Spirit Sanguine

by Lou Harper

  After a moment of hesitation, Gabe edged to the refrigerator, keeping an eye on Harvey. When he opened the door, he saw about a dozen plastic bottles filled with liquid the color of rusty tap water. Definitely not blood. He saw an already half-empty bottle, so he grabbed it.

  Harvey downed the liquid in one continuous gulp. He let out a relieved sigh. “That hit the spot.” He dropped the bottle on the floor and squinted up at Gabe. “You stink,” he said.

  Without clarifying if he meant it literally or figuratively, he closed his eyes, and his body went limp.

  Gabe instinctively reached to check for his pulse, but stopped mid-gesture. Harvey hadn’t died. He was already dead; undead, anyway. So he’d probably gone to sleep. Weird. Gabe waited for a few minutes, but when nothing happened, he wandered around the apartment. It proved to be disappointingly ordinary. In the bathroom, soap and shampoo lined the brim of the tub and a blue towel hung from the rack. Gabe found a double bed and a dresser in the bedroom. On the nightstand sat a clock and a book. He checked the cover: The Little Prince.

  He walked back to the main living area and took a good look around. The kitchen area at the far end was separated from the rest by a breakfast counter. The living area had a table with four chairs, an L-shaped couch and a plasma screen on the wall across from it. Bookshelves covered one of the shorter walls. The books turned out to be a motley collection of nutritional guides, biochemistry textbooks, a thick medical dictionary, numerous paperbacks about herbs and holistic medicine, and a few volumes of detective novels. A pint-sized Buddha statue sat between James Elroy and Agatha Christie. Talk about eclectic taste, Gabe thought. The grinning fat man seemed to mock him.

  On the kitchen counter stood an array of jars and containers with labels that meant nothing to Gabe. An open notepad lay next to them. He couldn’t make heads or tails of the messy handwriting and seemingly random jumble of numbers either.

  The only thing in the fridge, aside from the bottles of strange liquid, was a jar of horseradish. However, a couple of full ice trays sat in the freezer. After some searching, Gabe located a plastic bag. He wrapped a few ice cubes in it. Moving an armchair opposite to the couch, he settled down. With one hand, he held the ice to his aching nuts; with the other hand, he hung on to a wooden stake. Just in case.

  Watching the sleeping vampire, Gabe felt the tension slowly seep out of his body. So far this had been the second weirdest day of his life, but as his mother used to say, strange was just something you haven’t gotten used to yet. Without meaning to, he fell asleep.

  Chapter Two

  Gabe awoke with a start. The first thing he saw was a pair of brown-green eyes. Harvey sat on the sofa, observing him intently. They glared at each other for a few tense seconds before the vampire lowered his gaze—all the way to Gabe’s crotch. Gabe followed it to see a large wet spot there. Sometime during the night, his grip had loosened on the plastic bag, and the melted ice had soaked into his pants, creating the most embarrassing wet patch ever.

  “I have a dryer you can use,” Harvey said, snickering.

  “It was ice. You have sharp knees.”

  “And you have sharp sticks.”

  Gabe didn’t know what he was supposed to say, so he shrugged.

  Harvey made a dismissive gesture. “Good thing you’re a lousy shot.”

  “You moved.”

  “Ah! My bad. Is that how hunters do it? Ask the deer to hold still?”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure—” Gabe caught himself. “Are you always this mouthy?”

  “Why? Anything wrong with my mouth?”

  “Aside from always flapping?”

  “Yes, aside.”

  Gabe’s gaze was drawn to Harvey’s pursed lips. No, there was nothing wrong with them. They were exceptionally fine. And it wasn’t just those lips. For someone covered in dried blood, Harvey looked…nice. Gabe remembered the stake he’d been holding when he’d fallen asleep—it was gone. He patted his cargo pockets, but they were empty as well.

  “I put them away,” Harvey explained. “In case you woke up in a homicidal mood. You seem very impulsive.”

  “Where—”

  “They’re safe, don’t worry. May I suggest an official ceasefire? No slaying each other for a while. What do you say?”

  Gabe screwed up his brows. “It’s highly unorthodox. Why would I trust you?”

