by Emily Reese
Mike repeated the number Ben gave him and the call ended shortly after.
"I take it he was a friend of yours," the vampire said after he hung up the phone.
"We'd been friends since we were kids. I was with him the day he met Mary."
"I'm sorry, Michael. Truly I am. And while it's not always so horrific, I'm sad to say this will not be the first friend you'll outlive."
"I know that. I know that."
"Try to prepare as best you can, son." Ben opened the door and turned to leave, calling over his shoulder, “Come on.” Mike sat there in stunned silence for a minute before slowly rising to follow. Did he like Ben? No, not particularly. But if the guy was trying, Mike could too.
He caught a glimpse of Ben slipping through a door to the left of Khale’s office. Mike followed, struggling to think about what Ben wanted of him and where he was headed, rather than the awful news trailing him like a ghost. When he entered, he found himself in some sort of workout room. There were hard blue mats covering the entire floor and one full wall was a mirror; it reminded him of high school wrestling.
“Alright,” Ben began, “time for some basic combat training.”
"No, man. Not right now." The door slammed shut behind him of its own volition, the sound making him jump.
“What if I told you we could do something about your friend?" Ben asked darkly.
"About Jimmy? What are you talking about?"
"You learn a few things, get right with humans... who's to say you won't be the one to find the guy who did it instead of the police?" The two of them shared a look, a silent recognition that they were no longer governed by human laws. Under the right circumstances, justice could be theirs to deliver. "Now, tackle me.”
“Seriously?” Mike was taller and all around bigger than Ben, plus he’d been a half way decent linebacker in his younger days. Ben didn’t answer; instead, he just winked waved him forward. A smirk crept slowly across Mike’s face as he prepared to light up the cocky bastard in front of him. If nothing else, he could lose himself to aggression and forget about the reasons he felt so much of it. Running full force, he reached out his arms to grab — nothing. With nothing to take to the ground, Mike face planted hard into the bright blue floor.
“Again,” said Ben’s voice from behind him. How the hell did he do that?
Once more Mike set himself and pounced forward, only to eat floor again.
“Is that all you’ve got?”
Mike growled as he shoved himself off the ground. This time when he ran at Ben, he tried to dart to one side at the last minute. It was all for naught and Mike ended up slamming into the wall.
“Are you, or are you not a vampire?” Ben continued to mock him. “A supernatural being? Stop running like a bloody human and come at me!”
At this point, Mike no longer cared what the vampire before him had to say — he only cared about shutting him up. Rage was making him see red, and he headed for Ben this time with the intent to knock him through the wall. Mike’s hands reached out and amazingly, he felt Ben’s clothing instead of empty air. Before he could enjoy his victory, Mike found himself airborne then slammed down into the mats so hard he was sure he’d cracked a rib. Sharp tingles shot through his body, just like the last time Ben touched him. He waited for his vision to refocus and the pins and needles to subside, trying to figure out what just happened. When he could see straight, he saw Ben’s face grinning above him.
“That’s more like it. Try to do it a few more times before you leave. See you tomorrow, Vampire.” Then he was gone.
*****
With no word from Detective Martinez and nothing to do but let the wounds of Meghan's frigid trail and the Nolan family's murder sit and fester, the workout sessions with Ben were all Mike lived for.
The lessons had at least one common theme; Mike mostly spent a lot of quality time with the blue mats on the floor. After one particularly nasty fall, he held up his hand for a break. Too tired to talk much, he definitely wasn’t getting up off the floor anytime soon.
“How did I do that the other day?” he asked Ben in between pants.
“Do what?”
“I almost had you.”
“Hardly,” Ben scoffed and walked over from across the room to sit in front of Mike. “But in answer to your question, you started to discover your speed. The thing you have to get through that head of yours, is that you don’t run up and tackle me like a human. Not anymore. There’s another part of you now, a part of you that was made to hunt and kill.”
“Wait, what?” Mike was shocked bordering on insulted. “I’m no killer.”
