“You do not understand. Mr. Nice is…he is a lie. You have met the real me. Well, except for a handful of lies, but I am not the asshole I used to be.”
Liza storms off.
The faces around the room turn to scowls and snarls.
“Oh…fuck off, you judgmental twats. You’re all lucky I’m a human.” And nice. For real this time! I head for the exit, hoping to catch Brandi or Liza before they take off. Instead, I see Liza’s red car exiting the lot with a passenger. Brandi.
They are both gone.
Well, screw them. I never professed to be an angel. I never claimed to be good or kind or anything other than an evil bastard.
It is their fault for being so gullible.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Deciding not to rush home, I go to my car, away from all the judgmental vampires, where I can think. I am sure that Liza will offer to let Brandi stay with her for the night, so I will allow her time to gather her few personal items from the house. Tomorrow, Brandi’s parents come to town and whisk her away. Regrettably, I will not be there to help break the news to her parents, but a promise is a promise. I still intend to hunt down Julia.
Excellent plan, you fool. How will I take out Julia like this? Julia is a few hundred years old. That night at her house, I could hardly hold the door closed for three seconds while I bought time for Brandi to escape.
My thoughts drift to Brandi’s bravery—how she came back for me when Julia decided to chew on my neck. I admire Brandi for her actions then, and that admiration has only continued to grow.
I suppose that is why her lack of trust offends me. It is a far greater insult to be doubted by someone you respect.
Nonetheless, I have made a promise to ensure Julia does not catch up with her. If I cannot do the protecting, at the very least I must find someone who can.
I call Liza, but it goes straight to voicemail. Time to grovel. I owe at least that much to Brandi.
“Liza, it’s Racker. I am sorry I did not tell you who I used to be, but Mr. Nice is not real. He never was. I invented him centuries ago, because I wanted power and respect.
“Now, I am unsure who I am or what will happen to me, but I do not wish Brandi to endure the consequences of my actions while I find that out.” I go on to say how Julia is after Brandi, and I wanted to protect her—as payment for saving my life. “I don’t care what happens to me, but I plead with you to ensure Brandi and her family are kept safe. Julia has marked her as property. You know what that means.”
I end the call, hoping my message will reach Liza before she departs for Cincinnati. I would call in a favor from another vampire “friend,” but everyone in my past would sooner dine on Brandi than assist. They are bad vampires. The worst. The sorts of fiends one finds in horror movies.
And I used to be one of them. But who am I now? I wish I knew because more and more every day, I feel less vampire, less evil, and more human. And I am still dying. Blech!
I stop at the store and buy junk food—frozen pizza, chocolate cake, potato chips, and cookies. I know Brandi will be gone by the time I arrive, and I must now face my future. I will face it with treats.
I am going to age and die. I see no point in hoping for another path. Because when I do good, no one cares. When I tell the truth, no one believes me. When I make mistakes, it is simply an affirmation to others that I deserve my fate.
Perhaps I do.
When I finally get to the house, it is predictably void of life, and I wonder what keeps drawing me back here. I have hundreds of homes all around the world where I could finish out my final days, but something about this place soothes me.
I wander the long halls, the study, the empty bedrooms, realizing every inch of this house holds memories of laughter.
Funny how I cannot recall ever being as happy as I was here—no one judging me for my past, everyone treating me as a perfectly decent human being. The unconditional love.
It dawns on me that while I was busy deceiving Miriam, Vanderhorst, and Stella, I failed to see that the life I had here was real. I was living in a fantasy, and they were a real family offering a real home. They accepted me as one of their own.
True, they did not know I remembered my past, but at the end of the day, that didn’t matter. Did it?
It was my deceptive behavior, my ego and need for revenge that tainted everything. I could have just as easily let go of the past and taken the clean slate handed to me.
But could I have let go of my love for Miriam? I turn on the oven, place my pizza inside, and go to the wine fridge. I open a nice bottle of pinot, pour a generous glass, and head to the three-story library.
