Chapter 2

 

I dragged Freddie’s body into the boathouse, and tried to figure out my next move. The Wretched had liquefied in a matter of minutes, and all that remained of the thing was a foamy wet spot. Freddie, on the other hand, would have to be disposed of properly.

I hurried back to Pale Rider and, instead of walking inside, since my clothes were a mess, I jumped to pull myself up onto the lower level roof to make way to my window and slip inside. In my room, I grabbed another pair of jeans and a t-shirt and darted from my door to the bathroom across the hall to clean myself off and change clothes.

Once I’d thrown my dirty jeans in a trash bag and tied it off, I pulled my hair back with an elastic band and checked myself in the mirror for any leftovers on my face. As much as I didn’t care to go back downstairs, I had to. A body was cooling out in the boathouse. It wasn’t like there was a good chance anyone would wander that far out at that time of night, but who knew?

I went back downstairs and ran into Darrell schmoozing a brunette at her table. “Have you seen Scott?”

Darrell looked up from her tits and frowned. “Dude, he went home. He figured you took somebody upstairs.” He raised his hips, mimicking a pretty lewd gesture, which prompted a giggle from the girl.

“Okay, what about Serv?”

Darrell pointed absently in a vague direction on the other side of the place and shooed me off. I rolled my eyes and scanned the crowd for Pinecliffe’s other vampire.

I found him with his girlfriend, Elaine, at a bigger table, along with about five other people. Elaine was a Goth chick of about twenty, with deep red hair and green eyes. She wore black lacy dresses a lot and always looked like she was ready for a funeral. Tonight she was in a black-and-green number, the green peeking out through vertical slits in satin. The dress reminded me of coffin lining. She never talked much, just clung to Serv’s arm like a trophy girlfriend. They were all laughing at Serv’s jokes, and the females busied themselves by dragging their gazes over him. His natural charisma around people attracted them. Serv must have seen the fear on my face, as he picked up his drink and excused himself from his group.

“What’s wrong?”

“I got a little problem I need your help with,” I said once we were out of earshot and as we headed toward the back door.

He stopped at the threshold and gestured to his drink. “Let me finish this first.”

“Fuck your drink. I need you to come outside. Now.” I grabbed the glass from his hand and sat it down on the nearest table. “Now.” I took hold of his wrist and dragged him out the door after me.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” I walked ahead of him without looking back. He had to almost run to keep up with my long strides.

“Why are we going to the lake?”

“We’re not. We’re going to the boathouse.”

“What’s at the boathouse?”

I growled and spun around to face him. “You ask too many fucking questions, Serv. Just shut up and follow me. I’m going to show you.”

He put his hands out. “Okay, man. Whatever.”

A wind had picked up, blowing ripples across the lake water and dropping the temperature another few degrees. The clouds overhead had fled, leaving the moon staring down at us with luminescent apathy.

Serv stopped short of entering the small enclosure when he saw the body. His gaze slid over to me, wide-eyed. “What did you do?”

“He knew what I was.”

“Oh, fuck.” He approached the corpse with caution to kneel and touch the cooling skin, snatching his hand back as if it’d been burned. “He’s dead.”

“Yeah. And he staked me.”

“Fuck, Xan. He was trying to kill you? Why?”

“I have no idea, really. He knew what I was and was bent on telling me what a monster I am. So now I have a problem with a slight bit of human remains.”

He rose to his feet, looking down at the still form with what appeared to be a mixture of surprise and fear. “Yeah, I’d say you do. What about the cops? Did you see him earlier tonight?”

“No, he came out of nowhere.” I left out the part about the weird rotting zombie thing that had attacked me. It wouldn’t do any good, and I needed Serv to help, not interrogate me half the night.

He bit his lip, his eyebrows furrowed. “There’s the forest back there.”

“I could bury him, yeah.” I rubbed my face. “I can’t believe I killed him.”

“What did it taste like?”

“What did what taste like?”

Serv’s eyes were big and dark with hunger. “Killing him.”

I scowled. “It’s not like I wanted to. We’re not supposed to be killing customers. We can’t murder people like this. It’s kind of illegal.”

“But he was asking for it, right?”

I held up a hand. “Don’t.”

Serv laughed, showing his little fangs. “Easy for you to say. You actually got a full meal. And I’m thinking why are we gifted with this if not to be predators?”

I rolled my eyes. “You sound like a cliche vampire novel. You want to help me get this thing out of here?”

“Yeah, but you’re going to have to wait at least another hour ’til everyone leaves. Right now, we can just leave him out here. It’s cold enough outside. He’ll stay fresh.”

* * * *

Reluctantly I went back in with Serv to rejoin Josh, Bea and Darrell. They were drunk. I wasn’t. It was a weird reversal. Usually by then I’d be nuzzling girls indiscriminately, but my problem had sucked up the remainder of the evening at Pale Rider. Serv was right about the temperature, though. When the last patron had gone, Serv followed me back out to the boathouse without a fight, even to the point of seeming excited, but he’d never really been right in the head. I’d known without a doubt when he walked into Pale Rider for tryouts that he was another vampire. Still, I auditioned him. His voice was strong, most likely a side effect of being immortal. I chose him for the spot, on the spot, against deeper misgivings, since he looked practically brand-new to the blood. After that we just kind of coexisted, in secret knowledge of what the other really was.

Of course Freddie’d shat his pants, and from the acrid stench he’d pissed himself too. I hated touching him. I hated dead things. It was an ingrained aversion I couldn’t explain, but who really wants to fuck around with a corpse? His body had stiffened a little, making it easier to throw him over my shoulder barbarian-style to carry him out to my car. The subtle gleam of moonlight on the navy metal flake paint matched the ivory dual racing stripes extending from nose to tailfin. I was about to stuff a stiff in my car. The thought was nauseating.

“We forgot bags.” The body slumped against the RS while I dug in my pocket for the keys. “Go get bags.” I opened the trunk.

“Didn’t you drain him?” Serv squinted against the sudden light. He leaned in to check out the tiny space. Nothing was in sight except for the spare tire. “You have a mat in here anyways.”

“Serv, this is a cherry sixty-seven Camaro RS. As in perfect. I am not putting a body in my trunk without bagging it first. Do you know why? Because bodies leak stuff, and not just blood.”

His eyes widened. “Oh.”

“There’s some lawn-and-leaf ones in the garage. Bring the box.”

