F O U R T E E N

"Overbite" my ass.

It is just not cool to admit, even to yourself, that you know what we are. At present, the world is locked in an age of right-wing Sun-God worshipers, would-be moralists and clueless psuedo-pagans. The Good Folk have no place in it. Humans have dismissed the entire lower half of the Kingdom of Angels, all the joyous Devas, the Elementals, brownies, hamadryads, sprites, even the Elven Host. They don't exist. Neither do the Wyr – ghouls, vampires, djinn, oni, ogres, Dragon Spawn, wraiths. None of us.

But we do.

Check it out. Look under the bed after lights out. Inspect the back of the closet. Carefully. Say "Hello."

We're here. We never left. We won't ever go away.

At 4:00 a.m., neon beckoned like Mecca to the true believer and Rick Mallock, burning with the fever of the recently converted, took sanctuary at the first 24 hour burger pit he could find. It was a hell of a ride into the parking lot and I got bounced around more than I would have liked. Mallock pulled to a stop and took off for the restaurant. He wanted people around him. He wanted bad songs on the jukebox, crying kids, men and women talking – any normal, human noise. In the past few hours, we had had quite a conversation. Mostly in whispering shadow-speak since it still took too much out of me to talk aloud.

I stayed mad at Mallock for the rough ride long enough to watch him place his order with the girl behind the counter. He was ladling the charm out pretty thick but she wasn't swallowing a drop. Then the doctor gets a look at himself reflected out of the shiny steel surface behind her and takes off for the gent's. He made for a genuine wraith-vision himself with wax-white skin and eyes grimed black with fatigue and shock. What hair he had left wisped straight up from his scalp, ready for take-off. I might have laughed if I hadn't felt so low. Or if I didn't feel as sorry for him as I did. And guilty.

The next thing I began to feel sitting alone out there in the dark was paranoid and scared. Part of me wanted to track down every night-sound I heard (and I could "hear" a lot of them) to make sure none of them were anything more than what they seemed to be. The other part still wanted to take off screaming. I closed down as tight as I could so I wouldn't hear/feel anything, but that only made things worse. Like when a kid pulls the covers over his head to hide from the "monsters." After a while, he starts to sweat, he needs to breathe or suffocate but he knows the instant he sticks his head out again It Is Going To Get Him!

It's not funny. The monsters are real.

After a while, I effected another option. Staggered out of the van and limped across the parking lot to burger haven. Bones shifted against bones like they weren't supposed to although the doctor's wrappings kept it all together. Still there was this element of anticipation, you know, like one wrong move and everything was going to go spilling out. It made me sick to feel like that, but I ground my teeth shut and tried to drive the scare-factor out of my head.

The doctor had settled into a booth at the back of the room, as far away from the smug hostility of the waitress, the night manager and the fry cook as he could get. Man, they threw that attitude at me when I walked in and I shoved it right back. Immediately, they found something else to stare at.

The joint was genuinely choice. Me-tic-u-lous-ly sterile. Muzac wheezed a tortured variation of a popular song overhead, the speakers strategically placed so there was no possibility of escape. Florescent light laser-beamed off yellow and red striped vinyl wallpaper. On the right, a center aisle filled with faded plastic greenery reflected endlessly against a mirror-strip background. I slid onto the bench opposite Mallock and wedged myself in the corner, bringing my legs up on the seat. The doctor was digging into an obscene amount of roach burger, starch and grease generously covered with liquid tomato by-product and salt. The soda was almost gone. He hadn't started on his coffee or the eggroll-shaped All American Apple Pie. Mallock was never going to forgive me for bringing him to this.

I leaned an elbow on the table, propped myself steady. Gasped, "Damn, Rick. Did you have to sit all the way in the back?"

"I don't remember asking you to join me." The doctor pushed a lone french-fry through a puddle of ketchup. "What are you doing in here? You look like hell."

"It's not that bad."

"Right. Not bad for a corpse."

"Don't worry." I glanced at the trio up front. "They won't say anything."

"You're pretty sure of yourself."

"I have to be."

Mallock popped a whole fist full of fries into his mouth and chewed at them savagely. Washed them down with a final swallow of flat cola. I winced.

"What's the matter now?" he demanded. "You don't like the way I eat?"

"I'm hungry."

Mallock shoved the tray at me. "Help yourself."

I looked down at it. Swallowed back nausea. Looked away.

"I forgot," he said. "This isn't your standard bill of fare."

"You wanted the truth, Rick. I told you everything I could. What are you acting like this for?"

"Because I liked you."

