Chapter 3

 

In reality, I didn’t know what I’d do. With Serv fired and a show scheduled for the weekend, the band was in a pickle. Tabby had tried to reach me a couple of times but I didn’t take any of her calls. I had no gas to drive around, so I just kind of sat and plucked strings downstairs at my usual table in the corner. Charlie noticed my black mood and sat with me for a few minutes while I filled him in on Serv’s outburst.

“He wantin’ fame. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.” He pulled off his fedora, set it on the table then polished the wood with his ever-present rag.

“Yeah, but he’s going about it the wrong way. Why can’t he just be happy doing his thing here? What’s the big deal about going someplace else and being a big star?”

Charlie stopped wiping the table and gave me a long hard look. “I’m surprised at you, boy. You act like you so damn old. Don’t you have a dream?”

“My dreams are dead.” I lit a cigarette and slouched in my chair. Positive thinking. Whatevs. Any hope I had was washed away two days before my twenty-eighth birthday. There was no dreaming allowed anymore.

Charlie scowled, a rare expression for him. “So damn negative. You think I’d bought this place if I just said fuck it, I’m out of the Army, I’ll just sit around on my ass? No, I fought for this place, boy. I followed my dreams of having a good place where people of all colors could come and have a good time.” He turned in his chair, gestured to the bar room and grinned. “Now look at it. It’s a happy place.”

“Yeah, until we get onstage and start playing metal music.”

“It’s still a happy place. People come to get away from things here. They come in after work and play those pinball games. Or maybe they play darts with they buddies. People have they first dates here. I seen it. The way I figure, it’s better to just be happy and let life do as it will.”

“Don’t worry, man, I’ll find another vocalist. ’Til then, I’ll see if he’ll do this weekend show with us at least.” I lit a cigarette and blew smoke to the side, a half-assed show of respect.

“You pretend to be all business, but you a good boy, Xan. You just gotta realize that although you think it’s over, it ain’t over. It ain’t ever over ’til you’re dead, and you’re not dead.”

I snorted smoke and bit my lip to keep from laughing. “Right.”

Charlie got up from my table and went back to the bar, leaving me alone to think. There wasn’t much I could do really, except wait and see.

Early the next morning, I was digging for another bottle behind the bar when Serv showed up again, drunk as fuck, thankfully with no Elaine in sight. Having forgotten his key, he had to beat on the door until I let him in. Without so much as a thank-you, he brushed past me and staggered toward the stairs, tripping on the second step.

“What happened to you?” Hell, I’d fallen up those stairs more than once. He ignored me, so I followed him. He stood there, trembling, staring at his closed door. A 9mm pistol was clutched tightly in his hand. I threw open his door and shoved him inside, gun or no gun. Arguing was one thing. Bringing a gun home was another. Did he even know how to shoot that thing? I thought of my two Taurus Trackers hidden in the trunk of my RS along with a pair of handcuffs, which I had sorely been tempted to use on him more than once. I knew how to shoot, but was out of that business. I didn’t need to carry guns anymore...well, up until lately.

He turned and aimed that thing in my face, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “You ruined my chance.” 

“What chance? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“With Elaine.” He talked through gritted teeth, slurring the words.

I stared down the barrel of that gun, knowing he’d shoot me point-blank in the face. It’d hurt, oh hell yeah, but I’d probably survive. I’d recover, and then I would hunt him down and fucking destroy him.

“You really don’t want to do that.” I held my hands out to my sides for his protection, not mine. Once I had been pushed beyond tolerance was when shit went bad and filled my mind with nothing but angry hissing static. Like hundreds of pissed-off snakes. The monster inside me would wake up.

“Why not?” His voice was escalating. “You’re nothing, Xan. Nothing without me and Crooked Fang. Just a has-been drunk ass loser that knows two chords.”

“Bitch, I am Crooked Fang.” Black acid dumped into my veins. Embers of resentment ignited into warning flames. “It’d be a real good idea for you to shut the fuck up and get out before I end your ass.”

He was feeling bad for himself, but I was the wrong fucker to take it out on. Charlie was wrong about Serv. He wasn’t just looking to follow his dreams. He wanted to fuck with everyone else’s. He was wild, inexperienced and he’d end up causing a bunch of trouble for me and the rest of the band.

His aim wavered so I grabbed him by the wrist to disarm him before flipping him over my back. He landed hard on the floor and glared up at me. I dropped down on him, pinning him there with a knee to the chest and tossed the gun on the bed.

“It’s always you, it’s always about you.” I’d knocked the wind out of him, so he couldn’t yell at me at least. “Crooked Fang is going down without me.” He bared his fangs.

“Don’t do this, Serv.” I’d hurt him bad if he drove me to it.

“Don’t do what? You tell me that you can replace me. You tell me I can’t have a companion, like you have Tabby. You tell me what to do like I’m yours!”

“Tabby? What are you talking about? If you were mine, I’d have killed you by now, you little shit. Now, shut the fuck up.” I kept my voice low. “Listen, I know you’re lost. I know you’re scared.”

“You don’t know shit.” He sprayed spittle, but his fury was nearly spent, having burned all his energy out on being angry at the wrong person. “I don’t have friends to back my ass up. And now I’m homeless again. I’ve got nothing. I don’t even have Elaine.”

“Dude, you can stay, okay? Just tell me what happened. Tell me what you told Elaine.”

