This is my writing collection of Valerie and the vamblog universe. All credit goes to the rightful artist.
Content:
1. BLOG 1 /// canon, chapter /// - Check your peeps
2. BLOG 2 /// canon, chapter /// - How to make a friend
3. BLOG 3 /// canon, chapter /// - Man Vs. Wolf
4. BLOG 4 /// canon, chapter /// - Family schematics
5. BLOG 5 /// canon, chapter /// - Jingle Bells
6. Church /// one-shot, crossover ///
Posted: Mon Jan 01, 2018 9:42 am
BLOG 1 : Check your peeps written by AurinJade
Val didn’t say this phrase very often, but god bless hipsters.
She shuffled forward in the Starbucks line, eyeing the selection of coconut water on display, debating trying one of the flavors this time, even though she knew she would take it regular. The flavors didn’t do a lot for her. Coconut water, in general, tasted fairly bland, but it was life. Or, at least, it bridged her until she could get a proper meal in her belly, held her over so she didn’t require quite as many trips to the clinic to bribe out a fix. Demand from the general population was up, so she could get it almost anywhere. Convenient stores, Walmarts, coffee shops, and best yet, in bulk at Costco.
Adjusting the strap of her laptop bag, she studied the other patrons with a tiny, little hunger gnawing at her belly. It hadn’t been all that long since she last ate, but the hunger could usually be sensed, a tiny voice in the back of her mind reminding her that she couldn’t put it off forever.
But in the meantime.
“Coconut water, please.” “Will that be everything?”
The barista’s pulse drummed steadily under her soft, pale skin. Everybody was pale this time of year. A week into December in the Pacific Northwest meant that nobody had seen the sun since about mid-October.
Val blinked. “Yep, that’s everything.”
She paid in cash and retreated with to a corner of the shop to place her back against the wall where nobody could snoop on her screen. Not that anything she looked at would be NSFW, but with the forum she planned on checking, it didn’t hurt to be careful. Tapping her hands on the table while the laptop booted up, she gazed across the other patrons. They were the typical wednesday evening crowd, the type who drank coffee at 6 p.m. instead of eating dinner. What appeared to be a student with a text book and a laptop, a red-eyed man in a rumpled suit who teetered on the edge of a proper mid-life crisis, a teenager in a bulky sweater, thick-rimmed glasses, and the general aroma of pot around her, and a young couple staring dreamily into each other’s eyes. First date, if she had to guess.
Her fingers danced across the keyboard as she logged in through multiple firewalls. She finally got to an internet browser and the face screen of the forum when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Sipping coconut water, she checked the message
The image of a disgruntled Maine Coone popped up on her phone sitting in a tiny box. Accompanying the picture was a couple of lines of text.
Sniggering, she sent back a stream of emojis that he would despise trying to translate into a coherent thought, but Beau worried that technology and language was taking off without him. She had been tasked with keeping him on his toes.
Her phone pinged a second later.
She sniggered. He was hopeless.
Leaving him to puzzle it out, she began scrolling through forum pages, checking out new topics and the replies. A few of the dedicated chats were already off running, friends catching up, trading bits of advice, filling each other in on the daily grind. She peeked into a topic titled HELP! Had an “accident.” One of the young ones put off feeding for too long.
This was why she kept her screen faced away from the general public.
Replies flooded in, usually starting with the phrase, “Don’t panic!” and then giving practical ways to cover tracks, scrub evidence, and escape search radiuses. Not the most savory aspect of the forum, but accidents did happen, which was what this community was for. Her stomach panged with regret, but this was their existence. They could either go through an undead life having “accidents” or learn from early mistakes that would keep people alive later on.
Another header caught her eye, drawing a smile to her face as she clicked into the thread.
HELP! Self-tanning CATASTROPHE!!!1!
>LacunaCoil11: GUYS. I tried self-tanner for the first time today. I might have...misjudged... how much I needed. HOW DO I GET IT OFF? [link][link][link]
Val almost sprayed coconut water through her nose as she began clicking through the supplied pictures.
>Bloodpuddin: OMG YOU LOOK LIKE A DORITO >halfpip3_420: Bruh ur tanner game needs WORK >PikaRex: I’m googling now. You can’t go out looking like that. We have some serious work to do. >LacunaCoil11: HURRY! I’M CRYING. I’VE NEVER LOOKED THIS BAD IN MY LIFE! >Bloodpuddin: You’re crying? I’M CRYING! From laughter. I can’t breathe. Do vampires technically need to breathe? I might die. Again. BRB cardiac arrest. >PikaRex: Didn’t I_nibble have a similar thing happen when she first tried self tanner? Has she logged on lately? She’d probably know what to do.
Several other replies filtered in over the next few minutes, some weighing in with experiences of their own and what to do about it, but the comment about I_nibble, the handle of a vampire named Nikita, caught her attention. She pulled up a search bar to hunt down her most recent posts, setting her coconut water aside while she concentrated. It wasn’t like Nikita not to check in at least once a day. She was addicted to the blog, but it felt like she hadn’t heard from her in a while.
I_nibble’s last post was logged a week ago.
Weird.
Pulling up her phone, she fired off a general text to ask if she was okay, then hunkered down to wait, busying herself with catching up on other parts of the blog. Beau had recently uploaded some financial investment advice that had gained traction. Vampires lived a long time. They didn’t want to have to struggle paycheck-to-paycheck their entire undead existence, especially since night jobs weren’t always easy to come by.
After about an hour when Nikita hadn’t replied to her text, worry overtook hunger gnawing at her stomach. Nik usually replied to texts almost before Val sent them off. She was surgically attached to her phone. A week was too long not to hear from her on the blog, and hour too long on a text.
Pretending not to panic, she sent off texts to a couple of the others, asking whether anyone had heard from her lately. They all replied fairly promptly, offering apologies, and that none of them had any contact with her in over a week. Several tried contacting her then, getting back to her to confirm her thoughts. It was weird of her not to reply immediately to a text or email.
Snapping her laptop closed, she cleaned up her area and shoved everything back into her computer bag. She sucked down the rest of her coconut water on her way out, tossing the empty carton in the recycling near the door.
It was a twenty-five minute drive from her position to Nikita’s apartment. She got there in record time, pushing her little truck to the limits and eeking through speed traps. She screeched to a halt between two parking spaces in the lot attached to Nikita’s apartment complex, ignorant to the fact that she was parked like as a*****e. She almost choked herself on her seatbelt trying to climb out of the truck without unclipping it.
Dashing up the steps to the second level, she hammered her fist on the front door, hoping--no, praying--that Nikita would answer, annoyed, and possibly shacked up with a hot guy, which was the reason she wasn’t answering her phone. She banged on the door for another minute until a neighbor poked his head out in annoyance.
“What the hell? You’re drowning out Game of Thrones.” “Have you seen Nikita lately?” “Who?”
She pointed impatiently at the door. “The girl who lives here.”
“Oh. I didn’t really know her. I don’t think I have? Sorry.” He disappeared back inside before she could interrogate him further.
Huffing, she tried the doorknob, finding it unlocked for her convenience. She let herself inside, flipping on the lights as she went. The apartment was a single-bedroom, cramped affair that could barely fit a couch, TV, and chair. It sported a kitchen the size of a matchbox, which was just as well, since Nikita had no reason to cook. A Costco pack of coconut water dominated the counter surface next to the stove. A door off to the left led to the bathroom, and the door adjacent to it to the bedroom.
Stomach knotting, she paced to the bedroom, took a deep breath, and opened the door. Nikita’s entire bedroom was a closet, clothes hanging, stacked, and strewn over every surface. Val paused to adjust to the clutter, eyes drawn eventually to the bed where a pile evidenced the death of a vampire, including a crusty, bloody dress, fluid stained sheets, bright yellow polypropylene rope, and brown, old looking bones. The stench was that of old rot, permeating every surface from the rapid release of gas as the body decomposed over the course of several hours.
Hand over her mouth, she choked on a gag and retreated out of the room.
Tears flooding her vision, she tripped out of the apartment back to her truck, landing behind the wheel before she realized she moved. She couldn’t scrub the image of the blood-soaked sundress, the rope, and stained sheets out of her mind. A week ago that had been one of her friends. A week ago it had been a vibrant, bubbly, smart, driven woman, now reduced to a smear and bones.
Her fingers fumbled against her keys to turn the truck on and put distance between herself and the apartment. One neighbor had already seen her well enough to identify later. Eventually, human police would discover the scene and get suspicious. The bones would likely dissolve before then, but the fluids staining the dress, rope, and sheets would remain. Val could not let herself become a person of interest in a murder case, especially one as weird as this one would be.
“Murder,” she whispered out loud to herself.
Because that was what it was, wasn’t it? Somebody killed her friend. She didn’t end up decomposing in the middle of her bed on accident. Rubbing away the blurriness in her eyes, she fired up her truck and burned rubber getting back on the road. She headed an autopilot, too upset to really think through her next move. Instinct took over and she found herself heading toward Tacoma and the closest place she knew might offer her some semblance of comfort and familiarity.
BLOG 2 : How to make a friend written by AurinJade
Val didn’t make it all the way to Maggie’s house, instead stopping a half a mile away at a bar. She wasn’t usually much of a barfly, but she needed gin. She needed gin in excess. She slumped into the pub with mascara running down her pallid cheeks and shoulders hunched. She claimed one of the few empty bar stools and fished for an ID. She’d been turned at 20. She always got carded.
“Hell of a day?” the bartender asked upon approach, a woman with green hair and a nose piercing. On another day, Val might have appreciated the look.
“Yeah, you could say that.” She swiped her cheeks. “Could I get a gin and tonic, but substitute coconut water for the tonic?” “I’ll do you one better. I’ve got sparkling coconut water I can use.”
She lifted her face with a sniffle. “Sparkling coconut water? That’s a thing?”
The woman shrugged. “I guess. You can pretty much carbonate anything these days. Can I see some ID?”
