Chapter 6.5 Seducing the Vampire

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Overcast days during winter are unlike any other kind of overcast days. It's definitely "fuck you" weather with not a ray of sunlight breaking the stubborn and unmoving cloud cover. The snow had all but melted, leaving only a few remnants of dirty ice as a reminder that nature was still waiting for the chance to fuck us over. Perfect vampire weather as Beatrice called it.

That was the kind of weather I woke up to, and even though the muted colours of the heavy UV glass, I could feel the stillness and the brooding gloom. It was the kind of day that encouraged you to just stay in bed, go on, don't even bother moving, roll over and stay warm.

I rolled over, but Beatrice was already gone. I guess she was not much of a cuddler.

"Beatrice?" I called out then frowned, realizing that I hadn't even come up with a nickname for her. She wasn't the kind of person you actually assigned nicknames to. Calling her "B" or "Bea" just wasn't an option.

There was a crash from somewhere in the apartment, and someone cried out in pain. I instantly jumped to my feet, heart pounding as I strained to listen for any other sounds, tried to bring my senses to bear, but it was harder than it seemed. This was a strange place for me, and I didn't know the sounds that were particular to it like I would if I was at home.

My phone buzzed and lit up as a text message came in. I glanced at it, and then looked away, focusing on the sounds in the apartment that were coming clear.

Whimpering, like someone in pain.

There was a set of three Katanas hanging on the bedroom wall. I grabbed the largest one and slid the sword from the sheath, the metal making that satisfying scraping sound that made me feel somewhat dangerous.

Sword in hand and trying hard to not pretend to be a ninja, I charged through the door into the living room... and froze at the sight in front of me.

"What the fuck?" I said as eloquently as ever.

There was a terrified vampire on his knees in front of Beatrice. He was bent backward, arms outstretched as if he had been forced down into that position. The terror in his eyes was palpable, and tears were running down his face. His mouth was wide open, and his fangs were huge on the top and the bottom, fully extended.

The reason for his terror was Beatrice, of course. She had one hand on the vampire's face, and in the other, she held a pair of blood-stained pliers. The pliers were currently clamped onto one of the exposed fangs of the prone vampire, and she was twisting and pulling at the tooth in a very determined way. That fucker was coming out and damn it was going to hurt.

The fang came out with a sickening Schkt! a trail of blood spatter hanging momentarily in the air. The vampire squealed in agony but stayed exactly where he was.

Beatrice turned to look at me, tooth held aloft in the pliers.

"Hey Bobbikins," she said, and casually threw the tooth away. "You're just in time."

"In time for what?"

"I made eggs!" Beatrice said and pointed her chin at the kitchen counter where a mess of scrambled eggs sat on a plate next to a couple of slices of toast.

"Wow. Normally I'd be impressed, if not for the screaming vampire in front of you!"

Beatrice looked surprised and then back at the vampire as if this was perfectly ordinary.

"Oh, this? Don't worry about him. I glammered the fuck out of this one, so he won't be hurting you."

"You did what? I didn't know you could glammer another vampire."

"Well, technically, you can't. I've been doing this way longer than you, so I've had practice. Don't worry: it surprised the hell out of him too."

I looked at the terrified vampire, his desperate eyes seeking some kind of help from me.

"What are you doing to him?" I asked as Beatrice raised the pliers again.

"I'm taking his fangs," she said and clamped down on the remaining top fang.

"Is that really necessary?" I asked over the squeals of the tortured man.

Beatrice twisted brutally, and the fang came loose in a spurt of blood. She spoke as she looked down at her victim.

"He was sent to kill you. I'm doing him a favour, and I'm allowing him to walk out of here, but I'm also sending a message. By taking his fangs, my message is very clear, and it's that you are not to be fucked with."

And to think I was feeling sorry for the dude. I looked at him with those missing top two fangs and clearly got Beatrice's message.

A numbness spread over me as the full meaning of this failed assassination attempt hit me. I felt cold and detached and terrifed, but not for myself.

"Were you sent to kill just me?" I asked.

"Answer him," Beatrice said.

"Just you, I swear!" the vampire gurgled. "Nobody else! Please don't do this!"

I squatted down and looked him in the eye, remembering that look in Michel's eyes, remembering those teeth.

"Why the fangs?" I asked Beatrice. "Exactly what does taking their fangs do?"

"Fangs take two to three months to grow back. Take a vampire's fangs, and he loses the adrenal boost that comes with triggering them. It's a weird side effect, but pretty nasty. It's kinda like castration."

"That's one hell of a message you're sending."

"That's entirely the point," Beatrice agreed happily.

I looked back to the prone vampire, my would-be assassin and made up my mind. I said the words I knew had to be spoken.

"Are you going to take the bottom ones too?"

Beatrice grinned approvingly and offered the pliers to me.

"You want to do it?"

I stood up and looked at the offered pliers, all thoughts going from my head. I allowed myself to remember the fear, no, the terror of Michel's attack and deeper than that, the memory of Daemien.

After a moment, I took the pliers.

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