“I tried to do it.” He relaxed, so I released him from under my weight. He scrambled sideways from under me and wrapped his arms around his legs, dropping his forehead to his knees.

“You tried what? Making her? Talk to me, Serv.”

“No.” He shook his head and looked up at me with tears streaming down his cheeks. “I couldn’t. She has all these ideas, and she’s so beautiful, and I love her, and I can’t take that away from her. I can’t make her like me.”

“I understand, man. You know I do. Why do you think I stay here? To be close to them. To be close to people and feel like I’m part of something.”

He looked at me, tears threatening to fall. “We’re not part of anything but death.”

“We can be, yes. But here, we’re safe. We can play our music, and do what we enjoy for a little while.”

“A little while...”

I gave him my hand. After a few moments’ hesitation, he took it and allowed me to pull him to his feet. “Yeah. A little while. It’s all about keeping occupied, get it?” I nodded toward the wall and the broken glass. “It smells like a fucking distillery in here. Clean that shit up. And get yourself together. We got a show tomorrow night.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be. I know this shit isn’t easy, but I will tell you, the next time you stick a gun in my face I’ll break your fucking legs for you.”

He nodded quickly and picked up a half-filled garbage bag to start cleaning the mess he’d left the night before. I left him to it and went outside to chill out.

The cold air helped clear my head a little, but I’d nearly lost my temper again. Being the older of us two, I needed to get that shit under control. Whether he admitted it, he needed guidance. I couldn’t hope to help him if I let him set me off with just words and a gun pointed in my face. So, Serv was staying, which meant we could go on with Crooked Fang, which was somewhat of a relief. Maybe the reason he struck a chord in me was because he reminded me too much of what I’d tried to forget for years. The bitter resentment at being changed into something else against my will. Shoved into an existence I never wanted. Everything here–Crooked Fang, Charlie, even Pale Rider–was temporary. Our “little while.” But we’d go on. We’d go on and on and on, and I was scared of that kind of future.

* * * *

Weeks passed without repercussion from killing Freddie, and no more vamp-killers came around. Still, I worried. And I felt bad. After all that justification, I didn’t like the fact that I had been pushed into violence. I knew I was a vampire, but aside from isolated incidences, I didn’t feel like a monster. I did laundry. I cleaned the bar. Monsters didn’t clean or fix plumbing or help some old man heft kegs. I still resented Freddie labeling me as something that didn’t care. And it bothered me that over twenty-five years as a bloodsucker, I did still care.

Charlie kept me busy, and the rest of the time I focused on music. I wanted to call Tabby and explain why I’d just kind of gone away. She finally had stopped calling. A little tinge of guilt struck me, especially how I’d just kind of freaked out at the thought of committing to anyone, so I used the phone at the bar just to see how she was getting on and whether she’d mind if I stopped by to visit so we could talk.

“Nice of you to finally call back.” Her voice was snappy and sharp, tinged with a hint of sarcasm.

“I’m sorry, Tab. I wanted to explain why, but I just got busy. And you seem busy too.”

“I have to work to live, Xan, and I’ve waited for you to call me.” She sighed. “I have to tell you about something anyways. Come on over when you find the time.” She hung up.

“Your lady friend mad at you, boy?” Charlie was standing in front of me.

I lit a cigarette and rubbed my face. “I have no goddamn idea. Probably. She has a good right to be.”

“When’s the last time you went over there?”

I shrugged. “A month? I don’t remember. And now she says she wants to tell me something. Should I be afraid? Because I am.”

Charlie laughed. “That’s the beauty of women. They leave it up to us to do the guessing game.”

“Why can’t they just make sense like everybody else?” I tapped my ashes in the ashtray.

“Like men, you mean.”

“Well, yeah.”

Charlie pulled a ring of keys out of his pocket to open the register. He opened a roll of quarters and dumped them into the tray. “Because then life would be far too predictable. You gotta have some action somewhere...”

“I get plenty of action as is.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Not that kind of action. Go on and see what she want. It can’t be all that bad.”

I shook my head and left him there to go upstairs and get my jacket. Pale Rider would be opening soon but it wasn’t a night Crooked Fang played, so I had the time to go over to Tabby’s house. Besides, it was eating at me why she sounded so annoyed. Okay, besides me taking off in the middle of the night and not calling for a while and–

I had a life too, damnit.

* * * *

The light in the kitchen was the only one on when I pulled the RS into her drive. A light flurry of snowflakes swirled around in my headlights. I sat there for a minute to think about how to explain why I’d left. What I was going to do next. She felt entitled to time I wasn’t willing to give. The freezing air blasted me when I got out, whipping my hair around and wailing in my ears. It looked like more snow was headed our way, judging by the bruised and starless night sky. Even the moon was hidden. I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets, and went to her door.

She was already waiting for me and flipped the light on when I stepped up on the porch. Her mouth was set in a thin line and her eyes weren’t right either. I don’t know how to describe it. Hell, she looked pissed, maybe even hurt. I deserved it, so I greeted her with my usual bear hug. She didn’t return it, just patted my back like I was a stranger and stepped away to let me come in. She hadn’t dyed her hair lately–the blue was faded and she was showing about an inch of dark roots.

“Hey.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“Hey.” She shoved the door shut and slipped past me like a ghost. Her voice was soft, and it was weird.

“Got a guest somewhere?” I thought maybe somebody was sleeping.

“Just you.”