She handed it over where the woman eyed it critically, front and back. Her ID’s always took extra scrutiny. It was a pity she hadn’t waited a few years before turning, but hindsight was always 20/20. Reclaiming her driver’s license, she slumped her head in her hands while the bartender made her drink, letting her hair curtain around her.
Images of Nikita flashed through her mind on repeat, of when she was alive--or, “alive”--and so vibrant, to the slagged mess on her bed.
“Here you go, hon,” the bartender said a minute later, sliding a glass across the bar to her.
Muttering her thanks, she smeared dragged her hair back out of her face, sniffled, and sipped her drink, putting out a plea of gratitude to any god that might be out there for letting alcohol affect her body post-vampirism. She drank in silence, offering a mute toast to her fallen friend. Tomorrow, she would put an announcement on her blog and a reminder to the community to be careful. Vampire hunters were out there.
“You are way too pretty to be this sad,” a voice said suddenly, a body claiming the empty space directly to her left between her elbow and the guy on the next barstool over.
Val blinked her blurry vision away, brows snapping together. “Excuse me?” “Tell you what. Drinks are on me, and I have an excellent set of ears for listening and very comfortable shoulder.”
The guy might have been easy on the eyes, but she couldn’t dredge up a single ******** to give the second he interrupted her mope. Tall, athletic, good looking, with blond hair shaved on the sides and long on top and an intriguing set of amber-brown eyes. But she didn’t get caught up in the looks or the act. She was grieving.
“How about, I pay for my own ******** drink because I’m not some candy-a** sidepiece to a Macklamore ********, capiche?” she shot back, waving down the bartender. “Another, please. On my tab.”
His voice softened. “Yeah. Sure. I didn’t mean to offend. You just looked like you might need a friend.” “I have friends. You’re not one of them.” “You sure? I know I probably just now made all-star on your s**t list, but I could have sworn we met before…” “I have one of those faces. We haven’t. Goodbye,” she snapped.
Shrugging, he said, “Well, in any case, whatever’s bothering you, I hope you feel better.”
She ignored him as he slunk away. Meanwhile, the person on the other side of her snerked into his drink, shoulders shaking with laughter. Finally, he peeked toward her, doing his damndest to smother a grin.
“Would you mind if I tweeted that exchange? That was gold. You shut that guy down so fast, he’ll feel the burn for days,” he chortled.
She waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Sure.”
The bartender passed her another gin and sparkling coconut water, which she slumped over and nursed for a good long while, settling back deep into her misery. Nobody else bothered her for the rest of the night, giving her plenty of time to wallow properly in the bottom of her cup. Eventually, the crowd irritated her enough that she decided it was time to move on.
“Is my truck okay to stay in the parking lot overnight? I’m going to crash at a friend’s in walking distance,” she told the bartender as she settled her tab.
“Yeah, it’ll be fine,” she promised, passing her receipt over to her. “Go sleep it off. Your truck will be here in the morning.” “Thanks.”
She retrieved her backpack and laptop bag from the truck, locked it up, and took off on foot toward Maggie’s Tacoma home. She swayed unsteadily, fresh tears prickling against her eyes on her trip, as if the fresh air and traffic reminded her of all of the things Nikita would be missing out on.
The Tacoma home existed in a nice, normal, mundane cul-de-sac, nestled in the middle of hardworking families of four too busy with soccer practice and piano recitals to care about the revolving door of neighbors who came and went from the Finch residence. They were always quiet, always polite, kept the grass trimmed out front, and always supported fundraisers when the kids went knocking door-to-door. They long since quit caring about different relatives of the little old lady who owned it using the house.
The front door had a keypad instead of a traditional lock. Val punched in the code and let herself quietly through the door, heading automatically to the windowless basement where she would spend the day. No other vampires were in residence, but she could be certain a couple of werewolves occupied the upstairs rooms. The house never went fully empty.
Still swaying, interrupted by the occasional hiccup, Val climbed into a hot shower, turning it up to the point where a normal human would have burned. She sat under it for about ten minutes, letting it soak in and permeate her tepid skin, pretending for a few minutes after that the pink on her body was a natural shade.
She threw on bulky sweats and a Seahawks sweatshirt and wool socks, containing what little warmth she had, then ventured upstairs to raid the kitchen and plant herself in front of the TV until dawn for distraction. She poked through the fridge for a coconut water, finding a bunch tucked into the door.
“I should have guessed you were one of Maggie’s strays.”
Val screamed, fist closing around the box of coconut water so hard it exploded. Her senses were usually pretty on point. She prided herself on being exceptionally difficult to sneak up on, but werewolves, in general, were petty light on their feet and capable of moving with unparalleled grace. On top of it, she was still pretty drunk.
The same blond a*****e who hit on her in the bar flipped on the kitchen light with half a smirk, crossing to the stove to retrieve a towel hanging off the handle to pass over to her. She snatched it with a glare, wiping down her damp sweatshirt and the mess on the floor, tossing the empty, dribbling carton toward the sink and missing spectacularly.
“Oh man, you are in it deep.” He took a step toward her, hand raised, as if approaching a flighty animal. “We got off on the wrong foot. That was my fault. It was a d**k move thinking I could hit on a crying vampire. Tequila makes me do a lot of crazy things.” “Look, I’m really not in the mood,” she snapped. “Clearly.” He took another step toward her. “Can I try to make it up to you? Let me get you a dry sweatshirt, at least?”
She looked down at her soaked apparel with a twisted expression, then broke down into a wretched, heaping sob.
Why could nothing go right?
The werewolf swooped in, catching her shoulders and pulling her against him where she crumpled. He did as his kind did and radiated heat through his t-shirt like a furnace. Wolf metabolisms were comparable to rocket engines. They also, without exception, smelled fantastic.
Val knew he wanted something. She knew his generosity probably came with a price. He’d get her calm, offer her a shoulder, and then the second she was vulnerable, go in for the strike. Get her into bed, maybe.
“I’m not having sex with you,” she snarled, even as she burrowed deeper against him. “Oh please, lady. You’re wasted and sad. What kind of douche-canoe would I be if I tried to get in your pants right now?” “A dead one.” “Fair enough.” He rubbed large, warm hands up and down her back. “So...um...what’s your name?” “Valerie. Val.” “I’m Graham.”
She glared into his chest, even as she accepted--with reluctance--the comfort he offered. She hated to admit it, but she needed the hug. She needed somebody to just bear her weight for a minute and take the burden of her grief.
“Hey, let’s take this party out of the kitchen, yeah?”
She nodded tiredly, still slumped against him.
Graham towed her to the living room where he sat her down in the corner of the L-shaped couch, offering a stack of throw blankets for her to choose from, seeming to understand that warmth meant comfort. Val wrapped herself in several of the throws, curling up in her little corner.
“There’s some frozen coconut water in the fridge. It’s sort of like ice cream? Or maybe more of a popsicle,” he offered. “Comfort food, right?” “Got any hot chocolate?” she asked warily, not quite convinced of his generosity. “Oh, I’m sure. Made with milk or coconut water or mix?” “Just coconut water is fine.”
Nodding, he disappeared to the kitchen where she heard him clanking around for a few minutes. First, he dropped her off the frozen coconut water in a bowl that she could skim off and suck on. She burrowed with it deeper in her cocoon. After a few minutes, the werewolf returned again with a giant cup of hot chocolate. The cup might have legitimately been a soup bowl. For himself, he brought a massive, stacked roast beef sandwich.
“I’m still sobering up, too” he offered with a tiny, apologetic smile.
Val tucked into her hot chocolate, accepting his presence for the time being, since he did seem to be trying to make up for his earlier foot-in-mouth debacle.
“So, you want to talk about it?” he asked after he demolished about half of the sandwich.
She sighed, avoiding his amber eyes. Yellow eyes, she conceded, not quite a natural color. He carried a bit more wolf in his human form than most. Throat thick, she finally confessed in a hushed voice, “Somebody killed my friend.” “Oh. s**t.”
She swiped a stray tear away. “I hadn’t heard from her in a week. I decided to go to her place and check for her. It looks like somebody tied her up and killed her. Left the mess behind. ******** vampire hunters.” “I’m...I’m really sorry. Do you have any idea who might have found her? Why she was killed?” “I mean, she was still pretty young, but she was careful! Nikita never hurt anybody. I mean, she never killed anybody, and that’s rare! For a vampire on her own, it’s really rare. But she was always so careful, so cautious, so dedicated to the idea that she didn’t have to be a monster. I don’t know why anybody would want to kill her. It’s not like they followed a trail of bodies to her doorstep. I just...I can’t figure it out,” she gushed, grateful to finally share in the agony ripping her up on the inside.
Werewolves, in general, were a pretty touchy-feely lot, and Graham was the hallmark of a good dog. He scooted closer to her on the couch and grabbed her free hand in his own, engulfing it, warming it, giving it a comforting squeeze.
“What are you going to do?”
She barked a bitter laugh. “What can I do? I have no idea who might have done it. I’ll warn the others, send out word to be extra cautious. I just can’t believe she’s gone. She didn’t deserve that. Not to be tied down and...and...butchered,” she choked out. “She must have been so afraid.”
She found herself suddenly enveloped. Apparently he couldn’t handle only holding her hand. At first, she stiffened as his arms locked around her, her first instinct to shove him off. After a moment, she relaxed, melting against him and into his heady, earthy scent. He stroked her damp hair silently, never wandering his hands out of safe, platonic zones. She appreciated that he didn’t try to feel her up. Why ruin a good thing?
“Do you have anybody? Somebody you can call?” he asked. “So you don’t have to be alone?” “I...no. Maggie is the closest thing to family I really have. I mean, there are others. I have a few friends in the area, but none…” She shrugged. “No.”
A lightbulb seemed to go off for him. “Oh! Val. That’s right. Do you run the blog?”
She nodded. “Heard of it?” “Yeah, I have some cousins that are part of it. They told me I should get an invite. Apparently your content is top notch. Maggie raves about you. s**t. She’d n** me good if she knew the way I hit on you back there. Please don’t tell her?”
