Dark Moonlighting (22 page)

“The Chief wants to see you in his office,”
Officer Cagney said to me so softly that it was almost a
whisper.

The statement was unnecessary. I was already
heading towards The Chief’s office, and I knew exactly what was
going to happen there. In fact, I was surprised I had not been
taken into custody as soon as I walked through the door. I knew it
was only a matter of time. Attacking the girl would surely be the
catalyst that led to my exposure. The Chief and my comrades would
start taking a thorough look at my life and discover the
discrepancies. They were good officers, and it would not take them
long to tie me to the Urinator serial killings.

The Chief did not notice me at first when I
slipped into his office. He was mixing a bowl on his desk with his
preferred breakfast: two parts whiskey, one part
Lucky
Charms
. When I gave a quiet cough to announce my presence, The
Chief slammed the bottle of whiskey on his desk in annoyance.

“Top o’ the morning to ya,” The Chief growled
at me.

His tone of voice led me to believe that he
did not, in fact, wish my morning was the tops.

“Laddie, do you have anything to say for
yourself?” he asked.

“In my defense, Chief,” I began. “I mistook
the girl for a homicide suspect. I admit that’s hardly an excuse
for my actions.”

“You’re damn right it’s not,” my boss
bellowed. “You bit a fifteen-year-old track star’s neck. I always
knew you were a loose cannon! The mayor is going to have me Blarney
stones in a vice grip! What could possibly have motivated you to
bite the girl even if you did think she was a murder suspect?”

I looked down at my shoes for a moment as I
thought about my answer. My fate was already sealed, and there was
no reason for me to fight it. I experienced a wonderful feeling of
calm when I decided on my answer. I took a deep breath and let it
out before raising my head to address The Chief.

“I’m a vampire,” I answered plainly. “I
thought the girl was a member of a gang of vampires who have been
harassing me. I was angry, and I wanted to inflict some pain on one
of them because of their elaborate attempts to ruin my life.”

The Chief closed his eyes and shook his head.
“This is no time to be making jokes, laddie. Turn in your gun and
your badge. You’re suspended until further notice. If it were up to
me, I’d fire you on the spot. God knows that St. Patrick himself
couldn’t fight all the rules and regulations of your goddamn police
union!”

I yanked the badge off my shirt and removed
my pistol from its holster. I set the precious items on the desk in
front of The Chief. My boss averted his eyes from me as he
pretended to be focused on his alcohol-soaked breakfast cereal. I
lingered in his office, confused by what had just transpired.

“What are you waiting for, laddie?” The Chief
questioned. “’Tis not enough four-leaf clovers in all of Dublin to
save your job. Now get out of my sight, lest I be forced to
motivate you with a bit of James Joyce across your backside. I’ve
got
Finnegans Wake
in hardcover!”

Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth,
I exited The Chief’s office a free man. I ignored the stares of my
former colleagues as I made my way through the police station. Had
I really just managed to dodge yet another bullet? It took a moment
before I was able to come to grips with my good fortune. My career
in law enforcement was certainly over, but I had assumed I would be
spending the night in a jail cell.

My spirits were lifted by the time I reached
my car. Jasmine had evidently not believed I would be set free
either. If she had, she certainly would have waited for me. I was
relieved that I did not have to face her. I still had a few hours
before the sun came up, but all I wanted to do was get home and
sleep. One question was still gnawing at my mind as I drove
home.

“Isn’t laddie a Scottish expression rather
than Irish?” I asked myself.

I made a mental note to look up the origin of
the word on the internet when I got home. Unfortunately, I would
not get the chance.

I saw him immediately, crouching at the side
of my garage near some shrubs. I almost felt bad that I was able to
pick him out so easily, as he had clearly put forth a lot of
effort. My neighbor was dressed in black shoes, black jeans and a
black sweater. He had even gone to the trouble of getting a black
hat to protect his dark skin from the cold wind. I knew he was
wealthy, but I still hated to think he had spent so much money on a
new outfit that served absolutely no purpose.

I stopped the car abruptly in the driveway
rather than pulling into my garage. If Anthony wanted a
confrontation it was going to be on my terms. I jumped out of the
car and came around the side of the vehicle before the young man
had a chance to react.

“Can I help you with something?” I angrily
asked the figure who was hiding behind my shrubs.

Anthony stood up slowly. He raised a pistol
at me and held it sideways like the gangstas he had seen on
television and in the movies. The gun was black, but there was a
band of orange plastic around the barrel. Anthony took a few steps
towards me and emerged into an area illuminated by a nearby street
light.

“Right,” he said while confidently griping
onto his weapon. “I suppose you would need to have better night
vision. I did a lot of research on vampires, but I guess that
little fact wasn’t sexy enough to get mentioned.”

“That’s the problem with doing research on
the internet,” I said in a monotone. “You never get very good
information.”

“So you’re not even going to try to dispute
the fact that you’re a vampire?” Anthony said, clearly pleased with
himself.

“I won’t insult your intelligence.
Congratulations on figuring it out though. You’ve proven yourself
to be smarter than the Starside Police Department,” I complimented
him.

“Of which you are a member,” Anthony said,
motioning to my police uniform with his pistol. “A position which
I’m sure helped you cover up all your murders.”