I followed her into the den and we sat together on the sofa, at opposite ends. The TV was off. I could hear the clock ticking in the kitchen. She was dressed in pale blue pajamas with little sheep printed on them that doubled as clouds. She wasn’t tearing off my clothes or yelling at me for being away so long without word. I expected more out of her and raised an eyebrow in suspicion. She fiddled with the fringe on a burnt-orange throw pillow and avoided my gaze. I moved it and scooted up next to her to take her hand in mine.

She stared at our laced fingers in her lap. “What do you think of me, Xan?”

I frowned. We were friends for sure, but anything past that I still wasn’t looking to get into. “I like you, Tab. You know that.” Not exactly what I wanted to say, but it was an automatic response. Well, partially because I really did like her, as long as she just let shit be and enjoyed time with me.

“You do? That’s cool.”

Cool? At times like those I wished I had the magic vampire mind-reading capabilities. Of course if I did, I’d probably understand women better too. We sat there for a few more minutes staring at the blank television screen like two teens before prom in their parents’ parlor.

“What’s up, Tab?”

“I don’t know if I should tell you.” She was baiting me, had to be.

I waited it out as long as I could before worry overcame stubbornness. “Tell me what?”

Tears spilled down her cheeks and she gave a deep, shuddery sigh. Concerned, I pulled her to my chest and rubbed her back while she bawled into my leather jacket. Unsure of what else to do, I let her have a good cry, and afterward she raised her head and looked up at me with a trembling lip. “Last time you were here, I was waiting for my period to show up.”

“Your period.”

“Yeah.” Her voice wavered, making her words hard to understand. “Xan, I’m late.”

“Late for what?”

I hadn’t had to deal with that shit in almost three decades, so I wasn’t really thinking along the right lines. But those weren’t words I wanted to hear when seeing a girl before I became a vampire. They didn’t mean late for a class or an appointment. “Late” to a woman was a very important thing.

“My period.” The sharp edge crept into her tone.

“Are you sick?” Yes, I was stupid. I didn’t have to think about using protection or worry about pulling out in time.

“No, you jerk. I took a pregnancy test. It came out positive.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? Oh! Is that all you say, is oh?” She jumped to her feet with a scalding glare and it finally dawned on me.

Oh, hell fucking no.

“If you think I’m the daddy, you’re wrong.” I stood.

She took my hand and pulled me to her with hope pasted on her face. Cute. Definitely the ultimate woman’s weapon.

“What do you mean? You were the one I’ve been with–”

“Yeah, I was and no, Tab. You see, it’s physically impossible for me to get you pregnant.”

“What do you mean?” She dropped my hand. I could almost hear her bubble bursting.

“I’m sterile.” I hoped that’d be the end of it. I felt bad anyway. The girl was probably hoping the guy that actually treated her decent would be The One, but I had to turn her on to some truths. Last thing I needed was some weird baby-drama where I ended up on the Jerry Springer Show, defending myself while an audience full of pissed-off feminists booed me and told her she didn’t have to put up with my shit, girl. I wasn’t getting roped into responsibility for some other fuckhead’s cock-up. She was sleeping around–it was simple as that. Was I disappointed? Not really. It wasn’t like I was her boyfriend.

“Maybe you’re not anymore.” She was about to cry again. I could tell by her reaction to my answer that she’d planned on this working. She needed it to work. What was the alternative? “Maybe you’re okay now...how did you get sterile anyway? Did you have a vasectomy or something?”

“I just am.”

“But are you sure?”

I snorted. “Oh yeah. I’m positively, absolutely, without-a-doubt-in-the-world-sure.” She was not going to fucking give up. I couldn’t take a paternity test. I needed to stay the hell away from doctors and especially blood tests, for obvious reasons.

“But how? How the hell do you know? Have you been tested? How are you so fucking sure, Xan?” She clutched my jacket with both hands, shouting at me. Sure, I could’ve lied some more. I could have made up some fantastic-yet-tragic story about a freak accident involving a dinner fork, a malfunctioning microwave and my balls. But I didn’t. My back was against the wall. Tabby was the type of woman that would never give up until she had proof. Ever ever ever. Could I trust her? I gave a deep sigh and poked my tongue with a fang.

“If I tell you why, I’m going to be breaking a very important rule.”

“What, are you some kind of illegal alien? In the Mafia?”

“How in the hell would either of those make me sterile?”

She went quiet and we engaged in a staredown contest for about a half-minute.

“I don’t get why you can’t give me a simple explanation. Or accept your responsibility. Or at least take a test to be sure. Does being a father scare you?”

I laughed. “No. It wouldn’t. In fact, it’d be great. If I could. I really wish you wouldn’t push the issue, Tab.”

“I deserve a straight answer.” Her blue eyes did not waver. “Please. Just once.”

I think that if she’d used the words “trust me” I wouldn’t have told her. “If I tell you, it has to stay between you and me. No one else can know. Not your mom, not your best friend, nobody.”

“Jesus.” She shook her head. “What reason could be that horrible? Of course I won’t tell anybody else. Just answer the question. Why shouldn’t I force you to take a blood test?”

“Because Tabby, I’m not human anymore. I haven’t been for years. I’m a fucking vampire.”

She stared at me then threw her head back and laughed, letting me go. “A real vampire. Xan Marcelles, of all the bullshit you can feed me to shrug off responsibility–”

“No, Tab, I really am.”

“A bass-playing, groupie-fucking Dracula.”