She was in no mood to make promises. “We’ll see.”
They lapsed into quiet for a little while. Val pried herself away from his warm arms to finish her hot cocoa in peace and he returned his attention to his sandwich. Much as she hated to admit it, she felt a little better just getting Nikita’s murder off her chest. She wasn’t the only person in the world who knew. She didn’t have to bear that knowledge alone until she made a post about it on the blog. She didn’t know why that made it better, but it did.
“What would be more helpful to you?” Graham asked after a few minutes. “Me shutting up again, getting you a distraction, or talking about it more?”
Val mulled it over as she drained the rest of the hot chocolate. “I think...maybe a distraction? I’ll just start crying again if I keep thinking about it.”
He grabbed up TV remote to turn on the massive screen hooked to the wall across from them and started flashing through menus, pulling up a YouTube app. “You like cute animals?”
“That’s not a reference to yourself, is it?”
He chuckled nervously. “Um...not exactly.” He pulled up a YouTube channel and began sifting through videos with animals, mostly pets, on the preview of each one. “I volunteer at a bunch of local shelters where I go to school. I started this channel to try to get some attention on the awesome ones that need to be adopted. It sort of...took off.”
She eyed the amounts of views each video garnered. “So you’re telling me you’re YouTube famous.”
“Ah...yeah. Pretty much. I also do a lot of work with land conservation and...well, it’s not important. Cute animals are important. Here. This guy. This guy was a freaking star.”
He pulled up a video of himself and a snobby old cat he built an entire backstory and personality for, going into depth about all of the cat’s great features and what he would bring to a home. Graham sold the cat better than a car salesman, and most importantly, featured the cat looking haughty on various surfaces, so prospective adopters could imagine him looking down his nose upon them in their own home.
By the end of the video, she almost smiled.
“Oh, and then there was this gal! I almost took her home myself.”
The video featured Graham trying to wear out a golden retriever mix named Schnapps before she wore him out. They ran. They romped. They played. They rolled. They chased. A supercut of scenes flashed by of the day he spent attempting to burn that dog out of energy. The final scene featured Graham passed out inside the dog’s kennel on a dog bed while the dog herself demolished a chew toy in the background.
“Oh come on. No mortal dog can outdo a freaking werewolf,” she complained. “You didn’t meet Schnapps. That girl could go for days.”
The next video featured Graham surrounded by bunnies. She didn’t even grasp the content of the video, because the idea of somebody letting a wolf into the bunny cage was so outrageous she end up giggling insanely through the whole thing.
“I prefer my rabbit properly hunted, in the wild, not kept as a pet,” he sniffed, switching to another video--one that wasn’t likely to send her into hysterics.
Val ended up leaned against his side--for warmth purposes, of course. He was, after all, a living, breathing space heater, and she had no qualms leaching it out of him. It certainly had nothing to do with how nice he smelled or how comfortable he was or the vibrations of his rich, deep voice against her ear. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with the nice cut of his jaw or beguiling golden eyes. Nope. It was about heat and comfort. Period.
They ended up watching hours of his videos as he told stories about animals not cooperating while being filmed or what kind of family each pet ended up with. All of the animals he featured got promptly adopted, each video racking up hundreds of thousands of views in a matter of days after he posted. He had a mind-boggling amount of followers. Not that she could blame anyone. It was a recipe for success if she’d ever seen one. Cute, charismatic man and adorable, pitiful orphan animals? Who could resist? She planned on discreetly subscribing later.
“But this, this is just a hobby?” she finally asked between videos as the sky outside crept closer to dawn. She could feel sleep weighing on her. “Yeah.” “So what do you do the rest of your time?” If she wasn’t mistaken, he actually blushed a little. “I’m a student. I go to UCLA.” “So you’re getting a degree?” “Well, I mean, I already have an associates and two bachelors and I’m working on my first masters and considering whether I want to do a PhD or not…” “Well, don’t be so modest,” she scoffed.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey, if I’m going to run a pack someday, it’s not going to be a cobbled together mess. I’m going to have a firm establishment, several revenue streams, property, and I want to be self-reliant.”
“You want to run your own pack? Not just be part of one?” “Maggie won’t be around forever to keep this one together. And I don’t know anyone else I’d rather take over. So yeah. I think I’ll run my own someday.” Val shoved off of him and smothered a yawn behind her hand. “Being responsible for people is hard.” “Hey, without you, your friend wouldn’t have made it even half as far. I know how much your blog helps people,” he offered gently. She shrugged, setting her jaw and looking aside. “Yeah,” she finally agreed. “Look, it’s almost dawn. But thanks for keeping me company. It’s been a supremely shitty night.” “Sure, Val. Anytime.”
She kind of doubted that, but she didn’t argue, emerging from her sheathe of blankets and heading back to the basement where she could sack out for the day. Graham’s scent clung to her, cloaking against her and keeping her company long after they parted ways. She wouldn’t admit how comforting it was. Certainly not. Werewolves were always so annoying, smelling so nice. She knew it was part of their biology, completely out of their control, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be miffed when it made her pliant when they wanted to play nice.
She shut herself in the basement bedroom and dropped into the bed, exhaustion pulling at her seams, both from the impending sun and the emotional toll of the night. Tomorrow, she would alert the blog to Nikita’s fate and help them process the blow. Tomorrow, she would get her s**t together. No more pity parties. No more sobbing in the manly arms of sexy werewolves. She was better than that.
Posted: Mon Jan 01, 2018 10:00 am
BLOG 3 : Man Vs. Wolf written by AurinJade
Graham’s alarm woke him up at noon. He grappled for his phone with a grumpy noise of disapproval, wresting it from the bedside stand to shut it up. He regretted everything. Drinking that much tequila. Staying up until dawn. Okay, so he didn’t regret offering his shoulder to, quite possibly, the prettiest vampire he’d ever laid eyes on, but he did regret that he only had so many hours in the day to get s**t done.
As an apex predator, he could have happily slept away about sixteen hours a day, but between studying, socializing, and volunteering, that kind of lifestyle wasn’t feasible. He adopted the fast-paced mode of a modern adult and the caffeine addiction to go along with it. Dragging his a** out of bed on a normal day was hard enough. This was a special kind of agony.
He fumbled his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and shower. He dressed, grabbed his keys, wallet, and phone, and yawned his way to his Camaro where he sleepily drove to the nearest Starbucks. The rich, heavy scent of coffee inside the square, green shop perked him a little, promising light at the end of the tunnel. He thumbed through his contacts list as the line crawled forward, shoved his bluetooth piece in his ear, and called the farm. A familiar voice answered. His brother, Jackson.
“Hey. Jax. It’s Graham. Is Grandma in fur or out?” “I thought you were coming home yesterday,” he accused harshly, ignoring the question.
Sighing, Graham rubbed a hand tiredly down his face. “I stopped to see some friends in Tacoma and crashed at the house there. I’ve got some errands to run today, so it’ll either be late or tomorrow by the time I get there. Sorry, man. Anyway, Grandma?” he prompted.
His brother rumbled deep in his throat. “You suck at this whole vacation thing.”
He deserved that. Instead of going home during his breaks, he tended to take off to Florida or Cabo or somewhere warm where girls generally opted out of clothes. That, or he stayed behind on internships or squeezing in some extra volunteering. Trips home were rare. Jackson had every right to be pissed.
“Seriously, Jax, I’ll be there soon enough. Can you put Grandma on the phone now, please?” “Can’t. She’s in fur. Has been for like six months now, which you might know if you ever called.”
Scowling, he edged forward in the line. “Fine. Then I need you to go into her office and find her address book. She’s old. I know she hasn’t transferred anything to digital yet.”
Groaning--the hallmark of teenagehood--his brother trudged off into the house. Meanwhile, Graham made it to the front of the coffee queue to the Barista.
“Hey, can I get an venti espresso macchiato with nine shots of espresso.”
The dead-eyed girl behind the counter blinked and pursed her thin lips together. “Nine?” “Yeah. Nine.” He fished for his wallet. “You don’t want nine shots of espresso. That’s, like, a lot,” the barista informed him in a voice as dead as her expression.
“Look, I metabolize caffeine like a ******** and I had a ******** of tequila last night. So please. Venti espresso macchiato with nine shots,” he ground out. Usually baristas warmed to him as long as he flashed a bit of smile, but he had the feeling this living wax model would resist his charms.
Rolling her eyes, she grabbed a large paper cup off the stack at her elbow. “Name?” “Graham.” He paid and shuffled off to the side and turned his attention back to his brother’s mission. “You find it yet, Jax?” “Yeah. You done being rude to baristas?”
He squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “I’m looking for a woman named Nikita. I don’t have a last name, but the first name is odd enough there probably won’t be more than one. See if she has an address on it.”
“Nikita Bell? Why do you want her address?”
It hadn’t occurred to Graham that Jackson might know her personally. “It’s complicated. Hey, do you happen to know Val? The V who runs the blog.” In public, he deferred to vernacular that wouldn’t draw attention to his distinctly paranormal conversation. Discussing vampires and wolves in hearing shot of humans would garner a lot of funny looks he didn’t need.
“Of course I know Val. Everybody knows Val. God, this is what happens when you never come home!”
He sighed. “You get the address yet?” “Yeah, yeah. It’s right here. You got a crush on her or something?”
If he told the truth, it would spread like wildfire, and he got the impression that Val wanted to break the news of the death herself. If he lied, it would all fall apart in a couple of hours and he would receive accusations of withholding. He opted for sarcasm and deflection.
“Yeah, I was planning on riding in on a lawnmower with a boombox and stand under her bedroom window blaring hits of the eighties.” “Whatever.” He rattled off the address. “Thanks, Jax. Hey, we’ll do something fun when I get in. Just you and me.” “Whatever,” he said again, and hung up.