I take a seat on the soft leather sofa and stare up at the towering shelves stuffed with books. Each floor is open in the center, looking down on me. This room is Miriam’s pride. She loves it, and so do I.
But did I truly love Miriam? Or was she simply part of my lie? Perhaps she was just a trophy Mr. Nice wanted to put up on his shelf, like one of these books.
Pondering, I take a sip of the velvety wine with hints of Gerber plum puree. Mmmm…
Perhaps the issue is that I lived as Mr. Nice for so long I forgot who I was: Steviuus Nicephorus Racker. The Mr. Nice fantasy became real. The ridiculous fake accent, gaudy outfits, and outrageous behavior. I want more lace on my bed! I veel reep out chore entrails and feed them to randy chipmunks! I will only drink Nice Tea, the blood of humans whose names begin with the letter T.
I smile and chuckle. The humorous part to all this is that so many vampires fell for it. The more absurd I behaved, the more they feared me.
But I was never truly happy. All that power, and it wasn’t enough.
The only happiness I’ve ever known was here, living with these despicably kind people. And being myself with Brandi.
I’m beginning to realize that the harder I pursue this dream of mine—world domination!—the more I lose. I am pissing away the minutes, and the clock is ticking.
In the morning, I will go to visit Brandi at Liza’s house and attempt to make amends. Then I will attempt the same with Miriam, Vanderhorst, and Stella. It is time to accept responsibility and be a man. Just…a man.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The next morning, I text Liza and ask to come over. She responds with a message: Hurry. I need to talk to you, too. It’s important.
I cannot lie. I’m worried. I was not expecting her to agree to see me so easily. Her matter must be grave.
As I drive to her home, my heart is pounding. My palms are sweating. I didn’t even bother to brush my hair.
No matter. From here on out, it is a new me. Or old me? Whatever. I will be an honorable man. Not a cheat. Not a con man. Not the selfish bastard Narcissismo turned me into. I will take back what was stolen: the real me.
I pull up to Liza’s townhouse in a neighborhood not too far from the library. I push away all thoughts of pride. I am not here to save myself or my ego. I simply wish to clear the air and apologize.
I knock, and Liza opens the door in her hot pink satin pajamas. “I’m so glad you’re here!”
“You are?”
“Yes.” She grabs my hand and pulls me inside. “I have so much to tell you!” She hugs me tight and drags me by the hand to her living room, which is furnished with beanbag chairs. “Sit!” She shoves me into the brown one in the corner, nearly breaking my back.
I grunt and wince.
“Oops. Sorry. It’s just…” She starts hopping up and down, clapping. “I’m so happy!”
“I see that. Care to share why?”
“’Member how you told me last night that I couldn’t take the cure?”
I nod.
“Okay. Okay.” She inhales slowly and exhales quickly. “Well, ’member how you also said the rehumanization project needed my blood? Well, it got me thinking last night—how I could help and do my part—so I called Dr. Kleen this morning, and we got to talking about some of their other projects. Did you know they’re going to gather blood line
age information from all five hundred eighty-two societies?”
“No.”
“Yes. They’ve already started, and they’re doing it to create a blood tree—kind of like a family tree, but for bloodlines. Anyway, they’ve already completed mapping some of the older families, and they’ve actually traced my maker’s lineage! Kleen says he wasn’t nearly as pure-blooded as he claimed. Don’t you get it? The cure will work on me. King Vanderhorst, the donor for the serum, is still stronger than me!” She claps again. “Woo-hoo.”
“Well, that is certainly good news,” I say drably. Everyone gets their dream. Me? I’m shopping for gravestones later today. Yippy.
“It is good news! And so is the other surprise. Are you ready?” Liza’s smile is so big, I wonder how the entire thing fits on her face.
“No.”