"And now you don't?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you're a parasite! You used me the same way you used Snake, you and your head games. I told you things about myself I've never told anyone."

"I never picked your brain."

"That's what you say."

"I know I led you on a bit and I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. But – what else was I supposed to do?"

Blue eyes in a dark-tanned face are always unsettling, like piercing chips of ice, but Mallock's sparked like the charge off heat-lightning. "You were supposed to stay dead the first time," he said – and meant it.

"I wish I had." (So did I.)

"Is that so? Listen, I came in here to get away from you. You shouldn't have followed me."

"I'm sorry," I stammered out again. Glanced away. "I got tired of waiting."

"That's bullshit, Bianco. You're scared." Mallock glowered. "You're afraid that thing from the woods is still out there looking for you. Well, I hope it does find you. I hope it tears you apart this time."

"You'd know a lot about that, wouldn't you, hero? You know how to tear people apart. You did it to your parents when you couldn't stay at home – couldn't even stay in touch with them. You did it to your brother when you couldn't tell him the truth about Vietnam. They thought you were over there saving lives and you let them believe it. You didn't tell them about the men you killed, about the men you wanted to kill." I shut down for air. Mallock looked at me like he was going to come across the table and dismember me piece by bloody piece.

"I didn't pick your brains to know that," I told him. "You've been screaming it at me ever since we met. It's in everything you told me. You're right, I drink blood. I am the Blood but I've never hurt anyone. I've never killed anyone – not when I was like you and not since I came over. But someone killed me. Someone beat my life away like it was nothing. Nothing!"

"Who killed you? How did you die?"

"I don't have to tell you that! I don't have to tell you anything!" I found myself shaking and tried to stop. Mallock had lost his anger for the moment and only gaped at me. There was some concern mixed in with his curiosity. We could have almost been friends.

That wasn't going to happen. Not now.

"We're not human," I said. "Some of us never were. But we don't have to kill to live."

"That sounds very nice. If it's true."

"I don't know what to tell you. Anyway, there's more to it than feeding."

"There's sex."

"It's much more than just sex. Believe me."

I laughed before I could stop myself although it wasn't a cheery sound. Mallock spat out a noise, too, a combination of disgust, fear and anger. He lunged forward and his fist closed on the front of my shirt.

We stared at each other. Then he let go, collapsing back on the bench although he still looked like he wanted to punch me out. If I thought it could have helped, I might have let him.

Instead, I said, "I don't understand, Rick. Why do you want to hurt me? What have I done to you that you want to hurt me?"

That was the last question Mallock expected to hear. He picked up the coffee and took a sip, cautiously rolled the styrofoam cup between his palms and looked into the steam. He didn't look at me.

"You scare me," Mallock said finally. "You ... you're not supposed to exist. I'm a doctor. Granted, I'm not your conventional shingle-hanger, but I am what I am. When I worked on you tonight, I saw things I never thought I'd see. Never wanted to see. The things you told me...."

He took another big swallow of coffee.

"When I look out the door over there now, I keep expecting to see Rod Serling outside," Mallock continued. "Only he's standing with his back to me. He's out there with the rest of TV land and all the folks at home and I'm stuck in here with you – with the vampires and werewolves and little green men from Mars."

"Doesn't exactly turn you on, does it?"

"No."

"I kind of know what you mean. All my life, what there was of it, I felt like I was looking in from the outside. I thought things were going to be different after I ... after the Change. But it wasn't." I shrugged without thinking. It hurt like hell.

Mallock looked up. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Look – I'm sorry about all this. Didn't mean for you to get caught up in it."

"Never thought you did."

I considered a minute. Made up my mind and said, "You don't have to believe in me to help me."

"What?"

I was talking so soft, Mallock had to strain to hear. "I thought I could take care of myself, thought I could handle this my way.... I don't think I can make it on my own. If you could stay with me – just for a while. If we could –"

"No."

"Think of it like a job. I can pay you."

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Weren't you listening to me?" Mallock demanded. "You're not stupid, Bianco. Remember the Van Helsing Syndrome? We medics ain't cut out for this kind of shit. If I stick around, I'll destroy you. Who are you going to find to protect you from me? How many will we take with us when we finally get down to it?"

"You hate me that much?"

"I don't hate you. I'm not afraid of you either."

I rested my head against my fist, ready to drop. But persistent. "Could you do one thing for me?" I began.

"Why should I?"

"No reason. Can't I just ask?"

"Shit. Okay," Mallock agreed without enthusiasm. "Ask."

"The sun will be up before I can find a safe place. Let me stay one more day with you, one safe day. I promise I won't bother you any more."

