd been acting like an alpha dog for less than five minutes and already had seen more results than I ever did before. Note to self: remember this shit.
Of course, Sally had to go and ruin it by sitting down next to me. She carried herself meekly, but it was just an act. “Smooth,” she whispered low enough so the others wouldn't overhear. “You'd sleep alone at a sex addicts’ convention.” Bitch.
Sally aside, though, the exchange between Dusk Reaper and me appeared to elicit its desired effect. There were a lot of whispered conversations going on in the room, and a quick scan showed that few vamps in the crowd were willing to make direct eye contact with me. So far, so good.
Unfortunately, almost as if on cue, I heard a familiar voice angrily yell out, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I turned my head to see Night Razor come stomping out of one of the bedrooms looking as much the douchebag as ever. In tow followed the cute redhead I had seen the previous week, looking quite disheveled, I might add. Whatever I might think of Jeff, it was obvious he was getting tail from whomever in the coven he felt like getting it from. I really needed to put in an application for his job.
Oddly enough, though, his wrath wasn't directed toward me ... at least not yet. His focus for the time being seemed to be on chewing Dusk Reaper a new asshole. You can probably guess the reason.
“You're eighty-four goddamn years old, and you're going to puss out to this?” Night Razor gestured toward me as he screamed in the other vampire's face. I felt Sally's boot strike me quickly on the side of my leg (ouch!) while he continued bitching Dusk Reaper out. She didn't need to remind me. Whatever happened in the next few minutes would either make or break me, literally.
“Sorry ... Razor, man. It's just that ... he's ... y'know,” Dusk Reaper stuttered.
“Don't start with that Freewill bullshit,” Razor barked. “I thought you were smarter than that.” Really? I personally wouldn't have given Doofus Reaper credit for being smart enough to tie his own shoes. “Now stop being a fucking pansy and GO SHOW HIM WHO'S BOSS!!”
No doubt about it, I could feel the force of the compulsion from where I sat. Dusk Reaper's eyes momentarily glazed over and then a look of pure hatred spread across his face. He started slowly advancing upon me, Night Razor looking on approvingly. It was time to test whether Ozymandias knew what he was talking about. Trying (and almost failing) my damnedest to remain calm, I locked eyes with my would-be attacker.
With each step he took, I pulled back my lips a little, baring more of my fangs. I also visibly tensed my body as if preparing to launch myself at him. A bluff, but then again, that bugbear encounter had been one, too. I was only fourth level at the time, after all. All the while, I never let my eyes waver from his.
At the third step, his body started to quiver and his movements became a little jerky. At the fourth step, I noticed the look on his face starting to waver as well.
By the time his foot came down a fifth time, I was quickly running out of room, but thankfully he stopped and broke his gaze from mine. He shook his head a little, as if clearing his thoughts, and then turned to Night Razor.
“It's all good, man. I was just heading out, anyway. Really.” That last part came out perhaps a bit whinier than he had meant it to. Night Razor and I both glared at him. Mine was still a bluff, but I was pretty sure Razor was getting ready to eviscerate the other vamp. To his credit, Dusk Reaper apparently sensed this and beat a hasty retreat to the door, although he tried to save some face by turning to me as he opened it. “Next time, motherfucker,” he weakly growled, but there was no real conviction to his voice. Finally, he shut the door behind him and I took my first breath in what felt like an hour.
Night Razor slowly turned toward me, his hands curling into fists. I was definitely not out of the woods yet. An ass-stomping by him now would probably knock down the giant wall of self-serving bullshit I had just built – that, and it would also hurt, probably a lot. Healing factor or not, I had no more love of pain now than I did whilst still alive. Fortunately, I had a six hundred year old life preserver to cling to.
“Ozymandias says ‘hi,’” I said before he could do anything that I might regret. That appeared to give him cause to reconsider. Night Razor wasn't even remotely afraid of me, that much was obvious. However, I was pretty certain whatever craving he had in him to beat the snot out of me was outweighed by his lack of desire to deal with James afterward. I had seen James in action and Jeff's reaction to it. In a fight, he would eat Night Razor for lunch and then probably still have enough left in him to use me as a toothpick.
