Bill of the Dead (Book 2): Everyday Horrors

by Gualtieri, Rick

  “I could ask you the same thing.” Yeah, this back and forth shit talk was about as productive as you might think. So, before we devolved to flipping each other the bird, I changed tactics. “Listen, I know what you are.”

  “You do, do you?”

  “Yeah. You’re a vampire. I know because I’m one, too.”

  “You realize how that sounds, right?”

  I shrugged. “And yet here we are. But I also know that we don’t have to be like the movies tell us. I mean the good ones, not the boring ass mopey films where they sit around pining for Brad Pitt. Anyway, what I mean is we have a choice. We don’t have to be heartless killers.”

  “Says the guy who just stabbed a...”

  “Murderous assholes don’t count, okay?”

  “And who gets to decide whether someone deserves it or not?”

  Goddamn, this was rapidly getting annoying. I wasn’t about to stand there and take a Batman morality lesson from some chick who’d just ganked one of the vamps I’d been after.

  I started toward her, slowly and with my hands out in the open. “Maybe we got off on the wrong foot here. Can we try this again? My name’s Bill.”

  “I thought you told these cabróns it was Freewill.”

  “That’s more what I am. It’s ... a vampire thing. Kind of a long story, but I’d be happy to tell you more if you want.” I took a look around, noting the still very dead security guard. “But maybe somewhere else, if that’s okay.”

  A grin passed over her lips. “Is this your way of asking me out?”

  “Not quite. What I’m offering you is a chance to join my coven.”

  “Aren’t covens...?”

  “No. We had the idea first. Witches stole it. Trust me on that one. The point is, I’m out here looking for people who’ve been vampirized.”

  “Is that even a word?”

  “Do I look like a fucking lit professor? Who cares? You know what I mean.”

  “Fine. But why make me this offer and not them?” she asked, sounding genuinely curious.

  “Because they were assholes.”

  “I’ll give you that one,” she replied, inclining her head. “Okay, I’ll tell you what. Fucking up that puto’s shit put me in a good mood. I’ll humor you. What’s the deal with this coven thing that ain’t got nothing to do with witches?”

  “Protection, for everyone. Left to their own devices, most vamps aren’t going to have the willpower to rein themselves in. Others simply won’t give a shit. This way, we can maybe keep each other from turning into murderous monsters.”

  “And how’s that going to work? Last I checked, we still gotta eat.”

  “True, but it can be controlled, made less chaotic. Working together, we can make sure we stay fed without turning entire neighborhoods into all you can eat buffets.”

  As I approached, I saw I was right. Black fabric covered the top of her face from the bridge of her nose up. No eyeholes, but that didn’t mean anything. I’d once gotten one of those grim reaper costumes for Halloween, the kind with the see-through cheesecloth. This was probably something similar.

  “Not disagreeing.” She put a hand on her hip, not exactly relaxed, but looking less likely to ninja strike me. “But you said protection for everyone. So far this sounds like a one-sided deal.”

  “It’s not. We’ll have each other’s backs, but also keep each other in check – which we’ll need to do if we want to survive. Because how long do you think it’ll be before someone somewhere has enough of the bloodshed and decides to pull their head out of their ass and hunt us down? The system is designed for both sides, human and vamp.”

  Gah! I sounded like a recruitment poster for the assholes who’d previously run things. Hell, maybe that was closer to the truth than I cared to admit. Who was to say the originators of the old coven system, started God-knows how many thousands of years ago, didn’t originally have good intentions?

  Holy shit! Was I setting things up now only so some future asshole could label himself Alexander the Great 2.0 and cause history to repeat itself?

  I pushed that thought away. That was a worry for another epoch. With any luck, by then I could simply point a photon torpedo their way and be done with it. But, for now, all I was doing was letting myself get distracted.

  “So what do you think, Miss...” I let the statement hang as I held out my hand to her.

  She tentatively reached out and took hold of it. “Save the miss crap. You can call me Char.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Char? What kind of name is...?”

