bad blood

Evan usually waited around the back of the bar to turn people for a quick buck. The owners never bothered him, unless it was a holiday. They said he scared away customers. Evan begged to differ. The only reason people came to the dingy little bar on the corner of 54th and Mason was either to buy drugs, sell them, or get turned. It was a sad little side business he’d started not long after he’d woken up turned himself. For one, it was an easy way to feed while being paid for it. You’d be surprised how many people were willing to blow their life savings on giving up life. Of course, most vampires had graduated beyond human blood. They had connections with local butchers or doctors and found supply elsewhere. The vegan vampires were the worst. They were obsessed with finding alternatives to blood -- coconut milk, vegetable oil, Evan even knew of a cult that had taken to chewing tobacco to sustain themselves, though he wasn’t too sure how well that worked.

For another, it gave him a story. An identity. A reputation, if you will. Humans revered him, and vampires stayed clear of him. No one liked entrepreneurs, and that was true enough in the vampire community just as much as it was in the human one. Evan was known. It was indifferent to him whether or not he was liked -- he would be remembered. That was all that mattered.

They say money changes the trajectory of your life. But Evan was dead. He had no life to speak of. His past was foggy, like most vampires, and he hardly remembered the past few decades, let alone the century he was born in. His future was uncertain. The next few years could pass in a blur. Evan could watch empires rise and fall without so much as getting tan. It was the present that concerned the modern vampire. Even though most moments would later be forgotten, vampires felt every second of their afterlives vividly as they occurred. Experts called it Short Term Immersion, a phenomenon that occurred due to a combination of vampires’ heightened senses, vitamin D deficiencies, and infinitely long existences. They could see, hear, and smell everything. Many speculated that vampires even experienced the taste of their surroundings, though this was an ongoing debate in the research realm. However, it later became difficult for even the vampire brain to hold on to so much sensory information. Hence, immersion, but short term. It was said that the vampire’s limited capacity to hold memories was the only thing keeping them from becoming all-powerful. Evan thought it was more than that.

Humans were weak. They needed eight hours of sleep every night, 2,000 calories of whatever slop they called food. Most could hardly run a mile without stopping to take a break, and their limbs were brittle and thin by the time they turned fifty. The thing that stopped vampires from taking over was laziness. They didn’t feel the need to. Why take on the difficult task of governing society when humans could do it for them? Vampires were feared. Admired by many, noticed by all. Besides, if a vampire truly wanted to keep track of their past, it wouldn’t be all that difficult. One only needed to do what many vampires had already successfully done. It was laughably simple. Vampires could remember everything by simply writing things down. Count Dracula was famous for it, obviously, but Evan knew of several others who took to documenting their daily activities so as to remember them.

He couldn’t be bothered. Besides, he didn’t need a journal to remember the mundane routine he’d been repeating for who knows how long. Feed, blink, repeat. He never thought things would change, nor was he particularly hoping for them to, though he knew eventually, the bar would close or be demolished or shift in some other way, and he’d be forced to find a new hobby.

It would be amusing if the night of this story was unique in some way. If the weather was particularly good or bad or perhaps if the moon was full or red. Unfortunately, it was a night as mundane as the rest of them. It was warm and humid, not that Evan minded, and the moon was a waxing gibbous. Evan was stationed where he always was in the back of the bar, thankful that he didn’t have to breathe in the scent of the overflowing dumpster he was leaning against now. He felt the strange urge to smoke a cigarette, though he knew it would feel like nothing -- air passing through his body, in and out. It was quiet in the bar. Evan wasn’t expecting much business, but where else did he have to go? Unlike many vampires, Evan wasn’t obsessed with accumulating wealth. In his who-knows-how-many years dead, he’d managed to acquire a simple one story house back when the market wasn’t the horror story it was today. It had three bedrooms and a basement, and it was only half furnished. He struggled to get to the part of the house where the windows were in the daytime and had long given up trying to do anything about it.

He was starving. He could feel the hunger in the back of his throat, an incessant painful throb. He thought he might go mad there in the back of the bar, close enough to smell the bodies inside but far enough away that he wasn’t tempted to enter. Humans tolerated vampires but they kept them on short leashes when it came to human establishments. Evan wasn’t going to be the one to give his species a bad name.

The back door opened, and a girl emerged with a black bag big enough to hold a body. She tossed it in the already full dumpster, about to go back inside, but her eyes swept the area. Evan froze. He didn’t recognize her from the staff members he knew, he would’ve remembered her long red hair and bright eyes, and hated to cause a ruckus before having even seen a single customer. His fangs were digging into his lips now, his body urging him to give in to the animal instinct to pounce on his prey.

“Who’s there?” the girl called out, her arms up like that would be enough to protect her. Evan debated waiting it out -- surely she couldn’t see or hear him, not with human eyes and ears. Maybe it was the hunger or the boredom that made him step forward into the soft glow of the bar’s low lighting instead, his own hands up in surrender. He prayed that she wouldn’t see his bloodshot eyes or pointed teeth in the darkness.

“Hi. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The girl gasped. “What are you doing back here? No one’s allowed here except for staff, which I know for a fact you aren’t.”

Evan struggled for words, distracted by her exposed neck and the way it was ever so slightly pulsing with her heartbeat. He clenched his fists.

“I have an arrangement with the owner.”

“What, Carlos? An arrangement for what? Who are you?” She squinted, obviously trying to make him out clearly.

“Evan. Charmed, I’m sure. You are?”

“Scarlet. You’re lucky Carlos isn’t here. I can’t check your story.” Scarlet bit her lip, looking back and forth between the bar and Evan like she was struggling to make a choice. “Listen. You should be careful, okay? I hear people come back here to get turned.”