I was certain we both knew the cause for his hesitation, but I still had an illusion to maintain for the others. As he stood there glaring, I bent down and dipped my finger into the wound in the corpse's neck. I brought my hand back up and contemptuously licked the blood off of it. In practice, it was a pretty gross thing to do, but I bet it looked damned cool. Yeah, it would have been a bit more badass if maybe I looked more like Vin Diesel, but you work with what you have.
Sally, to her credit, jumped right in and played along. “Okay, that's it. I've had enough,” she said with a slight quiver to her voice. Leaping to her feet, she went to stand by Night Razor. “I did what you asked me to. I found him and convinced him to come back. But I can't take it anymore.” Ooh, were those crocodile tears rolling down her face? Nice touch. “This fucker is creeping the shit out of me. Please, master! I'm sorry I brought him here. I didn't know.” She put her arms around Night Razor and buried her face in his shoulder. “Please, forgive me,” she whimpered softly. “I'll be more careful next time, I swear. Just give him to someone else. Let Firebird keep an eye on him and I'll stay here with you. I’ll even do those things you like.” Judging by how pale the redhead's face got, I assumed she must’ve been Firebird. I actually almost found myself hoping Jeff would take Sally up on her suggestion. A little ginger action might be just what the doctor ordered.
Sadly, no redheaded sloppy seconds for me, though, as he shoved Sally away from him. “Tough shit. You made your bed, now you can lie in it. This piec
e of shit is your problem.”
She dropped to her knees and started quietly sobbing.
“Whine about it again and I'll compel you to let him do whatever the hell he wants with you.”
Oh, yeah! Please whine again, please whine again.
Night Razor nodded toward the redhead, and she quickly moved to his side. “I'm getting some fresh air. This place stinks.” Before he walked out, he looked me in the eye and said, “I'll see you tomorrow night, meat.”
I managed to meet his gaze until the door shut behind him, at which point I allowed myself a deep sigh of relief.
Within a few minutes, every other vampire in the place found an excuse to be elsewhere. As the last one closed the door behind him, Sally popped up from the floor and gave me a big grin. “That went fucking fabulously.”
“Glad you thought so.” I mimed wiping sweat off my brow. “Me, I'm not entirely sure I didn't crap my pants.”
“You did great. Enough of the coven saw what went down between you and Dusk Reaper. By the end of the night, everyone will be talking about how you practically ripped his head off.”
“I'm surprised Jeff didn't do that to mine.”
“You played that perfectly. He's not about to cross James. And now he'll have his hands full with damage control, as they're probably also going to be gossiping about how he backed down in front of you.”
“Great. Now all I have to do is keep him from killing my ass tomorrow night,” I said, still a little shaky.
“Yeah, that one might be a bit dicey,” she agreed. “You definitely didn't win any points in his book. You might want to consider not following him down any dark alleys or subway tunnels.”
“Thanks. I kind of figured that.”
“Oh, relax. You scored big tonight. That's the important thing. Sit back, put your feet up, and snack on the leftovers.” She pointed to the corpse. “You might as well enjoy it. You're probably not going to get much of a chance to let your guard down tomorrow,” she said, walking into the kitchen.
Looking to change the subject to something other than my potential future pummeling, I glanced down at the dead body. “Speaking of leftovers, how the hell do you guys clean up messes like this?”
“We pay the cleaning crew very well, and they don't ask questions,” she called from the other room. “As for the carpet, a quick steam clean and you'll never notice the blood. Scotchgard is a fucking miracle, I tell you.” She emerged from the kitchen, steak knife in hand. “Pity I can't say the same for this dress.” With that, she sliced open the side of her neck. Blood immediately started pouring down her shoulders.
“Jesus Christ!” I yelled, jumping to my feet.
She smiled at me as the blood began to soak the top of her dress. “All for the cause. If anyone else stops by here, they'll learn how I just barely managed to fight you off when you tried feeding upon me.”
“Oh. Yeah, right, I guess,” I stammered. A few minutes ago, Sally had done a good job pretending to be afraid of me. However, I couldn’t help but think that maybe I should be the one who was afraid of her.
