Make it Through to Sunrise

Vincent.

The blood is not coming out of the rug. I continue rubbing, harder and harder, but it’s no use. Still kneeling, I straighten my back, letting out a sigh of frustration. I look off to the side absentmindedly, hoping a solution presents itself, like opening a fridge and expecting the food you know you don’t have, to magically appear. Although, food is pretty meaningless for me now.

All I see is the blood-soaked mop, curling itself over the side of a bucket, like a stalking cat. The floorboards were easy to soak up the pools of red, and so were the wall splatters. I didn’t expect him to struggle while doped up. I hit the wrong artery when I bit into his neck. I’ve still got blood in my hair. That’s easy to wash though. This rug is ruined, and I have guests coming over in two hours. I’m going to have to get rid of it.

I thought about calling David to come help, but can’t exactly break the news that I’m now a blood-sucking monster. It's weird to know that I can still feel anxiety, it’s just surrounded by a cold void rather than the twisting of my stomach. I remember that feeling, which weirdly, I now miss dearly.

Something is up with Dave. My cat videos are falling flat, usually a timeless classic. When I do get a response, it’s a one-word reply. I wonder if he knows about me? No, surely not. That would be a bit more than just giving me the cold shoulder. Maybe it’s a guy I’ve gone after? We have different types, so there is usually no crossover. Then again, we are former lovers who have professed our deep feelings for each other, both when dating, and thereafter as best friends. Ergh, whatever! He’ll be here tonight. He wouldn’t miss my birthday.

"Meow," I hear from the other side of the room, with a jingle of a bell. Puss is here. He doesn’t seem phased by the body wrapped in cellophane sitting in the middle of the living room. Then again, he’s a cat.

“Hey puss, I know you’re just a meow meow with no problems, but could you be ten times the size, stand up, grow muscles, and help me move this?” He flops over against a clean patch of wall, stretching his belly out to me, with a yawn to conquer all yawns. Tough life. He recently wandered into my home while I had the back door open, airing out a particular retched carcass. No microchip was detected, so I kept him. I’ve always wanted a cat, particularly a black one. Why not now? Considering I’m up most of the night. We can have zoomies together.

I stand, throwing the ruined sponge in the glistening red bucket. Everything is red. I should’ve covered the floor in newspaper pages, assuming you can even buy those anymore. The VampCore didn’t give me much advice. It’s like going to a job with shitty onboarding, minus the pay.

I place my hand over my chest, imagining my absent heartbeat getting faster as the stress kicks in. I miss it. Sure, a rising heartbeat often signals something bad, but when calm approaches, it slows in step with ease. I never respected that side of the heart’s function, and now it’s gone forever. David is always able to calm me, but the thought that I’ve done something to upset him hurts me more than anything.

I whip out my phone. “Hey mister, looking forward to tonight. Let me know if you want to come early and we can hang out before peeps arrive?” Whoosh! Message sent.

* * *

David.

Vvvvv! Vvvvv! My phone vibrates as a text comes through. It’s Vincent. I tap the notification on my lock screen to preview the message, so he can’t see I’ve read it with the auto receipt. He wants me to come over early. That’s pretty normal, I often opt for it. It will provide a good opportunity to talk. But I’m not sure what to even say.

Hey, happy birthday, why the fuck have you been ignoring me for the past few months? You’re never available and are suddenly cagey. I feel like we are drifting apart, and I have very few friends as it is, let alone family. Can you be a better friend? I miss those nights when we’d go out drinking, do lines of coke, kiss cute guys, and then cry in each other’s arms outside the club. What happened to that?

Yeah, I’m not sure that will slide. Maybe my gift will butter him up, and then I can ease into it. Positive for a negative.

I lock the device, swapping it for my work phone. I need to close this contract before I can concentrate on the emotional pickle at hand. I check to make sure I’m still connected to the VPN. I find the photos of the ash pile, attach them to the message, and list out the serial number of the silver bullets I used in the hit. Info sent, I wait for the payment notification. It’s not often you get jobs for vampires. 

Ding! The money has been paid, with a follow-up message from the client, “initiate final procedure.” I turn the phone off, remove the SIM card and smash it under a nearby gavel I bought to make this line of work feel more justified.

I can dump the phone on my way to Vincent’s place. I used to wonder how Nokia and Motorola still made money. These burner phones are their market, used by our networks to conceal every part of the job. The less I know about the target, the better.