Graham waited around another minute for his coffee. The name on the cup, predictably, was spelled G-R-A-M. Claiming it, he retreated back to the Camero and plugged the address into his GPS, then made his second phone call of the morning, figuring Zoe had to be on her lunch break by now. She picked up after a few rings. “Hey, b***h. When are you coming to see me?” she demanded without preamble.
He snorted into his coffee as he wheeled one-handed into traffic. “How mad would you be if I told you something came up and I’m probably going to be late?” “How late?” she growled. “Like, a day. We’ll hang out all break, I promise. I just have something I need to do today.” “Does this ‘something’ have a name?”
He should have known. Zoe predicted him better than anyone. “Well...yeah. Valerie.” “Uh-huh. Pretty?” “Heart-stopping gorgeous. But, I swear, it’s not what you’re thinking. I’m just helping her out with something. She’s not really...emotionally available.” “You’ve only ever cared as long as they’re physically available,” she scoffed.
Which was also true. He took a long pull of coffee. “I’m not blowing you off for a booty call, Zo, I swear. I wouldn’t do that to you. It’s wolf stuff. Well, technically, it’s vamp stuff. It’s sort of both. I’m looking into the death of one of this girl’s friends. She thinks a vampire hunter got to her. I’m just going to the crime scene to put my nose to it, then I have to wait for dark to tell her if I found anything. Once that’s done, I’m coming home. I swear.”
He could feel the force of her eyeroll. “Well, as long as the cause is noble. That sucks though,” she conceded reluctantly. “Vampire hunters and all.” “Yeah, they’re pretty much dicks.”
Zoe sighed. “Tell me more about your pretty girl. How’d you meet her?” “Well, she’s one of Grandma’s strays. You know how she adopts anything not tied down.” “Yeah, including me,” she reminded him. “Not that I’m not grateful. I need the help as Mom gets worse. But you were telling me about a pretty girl. Please. Let me live vicariously through you. I need the gossip.”
Grinning, skimming through traffic with a bit more grace now that he had caffeine knocking through his system, he launched into his previous night. “The story isn’t pretty. I was hanging out with Nathan Sumpter last night at a bar and got hammered. Like, if I didn’t know better, I’d say that guy was pack, because he can outdrink me. Anyway, we’re like ten shots in when I catch a scent from across the room. Like, one of those scents that’s one of a kind. Like, coconut and dusk right after it rains.” “Dusk right after it rains is a great name for a perfume line.” “Shut up. Anyway, the scent belongs to this stunning blond up at the bar sobbing into her gin and tonic. So being of sound mind, I make the brilliant decision to go hit on her.” “The crying girl?” “The crying girl.” “Oh, Graham,” she groaned. “You idiot.” “Yep.” He popped the “P” for emphasis. “She shut me down and sent me packing. I note she’s a vamp somewhere in there, but I was too busy getting my a** verbally handed to me to really make sense of that detail until I’m already back with Nathan and he’s laughing his a** off at how spectacularly I failed.” “What did you expect from a crying girl? Classless, Graham. Totally uncool. I don’t care how good she smelled.” “Yeah, no arguments here. So I finish up with Nathan and head over to the Tacoma home to sleep it off. There’s a couple of other people in the house, two already asleep when I got there, and one who came in after me. I head to the kitchen for a snack before bed, and swear to ******** god I catch that scent again.” “Juicy. Crying girl followed you home.”
He made a noise. “I told you, she’s one of Grandma’s strays. She had the code to get in. Planned to sleep it off, same as me. So I apologized for the douchebaggery I committed earlier and got her talking, where she told me about finding her friend dead. Then I helped get her mind off of the whole thing.” “Yeah, I’m sure you did,” she drawled suggestively. “I didn’t...I didn’t sleep with her!” he spluttered. “I just showed her the YouTube channel! Cute animals. Cute me. Things to help her not think about her murdered friend.” “Probably for the best. Is sleeping with a vampire considered necrophilia?” “Ew. Gross.” He wrinkled his nose. “I’m pretty sure not. Because, like, they’re still mostly alive.” “Which means they’re also kind of dead.”
He shook off the thought. “No. No way somebody who smells that good is dead. I know what death smells like. It doesn’t smell like coconuts.” “Whatever you have to tell yourself,” she sang. “Hey, I have to get back to work. Call me when you get to the farm. And let me know how it goes with vamp girl so I can gag and make fun of you, keep that ego of yours in check.” “Whatever would I do without you, Zoe?” “Grow a head the size of a blimp, probably. Take care, Graham. Especially if you’re looking into dead vampires. Gives me the heebie-jeebies.” “I’ll be careful,” he promised.
He turned up the volume of the radio to keep him company and resisted the urge to roll down the windows. It may be a canine cliche, but Graham loved the feel and scents of wind whipping through the car. However, it was December with a steady Washington drizzle seeping out of the sky that would get the interior damp if he let it, so he distracted himself with music.
The address eventually brought him to an apartment complex just outside of Seattle. He sat in the car, windshield wipers smacking out a rhythm, studying the layout of the complex. The buildings were divided into bricks of four, two units upper, two units lower, all sharing a staircase in the middle. Nikita lived in #15, the upper residence on the left side of her unit.
Pulling on a black, nondescript Columbia jacket from the back seat, he used the hood to cover his hair and let himself into the drizzle. If he were being truly cautious, he would have parked around the corner and walked in, but he doubted anyone would write down his info to give to authorities if they poked around later.
When he got to the stairwell, he caught two distinctively vampiric scents, one fresh, the other older, but ingrained. Both vaguely coconut-y, blending with their unique chemistry. He almost smiled. Damn, but he wish he'd hit it off better with Val.
The door to the apartment hadn't been locked, so he let himself in before anyone caught him loitering. The apartment itself was cramped, but functional. A case of coconut water sat out on the counter and a stack of books took up most of the space on the coffee table. It looked like Nikita had a taste for arthurian legends.
The space smelled like dust, coconuts, cleaning products, and cocoa butter lotion, however, there was a taint to it, a stench that stuck to the back of his throat. He followed it to the back bedroom, nose crinkled, as he surveyed the murder scene.
Blood and other fluids stained the light blue bedspread beneath a torn, ragged, similarly crusty sundress. Ropes, still knotted, wound around gray, cracking bones. She'd been tied, hands and feet.
Graham spread his attention to the surrounding room. Clothes littered almost every surface, but he could make out patterns to the madness. They weren't strewn haphazardly. Brow knit, he glanced over his shoulder back to the main area of the apartment. Her purse had been set down and left on a kitchen counter, her shoes kicked off near the door. Furniture was all in place, books stacked neatly, door in good shape.
A frown crawled its way to his face.
Back in the living room, he double-checked that all of the window blinds were closed and locked the door. Then, he got naked, folding his clothes neatly on the sofa. Shaking out any tension, he closed his eyes and called the change.
Graham's wolf form couldn't navigate that kind of space with the immensity of his size, so he focused on two things--keeping still and and keeping focused. He let out a grateful breath to be back in fur, but as much as he wanted to roam and sniff and go find a patch of green grass to roll in, he knew he couldn't knock s**t over or leave tufts of fur anywhere. So he stood still and studied his surroundings.
His sense of smell went from really good to ******** phenomenal. He caught wind of three different types of mold, every distinct chemical in the cleaner Nikita used, ancient crumbs in the carpet, each ingredient in the cocoa butter she preferred, and the trails of at least four individuals who had occupied the apartment in the last month, specifically a vampire coconut water addict he'd been tucked in with on the couch several hours before.
His wolf brain wanted to wag his tail and run back to her and breathe her in and learn every nuance of her scent.
His man brain reminded him of the murder he was supposed to be investigating.
He poked his nose back into the bedroom, not daring to go any further, lest his bulk start knocking things down. He snuffled toward the bed, the stench of blood and fear and death clawing at his nostrils. But also...Old Spice. Another brand of sweat. Rubber. Gloves, maybe? He parsed through thousands of scents, logging them in his memory. He knew he had the scent of the killer.
Convincing himself to step back into his human skin took an extra minute. The wolf argued that it hadn't had the chance to play. It had other things to sniff. It was comfortable. Maybe enough for a nap.
He then inhaled, following Val’s recent trail through the apartment. If he turned back, he could get in his car and drive to her. He would see her in a few short hours once the sun set, but not if he stayed in fur. He couldn't even fit in his Camaro in his current state.
It did the trick. He snapped back into human form with the hint of disappointment dropping his stomach, as it always did. He immediately missed the other body, cramped and disgruntled as a man.
He shook it off and grabbed his clothes. It may feel annoying to have hair instead of fur and hands instead of claws, but he needed to drive back to Tacoma. He had a segment to film for his YouTube channel with one of the local shelters to be edited and uploaded by the end of the week. Getting there, set up, and filming would eat the rest of his day, then he could go tell Val what he learned from the murder scene.
And maybe, just maybe, he would make up enough for his bad behavior the night before that he could eventually ask her out to coffee sometime and she wouldn't laugh him into an early grave.
Val started off her evening with a blog post. It was half-obituary, half-warning, a reminder of the dangers of the world. She curled up in bed with her laptop for about an hour, debating each sentence and how Nikita would have liked to be remembered. Finally she posted it. She got up, threw her hair into a messy bun, pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a sweater that hung off her pale shoulders, and trudged upstairs to get herself something to eat.
She heard music and clanking in the kitchen before she got there and smelled searing beef and onions. She almost turned to sneak away to avoid a confrontation, but then caught a low voice singing along with Bruno Mars.
She peeked into the kitchen and took a moment to watch. Graham, wielding a spatula like a microphone, stood in front of the stove where several large hamburger patties sizzled away. A cutting board off the side contained onions, tomatoes, pickles, and lettuce. He bopped to the music, getting only about half of the lyrics right. She had half a mind to film it. His fanbase would go nuts.
Shaking her head, burying her amusement, she crossed to the fridge to see what they had in terms of breakfast for her. Graham visibly jumped when she opened the door, spatula flying out of his hand.