He disappeared in the shadows once he reached the overhang and I heard the garage door open. I shook my head at the noise he was making and cursed when he snapped the light on. New vampires still had a tendency to carry habits of the living, like turning on lights when they entered a dark room, even though they didn’t need to. We were creatures of the night; we could see fine in the dark if we waited a few seconds. I covered my face with a hand as he rummaged around in plain view of anyone from that angle. Thank fuck he found the box quickly. He turned the light off then slammed the fucking garage door down. I smacked him in the head when he reached the car again.

“Idiot. What the hell is wrong with you, Serv?”

“Ow!” He whimpered and rubbed his head. “What did I do wrong?”

I yanked a few bags out of the box and carefully unfolded them. “Okay, so I’m going to lift him up and you just get his legs in the bag.”

Serv nodded, and I grabbed dead Freddie under his arms and hefted him in the air. After a little fuss with the bag, we wrestled the corpse feet first into it and yanked the plastic up around his legs. Freddie was a pretty small guy so we got him almost all the way in, fit another bag over the exposed head and shoulders then lined the trunk with about three more bags. He didn’t fit. I jerked him back out of the cavity and threw him on the ground.

“Now what?”

“Now I get to take the fucking spare out,” I said, turning the giant wing nut to free the spare tire from the floor of the trunk. “This is starting to be a pain in the ass.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t go around killing people then.”

I could hear the smug in Serv’s voice. I didn’t have to look. “Shut the fuck up and hold this.” I shoved the loose tire into his stomach. He grunted and scowled. Freddie fit in the trunk on the second attempt. I slammed the deck lid shut. “Let’s go.”

Serv dropped the tire, where it rolled a few feet and fell on its side, close to the grass. “What about a shovel?”

A digging tool would come in handy, yup. “Just get in the goddamn car. Pretty sure I can get one out of the garage without waking everyone inside like you.”

“Or the dead.” He snickered.

I walked away to avoid hurting him.

Getting rid of dead bodies was harder than people thought. Corpses stuck around for a good while and had all sorts of alerts attached to them. If buried, they rotted in the dirt, and left a faint impression, even if grass regrew. If burned, bones were left behind. If disposed of in water, they’d blow up like a balloon after a time and buoy to the surface.

I had to bury Freddie deep, which meant a little spade wasn’t going to do the trick. The full-size shovel looked big enough for the job and was accessible without the need to shuffle shit around as much. I had to angle the handle up in the backseat a little to get it to fit.

We drove down the twisted road that ran around the lake and threaded into the national forest about two miles away. Signs posted warned that the park was closed after dark and pointed the way to campsites. I was coming down off the blood buzz, and starting to have second thoughts about whether I’d get away with murder.

Serv kicked back in the passenger seat and drummed his fingertips on his knees to the music though it wasn’t loud. The song was appropriate though–Crowned By Fire’s Get Under The Dirt–making me laugh just a little. Serv side-eyed me and shook his head. A sharp turn sprang on me in the headlights and I jerked the wheel, jolting him.

He straightened in his seat and ran his thumb under the seatbelt. “What’re you going to do if they come and ask you about him?”

“I’m going to deny everything.” I kept my eyes on the road. Guilt rumbled deep inside my heart. I wanted to get his ass in the ground, cover him up and forget he’d ever crossed my path.

“Have you ever taken a life before?” Serv leaned forward a little.

“I’ve been around a lot longer than you. What do you think?”

That seemed to satisfy him. He kept quiet until I parked the car and killed the lights. Serv carried the shovel while I got body detail, hefting it out of the trunk in one awkward motion and over my shoulder. The bags crinkled as we made our way deep into the woods, past the point of seeing or hearing anything from the road. The only things around us were trees with big-eyed owls hooting from the upper branches.

I threw Freddie down hard enough to make him fart. Serv raised an eyebrow and sniggered. Truth be told, so did I.

A breeze picked up and in the dappled silvery light of the moon, Serv looked all ethereal. Hell, we were mythological creatures. There’s no way to express how weird that felt to be the fucking unicorn.

I accepted the shovel from Serv and started to dig. The ground was cold and not very loose, so it was work. Displaced dirt skittered over dry leaves as I shoveled. It was a lulling task–lean over, stab the blade into the dirt, lift, toss. To make the hole as deep as I dared to still have time to escape before sunrise, I took extra care.

Serv wandered around in a sloppy circle, hands in pockets before returning to the gravesite. “Xan, I think you’re deep enough in there.”

I don’t know how long we’d been there or how long he’d been talking to me. I hurled the shovel out of the hole in resignation.

“Give me a hand,” I said and took his, clutching the hole’s edge to climb up out of it. Once I crawled out and brushed off, I tossed the corpse into the grave, and started to scoop shovelfuls of dirt on it until I couldn’t hear the bags crinkle anymore. Serv helped me as much as he could by shoving dirt down into the hole with his feet and then his hands. We didn’t even give the bastard a moment of silence, but walked back to the car where I tapped as much of the grave dirt off the shovel as I could on the pavement behind the car. I took another bag from the box and wrapped the business end of the shovel in plastic before sticking it in the backseat.

“We don’t talk about this again.” I slid behind the wheel while Serv got in on the other side.

“Fine by me.” He fiddled with the controls on my radio, and I let him. After all, he’d just helped bury my mistake. We had a new understanding. By sunrise, Serv and I were safely back at Pale Rider, the shovel was stowed in the garage again and no one was the wiser.

I guess I felt bad about taking a human life but I was more concerned that one of those Wretched zombie-things would come around again. And what if it was Serv outside next time, or even Charlie? If they were vampires, I could only hope they weren’t able to come out in the daytime. Carrying a gun seemed like the best solution, but if I was forced into a situation where I had to discharge a firearm, it’d likely bring more unwanted attention than I could really handle. I worried about someone coming to ask about Freddie, if that was his real name. He’d been so fucking certain he was saving me from what? Becoming one of those zombie Wretched things? If that was going to happen, surely I’d devolved by now. As it was, I looked the same. I wasn’t expecting any more developments.

* * * *

Tabby fascinated me for more than a few reasons, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted from her, if anything at all. But I kind of hoped she’d come back to Pale Rider. She was sweet and smelled good. She didn’t smoke and, as far as I knew, wasn’t much of a drinker either. She also made a damn good snack.