“No? Well, here’s hoping you can stay that way." He pulled a towel from a nearby stack and wiped his brow before tossing it to Mike. "Regardless, we are predators. We were not always so lucky to have bagged blood and dark basements to live in. The change that’s come over you, over your body – it has no idea times are different, our lives easier. So you’ve been given the same skills as every vampire since the beginning, and despite your squeamishness, you need to learn how to use them.”
“You’re saying I need to learn to kill,” Mike stated flatly.
“What I’m saying, Mikey, is you need to learn how to use all the resources you have. My goal is to teach you enough so you can be around a long, long time. Now, get up. You’ve had enough of a rest.” Ben got to his feet in one fluid movement; Mike took longer and was much less graceful.
“Don’t call me Mikey.”
“Then stop me, Vampire.” Ben winked at him and then walked back to the other side of the room. He put his back to Mike and waited.
Okay. Use all my resources. Mike took a few deep breaths and tried to remember what it felt like when he’d almost caught Ben. He’d been so angry that he felt as if he were an animal. All he wanted to do was get to Ben and make him hurt. Mike tried to find that feeling inside of himself; recalling all of the times life dealt him a shitty hand, it turned out to be pretty easy. Ben said they were meant to be hunters, so he needed to hunt. Mike crouched down into a familiar three-point stance and focused every bit of his concentration on the area between Ben’s shoulder blades.
“C’mon, Mikey! Are you going to hit me or —,” Ben’s words were cut off abruptly as Mike slammed into his back and took him to the ground.
“Woo!” Mike yelled as he bounced up. “Was that vampire enough for you there, buddy?”
“Alright, alright! It was a lucky shot and I had my back to you. Let’s see you do it where I can see you.” Ben got up off the floor a little stiffly, causing Mike to smirk.
“I can do this all day old man!” He was feeling energized beyond belief. Running and actually tackling Ben, making some kind, any kind of headway, released energy that had been building up in him since he woke up in the basement weeks ago. Mike bounced on the balls of his feet, eager for Ben to wave him forward.
“Again,” he said, and Mike started moving before the word had even left his lips. This time, however, Ben was expecting him. Just as he had before, Ben flipped Mike over his head before he could grab him. Mike was left gasping on the floor, the pins and needles stronger than they had ever been.
“Dammit, man!” Mike said through clenched teeth. “Why do you have to do that to me?”
“It’s not intentional,” Ben replied, and Mike barked a harsh laugh. “Well, not completely anyway. That’s just the effect age has on the young. The older you get, the more powerful you become, the more effect you will have on those younger than you. It was probably worse because you’re tired. You used up quite a bit of energy to grab me earlier.”
“Sucks being at the bottom of the totem pole.”
“I wouldn’t know. It’s been so long since I was there, I seem to have forgotten.”
“Yeah, right,” Mike said as he turned painfully onto his side. Ben was sitting with his back up against the wall and his feet out. He wasn’t even breathing heavy. “What are you, like a hundred? Two hu
ndred?”
Ben leaned his head back and chuckled. “Try again Mikey.”
Mike ignored the irritating nickname and considered the possibilities. “Four hundred?” he asked quietly.
“Try double.”
“You’re shitting me!”
“I happen to be eight hundred and eighty. Give or take a few decades. We didn’t keep records as well back then.” Mike scrunched up his face while he did the math.
“So that would mean you were born around… 1180? 1190?”
“Somewhere around there. Like I said, we didn’t have birth certificates.”
The sheer weight of those years overwhelmed Mike, and he rolled over on his back to take it all in. Eight hundred… almost nine hundred years. Such a possibility had never even occurred to him before this moment. Sure, he’d always known he would die someday, but now… who knew? He sat up and looked at Ben closer, trying to find some mark that the years had left on him. There was none. They moved along and Ben remained the same. The thought gave Mike a headache.
“Do you think,” Mike swallowed, his mouth suddenly gone dry, “do you think I’ll live that long?”
“Hard to say,” Ben said, giving him an appraising look. “Claire said you were very determined, and from what I’ve seen of you, I have no reason to disagree. That has to count for something. You’re learning fast, which is always a good sign. But I’m not sure if you have it in you.”