“On the way home last night, Brandi told me all about your situation—the rapid aging and why you were hoping to be turned again. You should have told me! Ohmygod. I’m so mad at you,” she rambles, not sounding the least bit angry. “Anyway, I mentioned your name to Kleen. I wanted to know what your real prognosis was.”
“How exciting,” I say blandly.
“Not yet. But it’s going to be. He told me your maker isn’t dead. Narcissismo is alive.”
“Yes, well, surprise. I knew that already. I lied to you. I’m sorry.”
“I might forgive you. Someday.”
“I will not hold my breath. However, I wish never to see the sadistic bastard again. So to me he is dead.”
“And he’s in jail.” She smiles brightly. “Not just any jail. He’s entombed in Cincinnati underneath the lab along with a few dozen others. The worst of the worst of the worst vampires. And Dr. Kleen has been testing all of them as part of his blood-mapping project!” Liza looks like she’s about to explode with glee—rosy cheeks, high-pitched voice, ants in her pants. “Your maker was almost a purebred, made by a second-generation vampire! Which made you pretty powerful too.”
I’m somehow unsurprised that my maker kept such information from me. He was, after all, the one who taught me to never reveal my true self. But I suppose I always knew I was stronger and faster than most.
I should have figured it out. “This is very interesting news, but I do not see why this is worth celebrating. My vampire blood is gone.”
“Oh, oh, oh… I’m getting to that! Dr. Kleen says they’ve been working around the clock, trying to figure out why you were such an anomaly. And now that so many have taken the cure, two other vampires have popped up with similar situations—their memories are intact, and any reversal of aging they experienced after taking the cure is going away. The doctor thinks the cure isn’t actually a cure. The serum only makes the virus dormant. It permanently puts it to sleep. For most vampires anyway.”
I don’t understand. “But I—”
“Don’t you get it? The current formula doesn’t work on everyone. For someone like me, it’s probably effective forever. But for the more powerful vampires, like you, they are still maintaining some of the active virus. That’s why you remember!”
Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. “You mean I’m still a vampire?”
“Kind of. He said the virus is extremely weak, kind of limping along, but over time it rebuilds its strength.”
“Then why am I aging?”
“You aren’t! The cure is just reversing itself.”
I cannot believe this. Why has no one told me? Probably because they wanted me to suffer for a while. “I am not dying.”
“Nope.” She jumps up and down, clapping.
“But they said I was. I have three gray hairs!”
“All I know is what he told me. In a year, he thinks you’ll be back to your old self and a full vampire again. With your same old strength. He said he was going to call you this week, but I volunteered to deliver the good news.”
Sure. I bet he was going to call. I blink and try to process my change in fortune. “I am saved.”
“Yes.”
“Will I keep my new body?” I hope so.
“I don’t know.”
I am unsure if I should be happy or disappointed. I put a lot of effort into this body. On the other hand, I am going to be back to my old self! Also, my blood is nearly as powerful as Vanderhorst’s. I should have known.
“And now I have to ask a favor.” Liza kneels in front of me. “I am begging you to turn over a new leaf. Brandi and I were talking, and we both agree. We saw so much goodness in you, and after everything I heard about this Mr. Nice—”
“Mr. Nice was a mask. But that doesn’t change what I did and why I did it. Every atrocious act was a matter of survival. Vampires feed off the weakness of others. They are predators.”
“Not all of us.”
“One needs allies in our world to survive. You think your friends from last night would welcome me, Mr. Nice, into their holy circle of do-goodiness?” I scoff. “Not likely.” I will have no choice but to politically align with evil vampires like before.
“If you try, they might. You just need to show them who you really are.”
Perhaps she is unaware of the extent of my crimes. I schemed and lied. I dusted vampires who threatened my status, and I used my power to make others spy for me or do my evil bidding. “Vampires have long memories. There are some who always will hold a grudge.”
“What do you care?” she says. “Let them grudge. As long as a few good people have your back, that’s all you need. And you have me.” She stands and offers me her hand.