Serv started hanging out with Elaine more and more, and often showed up late for rehearsal and sometimes even our shows. She was all he talked about. I guess he thought he loved her. I’d catch him sneaking out with his Martin in hand, and since he hadn’t really used the guitar in some time, I knew something was brewing.

But then they started fighting. He’d storm back in at fucked-up hours, pissed off. Probably around the third time, I finally asked what was up. 

“Nothing.” He blew past me into the kitchen. I followed him to find him peering into the fridge.

“What do you think are you doing?” I folded my arms over my chest and leaned against the doorframe.

He shut the door hard enough to jostle the condiments in the door pocket. Bottles clinked. “I don’t fucking know.”

“What’s going on for real? You barely even stay here anymore.”

“Nothing is going on.”

“Well, it’s got you looking into the fridge. What do you expect to find in there? You’re a bloodsucker, remember?” I smirked.

“Fuck off. I’m just frustrated.” He glared at the refrigerator. “I wish I could eat. Or drink a cola. It’s all blood and liquor, all the time. I want a ham sandwich. An apple. Something.”

I sighed. He was preaching to the choir there. “How long have you been one of us anyway?”

Serv pressed his forehead to the door then pushed away from it to spin and face me. “Why do you care?”

“Because you’re acting human.” I lowered my voice so no one would hear me. “You always have.”

I hadn’t really asked him much about himself. Vampires weren’t exactly voluntarily chatty about their pasts, considering some of us didn’t want to remember the night in question.

“A couple of weeks before you guys took me in.” He stared at the floor. “Maybe three years now.”

Well, that explained why he looked so damned new. He was practically an infant in the wide world of bloodsuckers. I hooked a thumb over my shoulder. “Did you want to sit down and talk about it?”

“Why? Do you? Why would you care, Xan?” He brushed past me to go back out into the bar area. All the lights were turned out save for a few neon beer signs Charlie left burning at night. 

I went behind the bar, pulled out a fresh bottle of whiskey and motioned for him to follow me upstairs. We went to my room, and I closed the door behind us. I handed him the bottle and sat on the mattress. 

He took a chair at my desk and spun the cap off. “I hate whiskey.”

“Give it over then.” I held out my hand.

He shook his head and took a drink, following it with a grimace. “So, what do you want to talk about?”

“I’m here for whatever you have to say.” I reached over to the cable spool that served as a table by the wall and picked out a glass. I kept a few in case I had company. “But you gotta share the booze.”

He laughed. “Fair ’nuff.”

I stood and he met me halfway to fill my glass.

His story started out like a lot of ours did. Unsuspecting, preyed upon by a hungry vampire. Shit, he was only twenty-three. Barely had a chance to do anything before he was dropped as a bloodsucker.

“She looked me in the eye and told me she had plans for me. I asked her what. We went outside in the alley behind the club and that’s where she bit me.”

“Jesus.” It sounded a lot like my story. Stupid me, tempted by a hot ass in red leather. Only mine had bothered to take me to her house first before doing the deed.

“She sucked on my neck, and then fed me her blood. It’s the same for everybody, pretty much. Right?” His gaze shifted from beyond the far wall to me. “Right?”

I nodded.

“Anyway, after I drank from her, I felt sick. She asked me where I lived. I told her nowhere.”

“So, you were just out on the street?” I didn’t know that. “What was her name?”

He stared at the bottle, as if the answer was printed on the label. “Jane. And yeah. I was kicked out of my house by my stepdad when I was seventeen. I stayed with a girlfriend for a year, and beyond that, anyone who would give up their couch or piece of floor. And there were nights when I had nowhere to go, so I’d go wherever I could to stay warm and catch some sleep.”

I never had to experience life on the streets when alive. My dad had done pretty well with his restaurant and had one of the nicest cars in the neighborhood, a black Pontiac Ventura. “Dude, I didn’t know that.”

He shrugged. “Jane took me to a hotel room and everything was going okay. She watched me as I died, and while I lay there unable to do anything, she said she had to go do something. She left and never came back. I don’t know what happened to her. I never saw her again. I was chased out of the room at checkout time and had to hide in a fucking closet until the sun went down because the light hurt when it hit my skin.”

At that moment, he changed a little in my eyes. He went from a little prick, to a vamp with a past life, just like me. I guess I was too wrapped up in my own resentment and misery to take notice. “So you answered the ad for Pale Rider almost right after you changed.”

“Yeah. I was more interested in the room, really. It was harder to live outside and with different people after I became a vampire.” He snorted. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

We drank a little and I played some music while we switched subjects and talked about this band or that. But I was horrified. Being changed had been monumental in my life. And, as much as I claimed to hate my sire, I had to hand it to her that she had made sure I was schooled on the art of being fanged.

Serv never had anyone show him anything. He was essentially orphaned right after. And I used to kill vamps like him and his maker for that kind of reason. Until I got sick of it. Of looking others of my kind with a desperate situation in the eye and putting a bullet in their faces at point-blank range.

* * * *

I kept a lookout for more pet zombies and stake-wielding maniacs in the weeks that followed. Fucking zombie vampires. Wretched, Freddie’d called them. I knew of a couple of types of vamps, and that was more of a caste system than anything else. I wasn’t made a vampire to lie around fancy mansions and wear ruffly shirts while bitching about the meaningless of my existence. I was put to work. I was changed so I could do the work. It was a miserable existence, but I really hadn’t had any sort of choice in the matter. I was told where to get my weapon, where to fire it, who to fire it on, where to sleep and what to eat. There was no glamour in hanging out in alleys waiting for dirty vagrant vampires to bother staggering out the back to retreat before the sun came up. I was working hard to forget that time before. My life was in Pale Rider. I was fucking retired from the extermination business.

Certain liberties were gained by leaving the vampire lifestyle, like finding cute girls and snacking off them after a good set with Crooked Fang. I barely needed sleep, so I helped Charlie out during the day as long as I didn’t have to wander out in the sunlight. I stocked his coolers. I cleaned the bar. I cooked for him when he felt weak.

He loved corned beef hash for some reason. I could cook pretty good, since I’d worked in my dad’s restaurant way back when I was a teen. He sat at the kitchen table with a smile while I fried him up some.

“Put a little ketchup on it.” Charlie eyeballed me while I spooned out more of that hateful shit. It looked and smelled too much like dog food to even remotely make me nostalgic for eating.

“How much?”

“You go ahead and get you some too.”