“Ha! I seem to remember you taking advantage of me that first night–”

“How dare you!”

“–but yeah. Undead. Blood drinker. Vampire.”

She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand and squared her shoulders. “I don’t believe you. Prove it.”

“Well you’ve seen my fangs...”

“Dentists make those for a hundred bucks. What else do you have?”

“Tell me when you’ve ever seen me in the sun.”

“You’ve worked on Charlie’s truck before during the day. You go outside and smoke here in the daytime.”

“Yeah, in the shade. I just can’t let direct sunlight hit me else I get burned and probably would poof into a pile of ash or something.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “What? You don’t know?”

“No, Tab. How in the hell would I know without trying it? I’ve been burned before by the sun. That was enough encouragement to avoid further experimentation. I can die, you know. I’d prefer not to go out on fucking fire.”

She hugged herself and trained her gaze on the carpet. “I can’t believe this.”

I sighed through my nose, annoyed that I was being forced to prove shit that she shouldn’t even be privy to in the first place. I felt like such a dumbass, but she’d already stuck her foot in the door and pried open my true self. I’d told her my biggest secret and now she wanted proof besides? Fine.

Without another word, I went to the kitchen. She appeared in the doorway while I was rummaging through her silverware drawer.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Gonna show you.” I snatched a black-handled steak knife from the tangled mess I’d made of the contents and slammed it shut. Her eyes widened at the potential weapon and she shrieked.

“I’m not going to hurt you, fucksake. Calm the hell down, woman.”

I peeled off my jacket and let it drop at my feet. With my gaze locked to hers, I drew the blade deep through the muscle of my forearm, teeth gritted as the blood began to flow. If I hadn’t been so mad, I’m pretty sure it’d have hurt even more, but I wasn’t about to show her that it did. And it was fucking excruciating, seriously. For just a minute before my body did its thing and started to repair itself, I dimly realized just how much I took that ability for granted.

She started to hyperventilate. “You’re...you’re fucking crazy. I’m calling the police right...” Her words dropped off as she watched what had been a nasty gash begin to heal. My dark blood plopped into the stainless-steel sink–the only sound in those moments. Cautious, she inched forward, undeniably compelled to bear witness to the impossible. I licked the blood off my arm and then my lips.

It was a confession of the worst kind–to try to convince her that not only was I a monster thought to be imaginary, but also that I wasn’t going to hurt her, no matter what I was. I could almost see her struggling with her human sensibilities, but I kept my resolve. “You’ve been fucking someone else, Tab.”

I had no problem with her sleeping around. We weren’t dating, but the fact that she’d tried to pin something that big on me, hoping I’d be some ignorant scapegoat, pissed me off.

Her mouth opened and closed like a landed fish’s. “There wasn’t any commitment between you and me.” She held her arms tightly crossed over her chest. Tears flowed again. “I just wasn’t sure about you, and he was there and...you’re a goddamned vampire? A fucking vampire?”

“Apparently.” I turned the water on to rinse the knife off and to wash my blood down the drain. On my forearm, the gash was nothing but a red line. It’d be gone in a week.

“Now you see why I couldn’t tell you. And now, I’ve put myself at risk because I have told you.” I was the biggest dumbass on the planet.

“How do I know I’m even safe around you? I mean, here I am scared as shit because I don’t know what to do with a baby, and the other part is very much ‘what the fuck’ at what you just told me.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “If you were anybody else, I’d be scared of you too. But you helped me.”

Her face was unreadable and I wasn’t sure what she was going to do next. “Uh...thank you? Look, I know it’s hard to swallow. And scary. But I am what I am, and nothing’s gonna change that. And you’re gonna have to accept the fact that it’s about all I will tell you.” I leaned over the counter. “Now. You need to think hard about who else you’ve been with.” 

“I asked him first...he said he was using a condom. He used a condom. I know he did.” She bawled a little and I waited while it died down to a bout of sniffles. “If he finds out about this, I don’t know what he’ll do.”

Fuck. I was still stuck with this mess. I growled and picked up my jacket. I didn’t want to care. I wanted to leave, but the threats worried me. Damnit. “Who’s the daddy, Tab?” I stood in front of her.

“Don’t hurt him.” Her eyes were wide and wild with terror as she backed up a step. 

I gripped her chin between my fingers and lifted it to get her to look at me. The look in her eyes was awful. Like frightened prey. The predator in me was attracted to that in a very bad way. I needed to get the fuck out of there.

“It’s Arturo, isn’t it?” I dared her to cover for his ass some more. Maybe I was just a little offput by the fact that she would rather pin a baby on me than turn that motherfucker in.

She froze for about a minute then slowly nodded before erupting in a fresh river of tears.

“Tell me where he stays.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” Her chin quivered in my fingers. “Tell me, Tab.”

She rattled off the location and I let her go. “Thank you.” I walked towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To set his ass straight and to make sure he never even thinks about lifting a hand to you again. And to congratulate him on being a father.” I gave her the best smile I could muster and noticed her gaze was locked on my mouth, probably because the fangs were no longer a novelty. “It’s time for you to trust me. Can you trust me?”

Seconds ticked by on the kitchen clock like heartbeats and I was losing patience. Then she blinked and exhaled softly. “Okay.”

“Good.” I gave her one last look before I walked out her door.