I stand, too, knowing I am at a crossroads. Soon I will be back to my old self, the most feared vampire ever to walk the earth. I could use that fear and power to continue my journey and overthrow the king. I would be right back where I was, able to spin my lies and stories to make other vampires cower.
It will be like these past five years never happened. But is that what I truly want?
“I need to talk to Brandi.” She has been my voice of reason lately. I would like to hear her opinion. Also, I still need to clear the air with her over last night.
“Brandi?”
“Yes. Where is she?” I ask, looking around the room.
“We talked for a little while, and then I dropped her off at your place last night.”
“But she wasn’t there when I came home.” And I couldn’t have arrived long after them. I only stopped at the store to fondle a few Brandi-shaped breast pastries before deciding on cookies, pizza, and chocolate cake.
“Racker, I dropped her off right in front.”
“In front of what?” I ask, a bad feeling growing in my gut.
“The gate. There was a car there, too. She said it was her parents waiting for her.”
I sigh with relief. So her parents took her. This is good news. “Do you mind calling her, just to be sure she is all right? I don’t think she’ll pick up if I call.”
“Sure.” Liza goes to her kitchen and returns with her cell. She punches in some numbers and hits the speaker while it rings.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Brandi. It’s Liza. Just wanted to see how you’re doing?”
“Super great. I had so much fun last night.”
Liza’s eyes fill with worry. So do mine. Brandi did not have fun last night. She was devastated by my behavior.
“Cool,” Liza says into the phone. “I had fun, too. When are you coming back in town so we can party again?”
“Oh, uh, who knows? Classes start in a month, and I’m gonna be swamped.”
“Really? Too bad. Well, when you get your next break, you have to come back. We need to hit that killer bar again for another drinking fest.”
“Totally. Hey, I need to jam. ’Kay?”
“Sure,” says Liza.
“Talk soon.”
The call ends, and Liza gives me a look. “There was no super cool drinking fest last night. I took her straight home after the charity ball.”
“Julia has Brandi,” I say. “We have to help her.”
; “Racker, I’m flying to Cincinnati in a few hours. My cure appointment, remember?”
“Don’t you care what happens to Brandi?”
“Of course I do, but, well, I wouldn’t be much help fighting another vampire. I don’t do violence. The closest I ever came was wrestling a one-foot snake in the Amazon.” Liza’s mouth twists into a lopsided grimace. “The snake won.”
So basically, Liza is useless when it comes to taking out Julia. “I can’t protect her alone. I’m too weak, still human.”
Liza chews her lower lip.
“What?” I ask.
“I can turn you,” she says.
“Turn me?”
“Yes. I can give you my blood, snap your neck, and you’ll be a full-fledged vampire again in a matter of hours. Then you can go after her.”
“What about the vampire blood already in my system?” I ask, really thinking out loud more than anything.
“I don’t know.” Liza shrugs.
But I do. Some of the science and data has been clear since Vanderhorst began his work, work I had to hear about around the house every freaking day. The weaker vampire strain always dies. Whatever broken pieces of ancient powerful vampire blood are still inside me will die before they have a chance to recover.
I will be the prodigy of Liza. A much weaker vampire. A commoner.
My gut starts churning. The vampire world is dog-eat-dog. Only the strongest gain respect and rise to the top.
On the other hand, I faked my way for over three centuries. People believed I was more powerful than most, yet that did not make me happy. Not ultimately.
It was Miriam, Vanderhorst, and Stella. And they never cared what I was. As long as I was good.
“Give me your blood. And then kill me. I have a human to rescue.”
“You really do love her, don’t you?” Liza grins.
“No…”
Liza gives me a look. “I thought your lying days were over?”
“Fine. I don’t know if I love her, but if she dies, I won’t ever find out.”
“That’s a better answer.” Liza steps close to me and holds her wrist in front of her mouth. “Are you ready?”
VAMPIRE MAN (The Librarian's Vampire Assistant Book 6) Page 11