“Val!” he cried, hand clutching his chest. “You scared the bejeezus out of me! Why are you sneaking?” “I'm not sneaking,” she huffed. “I came to get breakfast.” Her mouth twisted wryly as she pulled out a yogurt cup. “Besides. Payback for scaring me last night.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and retrieved the spatula where it landed on top of the toaster. “Yeah, I guess you owed me one. But damn, usually I hear people.” “I didn't want to interrupt your jam session with Bruno.” “Yeah, well.” He cracked a grin, golden eyes creasing at the corners. “He's the only decent backup singer I can find.” Then he sobered a little, the smile fading. “How are you feeling today?”
She shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “Fine.” A whole bundle of lies wrapped up in a single word.
He seemed to sense that, sympathy crossing his features. “You mind having breakfast with me? I want to talk to you.”
The phrase put her on edge, probably because she translated it to mean “I want something from you.” Graham seemed earnest, though. It wasn't her habit of giving anyone the benefit of the doubt, but she could imagine his ears and tail drooping as clearly as if he wore his fur.
“Yeah, sure,” she agreed.
He finished constructing his hamburgers while she found shredded coconut to add to her yogurt and made herself a big cup of coffee that was more cream and sugar. They adjourned to the breakfast table with their respective meals.
“Do...do vampires need to eat?” he asked sheepishly, nodding to her yogurt cup.
“No, but I like to. Makes me feel kind of normal. It tastes good.” “Cool. Yeah. Makes sense.”
He started in on the first of three hamburgers. She didn't press the issue of what he wanted to talk about, hoping he forgot.
“So,” be began, sinking her hopes.
She scraped the edges of the container a little harder than necessary with her spoon.
“I went to Nikita's murder scene earlier today.”
She bit off a sharp breath. “What? Why?” “To...see. I know your senses are pretty good, but I thought I'd take a look in wolf skin, just to be sure nothing was missed.” “Did you find anything?” she breathed.
“Not much,” he admitted. “But a few things. First, nothing was broken or tossed about. Her bedroom was a mess, but it was a deliberate mess. No signs of a fight or a struggle. Meaning, she probably let whoever it was into the apartment. The only way to get a vampire subdued without destroying everything in that small of an apartment would be to take her by surprise. There's a possibility that she knew her killer.”
Val's eyes widened. She hadn't considered any of that, hadn't really even thought to look.
“Also, I think I got his scent. I say 'his’ because he wears Old Spice deodorant. I stopped off at a store on my way home.” He dug into his pocket and passed a red and white container to her. “So it narrows it down to about a million guys, but at least you have something to look for.”
She uncapped the bottle and inhaled, committing the memory to scent.
“He was nervous, so he sweat quite a bit. I got a pretty good pin on his personal chemistry. If you find anyone and you need me to confirm, just let me know.”
Val didn't know what to say. He didn't have to do any of it. Her chest tightened in response, throat thickening back up. Not trusting her voice, she could only nod her thanks and bury herself in her coffee cup.
“What are your plans?” he asked.
“I can't be certain whoever responsible didn't get into her phone and figure out her contacts. I'll probably go to the farm for a few days to figure out my next move.” He perked slightly. “Yeah?”
She nodded.
“I'm headed there myself. I promised to spend my winter break with the pack. It's been a long time since I came home. I've kind of...blown them off the last couple of opportunities I had.”
It struck her as odd. The pack didn't do well by themselves or separated for long. That he spent the majority of his time in California, and rarely made trips home, didn't fit with the stereotypes she built in her head about wolf culture.
“How do you do it? I thought wolves would go mad separated from pack.”
He rolled his shoulders in a graceful shrug. “College is a pack of its own. You have social structure aplenty, professors, classmates. And…I can make anyone or anything my pack. I don't need one established for me.” He shifted in his chair.
Her lips pursed as she tried to figure out the subtext of what he was saying. “What do you mean?”
He went elsewhere for a moment, then met her eyes. “I naturally tend toward alpha. If I stayed, I'd try to take over the pack, especially now that I've hit full adulthood. It's hard to stand back and let Maggie call the shots, and I am far from next in line to take over after she passes. Thus, the plans of branching off and starting my own pack, and in the meantime, it's better that I'm away.” This seemed to embarrass him. He focused back on his food, avoiding her gaze.
“So you stay away so you don't end up in a battle for dominance?” “Yeah. And it's not that hard. Like I said, lots of social structure at college. I'm an elite student, and that satisfies my instincts to lead for now. It keeps me grounded until I can jump off on my own, otherwise I'd be going nuts,” he confessed with an abashed smile.
Wolf hierarchy never crossed her mind as terribly complex, but then again, Maggie kept order. Nobody contested her because she took good care of her family. She wondered if other wolves had left for similar reasons and she just had no idea.
“How are you getting to the farm?” he asked, changing the subject. “I have to pick my truck up from the bar, then I'll drive over.” “You want a lift?” “It's not even a mile away.”
He shrugged. “So?”
She dug the tip of her spoon into the corners of the yogurt container. She meant to spout off something about her legs not being broken, but found herself relenting. “Sure. I guess so.”
He perked. She imagined his tail began an excited little wag, if he had one. He looked so damn like a puppy she had a hard time not reaching out to ruff his ears. She turned her eyes back down to the yogurt container.
“Thanks,” she said after a minute. “For looking into Nikita. It means a lot.” “Of course. Anything.”
Taking her empty yogurt cup to the garbage, she threw the spoon in the dishwasher and then disappeared downstairs to get her backpack and laptop, finding Graham already waiting in the front hallway when she reemerged. He led the way to his car, a new model of Camero. A little flashy. Just enough to catch the eye for a few seconds. He slid in gracefully behind the driver’s seat while she dumped her stuff in the back.
“So I feel kind of out of the loop,” he confessed as he backed out of the driveway into the cul-de-sac. “You seem to know my family pretty well. Grandma. Jackson. All the rest.” “That must make your dad Troy.” “That it does. Damn. I feel like I should know you already. You’re practically family.”
Val knew she was pack and she treated Jackson like a brother, along with many of the others. When she tried to clump Graham into that category, her mind revolted. Maybe it was because she was slow to trust. Anyone she considered “family” earned that spot. Or, and most likely, she didn’t like feeling attracted to someone with sibling status. Not that she was that attracted to him. Maybe a little superficially. Mostly just his large, noble nose.
Within a minute, he pulled into the bar’s parking lot and up next to her abandoned truck.
“Thanks for the ride.” “I’ll see you up at the farm?”
She scrubbed her hair back with her fingers. “Yeah. I guess so.”
Letting herself out of the Camero, she retrieved her stuff from the back seat and fished for her keys. Graham rumbled away, turning back out onto the street and leaving her to her devices. She took a minute behind the wheel to get her bearings. She fielded a group of texts made as news spread about Nikita, stirring her own feelings back awake. After devoting several minutes to placating as many fears as she could and accepting condolences, she put her phone away and started the tuck. She could drive and text better than any human, but she didn’t feel like getting pulled over today.
The drive should have helped cleanse her, giving her time to process and sort through her emotions. Driving usually soothed her, especially after a loss like this. Tonight, it seemed to just stroke her fears into a fireball of terror and drench her in doubt. She pulled over once for an impromptu cry, and finally got going again after about fifteen minutes.
It seemed to take all night before she pulled off onto the back lane that led to the farm, traveling deep into the wilderness off the beaten path. The family owned space for wolves to romp and roam all over. Nature did little to ease her nerves, either. She mostly just felt trapped, anxious.
Finally, after winding up the long drive, her headlights revealed the massive farm house and nearby housing units. Dozens of people lived at the farm at any given time, so they sprawled out across a self-contained community. Cars stacked next to each other in an open field and people and wolves ignored the rain to be outside. It looked like Graham was still fielding his welcome party when she pulled in and killed the engine.
Val retrieved her things and skirted the crowd, in no mood to get sucked into festivities. The nearest neighbor, a woman Val had never actually met before, pulled in right behind her and made a rapid beeline to the returning son, throwing her arms around him in a very familiar way and slapping a kiss to his cheek.
She pretended like the curl of fire that lashed out toward the girl wasn’t envy, but maybe just hunger. She ought to get a snack.
While she managed not to get assaulted by the welcome wagon, she didn’t escape Maggie. The old, gray-muzzled wolf loped toward her before she made it to the house, enveloping her into sweet smelling fur and dashing most of her fears away in one fell swoop. She threw her arms around the old woman’s thick neck and hung on. Somebody must have filled her in on Nikita’s death.
“I…” She hiccuped and wiped her eyes against her fur. “...I just need a place to stay.”
Maggie nodded.
“If that’s all right.”
She nodded again, more firmly this time.
“Thank you.”
The wolf escorted her to one of the bunkhouses, the one built specifically for vampires. Windowless, toasty, stocked with coconut water and all of the comforts of home. Its main living area maintained fire in an oversized hearth surrounded by plushy couches.
Just then, Maggie quivered, shaking her massive hide, fur flying. She seemed to stretch and fold, exhaling in a long groan, and finally reformed back into her own skin, naked as a raisen. She smiled kindly and took Val’s hand in her own, giving it a comforting pat.
“Okay, sweetie-pie. Why don’t you have a seat and tell me everything. I’ll make us some tea.” She mopped her damp eyes. “It’s really good to see you, Maggie. Really, really good.”
Posted: Mon Jan 01, 2018 3:39 pm
BLOG 5 : Jingle Bells written by AurinJade
Val used coconut water to supplement cravings, but she needed real blood eventually. Plasma was great, but sooner or later her body demanded a proper serving of red blood cells. She waited next to the sink where a bag of blood defrosted and warmed in warm water. Behind her, one of the other vampires in residence, Jeff, poured himself a diet Coke laced with coconut water.
“So I've been thinking of getting into stocks. I've been reading all of Beau’s blogs about it.”
Taking the blood out of the sink, she squished it around to disperse the temperature. It felt warm enough. Not quite body temperature, but that was fine.