* * * *

Arturo’s grandmother lived in an older Victorian-style neighborhood off Highway 91, between the old mining ghost town Climax and Leadville. A two-hour ride took a little over an hour, which was crazy with how twisty that road was. Bikers loved that route for summertime runs. It was gorgeous out there, with the Rocky Mountains rising out of the ground like half-asleep giants. With valleys and twisting rivers and streams, it was almost a living body, lying there, resting. The sky yawned wide overhead as I shot through the night, fast enough to notice, but too quick to see. The speedometer danced close to triple-digits every time the road straightened out a little.

I was pissed, partially at her for sticking me in that situation, but mostly at myself for being a big ass hypocrite. From the first bite that made me a vampire, it was pounded into my head that we could not tell any living being what we were. I’d been sent after violators of my kind. And now, including Scott, I’d told two living persons. I might as well have written it on the nightly specials sign at Pale Rider:

Ladies–No cover. Two-dollar domestic longnecks. Oh, and Xan Marcelles is an immortal bloodsucker.

I’d even put Serv at risk, because she didn’t have to be a genius to assume if there was one vampire, there could be two. We could be easily identified by the pointy teeth. Fuck. To tell the truth, I was looking forward to knocking Arturo down a few notches in the name of aggression-relief.

The house looked too neat, at first glance, to be some place a punk like Arturo would stay at. It was a tall, pointed, pale-yellow home with cheerful scalloping under the eaves. But on closer inspection, I noticed the white pit bull on a length of thick chain, dozing under the long porch. An upside-down bicycle missing a tire and the seat. Old rags draped over the banister.

I parked a distance away, hugging the RS against a curb. The neighborhood was quiet, but thanks to being a vampire, I could hear Brujeria, an extreme metal band from Tijuana, playing while I stood in front of the house there on the sidewalk. Yeah, he was there. There was no car in the driveway, but it could have been in the detached garage.

As I approached the house, the dog snapped against its chain and erupted into a volley of sharp barks. It had a spot over one eye and reminded me of that old beer mascot, Spuds Mackenzie. That dog didn’t like me one bit.

“Shut up.” The canine sat back on its haunches and whined softly, licking its muzzle as I went through the front gate. But even if Martinez didn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground, he’d be aware someone was outside his house that Spuds didn’t recognize. Consequently, the lights went out in the front windows and the door opened as I stepped up on the porch. The matte-black muzzle of a GLOCK-9 stuck out from the semidarkness beyond it.

“You got five seconds to ’splain why you here, man.” Weak light silhouetted him from behind, but I recognized him as the man I was after.

“Tabitha Cole.” I grinned. The gun was jerked out of my face and the door swung open, exposing Arturo in faded jeans, a wifebeater and bare feet. He worked out–it was obvious by the way dozens of tattoos of religious icons and girls’ names rippled over his muscles. Idly, I wondered what his grandmother thought of him.

“What the fuck about Tabitha?” His face was twisted into a cruel sneer but his pulse was fleeting like a rabbit’s. He was scared of me being there at his house.

“Let’s talk inside.” I brushed past his glare and watched as he shut and locked the door behind us.

“I know you.” He gripped his gun tightly, and I had no doubt he’d have no problem raising it again to fire on me.

“Yeah, I threw your dumb ass out of Pale Rider once.”

“Why are you here? I should shoot you in your fucking face, bass player.”

I smiled. “At least you got it right this time. I’m sorry we keep meeting under shitty circumstances.”

“Besame el cul.”

He wasn’t going to be reasonable, that much was apparent. “I intend to do way more than kiss your ass, ese. I intend to plant a foot in it, because there’s a girl that’s fucking knocked up, scared and out of options. And guess who Daddy is?”

“You got no proof, man.” He nodded at me once. “Who’s to say it ain’t fucking yours, huh? You been fucking her, Marcelles?”

I sighed through my nose before I shoved him back into the wall hard enough to crack the plaster. He hesitated–enough for me to wrangle the gun out of his grip and toss it over the back of the sofa, where it landed with a soft thump.

“Good. You remember my name. Now you know who did this.” I punched him across the jaw, knocking his head back into the wall.

“What the fuck? I told you, you got no proof!”

“All I need is her word. And yeah, I’ve been doing her. And no, it ain’t mine.”

“You been doing her–what? How?”

“You’re nothing but an ex, payaso. One with some responsibilities to address.”

“I’ll kill the bitch first,” he said with a daring leer, and I slammed my fist into his teeth. He whipped around, so I threw him on the floor and hit him again, straddling his body. I could have finished him easily, but he wasn’t worth the trouble. He curled up into a ball, and I stopped, realizing that I wasn’t being any better. Beating on a weaker being in anger. It wasn’t my style. I’d fucked up with Freddie. I wasn’t burying another body. I rose to my feet.

“Stay away from her if you don’t want to claim responsibility. Or I’ll find you. I’ll hunt you down and make this look like a cuddle.”

He groaned and shifted in response, but it was enough. He’d heard me. I left him there on the floor, cradling his bleeding face. The scent of it was driving me nuts.

By the time I got back to the car I was nearly blind with the need for blood. It was on my knuckles from where I’d hit him. I sat in the driver’s seat with my hands on the wheel and stared at it for a minute before licking it. The dim tingle was all I needed. I couldn’t return to Tabby like this. She’d be all worried about me and close and...

I fled his neighborhood and drove into Frisco to hit the first bar I could find. I was fiending and wasn’t really in a state where I could be patient and sweet-talk some cute chick into an alley or a dark corner. The violence had kick-started something I had to quell. I bit the inside of my cheek as I flipped my wallet open to show my ID at the door.