I held my nose and shook my head. “No thanks. Cooking it is torture enough.”

“It’s a wonder you don’t waste away to skin and bones, boy.” He grinned. “I think I’ll have a beer today.”

“With that shit?” I pulled his favorite brew, a Milwaukee’s Best, out of the cooler and popped it open for him before bowing with a flourish. “Happy coronary.”

Sometimes Charlie’d hide in his room and just not come out at all. He thought I didn’t know, but he hid a guitar and practice amp in his room. He never played out loud, just on headphones I think, because sometimes I’d hear the bare strings twanging away in there. I never bothered to question him about it, because to me, music was natural. Hell, people who never played anything at all were beyond me. How did they fill their days? Writing stories? Playing video games?

I didn’t understand kids and their pastimes, but I was chalked up to being one of them because of the way I looked. But on the inside, I was an old man, and getting older. Me and Charlie were alike–on the inside. He was a veteran, and been through a lot too. He’d lived a different life before Pale Rider also, and that was the exact reason I identified with him. But the license to act like a dumb twentysomething came in handy. If everyone thought me to be some residual kid with an attitude problem, that was fine by me.

I did know my manners, and right from wrong for the most part, and when I found Tabby at the bar about a week later, chatting with Bea and knocking back drinks left and right, it was obvious that trouble was lit up someplace.

Tabby was irritated, maybe a little hurt and definitely pissed off judging from the look in her eyes. Plus Bea was making really obvious gestures that she wanted me over there, probably so she could take care of the other customers. Elected by force, I crushed out my cigarette and reluctantly left my seat.

Tabby had been crying. She smelled like sweat and was a little shabby around the edges. Her face was free of makeup, her blue hair pinned back from her face on both sides by yellow barrettes. She clung to her beer, fingernails bitten down to the quick. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and took a long pull from the frosted bottle.

Take care of her, Bea mouthed silently, pointing to her drink when she wasn’t looking. 

I gave a nod and perched on the barstool next to her, motioning for a whiskey. “And a water for her.”

Bea cocked an eyebrow but complied.

“Didn’t expect to see you here again. Do you live nearby?” I accepted the tall glass of whiskey from Bea, who took that as her leave in order to tend to the growing crowd of people gathered at the register.

Tabby rested her head on her arm, and rolled it on her neck slightly before lifting it to nod. She blinked at me like she’d never seen me before. It took a few seconds before her gaze registered a flicker of recognition. I mean how many other tall, long-haired, tattooed bassists did she know?

“I hate men.” She dropped her head back on her arm.

I snorted and lifted the glass to my lips. “That makes two of us.”

“You are one,” was her muffled reply, interjected by a disguised sniffle. “Anyways, I’m not looking for company.”

“I’m here for a drink.” I motioned to her beer. “You’re here for a drink. I don’t think that makes us meeting at the bar odd at all. What number is that for you? I’d think Bea have cut you off by now.”

Tabby shrugged. “Yeah well, she didn’t.”

I took another drink, easing back on gulping it down. I had a feeling I would either be driving or at least calling the woman a cab, and cabs charged an arm and a leg out there in the backwoods. Tabby didn’t resist when I took the near-empty bottle from her hand. From the reek of alcohol emanating off her, she was pretty far gone. “You should sit up. If Charlie sees you like that, he’ll make you leave, courtesy of Pinecliffe’s finest.”

Her head popped up again and she eyed me. “What was your name again?”

“Xan.”

“That’s a neat name.” She smiled dreamily. Wow, yeah she was really blitzed. 

I kept glancing in Bea’s direction helplessly, but the damned woman was ringing up receipts and wouldn’t look at me. I pasted a smile on my face. “Can I call you a cab?”

“I’m gonna throw up.” She tumbled off her stool and beelined to the ladies’ room.

With shoulders hunched in defeat, I abandoned my post at the bar and went after her. The bathrooms were nearby, just under the stairs, giving the little rooms a strange angle of ceiling that anyone around my height suffered often with a solid thwack to the head. Sure, Charlie had a sign on the wall in huge-ass letters, Watch Your Head, but who the hell read warnings when they were deep in the bottle? If I needed to wash my hands, I usually went to the bathroom upstairs, which had a separate partition for the sink and mirror. It worked for me fine because I never had to use the restroom for what it was intended. I tapped on the door just under the Ladies sign. “You okay in there?” 

She groaned in response and tossed her cookies. 

I grimaced. “Are you decent at least?”

“Unghh...” More puking. I tried the door. It was unlocked, so I pushed it open, turning my head away in case she had her drawers around her ankles or something.

“I’m decent.” She growled and heaved again. Fucking. Hell. The reek of regurgitated beer and whatever she’d eaten earlier trapped in that tiny room made my throat clench and my nose burn. Tabby plopped down on her ass, and leaned back on her hand.

I reached under her arms and hefted her to her feet. “Get up. You don’t want to sit on the floor in a public bathroom, girl.”

“I feel better.” She staggered toward the sink and I turned the faucet on for her to wash her face and hands. She watched me in the mirror as she toweled off. “Jesus, how tall are you?”

True, in that room, I felt nearly claustrophobic. My head was to the doorframe with less than an inch to spare. If I reached up to touch the ceiling, my arm would still be pretty much bent in half at the elbow. “Six-five.” I opened the door, letting in the sounds and smells of the bar and gratefully, fresh air. Her face changed colors and, for a moment, I thought she might barf again. “You need to sit down for a while.” She nodded and I offered my arm for support. “Come with me.”

I walked past the bar with Tabby clinging to my arm like a tottering old lady. She waited while I collected the glass of water and her coat, which was thrown over her stool. I winked at Bea and steered Tabby to the stairs and up through the roof hatch. We paused there for her to put on her coat.

Up there, it was quiet, free of people and close to nature. The roof was a private place I could sit under the moon and just stare out over the lake and toward the mountains spooning it beyond. I loved the outdoors. It was one of the perks about Pale Rider, that closeness of woods and water. But on that night, I had a slight little thing clinging to me for warmth, of which I really had none to give. I lowered her down in the chair I usually occupied when alone, and handed her the glass of water.

She accepted gratefully and sipped at it like a bird. “Aren’t you cold?”

I shrugged. “Nah. I’m used to it.” Temperature wasn’t a big thing to a vampire.

She raised an eyebrow at me but was quickly distracted by the view. “It’s beautiful up here.”