“You should message him. He's a grumpy old curmudgeon, but he's always willing to help out.” “He's so old. I find him kind of intimidating to approach.” “Old, but experienced. He's been playing this game a lot longer than you or me. Seriously, message him. You'll be happy you did.”
She made a little slit in the top of the bag and jammed a curly straw through it, sucking down the blood like a juice pouch. For a moment, her eyes rolled back and tension fled from her body. The gnawing in her belly ebbed away, as well as her crankiness and irritability. She felt amazing for a few moments, like she could conquer anything.
When the tingles subsided and she found herself once again in her own body, she quietly discarded the empty blood bag in the trash compactor and popped a mint. Nobody liked blood breath.
Snow had begun to fall sometime during the day, accumulating on the ground by about an inch by the time she walked outside and illuminating the landscape in a soft, white glow. She barely made it out the front door before a snowball impacted the side of her head, ice crystals clinging to her hair. She stopped dead, shocked, and slowly turned to the perpetrator.
Jackson and Graham, in the middle of building a snow wolf, stood guiltily together. Jackson pointed an accusing finger to his brother, who cried out in protest when he noticed and gave him a playful smack.
Before she could decide to retaliate, a snowball flew in from the other side and smacked Jackson, followed shortly by another that hit Graham. Their cute, curly haired neighbor already scooped a third snowball a short distance away, reading for another volley. Jackson grabbed the head off of the snow wolf and lobbed it one armed. The neighbor girl screamed and ran, narrowly avoiding getting pummeled by it by an inch.
“You better run, Zoe!” “If you kill me, I can’t finish dinner!” she warned, ducking behind a snow-laden tree.
“Then why are you out here in the line of fire?” “The big a** target on the back of Graham’s pretty head was too tempting.” She popped out to toss her snowball, but found a volley already arcing toward her. She shrieked and ducked back to safety.
Val took the moment of opportunity to release her own snowball, which missed Graham by a nose, and smacked into Jackson instead. They turned, and the neighbor girl, Zoe, made a break for the house, leaving Val out on her own in the cold against the two wolves. She took a volley of snow. It weaseled down her shirt, running icy paths down her back. The cold didn’t particularly bother her, but it surprised her. She wriggled, shrieking, to free herself, tugging at her sweater.
“What, the vamp can’t handle the cold? You’re a real credit to your species,” Jackson teased.
“I happen to prefer cozy spots. Like the big house, which was where I was headed before you ambushed me.”
Graham slapped his brother’s chest. “We better get back to it. We have the head to remake now. Our masterpiece is incomplete.”
She tromped to the lodge, the main feature of the farm, which boasted enough room to contain dozens of people and wolves alike. Tonight, it was draped with christmas lights and tinsel, with wreaths of evergreen and red ribbons and bows. A giant, glittering tree surrounded by mountains of gifts dominated the main hall where the biggest social space existed. Kids crawled around it, checking tags and shaking wrapped boxes and excited dogs followed along, enthused by the bustle around them. Smells wafted in from the kitchen, which was one of the other largest room in the house. The other pods tacked onto the main spaces of the lodge contained enormous couches, TVs, bookshelves, instruments. Somebody was playing holiday tunes on a piano.
She followed the clinking and clattering into the kitchen where a dozen people put out food as fast as werewolves could eat it. Turkeys, roasts, salads, casseroles, every meal in their repertoire. There was no meal time. Just a constant, steady stream of food and people lining up for consumption. Zoe, the neighbor, went back to a bowl of potatoes she then whipped into a frenzy, laughing along with the other cooks.
Val snagged a bowl of ambrosia and sidled out again. Dogs--real ones, not just family members in fur--honed in on her snack and crowded around her feet to beg. She jealously guarded her bowl as she made her way through the smoking room into a game room where a half a dozen board and card games all went on at once. A snack table with chips, dips, crackers, sweet, and everything in between dominated one wall and the liquor cabinet had been raided by the adults for a cocktail station.
“Hey, Val! Watch out!” one of the wolves warned as she went to see what the cocktail station had to offer. The young woman pointed to the ceiling.
“Too late!”
A young man, barely of age, swooped forward just as Val fixed her sights on the sprig of mistletoe somebody had fixed above the table of liquor. He planted a kiss on her, and then ran away before she could retaliate. She huffed, stepping away from the mistletoe before anyone else could get any big ideas.
“Here. What did you want?” one of her friends, Heston, asked. He was a lanky twenty-something with the reach to stand to the side and mix drinks without putting himself in the danger zone.
“Warm eggnog and rum.” “Here, you need some flair,” another of her friends, Janessa, crowed, planting a headband affixed with a pair of reindeer horns and bells on her head.
After Heston got her a warm, spiked eggnog, she sat down to spectate a competitive game of Monopoly and catch up with some wolves she hadn't seen in a while. The combined heat of so many wolves in the room kept her nice and toasty and the eggnog lulled her, even with arguments over the ownership of Park Avenue cajoling back and forth.
Carolling broke out somewhere in the house. Loud, drunken carolling. Val wondered how much booze they had stockpiled just for this event. It took quite a bit to break past wolf metabolism. Unlike her waifish a**, which was already half-sloshed after three sips of a spiked eggnog. She found herself just tipsy enough to hunt down the carolers and join in for a few giggly rounds as they serenaded the entire estate, shuffling out of the big house and tromping door-to-door to the surrounding buildings.
At some point, the drunken carolers got distracted and decided that “sleigh rides” needed to happen. A group of volunteers shifted to wolf form, many of them wearing makeshift antlers, some headbands, like the one Val wore, which she happily surrendered to a volunteer, and others trying to strap tree branches to their heads. The sleighs themselves were also cobbled together from anything they could find lying around. The one she ended up on was a park bench nailed down to a door--she didn't question where they'd procured the door itself--and pulled by what appeared to be curtains and bedsheets.
A warm body settled into the bench next to her. “How's the nog?” Graham asked. Despite being dressed in only jeans and an ugly sweater with candy-cane toting reindeer on it, he put out heat like a furnace.
Jackson swung into the seat on the other side, also radiating warmth. She scootched a little closer to Graham to make room.
Grabbing the makeshift reins, the young man shouted, “Mush!” and the wolves hitched up took off.
Unfortunately, whoever made the contraption was likely drunk and didn't think things through. The bench wasn't secured, the makeshift ropes all came undone, and they toppled over backwards into the snow. They landed in a heap as the wolves continued running, leaving them behind.
“Let it be known, drunken werewolves make terrible engineers,” Graham groaned, picking himself out of the snow and giving Val a helping hand to her feet.
“I lost my eggnog,” she whined, peering into her tragically empty cup.
“We'll get you another,” he laughed.
They tromped inside, watching the other “sleighs” succeed and fail at about a 50/50 rate. They shook off snow before entering the big house with Jackson splitting off toward the kitchen with a loud complaint about food. Val avoided the game room to refresh her eggnog, instead seeking out the booze in the TV room running Christmas movie marathons. Graham followed her, also looking for a drink. They surveyed what was left of the beverage table, as it had been pretty well picked over by the time they got to it.
“Eggnog and rum?” he mused, setting aside a bottle of vodka for himself and hunting for a carton of eggnog with any left, shaking several before finding one.
An uproar erupted from the couches, drawing their attention. Cackles and jeers and whoops. They froze, finding themselves the center of attention. Simultaneously, they both looked up.
“Goddamn it,” she swore. They must have trapped all of the drink tables, not just the one in the game room, with mistletoe.
“Well then.” He set the eggnog down. “Better not disappoint our audience.”
Her stomach somersaulted. “Oh. Uh. Um.”
If she had a proper vascular system, she would have blushed fire engine red. However, before she could stutter out something too stupid, he grabbed her hand and swept into a gallant bow, planting a firm, slightly tingly, kiss safely on the back of her hand.
They were met with boos, but Graham ignored the crowd, finishing her drink. He topped it with a sprinkle of nutmeg, and then grabbed a mixer and some ice for his own, which turned into a bright red, cheerful holiday looking drink.
“Shall we?” he offered, motioning her out, still pointedly ignoring the wolves disappointed they didn't get a proper show.
The upside to not being able to blush properly, Val could pretend she was much more cavalier than she truly was and play it cool. However, she did jump and squeak when her phone started buzzing in her pocket, sloshing spiked eggnog and nutmeg over her fingers. Wrestling the phone out of her pocket, she searched for a quiet corner to duck into to answer.
“Hello? Kylie? What's up?”
An incoherent mess of words spilled out from the other end.
Graham rescued the eggnog from her free hand so she could stuff it into her ear to help her listen. “What? Slow down. I can't hear you.” “I'm over at Matt and Jarrod’s. We were supposed to go see a movie tonight. They're dead, Val. Somebody killed them! They're just goo and bones and rope!”
Her blood ran like ice. “What?”
The young vampire let out a wretched sob. “Who could have done this? Why? I know Matt had some slips, but Jarrod never hurt anybody!” “Get out of there. Go find somewhere to lay low. I'm going to take care of this.”
She hiccuped an affirmative and hung up the phone. Val turned, running directly into Graham who steadied her as best he could with his hands full of both of their drinks.
“I have to go,” she growled, maneuvering around him.
“Not like that you aren't. You can't even walk a straight like. You sober up. I'll drive.” “What about that?” she grumped, pointing to his red vodka drink.
“It would take like nine of these to get me drunk, and this is my first all evening. Besides, I have the smell of the last killer in my nose, and I'd say it's probably not a coincidence that more vamps are dead this week.”
She struggled to tamp down her rising panic. “I…right. Yes. I guess. Okay.” “Okay.” He set their drinks down on a nearby end table. “I'll get my keys. Meet you at my car?”
She nodded. “Right. Thank you.”
He reached out and squeezed her arm, nodding, and turning to go. Val raced to the vampire bunkhouse to get her bag and a coat, grabbing a coconut water as well to assist her sobering.