  “Why would I trust you? I’ve abstained from killing you or even feeding on you twice so far. You, on the other hand, have shown far less self-control. You really don’t have the moral high ground here.”

  “But you are—”

  “Don’t start with that whole bloodsucker bit. It’s getting old. You could try to be a little less dogmatic.”

  “Okay, fine,” Gabe replied gruffly.

  He didn’t like being told off on an empty stomach. Having a regular conversation with a vampire—one that didn’t even involve threats of vivisection—was weird enough. Uncle Miklos was probably spinning in his grave.

  A cautious smile spread across Harvey’s face. It was a remarkably nice smile. Harvey pushed himself off the couch. “I’m gonna take a shower. Feel free to use the dryer, and if you don’t mind, throw the cushion covers in the washer while you’re at it.”

  He tottered off. Gabe shed his pants and put them into the dryer. Next he peeled the covers off the cushions. The blood had dried into them, and he doubted it would come out, but he dutifully put them into the washer anyway. He found the detergent in a cupboard after some searching. He also found his confiscated stakes in a drawer but left them there for the time being. He sat back on the chair, self-conscious about being in his underwear.

  Harvey, the friendly vampire, took his time. When he came back, he wore clean jeans and shirt, and smelled of soap and shampoo. He moved with the slow, cautious motions of a convalescent, but his voice was cheerful.

  “I’d offer you something to wear, but nothing I have would fit you. Would you put this over the couch?” He handed Gabe a batik throw of some Indian design in yellows and greens.

  Gabe did as asked, but while bent over, adjusting the thing, something made him glance up. He caught Harvey’s eyes on him, possibly checking out his ass. What the hell?

  Harvey snatched his gaze away and started opening cupboards. “Would you like some coffee? I think I have a jar of instant around here somewhere. Ah, here it is. I’m afraid I have no milk. Or sugar.”

  “That’s fine. I prefer it black, anyway.”

  While the water boiled, Gabe retrieved his pants. They were mostly dry.

  Harvey handed him a cup of coffee and a handful of power bars. “I found these in your bag.”

  Shit. Gabe completely forgot about leaving it behind the Dumpster. Harvey must have searched his hiding spot.

  “What did you do with it?”

  “It’s under the bed. I figured better to have it out of sight.”

  Harvey parked himself at the other end of the couch, folding his legs under him. He was certainly limber. Pointedly not thinking of Harvey’s flexible limbs, Gabe quickly devoured three power bars. He was hungry.

  Harvey eyed him with a glare of disapproval. “I know I gave them to you, but you really shouldn’t eat those things; they’re full of high fructose corn syrup.”

  Gabe washed down the last of his corn-syrup-and-granola with the coffee. It had the flat flavor of instant, but he’d had worse. He was glad for the familiarity of the caffeine in his unconventional situation.

  “You’re the strangest vampire I’ve ever met,” he admitted.

  “Met many?”

  “Plenty enough.”

  “Killed them all?” The edge of a razor glinted just below the teasing tone.

  “Every single one,” Gabe duly admitted.

  “Here in Chicago? Or some other city?”

  “Hungary, Romania, Slovakia, Czech Republic, Bulgaria. Thereabouts.”

  Harvey’s brows inched up. “Oh. So not in the US at all?”

  “None yet. I
spent the last five years in Europe; only got back a few weeks ago,” Gabe said, shifting in his seat. He found the line of questioning decidedly uncomfortable but was compelled to explain himself. “The vampires my uncle and I hunted were different. They were hard to find, always hiding in catacombs, abandoned subway tunnels and the like. Europe has tons of those. The moment they noticed us, they attacked without fail.”

  “That sounds positively medieval.”

  “They smelled worse than dead things.”

  “You’re making this up.”

  “No, it’s the truth.”

  Silence settled over them while Harvey digested Gabe’s words. Gabe sipped his coffee and studied his host. At that moment, Harvey looked more like a regular guy than a vampire. His short black hair lay slicked back, still half wet. Studying Harvey’s features individually, Gabe noticed only Harvey’s lightly slanting eyes were clearly Asian. All the rest could have been Caucasian, but when put together, the Asian influence was impossible to miss, even if you ignored the eyes. Not that they were easy to ignore; they shone with inquisitiveness. Gabe got the impression he was being dissected and judged. A strange sensation under the circumstances, especially since he had his own curiosity to satisfy.