Evergreens sighed in a slight breeze, their needles brushing together sounding like hundreds of wings. Somewhere nearby, a nighthawk ran its nasal peent. Gentle ripples in the lake lapped at the bank’s edge. She gave a tired smile.

“Did you want to talk about what’s bothering you? If you don’t, I understand, but you came in here all upset, drank yourself sick and now I have to figure out a way to get you home.”

Her smile evaporated just like that. She bowed her head and sat the half-empty glass on the empty cable spool-table beside her that matched the one in my room. “Just...problems.”

“I take it your boyfriend is still being a dick.”

“He got mad at me.”

I fished a cigarette from the pack in my pocket and offered it to her but she declined. I shrugged and lit my own. “And?”

“He went into this rage. Screaming at me. Breaking things.” She looked up at me. “I wish you’d sit down. All I see is a tall, dark and looming silhouette.”

I pulled the second chair over to her with a grunt of metal scraping over wood and dropped into it, the vinyl cushion whistling comically. That brought a brief flicker of a smile to her face before her features darkened again. I leaned forward. “Did he hurt you, Tabby?”

She shook her head fiercely. “I told him to get out of my house. He said he lived there. I told him he needed to leave and not come back tonight.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?” I hated probing for answers, but seeing a female abused by some big jackass that felt he had something to prove by exerting authority by force, was worse. That wasn’t a relationship. That was possession.

“I don’t know.”

I sat back in my chair and finished my smoke in silence, then crushed it out in the ashtray. “Where do you live?”

She blinked. “Why?”

“I’m trying to think of a way to keep you safe tonight.” I didn’t want to come across as another perv trying to get in her pants and I barely knew her. But there was a little click at that moment of years ago, only the girl’d been blonde. But the tears and the fear were the same. A little wriggle in what I had left of a conscience.

She sniffled, and rubbed her nose on her sleeve. “Why are you being so nice to me? You don’t even know me.”

“Because you need it.” I stood and offered my hand. “And you remind me of someone.”

She looked up at me before taking my hand, like she still wasn’t sure she could entirely trust me. I pulled her to her feet. The inertia pushed her against my chest and we froze like that for probably a minute, just staring into each other’s eyes. Our faces gravitated closer, closer, until I blinked and stopped, realizing I was about to kiss her. Damnit. I had no idea if it was something stirring between us besides stupid vampire voodoo, namely the thrall shit.

She cleared her throat and opened a gap between us, the cold air swirling to fill the space.

Yeah, she reminded me of someone all right. Once upon a time, I was alive. I used to be Gabriel Nez, an advertising artist, mechanic and hopeless bachelor. Until I met Jessica. My heart sank as I remembered my girlfriend’s smile. Her laugh. When I met her, she had been in a dying relationship with a big guy, John, or something like that. Anyway, he threatened her, pushed her around. Until I came along, that is. When she met me, she ended their disastrous relationship and jumpstarted ours. I was about to ask Jessica to marry me after two years of being mad-sick in love with her. Until the obvious happened.

I swallowed hard and realized Tabby was still staring at me. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I fumbled for conversation. “So, are you from around here?”

She grinned a little and stared at her hands. “I’m Brady Cole’s daughter. You know, the postmaster here? Lived here all my life. You?”

We had a teeny-tiny post office. That I knew. Something about me not being around to wander around in the daytime prevented me from knowing who she was talking about, though. I shrugged. “I’ve lived here for a bit, yeah.” She still seemed kinda woozy, so I stood and offered my hand. “Let me drive you home, okay?”

She laughed. “I can get home all right.”

I shook my head. “No, Charlie wouldn’t like that you left feeling like you do. Your car’ll be fine, I promise.”

She smiled and took my hand. “Okay.”

I took Tabby home in the RS. She lived about twelve miles away, even farther out in the sticks than Pinecliffe. The roads were twistier out there–steep hills populated with bristlecone pines, quaking aspen and Rocky Mountain juniper lined both sides. Her house wasn’t much, but it was a decent size, post-war sixties design with a shingled roof and white Sears-siding exterior. A nice sized bunch of blue spruce grew in the front yard, concealing the porch, but a window glowed with light. I asked her if she lived alone.

“Sometimes.” She got out of the car and shut the door.

“What about tonight?” I followed her up the steps to the door with my hands shoved in my pockets and waited while she unlocked the door. “You sure you’re going to be okay?”

She opened her mouth to answer then the phone rang.

“It’s probably my sister.” She scurried in to answer the call while I waited outside. Her voice went from pleasant to surprised then angry in a matter of thirty seconds.

“I told you no, Art. Stay with your grandmamma for all I care...no. No...you can pick up your things tomorrow. Goodbye, Art.” She slammed down the receiver and leaned against the wall, her face buried in her hands. 

I stepped inside her house but stayed close to the door. “Would you like it if I stayed with you?” The words just kind of rolled out of my mouth before I could filter them. The girl needed help. I had protected for years. It was encoded in me by then. I had to heed the call.

Whatever call that was. It wasn’t really fair, once I thought about it. I should have gone back to Pale Rider. It wasn’t like Tabby hadn’t handled problems with Arturo before, judging from her responses.

Tabby peeked through her fingers. “Stay? You mean here?” She arched an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I can sleep on your couch or something.” Of course I wouldn’t sleep ’til morning, at which point the threat would be minimized. I remembered Jessica telling me evil slept at dawn. It was the way of things. Not saying much about me, though.

“You don’t have to do that.” Tabby narrowed her eyes, sending a small arrow of annoyance through me. 

I mean fuck, did I have to beg to do her a favor? I had shit to do if she didn’t want my help. Fuck it. “It’s cool. I’ll get out of your hair.”

She said nothing, just kind of stood there, wrapping her coat more tightly around her.

“Okay then, I’ll see you later.” I turned to leave but she snatched me back by my elbow. Had I been sincerely intent on leaving she couldn’t have stopped me if she wanted to, but I was a little worried about her because I’d seen Arturo, or Art in action. I waited, facing out the screen door with my jaw set. Girl games got on my nerves.

“Stay.” As if to test her position with me, she relaxed her grip on my arm, which slid from her fingers easily. “I just don’t know what to give you for your help.”

“I never said you had to give me anything.” I refocused attention on the doorknob and the lock above it. “We need to change your locks.”

“We can go when the hardware store opens in the morning.”