♦ ♦ ♦
Sally's little display proved to be useful, if completely psychotically insane. The loft was apparently a popular hangout spot for the coven. As such, every couple of hours or so, a group of vampires could be heard walking up the stairs. They would come waltzing in the door and there would be Sally, lying on the floor, holding her neck (which she had to cut several times due to her enhanced healing), and tearfully crying for help.
Each and every time, the vampires showed what a standup bunch of assholes they were. They'd look in horror from her to me. I was mostly just sitting on the couch flipping through TV channels ... I love pay per view, especially when I'm not the one paying. I'd give them a glare or two, and then they'd book the hell out the door faster than they came in. Worked like a charm. I wouldn't have expected vampires to be such pussies, but I wasn't complaining about it, either.
Finally, with the morning sky barely starting to lighten, she declared we were probably safe from intrusion for a while and went off to take a shower. I, being the gentleman that I am, left her to her business (she locked the door) and went to warm up a liter of blood in the microwave. When she came out (dressed, sadly), she headed for one of the bedrooms and suggested I do the same, as I had a long night ahead of me. That sounded like a good idea. The excitement of the previous night had finally faded, and I was feeling pretty wiped.
After first making sure Sally was securely locked in (she was, damn it), I entered the other bedroom, the one that Jeff and the redhead had come out of hours earlier, and then immediately backed the fuck out. I don't know what the hell they were doing in there, nor do I want to. Suffice it to say, holy crap, that was a lot of blood.
After dragging the corpse into the kitchen (damn thing was starting to creep me out), I spent the next several hours asleep on the couch.
Waking up to a face as pretty as Sally's was a dream most men have. Waking up to that face yelling, “Get moving, dipshit,” not so much. I could only imagine how many speechwriters bemoaned the loss of such an eloquent orator when she decided to become a stripper.
“Come on, wake up,” she again prodded.
“Okay, okay, I'm up.”
“You sleep like the freaking dead.”
Well, duh! “What's the emergency?” I asked.
“Most of the coven is usually awake by now. Gives us all time to get dressed, do our hair, put on makeup ... you know, so we're all ready in time for sundown.”
“Sorry, left my eyeliner back in Brooklyn,” I grumbled, rubbing my eyes.
“Just as long as you didn't leave your deodorant. My point is that some of the others, particularly Jeff, could be popping in soon. I want to have one more surprise ready for them. Follow me.”
I got up and she led me to the bathroom door. “Punch it,” she ordered.
“Why?”
“Because it was looking at me funny,” she quipped, sarcasm oozing from every pore. “Just do it.”
Okay, whatever. I pulled my arm back and did as I was told. My hand collided with the door with a meaty thud. “There, happy?”
“What the fuck was that?” she snapped. “I said to punch it, not give it a little ass-slap. Like this.” She turned to the door and let loose with a right jab that left a fist-sized dent in it.
I looked more closely at the damage and asked, “Is this metal?”
“Yeah, it's a security door.”
“Why do you have a security door on the bathroom?”
Another fucking eye-roll! I swear there was going to be a head-shaped dent in the door in about thirty seconds. “Isn't it obvious? Sometimes the larder in the basement is full. We use this in case we need to lock up any refreshments.”
Great. A bathroom/meat locker combo: just what every apartment in SoHo needed.
“Now smash the shit out of it,” she commanded. “They'll be able to tell if I did it. Your hands are bigger.”
“Let me guess: you locked yourself in the bathroom last night to escape my evil wrath.”
“See? You are learning.” She patted my head. “Who's a good boy?”
I decided to focus my annoyance with her on the door. I tensed up and then started to rain blow after blow on it. By the time I was done, it looked like I had made a fairly frenzied effort to break in. When I stepped back to admire my handiwork (damn, I kill me), I realized Sally had dragged the corpse back out of the kitchen.
She grinned as she dropped it next to me. “This next part's gonna get a little messy.”
She wasn’t kidding either. A few minutes of swinging the dead body violently against the door left the place looking like something out of a horror movie. Sally then tore up her dress from the night before and tossed it into the pile of gore to complete the effect. Anyone walking in out of context would think that a freaking grizzly bear had attempted to tear its way into the bathroom. All things considered, I'm pretty sure that was the plan.
The Tome of Bill Series: Books 1-4 (Bill The Vampire, Scary Dead Things, The Mourning Woods, Holier Than Thou) Page 13