It was a miracle Evan didn’t burst into laughter.

“Thanks for the warning, Scarlet.” Evan watched her. Her fingers were shaking slightly, and she was shifting her weight constantly from foot to foot. He could hear her heartbeat quickening.

“Do you want to come inside?”

Evan forgot his hunger for a moment. In all the years he’d come back here to do his business, no one had ever invited him in. Not that it mattered much. It was a public establishment, after all, but something about the request, offered so innocently, gave him pause.

“I’m okay. I should probably get going, anyways. Wouldn’t want to run into any…”

Scarlet shuddered. “Yeah. Good night.”

He didn’t know what made him do it. Perhaps it was the hunger, clouding his judgement. “When do you get off?” Evan licked his lips, his own teeth cutting into his tongue with a sting.

“Oh…” She blushed. Evan could practically feel the blood pull to her face. “A half hour. Why?”

Evan smiled, desperately hoping his fangs weren’t visible to her. “Fancy a stroll?”

Scarlet laughed, and he found himself wishing, for a moment, that he would remember the sound forever. “Sure. Why not? Wait right here.”

Evan nodded to her and she turned. Evan shuddered as the door to the bar closed shut behind her. What was he thinking? Of all the nights to make the decision to be friendly, and of all the creatures to befriend. It wasn’t safe for either of them. Evan could control himself from a distance, but he couldn’t remain sane for much longer. As he mulled over his choices, his ears caught a rustle in the darkness. Evan stiffened.

“There’s no use hiding,” he said softly. Immediately, he could tell it was a human. For one, no vampire would ever be so loud as to be discovered. For another, Evan could smell blood. A lot of it. Whoever this was reeked.

A person emerged from the shadows, clutching their left arm and limping towards Evan. It was clear now, the smell was coming from this man’s arm. He was losing blood, and fast. Something between fear and determination was swimming in the stranger’s eyes.

“Hello.” Evan was digging his heels into the ground. He could see it all so clearly in his mind’s eye -- his teeth sinking into warm skin, blood flowing down his throat, the sense of fulfillment enveloping him. It would be over so quickly.

The man cleared his throat. “Yes. Hi. Are you…?”

Evan raised his eyebrows, amused. “Am I? What?”

The man’s eyes darted around manically.

“Say it,” Evan said mockingly. He was enjoying himself.

“Never mind. I thought --”

“What are you here for?” Evan interrupted, looking the man up and down. He wasn’t one to judge, but his customers tended to have a particular look about them. Always young, always in black, always with eyeliner smudged around their eyes. Always a little too eager. This man was none of those things.

“I think you know what I’m here for.” He cleared his throat again, and Evan was really beginning to lose patience.

“I don’t have all night. What payment are you prepared to offer me?”

The man reached into his pocket with his good arm and pulled out a stack of dirty bills. He was far enough away that Evan couldn’t make out their value, but he could see that the stack was thick. “It’s all I have.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Come closer,” Evan said, half-drunk off the scent of the man’s blood, dripping from his arm even now. “I don’t bite,” he added.

The man scoffed but complied, walking closer to Evan and handing the stack over. Evan flicked through the bills. They seemed real enough. They were fifties. It wasn’t much, but then, Evan was starving, and this man wouldn’t have much blood left in his body if he gave himself time to mull it over.

“I assume you’re aware of the logistics?” Evan pocketed the money, looked the man up and down. He was shaking, and Evan could tell it wasn’t just from the blood loss.

“I am.”

Evan rolled his eyes. Something about humans about to turn, like they were making the hardest decision of their lives, always put him off. At least they had a choice. Evan pulled the man towards him with his bleeding arm. The man gasped at the pain, his head falling back with weakness. Evan pushed it back further, still holding tightly on the wound with his other arm.

“You might want to count back from ten,” he whispered, inhaling the scent of the body in his arms. His eyes were practically clouding over now. The blood overtook his senses -- it was all he was thinking about, all he could smell or taste. It was underneath his fingernails and in the back of his throat, it was in the folds of his skin and on the tip of his tongue.

“Ten, nine,” Evan heard the man start to whisper his countdown aloud, his eyes shut tightly now. He couldn’t bring himself to wait.

He sunk his teeth into the man’s neck, finally satisfied. He could feel his senses returning to him with every drop of blood he swallowed. Everything was sharper somehow, more focused. Even with his eyes closed, Evan could see his surroundings. The man buckled beneath him, and Evan supported him with one arm as he fed. The backdoor of the bar was opening now, but Evan couldn’t bring himself to care. He was so, so hungry. What was a few more sips, one more minute? That was the danger of feeding when you were starving. It was almost impossible to stop. And Evan probably wouldn’t have, either. He would’ve drank the poor man dry if it weren’t for the scream. It pierced through Evan’s trance. He dropped the body, mouth dripping with blood. The man was writhing on the ground, his eyes were fluttering as he murmured nonsense. He would start to turn soon enough. Evan looked up towards the bar. The source of the scream stood, her hands raised ever so slightly. It was Scarlet. She might’ve still been screaming, Evan wasn’t entirely sure. He smiled.

“You-you-monster!”

Evan tilted his head to the right, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His hands were bright red, even in the darkness, and he found the color intoxicating. It was everywhere. His clothes, his fingers, Scarlet’s hair. Evan tilted his head forward as if he was wearing a hat, the picture of gentlemanly charm.

“Good night, miss.”

He left the man there, flailing on the ground, Scarlet staring openmouthed, his hunger, at last, satiated. For now.