Irregulars: Stories by Nicole Kimberling, Josh Lanyon, Ginn Hale and Astrid Amara by Josh Lanyon, Ginn Hale, Astrid Amara, Nicole Kimberling

not sure I’m liberal enough to have a romance like that.”
    “You mean because of his true physical appearance?” Gunther asked.
    “Right.” That , Keith thought, and the fact that you qualify as a main course to him. Aloud he said, “Did you ever see it?”
    “Yes, of course. But not often. He was self-conscious about his appearance, but it would have been shallow of me to insist he always disguise himself.”
    Shallow? Keith supposed so, but it might also be considered crucial by anyone who was made nervous by the prospect of sticking his dick into the mouth of a creature with more than a hundred and fifty razor-sharp teeth.
    Gunther must have seen the skepticism on his face because he said, “I enjoy dating challenging men.”
    “Why did you break up?”
    “He insisted on polyamory,” Gunther answered. “That and he kept wanting me to call him ‘master’. Ultimately, I was not that interested in pursuing a vampire-style relationship. Too hierarchical for me.”

Chapter Five
    The three registered vampires living in the Willamette Valley ran a business called Azalea Point Creamery. They produced goat-milk artisan cheeses sourced from their own, humanely pastured herd. As Keith’s rented sedan moved up the long, tree-lined drive, Keith’s proximity alert buzzed. Blinking green nine.
    Keith shut it off. Gunther glanced up from his phone.
    “These individuals have no priors,” he stated.
    “I know. Procedure says I have to interview them, though, so here we are.”
    “What’s your feeling?”
    “My gut says they don’t have anything to do with it, but rules is rules and I’ve got to interview them anyway since evidence of exsanguination has been found.” Keith pulled up alongside a long, corrugated tin goat shed. Three farm hands were at work there, forking hay and soiled wood chips out of the shed. The goats seemed to be out back in an enclosure. He wondered if the farmhands knew about their employers’ true nature. Most likely not.
    Keith put the car in park. “Do you ever wonder why these guys come here?”
    “The vampires?” Gunther kept his voice low. “Probably the same reason as everybody else. They want the chance for a better life.”
    “I suppose so. It just seems like a lot to have to put up with—concealing your physical form, having agents routinely hassle you.”
    Gunther shrugged. “It depends on what they had to put up with in their own realm, I guess.”
    Keith casually unsnapped the holster of his mage pistol and said, “Well, I guess we should go wake them up.”
    The farm hands watched but did not intervene as the two of them walked to the front door and rang the bell. There came the slight whirring noise of the camera mounted above the door focusing and a groggy male voice on the intercom said, “Can I help you?”
    “Joe Sounder?”
    “Yes?”
    “NIAD. We’d like to ask you a few questions.” Keith held up his ID and the door popped open. They entered a small porch thickly hung with blackout curtains. Overhead lights switched on automatically. Gunther closed the door behind them. From a speaker somewhere above, Joe said, “Please make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be right up.”
    Keith walked into the living room, which, apart from the blackout curtains, looked perfectly normal. He took a seat on the overstuffed beige couch. Gunther remained standing, apparently performing a survey of the numerous photographs of goats hung on the walls.
    Joe appeared shortly thereafter. For his glamour he’d chosen the form of a fit, if slightly weathered, middle-aged man. His soft brown hair was rumpled, but attractively so. He wore a blue bathrobe over a set of striped flannel pajamas.
    Keith introduced himself and Gunther.
    Joe nodded, stretched, and scratched his head. “I was wondering when you fellows would be coming around. You want to ask me if I know anything about the Cannibal Killings, right?”
    “Just a routine inquiry,” Keith assured him. He glanced down at