“I can’t,” I said, a little too quickly for my own comfort, but she didn’t pick up the thread.

“Okay maybe tomorrow afternoon?”

“Probably evening.” I closed the door and locked it before turning to face her. She threw herself in my arms, surprising me. I hesitated for a few moments as she clung to my waist, gradually giving a warm hug in return. Being male of course, I liked the way her body molded to mine. Anybody with a dick could understand. And she wasn’t unattractive by any means–tall enough to cuddle without feeling like I was hugging a kid, definitely curvy in all the right places, but a chick with one too many issues.

She lifted her head away from her chest to look up at me. Drying tears stained her cheeks in twin streams. She mumbled something, and when I bowed my head to hear her repeat it, she kissed my cheek instead, prompting me to turn my head to look at her in surprise. That’s when she brushed her lips against mine, her body’s heat burning into my skin.

I licked my lips, suddenly very hard and responsive despite my good intentions.

She laid a hand against my chest. “Wait. Let me brush my teeth first.”

I nodded and she shed her coat, hanging it on the back of a chair, before venturing deeper into the house. Water ran for a few minutes, and when she came back, she was smiling.

“That’s better.”

I smirked. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She snaked her hands up under my t-shirt to squeeze my sides as I slid my jacket off to drop it to the floor. I cupped her cheek and kissed her lips again, this time our mouths opening to each other. We shuffled backward to bump into the kitchen counter. “Let’s take this to the living room,” she whispered, kissing me again as I stroked her cheek with a thumb. She was so soft. So warm.

She linked fingers with me and pulled me through the doorway that led into the darkened living room, and toward the couch. I ran my hands up her sides, squeezing as we kissed again. It was like we couldn’t get enough of that. She sucked my bottom lip, and we pressed into one another, me gripping her ass and her with her hands up my shirt. I unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. We broke the kiss to strip off our shirts at the same time and tossed them aside. I nibbled at her neck while I unfastened her bra and she unbuckled my belt and tugged open my fly. Part of me wanted to bite, but I held back. She was fragile compared to me. My knees went liquid as she freed my raging erection, took it in her hand and stroked it. Fuck, it felt wonderful. I kissed her again, nipping her lips hard enough to coax a tang of blood on my tongue.

Mm, a little reminder of what I’d tasted outside of Pale Rider. Little flashes sparked in my vision. I blinked. No, I couldn’t drink from her. Not when I thought of her as a new friend. Speaking of being a good friend, I didn’t think I was getting off to a good start. “We shouldn’t...”

“Shut up, Xan.”

My eyes fluttered shut as she worked my length, and I pushed my jeans down, kind of sitting–kind of falling–into one of the wide overstuffed chairs. I nudged off one shoe with the other and repeated with the other foot just in time for her to whisk off my pants.

“What about you?” I smiled up at her, pulling her to me and squeezed her ass. She grinned down at me and slid her jeans down her legs, pulling them off to expose tiny pale pink panties. Silk ones.

I bit my lip. “You sure about this, Tab?” Hell, I don’t think I could have stopped if she’d changed her mind. All I had to do was keep my big teeth away from her neck. She had me so hot and bothered I was shaking.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Both of us naked, she straddled my lap and rubbed me against her. She pulled my hair loose from the elastic band and ran her fingers through it.

“I love your hair. Watching you on stage, throwing it around.” She kissed me again, sucking my tongue. “Your fangs...”

I slid down farther in the chair and opened my legs a little as she positioned me just right. I surprised her with a good hard buck, shoving myself deep up in her. She cried out with a gasp and dug fingertips into my skin, making me echo her sound without meaning to. My head dropped back against the cushion as she rose up on my cock and slid back down, settling into an easy rhythm. My hands found her breasts, and I pulled her forward to flick my tongue over her nipples, which were tight and hard in arousal. She gripped my hair and crushed my face into them, moving faster. When she grew tired, I picked her up and deposited her on the carpet to crawl up her body, tickling her skin with my lips. She wrapped her legs around my hips as I thrust inside her again. I kissed my way from her collarbone to her neck, and nipped just under her ear. She pulled me deeper into her and I increased the pace, holding her in my arms. She moaned in our kiss when her orgasm rose, and I groaned in response. I held her tight and stroked harder, faster. She gasped, gripped my flesh and bit my shoulder, which sent me over the edge. I released deep in her with sharp, hard thrusts. She buried her face in my neck to scream, her insides clamping around me as we came together.

She lay motionless beneath me, heart thundering in her chest. I closed my eyes and listened to it slow to normal before pulling out of her. She smiled and kissed me gently.

I held my hands against her cheeks, and broke the kiss to look her in the eyes. “What just happened?”

“I don’t know.” She was still a little breathless, and her brow was dotted with perspiration. I rolled over on my back to lie beside her and she dangled a leg over one of mine.

“I didn’t mean to take advantage of you.” I felt like since she’d had so much to drink before that maybe it made her more open to suggestion. But she’d come on to me and I could have done the gentlemanly thing and firmly declined, but the truth was, I was curious about her too.

On top of that, I hadn’t even bitten her once during the whole thing. That was weird. I untangled myself from her gently and stood to gather my clothes. I hadn’t meant to fuck her. I was there to protect her. Jesus, Arturo could have come through the door and caught us both in the act.

She rose from the floor and followed my example, both of us dressing without a word. After I laced my shoes, I fished through my jacket pocket for my cigarettes and lighter.

“Are you okay?” She frowned.

“I need a cigarette.”

I stood out on her porch to smoke and to enjoy the cold air. I couldn’t really see the sky there–the trees were thick and tall. A good distance away, somebody’s porch light burned, and a dog barked every so often. Other than that, Tabby didn’t seem to have any neighbors. Beyond the open door, she fiddled with making coffee. She’d felt good. I smiled a little. I hadn’t gone out to a girl’s house in a long time, probably a couple of years. I usually just stayed at the bar, preferring to take someone upstairs for a nip and fuck, rather than deal with the problem of where’d I’d be safe when the sun came up. And it was definitely about to come up.

“Did you want some coffee?” She stood at the screen door, silhouetted by the kitchen light. 

I shook my head. “I’ll take something stronger if you have it.”

“Like what?”

I shrugged. I sure as hell wasn’t drinking coffee.

“I don’t drink alcohol–usually. I mean, not like today. Sorry.”