The place was big. High open ceilings with the typical Colorado-style exposed rafters going on and bare concrete floors. Four pool tables to the left of the door. Bar on the right that ran pretty much the length of the room. It was crowded, but a waitress paused in front of me, a short little thing, blonde with shiny pink lipstick.

“Can I get you started on something?”

I blinked and thought better of telling her what I’d love for her to get me started on. “I’m good for now, thanks.”

“Okay, well the bar is busy, so when you’re ready you’ll have to be patient.” She eyed my leather jacket and black t-shirt underneath. I realized that people here were dressed a little nicer than I’d usually find at some shitty tavern on the edge of some Podunk town. Smells of cheeseburgers and spicy fries hung in the air, along with the earthy scent of microbrew beer. I headed back to the restrooms. My appetite was busy commanding my feet to take my fangs to an artery, stat.

A three-guy line waited outside the men’s room, which probably meant there weren’t like fifty stalls. I breezed past the drinkers and reached the door just as it opened. A surprised dude of about twenty-five met my hand with his face as I shoved him back into the bathroom and locked the door behind us.

“Who the fuck are you?” He backed against the wall to the right of the john. I said nothing, just took him in my arms and sank my fangs deep into his throat. The hunger was bad, but I dutifully counted off twelve seconds as the precious blood washed over my tongue and filled my veins with a massive surge of relief. It was like a drug, quieting the pain of being a vampire. A quick shot of oh hell yeah. A little bit of my blood spilled over the punctures to hide the evidence. He slumped against me and I let him down to the floor easy. The vampire voodoo would wear off in a minute or two. While he sat there all happy and relaxed, I turned to the sink to wash my hands of the rest of Arturo’s blood. My face glared at me from the mirror. The startling silver in my eyes faded quickly to the usual stormy gray. I frowned at myself, brows knitting.

Bad Xan.

Someone was pounding on the door. I turned and helped the dude rise to his feet and he just gaped at me.

“You passed out.” I shrugged, smiled and opened the door to a line of angry males in very dire need to take a piss. His blood zigzagged through my veins, restoring rational thought. I pushed past the dudes and through the bar out onto the sidewalk again. Once outside, I broke into a run back to my car before anyone decided to follow.

Back out on the road, I cranked up some old metal, Megadeth’s Killing Is My Business, slapping the steering wheel and laughing like a maniac. Blood made me feel so awesome, why I waited until it was absolutely necessary was stupid, but when I drank it I felt like a motherfucking god.

High on stolen life and loud, hard riffs with Dave’s snarling lyrics, I felt better. And like a dumb shit, I went back to Tabby’s house.

She greeted me with open arms, wanting to hear where I’d gone, what I’d done. She’d been crying again. “I thought you wouldn’t come back.”

I hugged her and stroked her hair. “I don’t think Art will be bothering you again. If he does, you tell me.”

“What happened?”

I shook my head and took off my jacket to lay it across the arm of the adjacent chair. I wanted to bathe first. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Did you hurt him?”

“A little.” I went into the bathroom, started the shower and stripped off my shirt. 

She appeared in the doorway. Steam from the hot water rushed past her, seeking the colder air in the hallway. “Tell me what you did.”

“I took care of things,” I mumbled, staring at the floor. There were three Q-Tips by the wastebasket. I picked them up and threw them away.

“You’re cleaning?” She laughed. “You must not be wanting to talk.”

“Not really.”

She chewed her lip. “Is he...alive?”

I frowned. “Of course he is. It’s more than I think he deserves, but that’s not up to me.” I met her gaze. “It’s up to you whether he’s held accountable or not.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just all been a lot to accept in one day.” She stepped in front of me and put her arms around my waist, giving my hair a playful tug. “Thanks for looking out for me, Xan.”

“You know I will.”

“Yeah.” Her cheek was against my chest. “Did you do that vampire thing?”

I scowled. That wasn’t really the kind of thing she would need to know. “Tab–I didn’t bite him. I hit him. A lot. I had to stop myself because the thought of him hurting you really pisses me off.”

“But I know you do it. You have to. What happens?”

I blinked and sucked in my cheeks. “Tab, are you on crack? I’m not going to share that part of me with you. I’m just a bassist. I couldn’t do much to Arturo that he’s not already doing to himself.”

“I’m with a vampire. You can’t blame me for being at least curious.”

I held her by her upper arms and pried her away from me. “We’re not dating. I’m here because you need help.”

“And I’m sure you need a lay.” Her voice rose. “A fuck-buddy, right?”

“Leave it alone, Tab.”

She shook off my grip. “I can’t do anything right, can I? I don’t know what to expect from you, except to be left in the dark all the fucking time.”

I clenched my jaw. “I told you way more than I was ever supposed to. The conversation ends there.”

“Did you kill anyone tonight, Xan? Have you killed anyone before?”

“We’re not discussing this anymore.” I picked up my shirt and spun around to shut off the shower. “I’m going home.”

“You don’t have to go, just talk to me.” Her voice broke into sobs. I squeezed my eyes shut and willed time to rewind. Why hadn’t I just gone back to fucking Pale Rider in the first place? No, I had half-cocked sense to think that this girl would just accept that I went out, busted a skull or two, drank blood, and not ask a goddamn thing. And now we were “together?” She was pregnant. I pressed my hands to my forehead. It was too much. Too much at once. 

