Page 15 of Road Trip with a Vampire
I hadn’t touched any of it once since moving to Redwoodsville. Even still, my ritual of checking for it before bed had been ingrained in me over a period of centuries and was now as much a habit for me as breathing. It didn’t matter if I was sleeping on a hard-packed dirt floor in a Brazilian jungle or in a comfortable bed above a yoga studio in California. No matter where I was or who I was pretending to be, this routine was the only real security blanket I’d ever had.
I could feel my mind and body unspooling as I reached out and found my stash exactly where it always was.
There was my set of wooden stake–tipped daggers, gifted to me in Philadelphia during the American Revolution by a handsome vampire whose name I’d never known. I loved those daggers beyond reason, not only because they were exactly as long as my middle finger—which was awesomely meta—but because they were soversatile! The wooden stakes could be taken off and put back on as easily as a Barbie doll’s head, which meant you could use them to fight frisky vampires as well as any other nonvampiric asshole who might get in your way.
Then, of course, there was my special set of velvet bags, each with its own treasure inside. A sprinkle of the powder from the red bag, thrown at just the right angle in an enemy’s face, could incapacitate them for up to ten minutes. Adding a pinch of powder from the blue bag to an object—any object at all, including a person—allowed me to teleport it (or them) to any location of my choosing.
My favorite of the bags was the tiny green one, though,because it contained something extra special: a luminous gold-colored ring topped with three bright red crystals. The ring was probably plastic, as were the crystals. It had found me one day in the mid-1970s at a thrift shop in San Francisco’s Castro District. As far as I knew, the ring had no real magical properties, despite what the probably stoned shop’s owner had assured me. But it lookedextremelycool on my finger when I fought my enemies with things that couldactuallykill them. And that’s what mattered.
Looking cool, I had long since learned, was its own sort of magic.
Thus comforted, I pulled my covers up to my chin and closed my eyes.
I was asleep in seconds.
Four
Two months earlier
Peter sat across from hisemployers at a small table near the back of the hotel’s bar. He considered it a small victory every time he kept from rolling his eyes.
They were paying him enough to cover his living expenses for a year. Eighteen months if he was frugal. He owed them the courtesy of not mocking them openly. Even if theywereidiots.
“Do you have everything you need?” the man seated directly across from him asked. He appeared younger than the man to his right, dressed impeccably in a smart gray suit and a blue silk tie that matched his eyes.
Peter made a show of leafing through the papers they’d handed him. None would be useful, but they were paying him enough to pretend they were.
“Yes,” he said.
His employers stood from their chairs, the champagne they’d ordered an hour ago still untouched. Of course, nobody at theirtable could consume anything served here. Peter thought their ordering the most expensive bottle on the menu was both a surefire way to attract unwanted attention and wasteful.
Surelythese people could have found better uses of their seemingly limitless resources than this.
He closed his eyes, reminding himself that it was not his place to criticize.
“Keep us updated,” the second man instructed. His name was John, and he looked about sixty, though Peter knew this bore no relation to his actual age. Like the champagne, John’s garish red plaid suit and matching pocket square seemed specially designed to draw attention.
“I will provide regular updates,” Peter agreed. Of course he would. They had hired him to do a job. Peter wondered if this was the first time they had ever done something like this. Fortunately for all of them, this was not Peter’s first time. Far from it. “Just so I’m clear, you do not wish for me to eliminate the subject. You only want me to—”
“Crack the safe,” the younger man said.
“And bring us its contents,” John added, smiling.
“Should be easy enough,” Peter said. He cleared his throat. “Forgive me, but…I couldn’t help but wonder why we’re meeting here.” He gestured to their surroundings. If the safe he needed to crack was in Chicago, why were they meeting here, in an out-of-the-way university town hours away in Indiana? It wasn’t like Peter to question the people who hired him, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him.
“This is what I like about you, Mr.Elliott,” the man called John said, grinning at him. “Always asking tough questions.” Peterwasn’talways asking tough questions, but he let it go. “We haverecently set up our operations at a warehouse here because no one suspects vampire masterminds in small university towns.” He leaned in closer. “Rent is cheaper here, too.”
Peter had no response to that.
“If there’s nothing further…” John said.
“Nothing,” Peter agreed.
His employers shook his hand, placed an absurd amount of cash on the table to cover the champagne, and excused themselves.
Peter stayed put for a long time after they left. He needed to feed soon. But for now, he contented himself with watching the people at the other tables, carefree and enjoying themselves.
He envied them that.