I snorted. “Yeah, I can tell.” I bent to rub my cigarette out and palmed the butt, not wanting to litter her yard. When I walked back inside, I dropped it in the wastebasket. “You should get sleep, not make coffee.”

She paused midpour and looked at me. “Mind your own business.”

I raised an eyebrow but resisted a retort. Even though I’d done what I could to relax her, she was still tighter than a guitar string. Underneath it all, I was sure a thin thread of fear charged her. I doubted she’d be able to sleep much until the sun was up in full force, at which point even I would be looking to lay it down. 

She glanced up from her coffee cup. “Relax, Xan. Make yourself at home. There’s food in the fridge if you want to eat.”

“Thanks.” I pulled out a chair from the kitchen table, a simple country whiteboard set, with glass inserts. I peered down at my feet through it while I drummed my fingers on the surface. Part of me already itched for another cigarette, and I definitely wanted a drink. I felt out of place. 

She sat down across from me. “So what do you do besides play music and rescue battered women?”

I shrugged. “Not much. Watch music videos on YouTube. Listen to music. Look for new music.”

“Music’s really important to you, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “It’s all I got.”

She hummed in response and took a sip of her coffee. “Where are you from?”

“Denver.” It wasn’t a lie. My dad had taken me in when I was eight, after my mother died in New Mexico. I grew up in Denver, working in his restaurant while I went to school.

She sat down across from me with a cup of hot coffee. “I’ve never been outside of Colorado. Have you?”

I nodded.

“You’re not very talkative about yourself.”

“What you see is what you get.” Her questions needed answers that would require me to lie. I had a story lined up to tell people, but it didn’t mean I was going to just divulge in some woman I barely knew.

She must’ve taken my response as a signal to stop digging because she changed the subject. “So how well do you know my sister?”

Sabrina. One of the Frigid Bitches. “Not really.”

“You were talking to her that night you chased Art off.”

“It was the first time.” I met her gaze. “And the last time I’ve seen her.”

Tabby finished her coffee. “I should thank you. Not every guy is willing to bring a girl home out of the goodness of his heart.”

“I wasn’t exactly innocent.”

She laughed. “No, you were being good. I was the aggressor.”

“That’s true.” I crossed my arms over my chest. She stood and took her cup to the sink, to wash it out before setting it on the drying rack. I took the time to appreciate the shape of her legs in her jeans, the curve of her hips. I licked my lips. That nagging nature. I hadn’t really been around people like this in a long while. I probably still shouldn’t have been.

We went to the den again to settle in front of the TV and held hands. As the blinds pinked with sunrise, we both fell asleep, as if we’d always done that. It felt comfortable, normal even.

* * * *

The next night, I ventured out for a trip to the liquor store to stock her cabinet with the one of the things I did drink. She frowned in disapproval, but soon realized I wasn’t like Arturo, who had just fallen off the map. He never called again or came to get his things.

Spending one night turned into three. Three nights turned into a full week. She worked at the gas station on the edge of town, and when she was gone, I’d sit around on my ass, drink and watch movies. It was a good place for me to hang out beside Pale Rider. I still showed up to do bass for Crooked Fang, but I guess it had slid down my priority list because afterward, I hightailed it back to her place, barely even acknowledging people when they tried to stop me on my way out the door. I felt like I had to protect Tabby, especially from her ex-boyfriend. Arturo’s silence irked me, but it was really her deal. It wasn’t like we were dating. I cared for her as a really good friend. Maybe with a few benefits on the side, but I didn’t see any harm in having a little fun.

* * * *

It wasn’t all that surprising when she started dropping hints about two months after meeting each other. Her friends had boyfriends that bought them flowers.

“It’s just so sweet how he buys her roses, for no reason at all.” She lay beside me one morning, playing with my hair as I watched the ceiling fan spin. “Isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“I like flowers.”

I smiled. Girls were crafty. “I’m just a bass player. I couldn’t afford to buy you flowers anyway.”

She threw her leg over me and buried her face in my armpit.

“Hey, no need to hide in there.” I pulled her away and put my arm around her instead.

“The hair tickles my nose anyway.”

“Well yeah, I’m a guy.”

“Yeah, but you smell better than most guys. Most guys smell all funky and sweaty, and you never do. It’s nice.”

“I take a shower every day, Tab.”

She rose up on her hands, a smile plastered across those undeniably cute features. “I love it when you call me Tab. People have called me Tabby or Beth, but not Tab. It sounds like a soda pop.”

“Not cherry pop I hope.” I ducked as she swung a pillow at my face, laughing.

The subject of commitment forgotten, she cuddled against me and eventually drifted off to sleep. I lay there thinking for a while, stroking her hair away from her face, and listening to her blood plod through her veins as her heart slowed in slumber. She was really interested in me. I couldn’t give her anything but heartache.

I slid out from under her leg and threw my shirt back on. I was a goddamned vampire, not some nice boy who lived down the street. And she was getting attached. I looked at her, lying on her side. She was a sweet thing. But I wasn’t the one for her. I switched off the bedside lamp and let myself out of the house, turning the thumb lock before shutting the door. After another bout of hesitation in the car while I smoked a cigarette, I left.

Maybe I was trying to escape by going around in circles. Something held me there in that sleepy village, whether it was Scott or Charlie or–I just didn’t know. Pinecliffe was a gorgeous area, only a few miles away from Denver, but light-years away from the big-city vibe. People knew one another. There was the big reservoir lake and national  forest. But that late at night, the road was mine. The snow glittered in spots along the highway from the dappled shine of the moon overhead. I turned up Tool on the radio, one of my favorites, Flood. A fitting song for my state of mind, because I felt like I was treading water, looking for higher ground. At the same time, I wanted to let go, and drown myself in whatever it was I was supposed to be. So there I was, running away like a punk. But it was easy to convince myself that I was doing the right thing. All I needed was my music, a little drink and my car.

I loved my RS. Dad had bought it off another guy whose son decided to rag the shit out of it and got it taken away from him as punishment. We worked on it together, me and my dad, bonding over rebuilding the blown engine. It took a while to accomplish as he made me pay for most of the parts. When it was done, I had a fine-looking car. Fast too.

Charlie was in the garage when I arrived back at Pale Rider. He liked to pretend to tinker with an old neon-green Dodge Challenger he’d won in a poker game however many years ago. I caught him staring into the engine compartment. Two space heaters flanked his feet.

