Ah, she caught my scent. Tonight I am wearing a vampire favorite, Dragon’s Blood cologne. The earthy cedar undertones remind the older vampires of the “good old days” when they slept in coffins or deep inside dark caves—all before the Great War, about four hundred years ago. The war pitted the old world versus those who wanted vampires to live in a more “civilized manner,” side by side with humans. The latter won, of course, and since then the open hunting of humans has become illegal. Vampires still do it, but the world of law and order left the older generation feeling nostalgic for a time when vampires ruled unapologetically.
As for me, I am a creature of comforts. I do not care which side rules as long as I am left to my vices.
All right. Fine. I do enjoy modern conveniences. Air conditioning, automobiles, and credit cards are wonderful. Being hot, traveling by mule, and lugging around bags of coins is downright dismal. For a bibliophile such as myself, this whole ebook movement is phenomenal, too. At this very moment, I have millions of books in my pocket. I don’t have time to read them, but they are there.
“Racker! Come on over.” Liza waves at me. She is wearing baggy overalls and has her hair in two braids. She looks positively gorgeous.
I smile and go around the long line of humans. “Good evening.”
Her eyes wash up and down my body. From the smile on her face, I take it that she likes what she sees. Strong arms, a broad chest, muscular thighs. That’s right, woman, underneath it all is a set of abs that can cut diamonds and a manhood capable of giving you a concussion.
“Grab an apron,” she says cheerily. “You can help bus tables and refill the drink stations.”
She expects me, the once great and powerful Nicephorus, to wait on humans?
“I would love to,” I say with a fake smile and grab an apron from the hook on the wall behind her.
“Tubs for dirty dishes are over there.” She points to a large stack in the corner. “Just pick up anything left on the tables and then wipe down the spot if it needs it. Oh, and if you’d make sure we’re not out of milk? We’ve had more children tonight than expected. After that, just make sure there’s still plenty of hot coffee and water.” She points to two large plastic rectangles with spigots.
“My pleasure.”
She arches a brow. “Are you sure? You look a little…I dunno, shocked maybe?”
Game time. “Yes. I am. But entirely in a good way,” I lie. “I had no idea you were such a charitable creature.” She knows I mean vampire.
She shrugs. “What else is there to do when you have nothing but free time?”
I dog-ear that comment. She has just provided the perfect argument for her remaining immortal: She sees giving time to others as her gift to the world. I could also probably get through to her by arguing how the world does not need more humans. Aren’t there enough lives occupying this planet already?
When I was born in the 1700s, people had space to breathe and live and plant fragrant herbs for their homemade potpourri or raise adorable tiny animals such as miniature goats. Not that I ever wished to do that. Much.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I say. “Free time is a gift meant to be shared, not squandered.”
She beams at me. “Thank you. You really surprised me just now.”
That didn’t sound good. It implies that I came off as uncharitable before.
As a reminder to her, I press my hand over my bat tattoo hidden under my shirt. “A side effect of living in survival mode for so long, I’m afraid. Now I can’t stop giving back.”
Her eyes soften as she blinks at me. “You’re a sweet man, Racker.”
In bed, yes. You must also add dirty to the list. Indiscriminate, too. I enjoy just about every form of sexual pleasure. Nothing is taboo as long as both parties are in raptures.
“And you, Liza, are the most interesting woman I’ve ever met.” See, right there, I said interesting. If you tell a woman she is beautiful before you truly know her, she merely thinks you’re giving her lip service. Ah, but comment on her uniqueness or intellect and she feels special. Interesting is one of those words she can interpret any way she likes—educated, driven, perplexing, kinky. The word interesting could mean all those. It is up to her to decide.
She blushes and goes back to work, while I try to hide my disdain for cleaning up after humans. I care not if they are destitute or homeless; it is simply wrong for a vampire of my standing to play maid to anyone. But at the moment, I must do what it takes to gain her affection. I am Mr. Right. And Mr. Right wants forever with you, Liza. Turn me.
I simply hope I can pull this off. Liza is unlike any vampire I have ever met, and I am unsure if my bag of seduction tricks will work. I have a feeling I am about to find out.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Wow, you really were helpful tonight, Racker.” Liza sips on a bag of O-negative while I lean back in the red kiddie chair. This section of the library is Miriam’s pride and joy—a space for little humans to discover their love of reading, listen to story time, or play with colorful blocks while their mothers are off in the self-help section, wondering why they no longer feel like the sexual vixens they once were or why their asses have grown. I could tell them why—Because getting old sucks! And immortality is the only cure—but their asses are no concern of mine.
“And you were really spectacular, Liza. I have never known a vampire with such a kind heart, but I sensed something was different about you right away.”
She looks down, batting her golden eyelashes. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you. So tell me how you came to be like this?”
“Like what?”
“So unvampire. Because trust me, I’ve met plenty. They are all so cold,” I lie. Well, maybe it’s not a lie.
“I guess…I just made up my mind not to let being a vampire stop me from being me. I suppose you could say I saw it as an opportunity to be super-me.”
“Interesting.” This time I really mean it. “You never wanted power or to have your own group of human slaves to rub your feet every night?” I know I did. A foot-rub harem was the first thing I acquired after being turned and leaving Narcissismo.
And in case you’re wondering, I never tattooed my slaves. A vampire only does that when they wish to keep the human around for a while. It’s sort of a calling card to other vampires that says, “This human is taken.” It is a practice that is considered “old school” and very rare these days.
“A slave?” Liza laughs. “Never crossed my mind. All I wanted was more of everything that already made me happy. More helping, more kindness, more self-exploration and enlightenment.”
“Who are you?”
She giggles. “What do you mean?”
“What do you mean, what do I mean?”
“You are the Mother Teresa of vampires.”
“God no. I’m not that selfless. And trust me, I have plenty of flaws. I’m far from being saintlike.”
“Flaws? Do tell.”
“Well, for starters, I hate the idea of vampire societies and the pressure to conform. I feel like some vampires are constantly judging me because I don’t want to live like they do. Maybe that’s why I went off on my own. I hate being told I couldn’t be myself—”