I looked at the pistol on my desk. I had gotten into the habit of concealing this wherever I go, now that human-sized bats are part of my repertoire. Yes, they pay well, but fuck me, they are shifty. Especially the seasoned ones.

You’d think they’d stalk you in a poorly lit park at night, lurking around in high trees, and capturing their prey as they walk by. Not the case. They just live normal lives. and are hard to spot. You’ll find them on a dating app, go out a bunch of times, fuck each other, and be none the wiser. Until they rip your head back, and drain your fluids like a tube of red cordial.

This pistol is pretty small, though. I’ll wear baggy pants. Will conceal it nicely, and help me blend in with Vincent’s new friends since that’s what the kids are wearing these days. Jesus, Gen Z is only like ten years below me (and Vince for that matter). I sound about 70.

I pick up my personal phone, and open Vincent’s text. “Running a bit behind. Will get there around 8.” Whoosh! Message sent.

* * *

The party.

Vincent is such a social bird. More than I thought. He certainly spends a lot of time alone, but when others are around, he has this real aura of energy. Impressive, even as death that hides under his attractive exterior.

There must be about 15 in the house by now. Largely men. I can only assume most started as sexual encounters. It’s amazing he hasn’t eaten most of them. They look delicious. Vincent’s drink is keeping him at bay. The deep red of blood is masked by a garnish of cherry and a dry orange slice. Probably fake, for eyes only.

Vincent’s eyes light up, piercing the crowd. David enters, making his way slowly over to Vincent at the makeshift bar. Various folks distract him along the path. He forces a smile to each person he meets in the swarm, takes a couple of steps forward, and repeats the process.

David reaches Vincent. They greet each other with a hug, and a kiss on the cheek. David hands him a gift, to his surprise and joy. It’s a rectangle, fairly thin, and looks to be sturdy. Barely anyone else brought gifts, other than bottles of wine they probably picked up from Aldi on the way to the party. Which is fairly useless now for Vincent. The music is quite loud, so they both slip away into another room.

“What happened to your rug in here?” David asks.

“Oh, I’ve ordered a new one and managed to sell my old one quickly. So, I'm just waiting now. Should be another week,” Vincent replies, changing the subject.

“You’re the only person to bring me an actual gift,” Vincent says with a wide smile.

“Really?” David replies.

“Well, there’s lots of wine which I can’t complain about, but it’s very much an afterthought, in my view.”

“Like you’ve never done that,” David says, poking a slight grin.

“Guilty.” Vincent replies.

“Me too. Go on, open it.”

Vincent begins unwrapping, starting at the folds to keep it as methodical and ordered as possible.

“Just fucking rip it!”

“I’m not an animal!”

David chuckles. ‘That’s debatable. I’ve had to hold your head up over a toilet bowl while vomiting at 4am.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault those jager bombs were so cheap.”

They both smile as Vincent continues unwrapping. He encounters the first reveal, and pauses, with the paper still half covering the gift.

“Oh, wow.”

“I thought you might like it.”

It was a custom photo book, capturing travel moments from the past several years. Selfies, lush landscapes and adventure activities, both of them covered in dirt and mud, holding up arts and crafts items with locals from Asia and Africa. The single lamp next to them illuminates the page in a symphony of nostalgia. Vincent flicks through the pages, bathing in the memories.

“This is really thoughtful, thank you so much,” Vincent says, as he launches in for an awkward embrace. 

“You’re welcome. Happy birthday,” David says in a monotone voice, resting his head on Vincent’s shoulder, holding a sceptical gaze to the space behind him. The song in the next room changes. It seems louder, making it hard to hear them. I need to listen carefully.

“You know, I thought that something has been wrong lately,” Vincent said with a sense of relief.

David pulls himself away, and holds Vincent at arm's length. 

“Well, I think there has been.”

Vincent’s face drops. “Oh tell me, please. Is it something I’ve done?”

“Look, I don’t know, I just feel like you’ve been neglecting me,” David says, as his voice starts to break.

“What do you mean?” Vincent asks.

“You know, you’ve met these new people, which is great, but I’ve been feeling replaced. I know I work odd hours but that’s nothing new, you know that. I don’t have much choice as a nurse,” David clarifies.