“Please let me go, Tab. I need to go.”

“I deserve some answers.”

“The hell you do. I don’t owe you anymore answers. I don’t owe you a goddamned thing. What I do on my time is my business. We’re not dating. I fucking told you that. I thought you understood.” I gritted my teeth and clenched my hands tightly at my sides. “Telling you was a mistake.”

“Just talk to me, Xan.”

“Tab, let me fucking leave!” The growl just came out.

She stumbled backward against the counter. Her eyes widened. She hadn’t heard me mad before. Not to that point. I brushed past her and threw my shirt back on, grabbed my jacket and picked up my keys. “I don’t know when or if I’ll be back. If you tell anyone what I am, I’ll be gone from Pinecliffe for good. I just want you to keep that in mind.” I walked out the door.

Cold air blew in both windows as I drove a little faster than I should have on the icy roads. If a raccoon had decided to walk out in front of me it would have been nothing but a stain on my bumper. But I couldn’t drive fast enough. I couldn’t shake the anger and frustration that welled up inside of me of having my simple existence interrupted after I’d worked so damned hard to obtain obscurity. Fucking Tabby. She had been fucking Arturo while... I shoved that thought away because I didn’t want to deal with it. I was the one that lay down boundaries.

Hadn’t I been fair with her? I treated her right. I’d been a good friend. Why in the hell did she feel she had to jump in bed with that creep? What was wrong with women and their love of abusive boyfriends? I’d been mean to girls in my lifetime, not cruel like Arturo, but coldhearted. One-night stands only to never pick up a call from their number again. Maybe it was Karma or some shit. Maybe Tabby was just broken and needy beyond repair. I wasn’t the one that could fix her. I found myself with a terminal case of immortality with a side effect of drinking blood. Hah. And vampires were supposed to be all fop and poise, prancing around in fine clothes and using words nobody’d spoken in decades. I was just me, and I didn’t fit the archetype. It still didn’t change a fucking thing.

I walked into Pale Rider and interrupted some weird date thing Charlie was doing with his girlfriend. The place was closed down for the night so they had some candles lit and the jukebox playing lovey-dovey music. I grumbled and started for the stairs but Charlie caught me halfway there.

“You come in here like the goddamn Devil chewed your ass, boy.” He grinned back at Linda. She was a Spanish gal in her forties and looked a lot like a movie star but sold houses instead. She ran a real estate office in Pinecliffe and had a long client list for log cabins and shit the out-of-staters liked to rent and buy. The moment Charlie addressed me, she excused herself and went into the bathroom, leaving me and him alone. Charlie shuffled over behind the bar and clicked a few more lights on, killing the cozy mood. “What’s got you all pissed off? Girl problems?” He laughed. “No, really. You look troubled, and that’s more than I can say for a kid that couldn’t usually give a damn.”

I lit a cigarette and took one of the bar stools. “Yeah, women.” I glanced past Charlie. Linda was taking a while. She probably figured me and Charlie needed to talk, or...

“Police were here today, Xan.” A different reason. Charlie’s mouth formed a thin line. “Some kid gone missing. Twenty-year-old. Some folks say they saw him here last on Halloween.”

“That sucks.” I rested my hands on the bar so they wouldn’t shake. My face was numb. The slayer. Had to be. Twenty years old. I guess I really was a monster. I’d let it get out of hand and gotten arrogant about being a vampire, but hell, he’d sent that Wretched thing after me. It was a bad situation all the way around.

Charlie pulled out a Xerox copy of a photo and laid it on the bar under my nose. “You know anything about this kid? He go by Freddie. The police is asking everybody that was here that night about him.”

“What’d you tell them?” I pushed the paper away. It was the slayer all right. In the picture he was younger, maybe a senior year picture. Smiling. Innocent. Alive.

“They came to look around Pale Rider. They talked to everybody here but you.” Charlie took the picture back and stuck it under the bar before leaning down in front of me.

“And they left this.” He laid a business card on the bar with a gold-foil shield on it. The word Sheriff glared up in neat black block letters at me.

“Call ’em. I’d hope you know nothing, because you’re a good kid. Don’t matter what anybody say.” He patted my shoulder. His serious expression broke into a wrinkled grin, gold-capped tooth and all. “Just give them a ring and see what they want. Probably just making sure you aren’t suspect for nothing.”

He was so confident in my integrity, and something broke deep inside me. I nodded, took the card and excused myself then went to my room in order to stare at the wall until dawn, bottle in hand. When sunrise tickled the blinds, I fell asleep–fully clothed and shit-faced drunk.

I didn’t have to call after all. Right around ten in the morning someone beat on my door.

“Fuck off,” I mumbled into my pillow, feeling waves of subsiding sleepiness shimmer behind my closed eyes. My visitor was persistent, though, so I jumped up, snatched the door open, ready to read them the riot act, but it was Charlie. My fuse fizzled immediately as he raised an eyebrow.

“The sheriff is here to talk to you, boy.” He turned and made his way back down the stairs.

