From the hungry look in his eyes, I can tell that Bob the Impaler is not hearing a word I’ve said. The stomach brain is in control now.
I dare not run, because it will only make him want to chase me. “Fine, I’m leaving, Bob. But know this, I will soon be a vampire again—a hundred times more powerful than before. I will remember this moment when you turned your back on your best friend.”
“Go!” he growls. “And do not return here again, or I will eat you. Toes first.”
Jeez… That’s a little dark. I turn and leave, my face and palms sweating profusely. I cannot believe it, but I felt genuinely worried just now. It is an emotion I haven’t experienced in centuries. My heart is thumping, like a hammer in my chest, my head feels light, and I need to piss. Rather badly.
I head down the dark sidewalk, the warm night air offering little comfort as I attempt to process what just happened. It never occurred to me that my dark heart and evil soul would make me irresistible to my own kind. The spiciest, most delectable treat on two legs ever to live.
But I am still a vampire on the inside. One of them! All Bob saw was my blood. To him I was Mr. Nice-and-Fresh Meat.
I wonder if Vanderhorst was ever tempted to nibble on me.
Of course he had been. If I were a vampire, I would want a bite of me. So what kept him from acting if he could smell my spicy blood all along? Probably his ridiculous moral code. Wimp!
I decide to make one more attempt at contacting an old friend, though I do make the strategic choice to skip a few names on my list. The ones I used to admire for their heartless ways are a no-go. It would likely end up a repeat of Bob.
But that still leaves eleven names, and one is in Houston, a ten-hour drive.
The next evening, after being forced to accept my human need for sleep, I finally arrive to Houston.
Julia is a madam and runs a famous whorehouse in Texas, though it is strictly limited to immortals. Unless you are on the menu.
I park along the curb and unload from the SUV to stretch my tired body. My black leather pants are stuck to my ass, and I make a note to change into jeans if this visit proves unsuccessful. Leather pants and vampire skin are like peanut butter and jelly. Perfect together. But human skin creates moisture. I think my balls are chafed.
I tug on my wrinkled black button-down shirt and head to the darkened front porch of the home. For lack of a better term, the place looks like a crack house—weeds in the front yard, broken windows covered with cardboard, garbage bags piled up on the side. It is the type of neighborhood where no one asks questions and people mind their own business.
I ring the doorbell and notice someone looking at me through the peephole. “Julia! It is I, zi Mr. Nice. I have zi business propoosal for you!”
The door flies open, revealing Julia in a long black dress. She has shiny red curls just past her shoulders and bright green eyes. I believe she is about two hundred years old, turned by the famous Madam Frenchie, who died several decades ago in a tragic wood-chipping accident. Frenchie had a tree trimming business on the side—part of her human cover story. All vampires are required to have one. Human papers, social security number, and an official source of income commensurate to their standard of living. I believe Julia’s official occupation is interior decorator. A very, very bad one.
“Mr. Nice, such a lovely surprise.” She flashes a set of sharp fangs with bright red lipstick smudges. “Won’t you come in.”
“I warn you, I smell varrry delectable, so do not even think of eating me. Not until you’ve heard my propoosal.”
She dips her head, stepping aside so I can enter. “I have just dined on tender spunky woman and am quite full. You are safe.”
“Excellent.” I enter the living room, and the scent of death hits my nose. Out of respect I maintain a smile, but I want to retch. “I believe your inventory might be a little old?” I glance at a thin woman in a T-shirt and skirt slumped over in the armchair next to the sofa. Her skin is blue. Yesterday’s meal.
“Oh, that.” Julia swipes a hand through the air. “Garbage day is Thursday. I’ll toss her out then.”
Nasty. Today is Monday.
She goes on, “I have some fresh ones in the back room. Just arrived today.” Julia’s green eyes light up with excitement. “Oh. I also have a shipment from the south. Not spicy, but I seem to remember you like Mexican. Care for a nibble? You still eat people, yes?”
This is a prime example of how my Mr. Nice persona functions. Julia knows I am human but assumes I am still just as wicked and depraved as ever, running around consuming people. Because that is exactly what an evil man would do. It is also the sort of lie I feed to maintain my feared status among vampires.
“No, sank you,” I say. “I’ve already eaten. Had a mini-mart clerk on the way over.” I pat my stomach. Really, I had a turkey sandwich with extra pickles and lettuce.
“May I interest you in some wine, then?”
“Jessss…Thank you.” We go to the kitchen, which, now that I am seeing it with human eyes, looks like a diseased war zone. Dried blood on the floor, dirty dishes piled high on the counters, rat droppings on the windowsill.
Julia grabs a dirty glass from the counter, fills it with some red wine in a box from the putrid-smelling refrigerator, and hands me the glass.
First of all, no one refrigerates red wine. Second of all, what self-respecting vampire drinks anything from a box? Third, this glass looks like it hasn’t been washed in two hundred years. I doubted I would have cared as a vampire. Cooties and grime do not scare us. Mortality changes your perspective on all that.
I thank her and hold the glass in my hand, away from my face. “As I said, I have a propoosal for you.”
“How much?”
I stare.