“What do you mean?” Mike was offended. “I thought you just said —,”
“Mike, we are killers. Sure, we may not kill every person we drink from, but we’ve all slipped up. Choosing not to kill is the exception, not the rule. When it happens to you, and it will happen, make no mistake… I’m not sure if your conscience will survive it.”
“You’re wrong. I don’t kill people.” Mike stood up to leave, seething at Ben and his assumptions. “I’m not like that.”
“Not yet,” Ben called after him.
That day, for the first time in his Second Life, he dreamt of Meghan.
A little girl with a bouncing ponytail ran toward him: his twin. Giggling she tackled him to the ground, hugging him with all her tiny might.
“Gotchu, Bubba!” she squealed. Though her weight was close to his own, he let her stay on him a moment longer. Meghan was the other half of him; difficulty breathing was worth having her near and happy.
“C’mon, I wanna show you something.” Excitement made her eyes sparkle when she hauled him to his feet. Soon Mike felt the same and found himself running to keep up with her.
“You’re too fast!” he yelled between pants.
“I know! Come on! Come see!”
Despite her speed, Mike eventually caught up. She bounced on the balls of her feet at the foot of their porch.
“What, Meggers?” he whined.
“Look! Look what I did!” Eagerly, she gestured to the swing, where their parents sat.
Something was… wrong.
Each step heavier than the last, Mike climbed the steps hesitantly. As he got closer, his mother and father appeared to be sleeping. And yet… they didn’t move.
“Meghan?” his voice cracked, full of fear. A thin line of blood trickled down the side of each of their necks, dark and sticky. “What… what did you do?” he turned to his twin for answers.
“I killed them,” a now teenage Meghan replied. Her tone was flat, her eyes hollow.
“Meggers? I don’t understand,” eight-year-old Mike whimpered.
“We’re all killers, Mike. All of us.”
In spite of the sun’s iron grip on his consciousness, Mike jerked awake, barely making it to the bathroom to empty his stomach. There would be no sleep for him today.
CHAPTER FIVE
My first steps on dry land felt wonderful, even though I stumbled in the beginning. My four-week sojourn at sea had been necessary, and now it was over. I had sulked enough. I was not some teenager full of angst. I could handle what happened to me in the past few weeks just like I could handle what happened to me sixty plus years ago. Time to move on.
At least that’s what I kept telling myself.
Miami was a good place to dock when I ran out of food. Lots of people, lots of ways to blend in. As long as I didn’t stay the day I could avoid most of the formalities of entering another Elder’s territory, beneficial considering I was disobeying my Elder. I made the decision to call and let everyone know I was coming home… just not yet. There’s always something to be said for procrastination.
This part of the south belonged to a vampire named Emma, and I’d met her on a couple of occasions. Khale made her back in the 1800s, taking her out of a life of slavery and giving her the power to become a force to be reckoned with. During the Civil Rights movement, he’d “given” her half of his territory. She’d been running it more or less anyway, and being the Elder in a territory that was not a fan of equal rights for your perceived race… well, they were pretty busy. I asked Ben once why he didn’t get the job, having been with Khale longer. He joked that he wasn’t that into leadership. Knowing what I know now, I wonder how much truth there was to that… I wonder if he stayed for me.
Enough, I said to myself. Worrying about Ben and Mike and all that mess was not productive. I'm done with that. I took a deep breath and headed toward the lights and sounds of Miami nightlife.
In two blocks I was surrounded by a riot of life: neon lights in every color that changed the multitude of skin tones found in Florida to monochromatic blue or pink, depending on where you were standing. Music blared from just about everywhere, each song competing with the next, Spanish and English overlapping, like the culture all around me. After my floating solitary fortress, this was sensory overload. And the emotions! I’d never been bipolar, but right then I felt I could understand. Sex, excitement, insecurity, sex, jealousy, pride, sex, anger, fear, sex, and… that was weird. Someone was hungry. Not “I need a burger” hungry. Hungry like me. “I need to see blood” hungry. Picking that up off a human crept me the hell out… but it also made my mouth water. I wouldn’t need the drugs I’d brought with me. This person would do just fine.
