Bleeding Out by Jes Battis Page A

bed. Lucian’s shirt hangs from the doorknob. It’s unlike him to leave clothing here. He may love me, but he’s pretty cagey about his things. I put it on, and find that it fits surprisingly well as an overshirt, in addition to smelling nice. My jeans are starting to smell like bad cookies, but I know I can wring one more day out of them. I argue with my hair for a while, finally combing it into a weird bun that makes me want to punch the mirror, but at least I can go outside. I check my phone as I’m going downstairs. There’s a text from Derrick inviting me to lunch at Milestones, which he knows I can’t resist due to the circumference of their Bellinis. There’s nothing from work, which disappoints me, although I’m not completely sure why. Any day without an autopsy should be good, right?
    I have an hour before I have to meet Derrick. I grab the 20 bus, which sparks and rocks on its cables until we reach the west end. I walk down Granville, which smells like pizza and pot. I don’t really know where I’m going. The gathering clouds threaten rain, but don’t quite deliver. I find myself standing in front of a familiar building: a club, formerly Moonbase, which has been renamed Blood Drive. Vampires think they’re so damn clever. This was where I first met Lucian. At the time, he was working forSabine Delacroix, who ran the club when she wasn’t busy killing people.
    I stare at the door, which has been painted black. This is where everything started. I remember Lucian offering me a beer, and Sabine placing her hand on my leg, a hand that would later choke me. I remember seeing Patrick, asleep, hooked up to machines that scrutinized the progress of his virus. It wasn’t that long ago, but I feel like whoever I was then is gone. I blinked and missed her.
    The door opens as I’m standing there. A familiar vampire walks out, wearing shades. It’s the same bouncer who talked to me years ago.
    “Hey.” I smile. “Remember when you smelled me?”
    “Of course. How could my nose forget?”
    “You haven’t changed.”
    “I’m dead.”
    “Well, it suits you.”
    “Thanks. Is there something you wanted?”
    “I was just in the neighborhood. I like the new name.”
    “It’s sardonic.”
    “Yeah. I got that.”
    His mouth twitches. It’s almost a grin. “How’s Lucian?”
    “Fine.”
    “We all miss him.”
    “I’ll bet.” I decide to try something. “Hey. Here’s a question. Have you noticed any seriously tweaked vampires in this neighborhood?”
    “Tweaked on what?”
    “I don’t know. It looks kind of like bloodlust, only glassier. Somewhere between hungry and stoned.”
    He’s silent. I wonder if he’s considering whether or not he should say anything. I try to look slightly vapid, like a tourist asking where BC Place is.
    “Vampires don’t get stoned,” he says finally. “THC barely affects us. We can get drunk, if the alcohol is strong enough.”
    “He’d have smelled, if that were the case.”
    “Where did you see this vampire?”
    “Once in my neighborhood, and once closer to downtown.”
    He lights a cigarette. “Ask the Magnate. Aren’t you two close?”
    “Not lately.”
    “Ask Modred, then. He knows more anyhow. With all due respect to the Magnate, of course.”
    “That’s actually a good idea.”
    “Well. I have my moments.”
    I turn to leave. Then I stop.
    “What’s your name?”
    “None of your business.”
    I laugh. “Fair enough.”
    He stubs out the cigarette and walks back inside, shutting the door behind him. In my mind, I think I’m going to call him Ruben from now on. I could walk to the vampire community center to speak with Modred, but it seems pointless. I can’t ask the right hand of the Magnate if he’snoticed any drunk vampires wandering around. It’s a dumbass question, and the last thing I need is to look incompetent in front of someone who sleeps with a sword under his pillow. I opt for lunch with Derrick instead.
    The restaurant is busy.