She met Graham at the car, like he said. They left wordlessly to go visit the second murder site of the week.
Hey my little blood suckers! I hope you've all been eating well! --
So I got a message from a newcomer to the darkside just the other day. She was, shock of shocks, having trouble adjusting to, shall we say, the graveyard shift. Now, of course my initial response was to point her toward the back log of entries I have on just this topic... but I decided to be nice and address her issue. Apparently this is an issue a lot of you little rookie devils are having and I decided it's time to update the list. Here's a list of my top ten questions I keep getting asked even though I've answered them before. And, yes, for my own sanity, I've included links to the individual articles at the end of the post.
1. I got cut up but I'm not healing? WTF?
I get about a dozen DM's like this a month, no joke. Someone gets gashed up flaunting their new lifestyle and suddenly realize band-aid aren't cutting it. It's always the same. I'm immortal now, so I think I'll jump off this building or fight that incredibly large pit bull that's always giving me the stink eye. Oh noes! I have a six inch gash running down my arm! What do?
Okay children, gather 'round. If you're new to this game, you need to know that your powers suck. Accept this. Step one, get the wound sterilized and sewn up. If you can stitch, fabulous, if not, learn. You need to keep that thing from getting infected until your powers get strong enough to fix it, otherwise you're walking around with necrotic flesh drip everywhere you go. Not sexy.
Next step: blood. And before you flood my inbox, no, I'm still not advocating munching on people. Even that a*****e that steals your lunch at work. You know the one. ******** that guy. Don't drink his blood, though. You need to get into a network. I have a list of reputable "donors" at the end of the article, see if there's one near you. If you live out in the boonies, things might be a little tougher (and how the hell did you find a vampire out there anyway?) Livestock isn't a terrible option if you can find it; something big that isn't going to miss the blood. It's not perfect, but it's a short term solution. What you really need to do is (and I loathe to suggest it) find a coven. You obviously know someone in the inner workings or you wouldn't be coming to my blog for answers. Exploit those connections where possible.
Your last option, if you absolutely have no other leads, is to find a church.
Valerie quirked her lips to one side, staring at her laptop screen. Her finger moved to tap delete, removing the last sentence. No, she thought, ******** those guys. With long sigh, she pushed her chair away from the spartan desk and stood up. Wearing little more than her underwear, she moved through her studio apartment and into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and revealed a shelf filled with blood bags, her "Capri Suns" as she referred to them.
Snagging one, she bit the top off and took a quick sip before reaching out to grab a bottle of French vanilla coffee creamer. She turned and moved toward her cupboard, the bag hanging from her now protruding fangs, and grabbed a plastic cup. She squirted the rest of the bag into the cup and added a healthy amount of creamer, taking a taste to test it. Shrugging, she replaced the creamer strode back to her "office." She sat down as her phone buzzed and vibrated along the table. She picked up the old, clam-shell style phone, reading the number across the tiny exterior screen to see if she recognized the number. She ran a hand through her platinum blond hair as she watched the phone ring. Running her thumb along the edge, she finally flipped the phone open and hit the green button.
"Yes?" she said.
"This Val?"said a deep, masculine voice.
"Depends on who's asking," she replied.
"Cut the bullshit. I got a baby bloodsucker." "What's it to me?" Val replied.
"She's a fan of your blog or some s**t. Look, she's been pestering me all week. Do you help people or not?" "I run a blog. Everything she needs to know is online."
Val could hear the man on the other end pull away from the phone to talk to someone else. "She says she ain't got time for you, okay?" The vampire frowned as she listened to an exasperated voice argue with him in the background, pleadining.
"Just put her on the line," Val relented.
"Fine, but this is prepaid, alright? Don't go eating up my minutes. Here... talk to your friend."
The phone crackled with the sounds of transfer, getting rubbed against clothing and hands before a faint voice came over. "Hello?" Valeria groaned silently. The girl's voice was so tiny, so fragile.
"Kid, I don't have time for this. What do you want?" Val asked. "I need help! Please, I don't know what to do." "You read the blog right?" "Yes! Every day!" the girl replied.
"Good, it's all in there kid," Valerie responded. "There's even a search bar." "No, please, I need your help!" the girl pleaded. "I think I'm being followed."
Val lowered her head, eyes shutting. Part of the reason the blog was so perfect was that it was impersonal. She didn't have to put herself in danger to help others and in a world of vampires, hunters, and everything in between, meeting strangers was definitely a vulnerable position. The girl peeped up again, asking if Valerie was still there.
"Yeah, I'm here, kid," she replied, her thoughts drifting back to the days after her turning. "These people that are following you, what did they look like?"
The vampire was answered by a faint shriek of surprise followed by the sounds of the phone shifting once more. "Eh? Val? Look, I ain't got all day, you coming to help her or not?"
Valerie shook her head, eyes drifting up to the ceiling. A thousand silent profanities sailed through her mind as she stared at the pattern of foam cardboard above her. "Where are you?"
***
Val's thigh-high boots clacked against the concrete as she rounded the corner, pulling a black leather jacket up around her neck. She wasn't cold by any means, if such a thing was even possible anymore, but if someone was following this girl, she didn't need them getting a good look at her, too. The moon shined as she approached the park, a cheap, insulated lunch bag in one hand and a pistol on the opposite hip. She pulled her burner phone from the pocket of the jacket and flipped it open to check the directions her contact had given her. She knew why he preferred to do it someplace public, but it was still a pain in the a** for her.
Why did she have to be such a softie? Her mind drifted back to the days she spent after her coven turned her. Those dark days, alone, lost, trying to understand who and what she was. She never once regretted the benefits of her decision: a slim, gorgeous body that would last for eternity, senses that rivaled nature's best creatures, and strength beyond human capability. Still, stepping out during the day even once more might be nice. Feeling completely in control of her baser urges for sex and blood would be convenient, too. Seeing her contact flanked by a young woman, she cast aside her thoughts and slid her phone back into her pocket.
"Took your time," the man said. He was tall, with well defined muscles and a strong, musky scent that she had picked up some time ago. "She's your problem now." "Hey," Val said, stopping him as he tried to leave. "I got questions for you."
The man's eyes flashed with a gold tint, hints of elongated canines showing as he growled at her touch. "I said, she's your problem."
Valerie's eyes narrowed as she watched him move off into the darkness. "******** wolves," she said, turning her attention to the girl. She sized her up, feeling a pang of pity. Even for a vampire, the girl was pale. She had to be freshly turned and it looked like she hadn't had a real meal since. "You look awful," she said.
"I..."
"Don't worry about it," Val said, opening her lunch bag. She slipped a blood bag from inside and handed it to the girl who only took a moment to inspect it before tearing into it. "Jesus, have some control!" The girl's lips and cheeks were stained with blood as she squeezed the last drops from the bag, casting it aside to lick her fingers. Val watched for several seconds as the girl scraped the spilled blood from her face and shirt, lapping at every drop. Had Val been this bad when she was hungry? She tried not to dwell on it, waiting for the girl to finish. "Feel better?"
"God, yes," the girl replied, blood still streaked across her cheeks.
Valerie sighed and reached out a hand to rub some of the blood off her cheek. "So what's your name, kid?" Sarah," she replied.
"Okay, Sarah. So what was so important I had to come out here?" "I'm being followed." "By who?" Valerie asked.
"I don't know. Some guy in a black suit."
Valerie looked around the park. The wolf's lingering scent was still in the air, overpowering most anything else. She scanned the trees and the bushes, seeing nothing but the typical wildlife. Still, it wasn't good to loiter here. Nodding her head, she led the girl down the park path. "Come on. Let's go someplace a little friendlier to our kind."
***
Two men leaned against a beige Corolla, staring across the street. They wore long cassocks, split at the hip and flared out, white clerical collars peeking out around their necks. They had been watching the door for several minutes, exhausted looks on their faces.
"Dude, I do not want to do this." "I gathered that during the car ride over," the other replied. "Take it up with Father Jones." "I'll take up his death wishes for us." "Curt..." "No, this is ********' insane, Chris. Why are we walking into a vamp bar in full uniform?" "Because," Chris replied, "they already know we're here. Trying to go in incognito would only stir things up more. Better to be upfront with them."
Chris scratched his head, hand running through a shaggy mane of auburn hair. He patted himself down, checking for his basic tools; cross, holy water, pistol. All there. Curtis rolled his eyes and pushed away from the car, crossing the street. "Let's just get this over with."
Moments later, the two paladins stood inside the door to the bar. The house lights were low, but neon signs and spotlights flashed, casting a rainbow of colors around the place. The bar looked packed, the hum of conversation barely audible over the loud, droning music that floated through the air.
"This isn't as bad as I thought," Curtis said, moving toward the bar. "I figured we'd get a lot more stares." "I'm anti-freak, dude," Chris replied. "Trust me. They don't have to look your way to stare at you."
The pair stepped up to the bar, catching the bartender's attention. He wore denim vest, torn and adorned with pentagrams and band patches from the '90s, with black hair the shrouded one side of his face. He slithered their way, smirking as he approached. "Don't see a lot of priests getting drinks here."
"You know what this is," Chris replied. "We're looking for someone." "Big doesn't rat out his children," the bartender replied. "This isn't one of Big's." "Maybe not yet," the bartender answered. "Either way, it's probably best you go about your business, priests." "Look," Curtis chimed in, "we just need to make contact. She's not in trouble, we just need to give her the talk." "I'm sure." "Can you give Big a call? Tell him Chris is just looking for someone," the paladin asked.
His eyes never leaving the pair, the bartender reached out for a phone behind the bar, pulling it to his ear. He dialed a number a waited as it rang. "Big? Yeah, I got a couple of priests asking questions. Want me to send them packing?" "Tell him it's Chris!" the paladin repeated. "He says his name's Chris. Yeah? Uh huh? Okay, you're the boss."