  Before I could finish that statement, her hand clamped down on mine like a vise. What the? She twisted and – despite me being boosted on vamp blood – flung me effortlessly over her shoulder into a pile of trash.

  “It’s a nice offer, Bill Freewill, but I’m more of a solo act.”

  The throw was a solid one, no doubt there, but for someone with vampire endurance it was far more bruising to my ego than anything. I scrambled back to my feet in the space of seconds. “My name’s not Bill Freewill, it’s...”

  The words died in my throat at the sight of the empty alley before me. Son of a... How fucking stupid could I be to let my guard down like that?

  No matter. The blood rush I’d gotten from Duke was still in effect. I could easily catch her scent and track her down again.

  In theory anyway.

  I lifted my nose and took a sniff. Then I held my breath and listened for the sound of retreating footsteps – coming up empty in both cases.

  It was as if she’d simply vanished into thin air, leaving me standing there all alone like the idiot that I was.

  BARK WORSE THAN HIS BITE

  “You’re the only one who can do this,” I muttered to myself as I stepped into my apartment, echoing the words Christy had spoken to me weeks ago, when this crap had just been getting started. What a crock of shit. I really needed to stop listening when people went off on inspirational monologues. Those almost never ended in my favor.

  I flipped on the light switch, noting the silence. A long shower was just what the doctor ordered, followed by sweeping up the trail of garbage and vampire dust I was no doubt tracking in the door.

  Talk about a weird-ass night. First, undead neo-Nazi dickheads, then some masked Houdini vamp with a supervillain name and a chip on her shoulder. The news liked to call the events of five years ago the Strange Days, but a part of me wondered whether this new age didn’t have potential to be even more bizarre.

  On the upside, two obvious threats had been removed from the streets. That should’ve been enough for me. Pity that vamp hunting wasn’t all that glamourous, not to mention the pay kinda sucked. Speaking of which, I could afford maybe a quick nap when this was all said and done, but that was all. After that, it was back to work. I’d taken a contract to migrate a client’s database to a new platform. It was a boring as fuck project, but I’d ignored it for the better part of the week. It was probably time to get my ass in gear before the product manager started bitching.

  I stopped in the living room to consider how easy it was to sink back into my old mindset. Here I was thinking about programming when I’d dusted two people tonight ... or one anyway, and just barely at that. Mind you, they’d been assholes, so it’s not like I should feel too bad about it.

  Regardless, Christy’s words from weeks back kept repeating in my head that these new vamps were all victims, so they at least deserved a chance before we shanked them.

  The problem was, not everyone handled becoming undead as well as others. The vast majority became drunk on their new power, giving in to their feral side – and that wasn’t even counting those who’d been bad eggs to start. If anything, it was turning out to be more difficult than expected to find those willing to listen to reason.

  And what did I do when I did find them? Recruited them into a coven, of course. What a joke. Much as I’d rued the old days with its frat-boy like vamp covens, it turned out there’d been a good reason for it. Only vamps could
keep other vamps in check. Without such a system in place, it would only be a matter of time before we either ended up in some 28 Days Later nightmare scenario, or some yahoo called in the National Guard and decided it was open season on anyone, living or not, stupid enough to be out after dark.

  Talk about a karmic kick to the nuts.

  I’d worked so hard to bring down the old regime, only to realize I had no other choice than to rebuild it again from the ground up. Hah. My old coven master Night Razor, AKA Jeff, was probably looking up at me from Hell and laughing his ass off.

  My only hope was to maybe get lucky and get it all running again in a less assholish way. I had no interest in reestablishing a system in which younger vamps became little more than playthings to the older, more powerful...

  The sound of footsteps heading up the stairs caught the attention of my supercharged ears, causing me to drop that train of thought and glance back toward the door.

  Most of the building’s residents would just barely be getting up for work at this hour, much less coming home – barring walks of shame of course. Ugh, not a pleasant thought. The tenants who lived here were mostly good, hard-working folks, but not a lot of lookers in the bunch.

