"What the hell are we doing?" I asked Claude as we walked through the crowd, following the other vampire.
This was easier than it sounds since everyone seemed to be deliberately not seeing the dude but of course, wanted to stop us for a lengthy chat about whatever, which we really didn't have time for.
Claude extracted himself from a pair of overly grabby friends of my mom's and shrugged, keeping his eyes on the vampire all the time. Ronnie had stayed back to talk to Isabella and her boyfriend, the two girls giggling together and throwing coy looks at Claude.
"He said to follow him, and we're following him. I didn't exactly see you saying no."
"Well, he was being all mysterious and shit. At least this way it gets us away from the family."
"You do realize that we're the only ones who can see him, right? And here we are following him outside, away from everybody."
"So we're being stupid?"
"Stupid and reckless."
We had cleared the crowd and noticed the vampire waiting at the far end of the garden by the back gate. Claude turned to me and shook his head. None of this was sitting right with him, and he wanted to make sure that I knew how stupid I was being.
"If he wants to take you to see his totally fucked up lair filled with bodies and shit, you're on your own. Just saying is all."
I tried to bluster as much as possible, given the circumstances, "Dude, seriously? You're bringing your own vampire along."
"Yeah... have you met you? You kinda really suck at the vampire thing."
"Yeah," I agreed, "but he doesn't know that."
The "he" in question was waiting patiently at the back gate, watching us over downcast eyes that were supposed to look creepy or some shit. If he'd had a cape, he would have been hiding his face behind it like an extra-cheap Bela Lugosi knockoff. I was kind of getting the feeling that our vampire friend was a bit of a poser and was enjoying himself way too much.
The thing is, he was really creeping me the fuck out to the point that I really wanted to get on the phone and call another vampire who actually knew what they were doing. Claude wasn't kidding when he pointed out that I sucked at being a vampire.
I was what was known as an "Accidental," mainly because most vampires in Toronto go through a very rigorous program that lasts ten years before they are actually turned. It serves to weed out people who are psychologically unfit to the life of a vampire, as well as any psychopaths in the system. It's also something that only the extremely rich can afford.
Needless to say, I'm broke as hell, financially embarrassed, and one missed paycheque away from being homeless. I would have failed most of the vampire tests as well, but here I am because my friend Louise and her doctor buddy got greedy one night and drank too much of my blood. The sad thing is that it wasn't even like they needed it for food or anything. To vampires, blood is a drug, and Louise and her friend had gotten high as hell while I bled out in front of them. And to make up for just about killing me, Lousie had turned me into a vampire.
It wouldn't have been so bad if Louise had at least stuck around to teach me how to become a vampire, but she had broken a significant rule by turning an uninitiated (me) into a vampire. I had never seen her again after that. Harry had said she was dead, and that was that. I had been left on my own to figure shit out, day-by-day and one mistake at a time.
I was not good at figuring things out on my own.
"If there is something on your mind, now would be a great time to mention it," Claude said. He always noticed the smallest changes in my demeanour, but then again, he was the details guy. Noticing details was what kept him safe. Kept him alive.
"Dude smells like shit. He smells wrong."
"I was going to say something, but I didn't want to be rude..."
"You smell it too?"
"If he wasn't glammering the whole damn house to make it so they didn't see him, I'm sure everyone would be complaining about the stink."
"Does glammering cover stink too?"
The vampire was getting impatient.
"You know I can hear you, right? And it's very offensive. I do not stink."
Claude gave me a triumphant look. "See? Told you it would be rude!"
I turned my attention to the vampire.
"Sorry about that," I said. "I'm Bob."
"I am The Vampire Daemien," the other vampire announced as if expecting some fanfare that never came. When we didn't look impressed, he kind of deflated. "Why is it that your friend can see me?"
Claude waved. "Hi," he said. "I'm Claude, and apparently I can't be glammered."
"Glammered?" Daemien looked confused but insisted on speaking to me as if Claude was beneath him. "What do you mean by 'glammered'?"
"It's what you're doing to my family. We would like you to knock it off. Like right now. Daemien..." Something was bothering me. "Wait, is Daemien even your real name?"
"I'll bet it's Paul," Claude said. "He looks like a Paul to me. Or a Henry."
"It is not Henry! Daemien is my vampire name. It is the name my Maker bestowed upon me the night of my rebirth. What kind of name is 'Bob' for a vampire anyway?"
I almost scoffed. Dude sounded like a total fanboy. Most of the vampires I had met had kept their perfectly ordinary names. Names like Harry, Vera, Beatrice, Louise, Robert... you get the idea.
"Perfectly ordinary," I replied with complete confidence. "You don't meet many vampires, do you?"
"You're the first vampire I've encountered in five years. Apart from my Master-- "
"Your what now?" Claude sputtered before I could say a thing.
Daemien looked really unsure of himself. He tried to appear as haughty as possible. "My Master. She turned me. Surely you have a Master as well—"
I looked at Claude. "He can't be serious. Is this a white boy thing?"
Claude looked perplexed at this and shrugged. "Racist much, Bob?"
"Not really. It seems to be only the white vampires I've met who go anywhere near this 'master' thing. So call it an observation."
"How many vampires have you met who mentioned a master? Outside of horror movies?"
I thought really hard about it. Daemien just looked from me to Claude and then back to me as if he couldn't believe we were actually having the conversation right then.
"Um... one. Him over there."
"Then you're being racist."
"Is it okay to be racist to him?"
"Knock yourself out."
Daemien had a confused look on his face. He suddenly looked around as if he had missed something. "Enough! You two talk too much! I accept your challenge!"
What the fuck dude, seriously?
"We're not here to challenge you," I said cautiously, "But if you don't knock off the glammering we're gonna have to kill you. Sorry... not sorry."
"Or you could always leave," Claude interjected. "Leaving is good too."
Daemien had a look like he thought we were utterly pulling his leg, but then realized we were serious.
"Leave? Why would I leave? And then what happens? You track me down to my lair and kill me in my coffin?"
Something occurred to me. "Wait, are you actually sleeping in a coffin?"
"Of course, I am. I am of the undead. Where else am I to sleep to protect my damned soul?"
"Try Motel Six?" Claude suggested. "Lots of damned souls around there."
"Have you really not met any other vampires?" I asked. I could see it, all of a sudden, the isolation and eventual loneliness that was affecting Daemien and I wondered if I would have turned out any differently left to my own devices. At least I'd had the luxury of being introduced to vampire society, and I knew exactly where I could always find other vampires. Sure they were a bunch of rich assholes, and I didn't quite fit in, but at least I knew where they were and that they acted mostly like ordinary people. Daemien had been made away from other vampires and he had then been left to figure it out all by himself. All he knew about vampires was what he had learned from books and movies. He had embraced it wholeheartedly, all of it. Even the stupid bits.
"I am a vampire!" Daemien said haughtily. "I live in righteous solitude! I rule this place!"
Okay, then: especially the stupid bits.
"Okay, so we're going to fight."
Daemien was fast, and maybe a year ago he would have kicked my ass pretty easily, but I've had a year of having my ass kicked by the best. He went straight for Claude, practically a blur of movement that I knew was going to bring severe pain and a brutal beating. As suddenly as he had moved, Daemien froze in front of Claude and reared back, hissing as if in pain.
Claude held a crucifix in his hand. Where the crucifix had come from was beyond me. I don't even know when Claude might have had the time to get a crucifix, but there it was in his hand like some obscene parlour trick. Daemien reacted to it like it was scalding the skin off of him.
Idiot.
Music: Metallica - Until It Sleeps