Vincent chimes in, “I’m so sorry, but none of this has been intentional. It’s just been really hard recently…”

“I know, and that’s ok, but I’m here to help you. We used to tell each other everything and I feel like that’s gone. It’s all very transactional.”

David then points down to the open page.

“Do you remember this day? We got into a fight over that guy we both liked, and we talked about it straight away. We both left the club and watched the sunrise.”

Vincent studies the page. “I’m surprised you even remember that.”

David replies, “I know right? Somehow our phones had enough battery to take this pic.”

“I wish I could tell you what is going on, but it’s the one thing I don’t think I can tell you.”

“Vince, can you shut up with this? It’s me, there is nothing off-limits. This is driving me a little crazy.”

“I know. I can tell.”

Vincent's face muscles sink as he locks with David’s eyes, but his stare remains cold, and dead. He walks over to the door and closes it, drowning out the chatter, muting the music down to the low beat of the bass. That’s better.

“I’m going to tell you something but you can’t freak out.” Vincent warns.

“I’m not going to freak. It’s us.”

“I’ve been so scared and isolated. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

David stiffens, and sets himself back, like in preparation.

“I’m listening, mister.”

Hmmm, I guess it’s only a matter of time until those close to Vincent find out. Let’s see where this goes.

“I didn’t sell the rug. It got ruined.”

“Okaaaay’ David replies, still waiting for more.

“From blood. It sounds ridiculous, but I’m a… vampire.”

David stands in silence.

“David?”

“Oh my… god.” David says, slowly.

“Please tell me you believe me.”

There is a catch in Vincent’s throat, but those eyes remain dry.

“Everything has been so fucked. It’s only been a month or so, please you have to believe me.”

“I believe you, Vince.” David says stoically.

“Oh god, this is so weird, I want to cry but I can’t.”

“Vincent, I’m your enemy,” David says, matter of factly.

“What?”

David lets out a long, deep breath. “I’m a hunter. I hunt vampires.”

Vincent stands in silence. His breathing stops, and confusion brews behind the cold eyes.

“You don’t believe me at all,” Vincent says in a lower, upset voice.

“Vince, I’m not joking. I just came back from a job. That’s why I didn’t come over early.”

Vincent slowly lets go of David, dropping his arms.

David and Vincent stare at each other in disbelief. A vampire hunter? Right here? Fuck, I can’t take this risk. Vincent can deal with it. I quickly raise onto all four legs from my bread loaf position on the darkened shelf. I transform into my full form, and float high in the corner.

Vincent and David twist their gazes, spotting me looking down on them as a black figure.

‘Meow, bitches!’ I dive towards them both, aiming for David’s neck. He ducks down, and somersaults underneath me as I crash into Vincent, plummeting into the bookshelf, and throwing him into the floor. I fly back up above the ground quickly, unfazed by the stunt, and tower over Vincent’s shocked face. “Master?” Vincent asks.

Bang! Bang! I hear two loud reverberations through the room. Hmm, that feels weird. I’m not cold anymore. Vincent’s face starts being covered in black dust. What’s that? I shallow my focus, and see it pouring out of my chest. I cup my hands to get a closer look at the substance. It looks like ash. Oh, shit.

I spin around. David has his arm outstretched, pistol in hand, with smoke emanating from the end of the barrel. In a moment, the dull light of the room turns to complete darkness.

* * *

David stands up, puts his gun back into a hidden holster, and walks over to me. I’m still resting in a heap on the floor, pressed up against the broken bookshelf.

“Good thing you didn’t have a rug. A vacuum will fix that.” David says, and he crouches down next to me, resting one arm on his knee.

“David… please don’t. I will never hurt you.”

“Nor I to you, mister. You’re still the same guy in those photos.”

The beat of the music is turned down. David and I both dart our heads towards the door. It flies open, with an entire crowd of my new friends glaring back at us. Teeth tensed with long, sharp fangs showing, and multiple pairs of bright, yellow eyes. They hiss in harmony, with a couple screeching as they see the ash on the floor next to us.

With his right arm obscured by his body, David slowly starts to reach for his weapon. I grab it, stopping the foolish move. His panicked eyes look back at mine.

“I want to make it through to sunrise again, don’t you?”

With my other hand, I grab the collar of his jacket, and close my eyes, and start straining. We shoot across the room, leaving a trail of shadowy musk, smashing through the window into the darkness of the night.