feeling I’d be busy over the next few days.
Sadly, vampire life doesn’t come with a steady paycheck, at least not when Sally is controlling the purse strings, the cheap bitch. Unlike my movie counterparts like Dracula, Edward, or whatever the fuck character Brad Pitt played in that one movie, I have to hold down a day job to keep a roof over my head. My only solace: in another century or two, the interest on my meager bank savings should start to add up. Yep, it was only a matter of time before that two percent put me on easy street. And no, I don’t believe that bullshit for a second, either.
* * *
Four o’clock rolled around, and we had confirmed three additional survivors by that time. That put the infernal forces under my command at a grand total of four, five if you count Sally.
Alfonso, the aforementioned undead hair stylist, hadn’t been at the party. He called to let us know that one of his clients had been in need of an emergency manicure, requiring his immediate attention. Sally’s squeal of delight at his survival didn’t help my mood. We might be thoroughly fucked, but at least she’d be well-coifed while it happened.
The other two were Dread Stalker and Firebird, two holdovers from the days when Jeff ruled the coven. Dread Stalker was a fucking psycho, no two ways about it. He had been one of Jeff’s favorites - innocent looking on the outside, but one of the coven’s top hunters. In fact, that was the very reason he had survived the previous night. He had arrived late to the party after scouting for some additional refreshments .
Firebird hadn’t been nearly as lucky. She crawled into the office mid-afternoon, having pulled her way through the sewers. She’d been present when the fireworks started. It hadn’t been pretty.
She was a smoking hot redhead. When I first met her, she’d existed for seemingly no other reason than to be Jeff’s personal sex toy. Just for the record, though, she looks much hotter when she has skin. Before blacking out, she managed to tell us that she’d been standing near the windows at the back of the building when the loft went up like a Roman candle. She’d been flung through the glass and onto the street below.
After hearing Firebird’s tale, Sally shrugged and walked silently back into her office. Her meaning was clear. Anyone who hadn’t been as lucky was most likely dust in the wind by now.
Starlight and I carried Firebird to a back room, and set her up with an IV transfusion of bottled blood. The blood, combined with accelerated healing, would get her back on her feet within a day or so. Hopefully it would leave her looking less gross, too.
After we got Firebird situated, Sally popped her head out of her office.
“It’s probably safe to call Boston now.”
I nodded, gave the others specific orders to stay put, and then locked myself in with her. It was sure to be quite the interesting call.
The Conference Call of Cthulhu
James didn’t answer his cell phone. Being the newest member of our ruling coven probably kept him busy. We tried the main line for Boston instead and hoped for the best - kind of like getting on a call with tier one tech support in India and naïvely expecting that a solution was forthcoming.
“How may I direct your call?” the bored voice on the other end asked.
“We need to speak with James,” Sally replied.
“James? I don’t know of any James, unless you mean...”
Sally sighed and said, “I would like to speak with James the Wanderer, esteemed member of the First Coven.” She gave me a look of disgust. Sally wasn’t exactly big on ceremony.
“All glory to the First!” the operator replied.
Sally hit mute on the speakerphone. “Ass-kisser.”
I failed to suppress a smirk as she unmuted the phone and the office drone on the other end finished their verbal genuflecting. “The First, praise be to them, are not in the habit of taking calls. I will warn you that...”
“Oh quit the shit,” Sally
Sadly, vampire life doesn’t come with a steady paycheck, at least not when Sally is controlling the purse strings, the cheap bitch. Unlike my movie counterparts like Dracula, Edward, or whatever the fuck character Brad Pitt played in that one movie, I have to hold down a day job to keep a roof over my head. My only solace: in another century or two, the interest on my meager bank savings should start to add up. Yep, it was only a matter of time before that two percent put me on easy street. And no, I don’t believe that bullshit for a second, either.
* * *
Four o’clock rolled around, and we had confirmed three additional survivors by that time. That put the infernal forces under my command at a grand total of four, five if you count Sally.
Alfonso, the aforementioned undead hair stylist, hadn’t been at the party. He called to let us know that one of his clients had been in need of an emergency manicure, requiring his immediate attention. Sally’s squeal of delight at his survival didn’t help my mood. We might be thoroughly fucked, but at least she’d be well-coifed while it happened.
The other two were Dread Stalker and Firebird, two holdovers from the days when Jeff ruled the coven. Dread Stalker was a fucking psycho, no two ways about it. He had been one of Jeff’s favorites - innocent looking on the outside, but one of the coven’s top hunters. In fact, that was the very reason he had survived the previous night. He had arrived late to the party after scouting for some additional refreshments .
Firebird hadn’t been nearly as lucky. She crawled into the office mid-afternoon, having pulled her way through the sewers. She’d been present when the fireworks started. It hadn’t been pretty.
She was a smoking hot redhead. When I first met her, she’d existed for seemingly no other reason than to be Jeff’s personal sex toy. Just for the record, though, she looks much hotter when she has skin. Before blacking out, she managed to tell us that she’d been standing near the windows at the back of the building when the loft went up like a Roman candle. She’d been flung through the glass and onto the street below.
After hearing Firebird’s tale, Sally shrugged and walked silently back into her office. Her meaning was clear. Anyone who hadn’t been as lucky was most likely dust in the wind by now.
Starlight and I carried Firebird to a back room, and set her up with an IV transfusion of bottled blood. The blood, combined with accelerated healing, would get her back on her feet within a day or so. Hopefully it would leave her looking less gross, too.
After we got Firebird situated, Sally popped her head out of her office.
“It’s probably safe to call Boston now.”
I nodded, gave the others specific orders to stay put, and then locked myself in with her. It was sure to be quite the interesting call.
The Conference Call of Cthulhu
James didn’t answer his cell phone. Being the newest member of our ruling coven probably kept him busy. We tried the main line for Boston instead and hoped for the best - kind of like getting on a call with tier one tech support in India and naïvely expecting that a solution was forthcoming.
“How may I direct your call?” the bored voice on the other end asked.
“We need to speak with James,” Sally replied.
“James? I don’t know of any James, unless you mean...”
Sally sighed and said, “I would like to speak with James the Wanderer, esteemed member of the First Coven.” She gave me a look of disgust. Sally wasn’t exactly big on ceremony.
“All glory to the First!” the operator replied.
Sally hit mute on the speakerphone. “Ass-kisser.”
I failed to suppress a smirk as she unmuted the phone and the office drone on the other end finished their verbal genuflecting. “The First, praise be to them, are not in the habit of taking calls. I will warn you that...”
“Oh quit the shit,” Sally
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