Chris smirked, quirking a single eyebrow as the bartender hung up the phone and turned to him. "So?" "Big says do what you got to do and leave." He leaned over the bar, his eyes flashing red and his fang protruding from his mouth. "Cause any trouble and we dine on holy blood tonight." "You're a mensch," the paladin replied.
Across the bar, Valerie sat at a booth, her face aglow with the light of Sarah's cell phone. The newbie vampire watched over her shoulder as Val marked locations on her GPS. "Okay, so on this guy, make sure you don't stare, okay? He's a good vamp, but they hit him with something messed up. His face won't heal right. Still, he's a good guy, he can get you sorted out with a starter kit."
"What's a starter kit?" Sarah asked.
"Little bit of blood, some coconut water, sewing kit, first aid kit, and a few other sundries. Now, he's good, but he's not free, okay?" "I don't... I don't have any money," the girl replied.
"Jesus, kid... the guy who turned you, what happened?" Sarah turned away and wrapped her arms around her chest. An annoying motherly instinct washed over Val, both disgusting and persistent. Hesitating, she reached out a hand to stroke the girl's hair. "Hey... I get it. You got ditched, right? Probably a boyfriend or something?" The girl sniffled and nodded. "Look, a lot of us don't come into this life for the right reasons. Still, we gotta live with the choices we made." She looked back at the phone, tapping the screen and dropping another pin onto the map. "If... If you haven't got any money, you can try this guy. He won't charge you, but... you will pay." "I don't know-" "Shh!" Val slapped a hand over the girls mouth, her eyes locked on the bar. Two men in black cassocks were chatting with bartender: her suspicions were right. "We got priests, kid. Time to go." "What-?" "Just follow me," Val said, tugging the girl out of the booth and into the back of the bar.
Moments later the pair pushed through the backdoor, steeping out to the rear parking lot of Alu. With firm, purposeful strides, Valerie approached the concrete wall. Without pausing, the vampire leapt twelve feet up and over. She waited for several seconds, staring at the top of the wall before leaping back up. Looking down, she watched Sarah claw at the wall, trying to scurry up it.
"What are you doing? Get over here!" she said in a hushed shout.
"I can't! I can't jump that high!" "Oh, for ******** sake," she sighed, dropping down next to the girl. "You have got to be the saddest vampire I've ever seen."
"Hey! Hold it!" cried a voice from the back of the bar. The two vampires turned to see a pair of men in cassocks approaching fast. "Hold it right there!" <********!" Val groaned, grabbing Sarah by her belt. With a heave, she hefted the girl up and over the wall. Valerie shrieked in surprise as she hurled through air, crashing into pile of palettes on the other side with a hard thud. She rolled to her knees as Valerie landed beside her, grabbing the new vampire's hand and hoisting her up. "Move it kid!"
The pair rushed between buildings, weaving through dark alleys, the cries of the paladins ever behind them. Valerie's hand drifted to her pistol, dreading the possibility that she might have to use it. She did not need a kill record with the Paladin Order on top of everything else.
Rounding a corner, she kicked in plywood plank that was boarding up an abandoned building, tugging her new companion inside with her. The rotting smell of human waste and burned clothing assaulted the pair as they moved through the den of homeless drifters. An old man rushed at the pair with a broken scissor, but Valerie caught his wrist and jerked him to the side. <******** off, junkie, we're just passing through." This was the wrong thing to say as the ground of people began to swear and yell. s**t, she thought, this isn't helping! Sarah covered her head as the group roared and screamed and pushed toward them, but Valerie didn't flinch. She calmed herself and threw her hands out. Her eyes turned a bright red and the encroaching mob froze in their steps. Mouths silenced and arms lowered, Valerie began to speak. "Sit." The room fell to the ground in unison. "You don't see us. We aren't here." Soon the room returned to it's former state, the various vagrants focused on attempting to get shaky needles into their withered arms.
"What was that?" Sarah asked as she was dragged up a set of stairs.
"The basics. Look, we don't have time for a lesson. Why do you have paladins chasing you?" "I don't know what that is," Sarah replied.
"The guys chasing us! Why are they after you?" "I don't know!" "Come on, kid. Paladins are a b***h to deal with. You had to do something to get their attention. Who did you eat?" "No one! I... oh... "
"Oh?" Valerie asked. "Oh, what?"
"Well... there was this lady. It was my first night. I didn't know what I was doing." "Oh ********, you ate a woman?" Valerie asked.
"No! No! I... her... her dog."
Valerie's shoulders sank. "You're kidding me." "It was my first night. I was so hungry." "Well... at least it wasn't a person. Still, I'm guessing you hurt the woman before you dined on Fido." "I... I don't remember," Sarah answered.
"I'm sure you did. Otherwise the priests wouldn't be after us. Look, you gotta get out of town." "But... I don't know anyone out of town." "Of course you don't," Valerie replied, "that'd be too easy." She gripped the girl by the shoulder and directed her toward a window. The pair peered out, Valerie scanning for signs of the paladins. "Okay, I normally don't do this," she began, moving back inside and pulling a wad of bills from her back pocket. "You need to get to the bus station and go."
"Go where?" Sarah asked, following her.
"Pick a direction. Go as far as this will get you," Valerie said, stuffing the bills into the girl's hand.
"Won't they follow me?" "No, paladins work locally. Move out of their jurisdiction and they have to hand it over to a new group. They're terrible at communicating with themselves. Keep moving and they can't keep a bead on you."
Valerie poked her head back out, her keen eyes catching sight of an approaching Corolla. "When you get someplace safe, DM me," she added, watching two paladins step out of the car. "I'll see if I can't get you a list of safe places there."
Valerie turned around to find herself wrapped in the girl's arms, tears streaming down her pale face. "Thank you, so much!" she cried.
"Yeah, that's great kid," Val replied, prying the girl off her, "but we've got two priests waiting downstairs for us." "Oh god," the girl said, scanning the room around her.
"Don't freak out, okay? I'm going to get their attention. You need to run to the nearest bus station. Think you can do that? Think you can run?" "I.. I ran track in high school." "That's wonderful," Val replied, trying not to sigh audibly. "Okay, when I go out there, you start running, okay? Run and don't look back!"
The girl nodded and Val moved to the window, watching as the paladins held a device up. "That's a long drop," she muttered.
At ground level, Curtis stared into the screen of his cell phone, watching the scanned image of the building shift as he moved it. Chris stared over his shoulder, pointing at the second floor and stopping him.
"That's gotta be her. Dark energy on the second story." "Dude, this is a squatter building..." Curtis whined, lowering the phone to look at the tagged up edifice of the building.
"Druggies are God's children, too," Chris chided him, pulling back his cassock to reveal his pistol.
"I know, but the smell..." "DIE PRIESTS!" The pair looked up as glass shattered and a screaming figured crashed into the ground before them. With eyes glowing red and a mouth filled with rows of fangs, the vampire creature roared in an unholy tone. "I will bathe in your blood, priests!"
BANG! Valerie collapsed to the ground, clutching her knee and rolling back and forth, her form back to normal. "********! ********, ********, ******** that hurts!"
"Don't move!" Chris warned, his gun drawn.
"Whoa, whoa! Truce! Truce! You win! Don't shoot!" Val shouted, hands waving in front of her.
Curtis drew his firearm and circled around beside her, inspecting the vampire. "This isn't the one." "Where's your friend?" Chris asked, moving in.
"What friend?" BANG! Val clutched her other leg, cursing loudly. "God damn it!" "I know this isn't damaging you," Chris said.
"It still ******** hurts!" Val cried, cradling both knees.
"You regenerate fast, so really it's up to you how long we do this," Chris said.
"Fine!" she cried. "She's going to the pharmacy." "What the hell does that mean?" Curtis asked "The pharmacy! You know what a damned pharmacy is, right?" "Yeah. What the hell is she doing at a pharmacy?" "She's grabbing you two some Viagra so you can go ******** yourselves."
The paladins groaned in frustration, leveling their weapons at her once more. "No, no! Don't shoot!" she pleaded, scurrying to her knees and crawling to Curtis' feet. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pleading with him. "Please, no! Please, no! Don't shoot!" "We don't have time for this!" Chris cried, turning back to the building. "Put her in the car. I'll check for the other one." "You're not going to find her," Val said as Curtis seized her by her blond hair, dragging her up to her feet. "I doubt either of us will ever see that girl again."
Val winced and stuttered as Curtis tugged her over to the Corolla, opening the door and tossing her into the back seat. She frowned and rubbed the back of her head, as he slammed the door behind her. Curtis turned back to the building, holstering his gun and producing his cell phone once more. "I'm not getting any traces of her," he shouted to his partner.
The Corolla's engine roared. Curtis turned around to see Val in the driver's seat, blowing a kiss. The car sped away as Curtis lunged for it, cursing as he hit the pavement. Scrambling to his feet, he patted down his cassock as Chris rushed back to his side. "She took the ******** keys!"
***
Sarah's hands trembled as she took hold of the ticket, stepping out of line and moving toward the waiting bus. Her eyes kept scanning the same line over and over: New York. She didn't know anyone there, but it was supposed to be a haven for vampires. More importantly, though, it wasn't here. Taking a deep breath, she held the ticket out to the uniformed man at the entrance to the bus. He punched a hole in it before handing it back and ushering her on. A faint smile managed to crack her lips as she found her seat. She reached into her pocket, pulling out what remained of the money Val had given her. She had to have known it was more than bus fare. With tears welling in her eyes, she leaned her tired head back into the plush headrest.
The bus let out a hiss as the door closed and it lurched forward, the chassis rumbling as it eased onto the road. She dreamed of what it would be like when she stepped off the bus, of the new life that would await her in her strange new home. As long as she could get online, she had Val, and that was enough to get her through now. She opened her eyes, turned, and gave a high pitched yelp. Trembling she stared at the man now seated beside her. He was tall, in a black suit with an American flag pin on his lapel.
"Sarah Mezkowski?" he asked without even looking at her.
"W-what do you want with me?" "I'm Agent Crockett with the Bureau of Demonic Affairs. It's time to serve your country."