“How much?” she repeats. “We all got the message from the king. I know he’s prohibited anyone from turning you. So how much will you pay me to do it?”
Ah, I knew Julia would be the right choice. She speaks the language of money. “Name chor price.”
“I want a thousand dollars.”
I try not to laugh. This is the thing about some vampires, the older ones, anyway. They have no concept of inflation. They still think a soda pop costs a nickel.
“And I want a new house,” she says. “This place is falling apart, and it’s being condemned.”
“Any house in particular?” I ask.
“You have that sweet pad in New Orleans. I want it.”
That could be problematic. I rented it out to some Irish vampires. A one-hundred-year lease. I hadn’t been living there for a while and felt it was best to have the place occupied. Also, it simply makes financial sense. I personally own over four hundred properties, most managed by a firm. I am quite the investor.
I dip my head in agreement. “I will have to come to an understanding with zi current residents, but I’m sure it can be done. The house is yours,” I say.
“Great. So, you want to do this now?”
“Jesss…That would be wonderful.” The process is quite easy. I must drink some of her blood, and then my heart must stop. Death.
Death. Death. My heart starts pumping faster. I do not fear death, but at the same time, the human part of me is a little uncomfortable with the idea of pain. “I need a moment. Bathroom is…?”
“Right through there. To the left.” Julia points toward the doorway.
“I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll wait in my bedroom.” She winks. “You remember where that is, yes?”
“Jesss…” I wink. We had a few fun times in there. Mostly back when she was running her ten-for-one specials. Ten humans and one hell of a fun night!
I turn and head down the hallway to find the bathroom. I’ve never been in here before. Surprisingly, it is the only room in the house that isn’t filthy, with an all-pink tile floor and counters and a blue shower curtain. Yep. The worst interior decorator ever.
I relieve myself and wash my hands, staring at my face in the
mirror. I am still not used to my reflection. Gone are my hollow cheeks and sunken eyes. My long skinny neck has been replaced by a normal-looking one that slopes down into strong shoulders and a powerful chest. My full lips and dark eyes are the same though. Also, I can grow quite the beard now.
I rub my scruffy jaw and pat some water on the back of my neck, calming myself for what is about to happen. I am excited to be immortal again, to run with the wind through my hair, terrorizing the vampire community as Mr. Nice. And then…world domination!
My return will create shock waves through every society. Then I will begin gathering support to take down the Vanderhorst brothers. When news of their twin scheme spreads, vampires will demand justice. I will be there to deliver it.
Suddenly, I note a muffled whimper behind the blue shower curtain. I go over and pull it back, finding a petite female crouched in a ball.
She immediately sees me and sticks out her hands. “Please, please don’t hurt me.”
“Why would I hurt you?”
“You’re one of them.”
Not yet. “No,” I say.
Her warm brown eyes go wide with hope. “Help me. Please help me get out of here.”
“But we must all die, woman. It is part of life.” I myself plan to die for a second time in a few moments.
“She has no right to do this to me or anyone here. We have families. We have feelings.”
I seriously doubt these “guests” have families. Not anymore. Julia is quite keen on taking everyone from Granny to Tiny Tim when she fills up her inventory. She once nabbed an entire Amish community, horse buggies and all. But that was long ago when she used to cater this fantastic vampire festival in Romania. She’d make sure there was a wide selection of blood to choose from, brought in from all over the world.
The woman lunges for my hand. “Please don’t leave me here. Please, I’m begging you. I want to go to school and fall in love. I just want to see my mom and dad and little sister again.”
Mom and dad and little sister. The words send a spike of pain through my heart. Suddenly, I’m thinking of Miriam, Stella, and that despicable Vanderhorst. I see them sitting around the dinner table, trying to make me laugh so I’ll open my mouth and eat my strained peas. Stella would tickle me until I could not help but open up. I came to enjoy our little games.
I shake my head to dislodge the memory. “Family is overrated.”
“Why would you say that?” She looks at me with pity.
“Sorry. I cannot help you.” I puff out my wide chest. “You belong to Julia’s inventory now, and she decides your fate.”
I leave the bathroom and slam right into Julia.
“Who are you speaking to?” she asks.
“One of your meals is hiding in zi shower.”
Julie goes in and pulls the curtain back all the way. “There you are! Mr. Romanovich ordered you special and will be here any moment. Go get cleaned up and back to your pen.”
Romanovich. My entrails twist into a knot. Mr. Romanovich has been around for a very long time. Russian oligarch turned mobster turned vodka producer. They call him Nails mostly because he enjoys poking holes in his meals with a giant spike. Kind of like making a fountain.
You see, friends, here is the thing about vampires: There is Vanderhorst’s vampire world of laws and rules, where vampires are only permitted to eat bad humans on an approved list maintained by their society. That world is neat and clean and orderly. Then there is the other side: The dark hidden world of vampires, where rules mean nothing. They do what they want when they want. And they are good at not getting caught by the vampire authorities. Mostly because bad vampires protect one another, but also because vampires are adept at evading detection.
My point is that some vampires are too low and despicable even for my taste. Nails is one such vampire.
