Page 4 of By the Pint

“Maybe we’ll see you tonight?” Alek said, as together, the vampires turned on their heels.

“Maybe,” I said, trying to pull my focus away from the mysterious lurking telepath. “Hey, do you guys want to buy my book? It’s my last copy.”

They pretended not to hear. “See ya, Dima,” said Vlad, and the pair left.

I positioned myself behind the table, behind the last remaining copy of my book and my abandoned quilt, and focused all my energy on the nearby mind reader.

Did they know I was a mind-reader too? Could they sense my presence as I had sensed theirs? I knew nothing about them and was desperate to find out more. When were they turned? How old were they when they were turned? Did they live here in the City of the Undead? Or were they just here for the conference like me?

They were in the booth beside mine now. Irritated because the business owner next door, a vampire cleaningcompany, was making unfounded claims about cleaning products. I fought back a laugh and reinforced my own mental barriers.

They had no idea I was in the next booth, but they were waiting to see me.

To speak to me.

To ask me about … Blooze.

My spirits plummeted a little at that notion … But they were also curious if I looked like my portrait. They’d thought I looked cute in those old oil paintings. And tall. They had arrived late to the conference and had to stand in the back and couldn’t see me well. They were nervous.

The label on their underwear was itching. They were hungry. And needed to pee. And they were bored of the salesy BS booths they’d had to pass through on the way before they got to mine. And, oh my gods—

They were male.

Another male telepath! Not Killian! I was literally buzzing with excitement, and desperate for him to round the corner so I could see what he looked like. I mean, of course, I already knew what he looked like. All vampires essentially looked the same. Black hair, red eyes, ghost-grey skin. Depending on the person’s skin tone before they were undeaded, this could range anywhere from pale grey to a darker grey. So much variety. But we kept our bone structure from when we were humans, our muscle mass, our body-fat, our hair length and texture, and any facial hair we had. Or lamented not having.

Still, to this day, one of the greatest injustices of being undead was the inability to grow a really cool moustache.

So, there were differences, albeit subtle ones, in the ways vampires looked.

If my lungs functioned, I would have been holding my breath.

The tips of two highly polished brown leather brogues were the first thing I saw. Followed by long, lean legs clad in neatly pressed charcoal-grey suit pants. A narrow waist belted in leather exactly matching the shoes. A white dress shirt straining across a wall of chest muscles. Suit jacket, expensive, designer. Square jaw, five o’clock stubble, pert lips, strong brow. Gorgeous chestnut brown hair that had a just-been-fucked-senseless tousled vibe going on and … hang on, brown hair?

His skin was deep and … richly tanned … and his eyes were … hazel. Not red.

My gaze landed on his thick, beautiful neck. No tie, open collar. Adam’s apple. Throbbing pulse.

Throbbing.

My mouth filled with saliva.

The mind-reader was human!

2.

Casey

Ten minutes ago

If being a familiar for one of the most nefarious vampires in Borderlands had taught me anything, it was that the best way to remove bloodstains from clothing was to spit on them.

I know, kinky, right? And appallingly unhygienic, but there was something in the spit — enzymes or whatever — that broke down the rust-coloured proteins of blood.

It worked even better when the spitter was also the bleeder. Unfortunately, like most vampires, my master drank from bottles or cans, so finding the original owner of the blood was an impossibility.

But any old human saliva could work just as well if one practiced enough persistence. It was the main reason I always tried to stay well hydrated. And why the con-man cowboy inbooth one-ten pissed me off so much. With his unsubstantiated, ‘magic’ cleaning product, Ex-Sanguine. Made from tap water, carcinogens, and cheap, synthetic lemon scent.

“Hey handsome, interest you in a free trial of my miracle formula?” said the vampiric stall owner. He wore his short black hair slicked back. His lip was curled, exposing his sheathed fangs, and his red eyes focused intently on my designer suit jacket as though he could see what lay beneath. His shiny name tag readHELLO, I’M … Vlad, because of course it did.

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