I ran my hands through my hair and looked around my room. Everything looked normal, that is, like a tornado had ripped through my stuff. Clothes strewn across the floor. Half-written songs on notebook paper. Small pile of books tumbled over. Sasha on her stand. A couple other guitars in various stages of disassembly under the window. Through my open door, voices from downstairs echoed in the narrow corridor. It’d been a long time since I’d felt real fear, and this was definitely a case for consideration. If the sheriff suspected anything, he could haul my ass in and it was bright sunlight outside. I’d self-immolate. Then they’d stand around scratching their heads afterward at the pile of ash that used to be an arrested bass player. Still, I couldn’t stay in my room and hope for him to go away. I clomped downstairs with the most stoic expression I could muster and faced the lawman.

The barstool creaked as a heavy-set Bubba slid off of it. He clamped on a cowboy hat and adjusted his chrome-plated belt buckle. His shoes were shined to perfection, but his buttons strained to maintain their dignity in keeping his sand-colored uniform covering his generous gut.

“You Xan Marcelles?” His big frame somehow allowed for something other than a duck-waddle.

I lit a cigarette and shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Figured. You look like one of them rock-star types.” He had the tone of one that Doesn’t Take Shit Off Punk Ass Kids. “My name is Deputy Rogers. I wanted to ask you about this missing kid from Denver.”

I swallowed. “Sure, officer. No problem.”

He pointed to chair. “Sit.”

I did.

He pulled a little Moleskine notepad out of his back pocket. It was warped in the shape of his ass. Inside it, he had a wrinkled photograph. I poked my tongue with a fang. The image was of the little slayer asshole. One that didn’t exist anymore.

“Name’s Freddie Dickerson. Last seen here in these parts. Got two witnesses that swear they saw him follow you outside this place on Halloween.”

“I wouldn’t remember him from any other night.” I flicked an ash. “I see a lot of people, officer.”

The policeman smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “I’m sure you do, Mr. Marcelles, but I’m asking you if you’ve seen this person.”

I looked at the picture again as if thinking hard. I shook my head. “Never seen him before. I don’t remember him coming in here.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. I won’t take anymore of your time. Charlie here let me look around yesterday.” His eyes were damn near black. He had a little mustache. Smokey. I suppressed a snort. “Thing is, Mr. Marcelles, if there’s anything to be found, we’ll come across it eventually.”

It took all I had to keep a straight face. I wanted to tell him so badly about the undead thing that attacked me and the fact that the little sonovabitch tried to kill me by stabbing me in the heart with a pointed stick. Instead, I said absolutely nothing.

Deputy Rogers replaced the photo back in his notepad. “Don’t leave town if you don’t have to. We might need to get in touch with you again.”

His words were sharper than the stake Freddie’d used. He talked like he had a mouth full of marbles and it wasn’t ’til I watched him that I realized he had a wad of tobacco stuffed behind his lip. I wrinkled my nose.

Charlie walked him back outside and I let out a sigh of relief. My hands were tied, Tabby was a little more than miffed with me, and knew my worst secret, and now I had a cop breathing down my neck in connection with a missing kid. I say kid but hell he was twenty, but what was I supposed to do? Card my fucking victims? Give them a pop quiz to see if they’re a real threat or not? Freddie had intended to kill me. That was all the justification I needed, but deep inside I wondered if my life was really a good trade for his.

Annoyed at that point by both the fact that I had been woken up entirely too fucking early and also that I was known to the police, I returned to my room, stripped down to shorts and threw myself back in bed. When a tap sounded at my door again however long later I didn’t bother searching for my jeans again when I answered it. It was Serv. Of fucking course.

“Can we talk?”

“Yeah. Give me a minute,” I mumbled, staggering around in search of bottle or cigarette and finding neither. I must’ve slept off the day because it was dark outside.

“Were you asleep?”

“Not anymore, thank you for that.”

“I detect sarcasm.”

I snorted. “What’s up?”

“Remember Karla from Lobos?

I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe. Karla. The gal with the big...connections. “Vaguely. Why?”

“She just called me.” His eyes got all shiny. “She had an act drop out. Headliner. She wants us to play at her place. Headlining.”

“No,” I said without missing a beat and started to close the door. 

Serv jabbed his foot in the way. “No? That’s it? Just no?”

I shook my head. “Serv, what the hell? Didn’t we have a fight over this already? You remember what I said. Crooked Fang stays in Pale Rider.”

“Music is your fucking life, Xan. Here’s your big chance. Our big chance to headline a show. Doesn’t that tempt you even a little?”

I licked my lips and stared a hole through the floor. Crooked Fang was my life? It was all I had left of a human life. The music. Headlining was a big deal. Usually, a band had to work its way up, opening time after time for nothing or just next-to. Headliners got the biggest cut of the door and bar.

“I can’t,” I said, controlling my voice the best I could. “We can’t. Charlie has a contract.”

“I cleared it with him.”

Red flickered in my vision. How dare he come here with this kind of news? And already cleared it through Charlie. That old man knew better. He knew damn well how I felt about playing other bars. “Charlie said it was okay. For his motherfucking house band to leave and play elsewhere. That is bullshit, and you know it.”

I met his eyes finally and he shook his head.

“Charlie said you’ve been acting weird and had girl problems, and well, shit. I just want to get the hell out of Dodge for one night. Try something different. Don’t you want to try something different?”

I nodded at him. “Smoke.”

Serv pulled out a full pack and offered the open box to me. I backed away from the doorway and eased back down on my bed. Smoking and thinking. Thinking and smoking. Arguing with myself. Pissed off for even considering it. I looked up at him. “When?”

“Soon?”

I sighed through my nose and crushed the cigarette out. “One show, Serv. We’ll give it a shot.”