He wiped his hands on a grease rag and smiled at me. “Always out all night, boy. Gone for days. Come in with the sun. Unless you got your show to do.”

“You’re up late yourself.” I leaned against the doorframe and twirled my key ring on a finger.

“Just woke up. Figured I’d come out here for a while. Where you been?”

I shrugged. “Around.”

“Young and wild. I remember those days.”

“Charlie, you remember the Eisenhower Administration.”

“Ayuh, I do that there.”

I lit a cigarette as he slammed the Dodge’s hood shut.

“I guess I’m done for now. Beer delivery come tomorrow.” He threw the rag on the workbench. “Think I’ll be out with Linda. Judging by how late it is, I imagine you’ll be still ’sleep when the truck comes in.”

“Darrell can unload the kegs if I leave him a note.” My guitarist drank almost as heavily as me. Chances were he’d be battling a hangover but, oh well.

“That’ll be fine. Make sure he clears the drive before it come.” Charlie looked like a shadow himself. One the moon could shine on. I left him standing there and went inside.

The tables had already been moved back where they belonged in front of the stage area. A little twinge of guilt stabbed me in the brain because Charlie had probably ended up doing it himself, since I was off with some girlfriend, as he said. That word wasn’t in my vocabulary. But that was just how I was. I didn’t compromise for anyone. She should’ve known. Yeah.

Since there wasn’t anything pressing to do at four in the morning, I went up the stairs to my room. Serv’s door was standing open, and he had some Bon Jovi going while he scribbled, hunched over a spiral notebook. He listened to all kinds of music so he could sing their songs. He could emulate like a hundred famous voices.

“Hey. Back for a while?” He looked up from his notes. The station switched to an old Slayer song from the radio on his nightstand.

I paused at his doorway. “For a bit, yeah. Why? What’s up?”

He rose to his feet and wobbled unsteadily. He’d been drinking heavily. I could tell, both from his diesel breath and the way he leaned on the bed for balance.

“Good, I wanted to talk to you about Crooked Fang.” He sat on the edge of the bed and reached for a smoke, lighting it with a chrome Zippo. My chrome Zippo, I noted, but said nothing. In this place, stuff just ended up wherever. As long as it stayed in the building I didn’t give a shit.

“What about it?” Every time any of them wanted to talk about “the band” it was usually some nut job idea to take it to the next level, and I was so over having to tell them to back down again and again.

“Elaine’s been talking to a friend. Real cool guy from Jersey. He has a label, likes my singing.”

“No.”

“But Elaine says we have the talent. I mean I’ve written some songs if you wanted to try.”

“I said, no.” I couldn’t help but look like the asshole. It was always the pushing, the wanting to be fucking famous. I’d gone through it with Darrell when he’d joined our band, replacing Jason, who’d finally got his shit together and started community college at the ripe age of twenty-six. And now Serv? He knew exactly why I wasn’t interested. I had to feed the other guys a line, but Serv was aware that as vampires we couldn’t just go out there and perform in strange towns where we were at the mercy of our environment. I’d thought he was smarter than that. “We’re a cover band. For Pale Rider. A house band. Just a novelty.”

“But we could be so much more.” His face held stubborn hope, like I’d suddenly change my mind after years of denying growth. He picked up a bottle of Smirnoff from the table beside his bed and took a drink.

“Crooked Fang stays in Pinecliffe. You want to tour and get famous? You’ll have to do it on your own.”

“We could at least perform original material.”

“No goddammit, and that’s final. I don’t want to be famous, and honestly, neither should you.”

Serv’s face darkened into a scowl.

I stepped into his room and shut the door behind me. “Look. We’re outsiders. It’s just the nature of the beast. Being what we are makes us permanently not a part of everything else. We can’t stick our necks out too far because people like to probe, and will start asking questions. It’s our responsibility to keep our real identities secret. To hide them from the living.”

“Fuck that shit.” He could get really loud. “Who are you to tell me what I can or can’t do?”

“It’s not just me, you know that. There’s others out there like us.” He didn’t know what I had done before I came to Pinecliffe. How I killed little shits just like him that couldn’t seem to keep their mouths shut and endangered the rest of the bloodsuckers. “Elaine’s bad for you. You’re talking to her too much about shit she doesn’t need to be involved in.”

“Well maybe I’m ready for a more permanent kind of company.” He rose to his feet and paced the floor like a panther in a cage at the circus. “Maybe I’m ready to leave the nest and realize my potential. My full potential.”

I gaped. What he was suggesting was dangerous. “Serv, she’s human. And you’re just a youngblood yourself. You’re not ready for the responsibilities of making another, let alone strong enough to have it not fail horribly. Do you realize how stupid you sound?”

“Stupid? What about what I want, huh Xan?” He flung the bottle sideways. The glass smashed, spilling vodka all over the wall and floor. “What about my future, since I have so much of it ahead of me? Huh, Xan? How about that?”

I wanted to knock him down. The temper tantrum he’d thrown had left a nice-sized dent in the plaster. The room reeked of vodka. His eyes were wild and dark, and he bared his fangs at me. His shirt hung open. He was in a bad way. He stepped up to me, which was almost funny since he was a foot shorter than me.

I glared down at him. “If you take Elaine, you’re done here.”

“Fuck you. Crooked Fang is nothing without me.”

“I’m pretty sure I could replace you.” I snatched him up by his shirt with a snarl, and lifted him to his toes. “After all, I found you, didn’t I?”

“You can’t replace me.” He squirmed in my grasp and I pitched him on the bed, capable of much more but holding back in hopes of getting through to him.

“You’re brand new at this.” I started to leave but he charged at me. I caught him by his wrist and folded it up high behind his back.

“Hey!”

I spun him around and shoved his face into the nearest wall. He was pushing buttons he didn’t want to mess with. “You take Elaine now, and she’ll be worthless and completely dependent on you for a decade at least. You haven’t got a fucking clue about yourself, let alone caring for a brand-new make. Listen to yourself. What you’re suggesting is madness.”

He spat a glob of blood on the wall, and it dripped down. He must’ve bitten his tongue. “I’m going to New England. Elaine and I will form a new group. You can fucking have Crooked Fang.”

“Don’t you tell her what I am,” I growled in his ear then released him. “I’ll be telling Charlie we’re looking for a new vocalist. You’ve got three days to clear the fuck out of here.” I snatched open the door, nearly tearing it off its hinges, and left before I ended up caving his forehead in.