"How do you know you'll be all that safe?"

"I don't think you're going to fall apart and stake me in one day, Herr Doctor. Not after the way you helped me tonight."

"You're awfully trusting for a vampire."

"What else am I going to do? Look at me. I can hardly move."

Mallock had an expression on his face like a man being forced to swallow hemlock. "Okay," he said at last. "But only one day. That's it."

He slid out of the booth and started to walk out of the restaurant before I could even thank him. I gritted my teeth and followed after, slowly. If the walk in was agony, the walk back to the van cost more. Still, it had been worth the trip. I settled into the seat next to Mallock as he started the engine. Already I could tell he regretted his commitment but he wasn't the kind of person who would back off now.

Or so I hoped.

On the interstate, Mallock headed back towards Phoebus at my request, driving as if our arrival would speed the moment of our final departure. It had started raining, more a heavy mist than an actual downpour but the road was slick and it was hard to see. Mallock concentrated on what he was doing.

Eventually, I said, "If you don't mind telling me – how did I get here? The last thing I remember is getting hit. Where did everybody go?"

"Dodger's pack didn't go anywhere," Mallock said. "I went. We heard the crash and everyone started yelling and running around. The kid that hit you was okay. Lucky. His bike was totaled. Found you over by the base of a tree, Snake kneeling beside you. I've never seen her like that before."

"Like what?"

"Quiet. Staring at you, then looking up at me like ... well, you were a mess. Then Dodger showed up. I said we needed to get to the police first, explain what happened. Dodger wouldn't go for it. He wanted to bury you right then and there and take off. None of them were in any condition to ride anywhere. Pointed out the obvious, that it was a public park and someone was bound to find you soon. Wasn't like we'd arrived unannounced or that the Troops didn't know you were with us. But they didn't want to hear it. Assholes. It was getting just about as ugly as it could get when Snake rises up fast and sleek like something out a Kung Fu movie except with absolutely no sound at all. Dodger came about this close to spending the rest of his life as a gelded puppy."

Mallock gave me a thumb and forefinger display showing a less-than-two inch gap.

"She sure gave him something else to squawk about," he said. "Snake shut him up. She says, 'I'm Ayame, fat boy. I'm Nari's granddaughter. That belongs to me. You're not going to bury him out here. You're not going to touch him.' Then she turns to me and tells me I should cart you out of there and take care of you. So I picked you up, dumped you in the van and took off. Got the shakes a few miles down the road and pulled over. I only meant to stop for a short one, just till I got it back together. Took longer than I thought. Next thing that happened was it got freezing in here. Then you started moving around and I heard screaming like a stereo system went off in my head and, well –"

"You ran out of the van."

"That I did."

"Why'd you come back?"

"It was my van."

"So?"

"So, I thought if I was finally losing it, I should step back inside and make sure. And try not to make a spectacle of myself."

"Then you found out you weren't crazy."

"Not any more than before," Mallock said. "I've been meaning to ask you – what's in the sleeping bag? How come it's so heavy?"

"It's lined with earth." My voice rasped with exhaustion but I didn't want to use shadow-speak again. Mallock didn't like it.

A reluctant laugh busted out of the doctor's mouth. "Earth? From Brooklyn? Not a whole lot there to spare."

"It beats Manhattan."

"So that part of the legend is true?"

"Yeah."

"What about crosses and holy water? Mirrors and garlic and like that?"

"It depends on the Blood and the belief. There's something about garlic and certain kinds of plants, certain woods and roses. Sunlight can hurt us. Kill us." I pushed my hair out of my eyes. "Some wards work, some don't and you have to know what you're doing. Mirrors reflect our real image. You can take pictures and movies of us but they come out looking strange. Byron says the myths comfort the masses. And it looks good in the movies."

"Yeah. I've seen those films. Read the books, too. So I guess you can't change into a bat?"

"Not yet."

Mallock stared at me.

"Don't be dense. If I could've flown away from that mess on the road last night, do you think I'd be here now?"

It still bugged me that I couldn't transform the way the others could. It was as if I were blocked – or worse – like I didn't have any talent for it at all. It had been years since I made the change. In a lot of ways, I was as much of a beginner as someone recently crossed.

"Well, what about werewolves?" Mallock was asking, intrigued now. "If there are vampires, are there werewolves, too?"

"I've never met a wyrwolf but I know other Wyr and Fae." I could have told him I'd rolled around with the King of the Faeries once. Decided to pass on that one. "I've met a lot of ghouls."