  The footsteps continued up, their pace increasing. Considering the stillness of the apartment around me, I guessed that it was likely one of my roommates, or at least the one with legs.

  Despite both me and Christy insisting that he wasn’t even remotely ready for field work, Tom had insisted on going out and patrolling for vamps, too. As the new Icon, it was sort of hard to tell him no. Problem was, even if he hadn’t recently returned from the dead in a body not his own, he still treated the whole thing like he was living in a comic book – the only upside being that he sucked at it so far. To date, his record had been a lot of early AM catcalls with zero vamp encounters to speak of. Regardless, until he figured out how to control his newfound powers, it was risky for him to be wandering the city streets alone late at night – not that he actually was alone, sorta anyway.

  Glen – our other roommate – had been more than happy to keep him company. The little slime-ball was ecstatic to accompany the Icon on patrol, despite being about as adept at it as Tom. In short, they pretty much wandered the streets together – Glen sticking to the alleyways and gutters since he was the equivalent of a living Jell-O mold – not accomplishing much, but also not getting into too much trouble.

  So then why the frantic footsteps now?

  That question was answered by the crunch of a key being jammed into the lock, followed by a muttered curse of, “come on, you stupid fucking hand,” then some more fumbling around until the deadbolt finally disengaged.

  My breath involuntarily caught in my throat as Tom stepped into the apartment a second or two later. I couldn’t help it, still not entirely used to the fact that he now inhabited Sheila’s body – the former Icon, as well as my ex. Every time he walked through the door, I found myself reminded of an earlier time when she and I...

  “Outta the way,” he cried in her voice. “Full bladder coming through.”

  And then he’d speak, instantly shattering the momentary illusion.

  “Um, where’s Glen?” I asked, as he darted past.

  “Bringing up the rear. Should be here in a few. Can’t talk, need to piss!”

  He raced into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

  Sadly, awesome as vampire senses could be, there were some horrific downsides, too, such as clearly hearing him pee, followed by a sigh of relief and, “Oh, that is so fucking good.”

  I left the door open for Glen and headed for the fridge – hoping none of the downstairs neighbors picked that moment to pop their heads out and notice him. It was probably only a matter of time before that happened, and when it did ... fucked if I knew.

  Despite being moderately well-suited to rounding up vamps, I wasn’t nearly strong enough to compel humans. The only way that was happening was if I was amped up on vamp blood, which was easier said than done these days as there were only two other vampires in existence older than me, both of whom were currently MIA.

  I heard the melodic sound of the toilet flushing just as I pulled a plastic container from the refrigerator. Pig’s blood. Not my favorite, but workable for us vamps, even if the folks down at the Asian market charged me extra to buy it by the bucketful, no questions asked. It was highway robbery, but that’s what happened when there suddenly became demand for an item nobody previously gave a shit about. Gotta love capitalism.

  I popped it open and took a sip as Tom stepped out, adjusting the crotch of his pants. “That is so much better,” he said with a sigh, looking at me. “Oh, for Christ’s sake. Put that shit in a cup or something.”

  “Nobody offered you any. And you do know that there’s these things called restrooms, right? This isn’t the only toilet in Brooklyn.”

  “Dude, I already explained it to you. I don’t know which one to use.”

  “I believe the socially acceptable norm these days is to use the restroom of the gender you identify as.”

  “Fuck that shit,” he replied, his tone and mannerisms coming from my former girlfriend’s mouth – still weird after almost a month. “Guys freak out whenever I try, and it’s not like I can even use a fucking urinal anymore.”

  “Well, you could if you got creative.”

  “Bite me, asshole.”

  “All right, then use the ladies’ room.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” I asked, stepping out of our kitchen nook. “You go in, do your business, then leave.”

  “It’s not that simple.” He fixed me with a stare, the eyes Sheila’s but the semi-crazed expression firmly Tom’s. “First of all, there’s always a line, which sucks. I mean, what the fuck are they doing in there, synchronized shitting?”