  “What’s that stuff you drink?” he asked.

  “Ah that. It’s sustenance—a nutritional blend specifically formulated for vampire needs. My own invention. I’m thinking of calling it Harvey’s Milk. What do you think?”

  Gabe guessed he looked horrified, because Harvey rolled his eyes. “It was a joke! Sheesh, you’re so serious.”

  Gabe rubbed his temple. He felt a headache coming on. “You don’t drink blood?”

  “I’m a vegetarian and a Buddhist.”

  Gabe nearly choked on his coffee. “You never drink blood?”

  Harvey’s face stiffened into a mask. “I had to, to survive. But I drank only as much as absolutely necessary. Ray was always on my case about it.”

  “Who’s Ray?”

  “Nobody. What were those East European vampires like?”

  “Ugly and mean—like me.”

  “You’re not ugly.”

  “But mean?”

  Harvey’s expression was hard to read. “Most definitely. How did you find your current…umm…vocation?” he asked, rubbing a hand over his abdomen.

  “It found me. It’s a family thing—as I discovered five years ago, when I met my uncle in Budapest. How did you become a vampire?”

  “Oh you know, the usual, boy meets vampire, boy gets turned.” Harvey broke eye contact and quickly directed the conversation back to Gabe. “Why did you come back?”

  “I had problems with my visa. I had no choice but to leave. Anyway, I’d grown up here, and I missed home.”

  “I’m guessing you’re planning on taking up your pursuit again here.”

  Gabe shrugged. “I haven’t been really thinking about it. But that’s all I’ve been doing for years; it’s become sort of an instinct. I don’t know what else to do.”

  Harvey frowned. “I wish you wouldn’t. I really don’t want you to go around killing my friends. Not to mention, if the other vampires knew, they’d go after you. There are rules against killing humans, but slayers are free targets.”

  “There are rules?”

  “Well, of course. Dead humans attract attention. Nobody wants the cops sniffing around. Bad for business, as they say.”

  “Do the other vamps drink that stuff you do?”

  “No, not yet. It’s not ready. It sort of works, but there are side effects.”

  “Like what?”

  “Drowsiness, for one. You saw me last night. Normally it’s not a problem, I don’t drink that much, and only right before bedtime, so it’s no big deal. But most vampires don’t like feeling groggy. We’re already weak during the daytime. It makes us more vulnerable. I’m working on it, though. I have some ideas.”

  “How did you even start?”

  “I used to be a nurse when I was alive. I also studied natural medicine. I wanted to become a nutritional therapist.” Harvey sounded wistful for a moment, but he went on without missing a beat. “After I got turned, I had an idea that maybe it wasn’t the blood itself the vampire needed, and started experimenting with various substances. It took a while, but in the end, I was right; I haven’t touched blood in years. If I could just perfect my tonic, I could sell it in vampire bars.”

  “There are vampire bars?”

  Harvey’s lips twitched sideways. “I talk too much. You’ve never met a vampire you didn’t want to kill, did you?”

  “I’ve never met one that didn’t try to kill me first.”

  “Really, you must be exaggerating.”

  “No, I’m not. Is every undead around here like you?”

  “No, of course not.” Harvey rolled his eyes. “If you were a redneck alive, you’ll be a redneck undead. You won’t suddenly develop a fancy for velvet and puffy shirts. Not that anyone does—that stuff is strictly for the movies.”

  The chime of the doorbell interrupted their conversation. Harvey jumped to his feet and scuttled off in the direction of the front door. Gabe used the opportunity to retrieve his bag. It was where Harvey had said—in the bedroom, under the bed. His leather jacket lay right next to it. He found Harvey in the living room opening a UPS box.

  Harvey looked up. “Oh, you’re leaving?”

  “I should.”

  It was awkward. Neither of them seemed to be able to locate the right words for the situation. What would Miss Manners say?

  “Would you…” Harvey started.