"Ghouls? Like living-dead, flesh-eating ghouls?"

"It's not like you think. They don't have to eat humans. Almost anything will do as long as the kill is fresh and raw. The sun doesn't bother them so they usually look out for us during the day."

"'Us' being you vampires, right?"

"Right."

"But how did these legends get started about the mirrors and all?"

"They told me it got really heavy around the time of the Inquisitions, sometime after the Plague. Folks were so anxious to reform heretics back then. Especially heretics with money and land."

"Reformed them to death from what I remember in school," Mallock said, grim. "A lot of innocent people died. Did you live through that?"

"Me? No. I'm not that old but I've talked to others who did."

"How old are you? How long have you been ... ?"

"Sucking blood?"

"Whatever you call it."

"I was twenty-three when I came over. That was about seven years ago."

"Seven years? That's got to be a joke. Excuse me for noticing, but this vampire-business is either more involved than what you've let on or, kid, you're just not cut out for this line of work."

"Yeah. It's a joke all right." I wasn't too keen on how this conversation was developing, yet I wasn't trying to change the subject saying, "I guess Snake took off after you left."

"I guess."

"Didn't you see?"

"Nope."

"You left her?"

"She ran me off," Mallock said. "And I seized the moment. Made tracks and was glad for the chance. You don't have to worry about the Snakelady. We've traveled together for a while. She's taken on better than what she faced down out there and walked away without even raising a sweat. Besides, do you really think I would have taken off if I thought she couldn't handle it?"

"I don't know."

"Don't beat around the bush, kid," Mallock says, very sarcastic. "Tell me what you really think."

I didn't say anything more. Turned around and stared out the side window, wondering. Thinking. Worried. Puzzled. Snake was as big an enigma as I'd ever run across. That she didn't want me was obvious or she'd be here now. Still I didn't have a clue why she turned on Dodger for me like that. I didn't like to guess at what might have happened if I'd been buried out there without my own "bed." I opened up a little then, trying to search her out. Trying to see if she was all right. Found something else.

"Pull over!" I snapped. "Stop the van."

Startled, Mallock veered to the right, skidding.

"What's wrong?" he demanded, more startled than angry.

"Just do it."

I opened the door and jumped out onto the pavement before the van came to a complete stop. Almost collapsed on touch down. Picked up and started running – more like staggering fast – down the shoulder. Mallock punched on the emergency flashers and climbed out after me. The fog ate us up right away.

Found her just like I'd felt her only a few yards down the road, wet, bleeding, grieving. Dying. I crouched down beside her and she came awake the minute I touched her, half scared, half relieved, and started whimpering. I grabbed at the leather binding her throat to the rail and started to pull, but it was slick with rain and spit and kept slipping through my hand. Yelled for Rick.

It took him forever to get there and he would have tripped over us if he hadn't been so careful. He skidded to a halt at the last minute and stared.

She was a big dog, a black mixed breed, part shepherd, part Lab and part something else. Someone had tied her to the guard rail trying to be rid of her and the puppies she'd birthed – right on the side of the road from the looks of it. The pups huddled close to their mother. Well, two of them huddled. The other three were still.

"Look at this," I hissed at Mallock.

He nodded, a sick look on his face like the fast-food grease had just hit home. "Yeah," he says. "I see it."

I pulled at the leash again but it wasn't doing anything but wrecking my hand. Determined, I grabbed the knot around her throat with one hand, shoved against the rail with the other. Both gave way with a loud snap but the dog didn't even have the strength to react. She sagged to the pavement. I caught her and cradled her head in my hands. The pups moved in closer.

"Do something," I said.

Mallock knelt beside us. "There's nothing I can do. They're too far gone. Who knows how long they've been out here?"

"What difference does that make? You're a doctor. You put me back together."

"It's not the same thing. Don't be stupid!" Mallock stopped and shook his head. "I'm sorry," he began again. "This is rotten and mean and ugly and I can't do anything. I would if I could. Then I'd find the son of a bitch who did it and turn her loose on him only ... she'd probably just be glad to see him. Dumb, stupid animals – they forgive too easy, too fucking loyal for their own good. Like kids, you know? Listen, I've got something in my bag –"

"No!"

"Tony, they're suffering. Let me put an end to it."

"Rick – can't you feel her struggle? How do you think I found her? I can't even see in this mess."

"I don't know how you did it. All I know is there's nothing I can do for her. Nothing you can do either."

"Oh yeah?"