  Eww. There was an image I was never getting out of my head again.

  “But that’s not the worst of it,” he continued. “Chicks know.”

  “What do you mean, chicks know?”

  “I thought it would be rad as hell stepping into the forbidden zone, but it’s not that easy, man. It’s like women’s intuition or something. Nobody says anything, but they don’t have to. I can see it in their eyes. They know I’m an imposter.”

  “Pretty sure you’re imagining that.”

  “I wish I was. But I’m telling you, it’s like deep down they all have bonedar.”

  “Bonedar?”

  “Yeah. Boner sense.”

  “Pretty sure that’s not a problem for you anymore.”

  He nodded sadly. “Don’t remind me.”

  Amusing as it was to give him shit about his lack of junk, something that seemed to annoy him to no end, I changed the subject, despite knowing what I’d hear. “Any luck tonight?”

  “Not a peep. It’s like the undead are purposely avoiding me.”

  “Yeah, uh huh. I’m sure that’s why...”

  “But we still managed to score big.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Bark.”

  I spun back toward the apartment door ... and almost ended up shitting a brick. “What the fuck?!”

  “Isn’t it awesome?” Tom replied, stepping past me and giving the abomination a pat on its freakish head.

  Awesome wasn’t even remotely the word that came to mind. The thing standing in the doorway of our apartment resembled a large, raggedy looking dog. It looked like maybe some kind of Irish Setter mix, but mixed with what? Its coat was a filthy mess, but that was nothing compared to the big bulging eyes staring from its head, as if they were getting ready to pop out of its skull.

  “Bark,” it repeated.

  I glanced back at Tom. “What the hell is that?”

  Almost as if in response, the dog-thing opened its mouth, far wider than a normal dog should be able. It vomited forth a viscous goo – the yellowish sludge continuing to pour out until it spread across the entirety of our entranceway.

  Then an even s
tranger thing happened. Those bulging eyes in its head pulled back in, leaving gaping holes where they’d been, as eyeball after eyeball fell out of its mouth into the rapidly growing pile of slime on the floor.

  When it was finally finished, the dog collapsed like a deflated balloon while the eyeballs in the sludge pile all turned my way and blinked.

  “Glen?”

  “Isn’t it great, Freewill?” he replied, sounding way too excited for my own personal sanity.

  “Yeah,” Tom said, stepping to my side. “Glen and I were discussing how much it sucked that he has to hide out in public.”

  I glanced between him and the dog ... err ... corpse lying on the floor. “Not really seeing how this fixes any of that.”

  “Well, we were talking about finding him a disguise. And I swear, it was like fate was listening, because not five minutes later we found a dead dog in an alleyway.”

  I held up a hand. “You do realize that one, that’s gross as fuck, and two, it’s not even remotely inconspicuous. Oh, and did I mention how gross it is?”

  “Twice,” Glen replied, his responses bubbling to the surface of his pliable body. “But it’s fine, trust me. It was a minor issue to remove the major organs, and I think after a bit of practice I’ll be able to...”

  “What? Horrify everyone who sees you into a coma? That’s the worst fucking dog disguise since Invader Zim, not to mention it’s disgusting as...”

  The phone rang, interrupting what was almost certain to be an extremely long rant on my part. All I could do was stare blankly at it for a few moments. It was way too early for the telemarketers to start and I was far too freaked out to process anything else.

  It wasn’t until the third ring that I finally snapped out of it.

  “You,” I said to Tom, “close the door before someone sees ... any of this shit. And you, um, move that thing somewhere else for now, preferably the garbage can.” I picked up the receiver, feeling my left eye beginning to twitch. “Yeah?”

  “Oh, thank goodness,” Christy said from the other end. “You weren’t picking up your cell.”

  “Sorry,” I replied numbly. “Battery must’ve died while I was chasing vamps tonight.” Off to the side, Tom and Glen were conversing over the dog corpse like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Listen, Christy, can I call you back later? Things are a bit weird right...”