I closed my eyes and concentrated on honing in on the bloodthirsty human in the crowd. Now and again, someone would bump into me, causing me to sway and work harder to keep my concentration. He… it was a he. He was watching from the shadows, searching for someone who fit his tastes. His need was so great, I could taste it, a bitter copper at the back of my throat. Without warning, there was jubilation — he’d found him! This boy was perfect. Spiky blond hair, blue eyes, deep tan, pouty lips. He was fighting with his boyfriend, then walking off, all alone…
My eyes snapped open. I didn’t have much time. My prey was going to be in striking distance of his within minutes. The hunter’s excitement grew — the boy was heading toward a parking lot. He considered it a sign that the neon from the nearest club bathed everything in a reddish glow… just as he would bathe the pavement in the boy’s blood. I scanned the street and found the sign, about a mile from me. Using my speed was necessary, but dangerous.
Hopefully, these people were too caught up to notice. I walked at a normal pace to the nearest alley, and after a quick check to make sure no one was watching, I scaled the building. As long as I stayed behind the obnoxious marquees, the light would keep the humans from seeing me. A pang from Creepy-hunter-guy had me sprinting almost immediately; he’d cornered the boy.
Within a few seconds, I was on the roof overlooking the parking lot. To a human watching, I would’ve just appeared; but there were no humans watching. Creepy made sure of that. He sandwiched the boy between his body and the kid’s car, whispering to him while holding a knife to his throat. The things he said made my stomach turn, almost to the point I didn’t want to eat him. What changed my mind was the fear I picked up from the boy; it was familiar. I had been there, more than once. Creepy was just another Collin waiting to happen.
It had never been my intenti
on to become a nighttime avenger for victims of sexual assault, but it certainly seemed to be turning out that way. I jumped down from the roof and landed behind Creepy Guy; the two men were so focused on each other, I had to speak to get their attention.
“Hey boys,” I said and cocked my hip out to the right. “Everything going okay?”
Creepy shot me a glare over his shoulder. “None of your business, bitch. Me and this queer are having some words. Leave, or your next.” He wasn’t even scared, just pissed that now I was going to cause him to rush things. I'm going enjoy my meal tonight.
“Actually, that’s exactly what I had in mind. You mind if I go first, kid?” I looked around my victim to the petrified boy; he was so scared he couldn’t even nod. All I was getting from him was: Help. Help. Help. Please help. I don’t want to die. I just want to go home. This isn’t happening. Oh, God, help me. “I’ll take that as a yes.” I opened my arms and said, “Okay, asshole. Show me what you’ve got.”
Turns out what said asshole had was a lot of rage. Rage at the boy for being beautiful and gay, rage at himself for being attracted to men, rage at me for being a woman, baiting him, challenging his precious manhood while doing nothing for his libido, making him feel even more wrong. All of it hit me in a wave, the seething hate so hot my skin warmed. If he hadn’t been such a psycho, I might’ve felt sorry for him.
“You’re gonna hurt, bitch. I don’t like interruptions.” He charged me, leading with his knife, sure his bulk would help him in this fight. I couldn’t wait for him to get close enough to prove him wrong.
With my speed, it was as if he moved in slow motion. I grabbed his arm and brought it down over my knee, forcing him to drop his knife. Still gripping his arm, I spun into him and sent an elbow into his ample gut, causing him to double over and wheeze. A knee to the groin, (which seemed appropriate given the context,) had him on the ground, coughing and whimpering. I put him in a headlock and lifted him up, though, given my height, his feet were dragging. I was about to let my teeth out, when I realized the boy hadn’t moved. He was still up against the car, his mouth hanging open. Between nearly being killed and watching me take down an armed guy nearly double my size, the kid was more or less in shock. Instead of the normal flow of emotions I picked up from humans, all I got from him was static. Total disconnect.