I felt my eyes shift to scarlet, reacting to what I intended to do. I pulled back my sleeve, shoved my arm against the ragged edge of the broken rail. Mallock made a move to stop me – too late. Thick, dark blood oozed from the gash. I lifted the dog's head again and bared the wound to her muzzle. She nosed at my wrist, then began to lap at it, weak at first. Mist jeweled her fur, my skin and leathers and my blood took on the same deep glow of Tasia's ring. I fed each of the surviving pups.

"So?" Mallock began after a while. "What happens now – little vampire puppies?"

"Of course not. They'll live. That's all."

"If you say so."

"Tasia told me the Blood can heal. That's what she said... but we've got to get them into the van. We've got to get them out of this cold, get them dry."

"Who is this Tasia you keep talking about?"

"No one." I scowled. "Look, if you're not going to help me –"

"Okay, okay. For all the good it will do. No – don't pick that dog up, damnit. I just taped those ribs. Get in the van. I'll bring them."

And he did, too. I walked ahead, peering back over my shoulder. I tried to carry the puppies but he wouldn't let me. Mallock scooped up the mother dog and followed. She was heavier, dirtier and wetter than she looked although that hardly seemed possible. He dropped her off in the van and went back for the puppies.

Later, inside, he says, "Hey - what are you doing with my blanket?"

Like he can't see for himself we had anything else to use. Brother. Well, that's Rick. Always pointing out the obvious.

I took the puppies and placed them beside their mother.

"I smell like a wet dog," Rick moaned. "The van smells like a wet dog. By tomorrow morning, it will probably smell like wet dog crap, too."

"Maybe we can find an open store, a 7/11. We better get her something to eat."

"You mean you're not going to open another vein? Thank God for that."

He pissed me off. "Don't worry," I said. "We'll be out of here tomorrow night."

"Sure. You're going to take your toys and go home, right?"

Mallock dropped into the driver's seat, picked up his bag and said, "Come here."

I was not exactly willing to obey anyone's orders at that point. I was beyond tired and really hurting. Too much to argue with him. So I left the dogs and crawled over. Rick grabs my arm and starts splashing disinfectant all over my wrist. I jerked away but he caught me again.

"Stop – it burns! I don't need that stuff."

"Shut up."

"It's already healing. I don't need it."

"I said, shut up." Rick bandaged my wrist. "First it was Pilot and that damn kitten. Now you and that dog. No – dogs."

"Don't you like animals?"

"No."

Mallock opened the front of my jacket and felt along my ribs, checking for new damage. He examined the slice on my thigh. Under ripped material, we could almost watch the skin pull together leaving a thick, white seam of scar tissue that I knew would be gone by the next night.

"See? I told you it was okay."

"Yeah," Rick said. "I see all right. You know, somehow, when I thought about the undead – which has never been often, well ... you're not what I had in mind."

"What were you expecting – Bela Lugosi? A headwaiter in tails?"

Sullen, I sat swathed in gauze and tape, picking at the edge of the new adhesive. Mallock smacked my hand away.

"You're no vampire," he says. "You're the son of the goddamn mummy."

"Ha. Ha."

The doctor took a cigar from his shirt pocket, lit up and blew out a cloud of blue-gray smoke trying to compete with the wet dog odors. Discovered I didn't have to try to block incoming sensations anymore.

"How much?" Mallock asked.

"How much what?"

"How much are you willing to pay me to look after your daytime interests? To keep the Van Helsing's away?"

"How much do you want?"

"A lot."

"Okay. You've got it."

Another cloud billowed into the air.

"And I want insurance," Mallock said. "I want to know how you can be destroyed if it should come to that. I don't want to be left with my pants hanging around my ankles when it comes to dealing with you or your people."

"Aren't you being a little paranoid?"

"Absolutely. But it really depends on how paranoid you are, how much you want a bodyguard. Tell me what I want to know or it's no go. What will kill you? A wooden stake through the heart – or is that more pablum for the masses?"

"You have to sever the spinal cord," I told him. "The heart, the bones will heal. You know how quickly we can do that."

Rick nodded.

"The kind of weapon you use doesn't matter but you must sever the spinal cord. Forget about guns unless you're a perfect shot. Brain damage won't stop us but you might have to deal with a pissed-off zombie. Burning will do it, too, and the sun. But the body must be totally consumed by the fire, the ashes scattered."

"Or it can come back?"

"With a vengeance."

The "V" word trilled briefly in the air between us giving off a peculiar third party resonance. Then faded. Mallock was reconsidering again even as he held out his hand to seal our bargain. I was too surprised (try stunned) to notice anything else.

Then I groped to my sleeping bag and faded, too.

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