Julia grabs the young woman by her long dark hair and drags her from the bathroom. “Back to your pen!”
The woman cries, and suddenly I have a strange feeling in my chest. For some odd reason, I do not wish her to die. “How much?”
“Sorry?” Julia asks.
“How much for zi girl?”
“Sorry, she’s not for sale. Romanovich already paid for her, and I do not want to disappoint my best customer.”
“But you know what he’ll do to her,” I argue.
Julia shrugs. “What do you care?” She then smiles. “But don’t worry. I have another just like her. Maybe a little sweeter, but same age.” Julia drags the girl to a room across the hall and shoves her in, closing the door with a thud. “And don’t come out until I call you, or you know what will happen!”
I am unsure of what to do. Seems wrong to leave anyone in Nails’s hands.
“Come on now.” Julia waves me toward her bedroom. “I’ve got a lot of work to do if I’m going to get rid of all my inventory and move my business.” Julia disappears inside.
I hesitate.
“You coming?” she calls out.
“Yes.” I see the dark-haired woman peeking out from the other room. I can hear several people whispering inside.
If I wait until after I’m changed to help her, it’ll be too late. The transformation usually takes a few hours.
I look at the woman with the beautiful brown eyes and pouty lips. Then at Julia’s doorway. Woman. Doorway. Woman. Doorway. I walk over to Julia’s door and shut it. “Run! Hurry! I will hold the door!”
The woman from the shower dashes from the other room, followed by eight or nine more women. They bolt for the front door, yelling for help.
“Open this door, Nice! Open it right now!” Julia yells.
I know I cannot hold it long. I am strong for a human, but no match for her. The moment I let go, she will kill me.
The door handle turns, and I lose my grip. The door flies open.
I smile down at Julia, whose face is flaming red.
“Oops. I guess your humans got away.” I shrug. “So, you still wish to have that money and a house in New Orleans?”
Julia flashes her fangs and growls. “You’re a dead man, Nice.” She reaches for me so quickly I do not have time to process what is happening. The room goes dark.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Hey, wake up. Wake up. Are you all right?” a soft female voice whispers.
I open my eyes to find the pretty young woman from the shower crouched over me, tapping my cheek, her big eyes filled with worry.
“Where am I?” I grumble, noting wet grass underneath me and trees all around. It is still night—a full moon now—and I feel weak and dizzy.
“We’re in a park. A few blocks from that house.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“That crazy redhead grabbed you and started drinking from your neck. You must’ve tasted really good because she was making all these noises. Num, num, num.”
I sit up slowly and place my hand over my neck. The skin is wet and raw. I can tell the spot was gnawed on.
“Careful. Easy there.” The woman helps me stay upright.
“How do you know what was done to me?” I saw her leave the house screaming.
“The other women and I ran into the street right when a patrol car was passing. I flagged the officer down and told him there was a murder happening in the house. He went in and shot at that vampire woman because she wouldn’t let go of you. Then she fled.”
Wow. What luck. “But why are we here?”
“That Romanovich guy showed up, and the cop started shooting at him, too. After that, it was all a blur. I pulled you to your feet, and we ran. You passed out here.”
I do not recall any of it. “Thank you for…for saving me.”
“You saved me first. My name is Brandi, by the way.”
In the distance, I hear sirens. I imagine the home is now surrounded by police.
“Do you think it’s safe to go back there?” Brandi asks.
“Why would you want to go back?”
“The police’ll want a statement, right?
I mean, that woman needs to be caught.”
I am too drowsy to laugh. “If you tell the authorities you were taken by a vampire, they will lock you up.”
“But the things she did in that house to all those people! She has to be stopped.”
By whom? The only ones capable are vampires, and I am not about to rat out Julia to the vampire authorities. I’d be labeled a snitch for all eternity.
“You are safe. Count your blessings.” As for myself, I do not understand what got into me. I was so close to having what I wanted. A vampire willing to change me. Immortality once again.
I sigh. Soon word will spread among the seedy vampire masses that I betrayed Julia to save a human meant for slaughter. They will say I lost my spine, that I am weak. Instead of following me, they will laugh when I disclose my plan to overthrow the king. Vampires do not follow weaklings.
Why did I do that? Why! I look at the young woman with long dark hair, a round face, and soulful eyes. She is no different than many I have killed with nary a second thought. What compelled me to save her?
“Are you able to drive?” I grumble.
“Yes.”
“Please fetch the silver Mercedes SUV parked one block down from the house. I will need to find a room for the night and lots of Gatorade.” I hand her the keys from my pocket and flop back down on the wet grass. The moon is spinning above me.
“Thank you for saving me. I mean it,” she says.
“My pleasure,” I mutter dryly.
“By the way, you haven’t told me your name.”
I no longer deserve the name Mr. Nice or Nicephorus—those belong to a cold, heartless, respectable vampire.
I was born Steviuus Nicephorus Racker, named after my great-great-great-grandfather—a Byzantine general. I was merely the son of a humble spice merchant, which is why my childhood consisted of traveling in northern Africa from one small village to another while my father purchased spices. He would eventually sell them to the ships bound for the north. That was how we encountered Narcissismo. He was a ship merchant.
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