  “What?”

  “You know, lay off the whole staking business for now? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Gabe considered it. He even felt oddly touched by the vampire’s concern. “Okay, I won’t do anything, unless I’m attacked. Will that do?”

  “Great! Feel free to stop by if you have any questions.”

  “Yeah, sure. Bye, then.”

  Gabe spent the next few hours looking at help wanted ads in the papers. Not surprisingly, there was no demand for someone with his specific skill set. All he was qualified for was bagging groceries. He had the money from the sale of his parents’ store still sitting in the bank. It wasn’t much, but he could use it to start up something. Unfortunately, a recession wasn’t an easy time to start a business, especially if you had no idea what business you wanted to go into in the first place.

  Eventually, his thoughts strayed back to Harvey. Simply being around and talking to the guy was bewildering. Harvey had a way of taking the easy, straightforward principles Gabe had been taught and shaking them up, turning them upside down, until Gabe didn’t know what to think.

  It had been one thing taking care of foul-smelling monsters bent on ripping his face off. Sure, it had gotten a bit tedious after a while, but it was morally uncomplicated. Trying to eliminate someone who wanted to have a conversation like any regular person was infinitely more difficult. Logic having failed him, Gabe had only his gut instincts to fall back on, and his viscera was as confused as the rest of him. Secretly, he wished he could forget the past five years and go back to his old, normal life. He knew it was impossible but had no clue how to go forward either. He was still pondering that over dinner. Finally, he went for a walk. He wandered around aimlessly, or so he thought, until he found himself in Harvey’s neighborhood.

  This time he went to the front door and rang the bell.

  Harvey poked his head out, looking equal parts surprised and pleased, and no parts hostile. “Hey! What’s up?”

  Gabe shifted his weight from one foot to another. “Hi. I thought maybe you wanted to go see a movie?” Hearing himself say it, he felt as surprised as Harvey looked. Harvey just stared at Gabe, speechless for a moment.

  “A movie?” he asked when he found his voice.

  “Yeah. Unless you’re busy.” It was probably a bad idea anyway.

  “Nah. Let’s go. What do you wanna see?”

  “I don’t ev
en know what’s playing. Why don’t you decide?”

  The movie Harvey chose was supposedly a big new release. Gabe, who hadn’t watched American television in a long while or gone to the movies much, only recognized the lead actor. The story was full of action, but that was just on the surface. Underneath hid a clever puzzle about what was real and what wasn’t, or if it even mattered. Gabe wasn’t one for deep philosophical ruminations, but he enjoyed the film anyway. Afterward, Harvey took them to a cafe still open at that late hour.

  Gabe took a careful sip of his hot java, thoughts about the film still whirling around in his head. “I think the guy was still dreaming in the end.”

  Harvey grinned back at him. “See, I knew you were a smart one! Do you think the other characters were real, other dreamers, or just products of his imagination?”

  “Hmm, I didn’t think of that. You know, the young one reminded me of you.”

  “Arthur?”

  “Yeah, him.”

  “He filled out that three-piece suit nicely, don’t you think?” Harvey asked with a lewd grin.

  Gabe thought the actor indeed looked good in the suit. He also imagined that Harvey wouldn’t do any lesser job of it, but he didn’t share his opinions. Harvey took the lid off his coffee and bent his head over the cup.

  “Are you gonna drink it?” Gabe asked, baffled.

  “Nah. Most liquids just go through me without any effect, and my taste buds don’t work the same. But I can still enjoy the aroma. Coffee is number five on the list of things I miss.”

  “What’s number one?”

  “We’re not acquainted intimately enough to tell you that. Yet.” He looked at Gabe with a roguish expression, hinting at the possibility of all kinds of intimacies.

  Gabe turned his attention back to his cup. He’d started puzzling out that Harvey was not quite the same during the daytime and at night. He was always chatty, ready for a quick barb, but now, after dark, he was more forward and playful. As if reading Gabe’s thoughts, Harvey moved his chair closer.

  “Tell me more about you, my dark and mysterious prince. I don’t even know your full name.” How he managed to say such outlandish things without batting an eyelash was a mystery to Gabe.