“Technically I’m a former member,” I
clarified. “And apparently I didn’t do that great of a job covering
my tracks. How’d you figure it out? The Jehovah Witness?”

“The Jehovah Witness!” Anthony began
confidently. His canned response had not fit with the question I
asked, and he had obviously practiced what he was going to say
ahead of time. He looked upset that I had ruined his big reveal.
“She had bothered me before she came to your door, but she didn’t
bother any of the other neighbors after you. I asked around. The
crumpled up pamphlet outside your door made it pretty obvious that
your apartment was the last one she visited. I heard you talking
with someone that night through these paper thin walls. I watched
you drive away a little while later. You were going to dump the
body, right?”

I nodded my head as I fought to hold back a
smile. Anthony’s curiosity was impressive, even if it had the
unfortunate result of him discovering my true identity.

“After that, I started to do some research on
you. That I.P. address I tracked down for you belonged to another
murder victim. He died about a day after I gave you the address,
and there was a rumor floating around the internet that he had been
found drained of all his blood. I hacked into your employment file
at the hospital and tried to contact some of your former
colleagues. It was rather difficult since the hospital in Boston
had no record of you. No one could even remember you when I gave
them a description, and I think you’ll have to agree that you’ve
got a pretty distinctive face. Your pale skin was the final factor
that sealed the conclusion for me. I see you all the time, but I
couldn’t remember a single instance where I had seen you outside
during the day. Honestly, I don’t know how no one else has figured
it out yet. I mean, it’s pretty obvious if you think about it.”

“Funny, I was just thinking that. It does
seem rather far-fetched that no one has caught me up until now. I
guess I would have gotten away with it if it weren’t for you
meddling… kid. Although, if I can critique your approach for just a
second, you probably should have gone to the police with this
information.”

Anthony scoffed at the idea. “And tell them
what? I think I found the Urinator? He’s a vampire who lives next
door to me? I didn’t find any hard evidence that pinned you to the
crimes.”

“No, I mean you should have gone to the
police because you don’t have the means to apprehend me. That
pistol that you are so desperately clutching is absolutely
worthless against me. If I wanted to, I could snap your neck in a
heartbeat.”

Anthony looked genuinely scared for the first
time since the start of the conversation. He nervously raised the
pistol up a little to make sure it was centered at my heart.
“Bullets might be useless,” he said, desperately trying to sound
confident. “But this thing ain’t using bullets,” he finished with a
cocky smile.

My neighbor pressed the trigger of the gun,
letting loose a small stream of liquid. His aim was true, and I
instantly felt the water as it soaked through my shirt.

“Ah!” I screamed. “That’s
really
cold.”

Anthony, who had expected to see me writhing
in agony, looked shocked by the outcome of his attack. He turned
the water gun, which he had been holding sideways, and gripped it
with both hands to steady his aim. He pointed it at my head and
pressed the trigger several times in rapid succession.

“Ugh, stop that,” I commanded as I used my
hand to block the water from hitting my eyes. When the assault was
over, I mopped up a bit of the water from my forehead with my hand
and flicked it in Anthony’s direction. “The only thing that stuff
is good for is making a vampire damp and angry.”

The confidence drained from Anthony’s face.
“So,” he laughed nervously. “Holy water doesn’t work, huh?”

I shook my head at him and smiled. “I’m not a
demon or possessed with a demonic spirit. In fact, there’s nothing
remotely religious about my condition. I’m just infected with a
virus. The whole holy water myth was started by the Catholic Church
way back in the day. They used to sell it like snake oil to the
dumb townsfolk who begged for protection against creatures of the
night.”

“The Church really did something like that?”
Anthony questioned. He pretended to be curious, but was backing
away from me.

“Sure. You never learned about the selling of
indulgences when you were in school? It’s basically the same thing,
but—”

Anthony interrupted me as he cocked his arm
back and launched the squirt gun at my head. I, having anticipated
the attack, snatched the toy out of the air and crushed it with one
hand. Anthony did not see my intimidating display of strength. He
had already darted towards his house as quickly as his feet would
carry him. I could have caught him easily, but instead chose to
start after him at a casual pace. He fiddled madly with his keys,
and let out a yelp of pleasure when he finally managed to get the
door open. Anthony jumped inside and stood just on the other side
of his doorway.

“Ha!” Anthony said as I approached the open
doorway. “You can’t get inside my home without an invitation.”

“Sure I can,” I said. “And even if that rule
were true, you’ve invited me into your house lots of times.”

I grabbed his black sweater with one hand and
started to push him back. He struggled futilely against my grip,
and he opened his mouth to scream when it became clear that he was
no match for me. I covered his mouth with my other hand and slammed
him up against the nearest wall of his apartment.

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead by
now,” I said to him. “Has this little demonstration been enough to
prove that to you?”

His eyes were bulging in terror, but Anthony
had enough control over himself to nod his head. I cautiously
removed my hand from his mouth, worried that he might still scream
for help. After a few seconds I released my grip on his sweater,
but I stayed only a few inches away from him so that he could not
flee.

“You’re a good kid, Anthony. And, lucky for
you, I don’t kill good kids,” I started to explain.

“Oh, yeah. You seem real nice,” Anthony
mocked. “I’m sure you put the “fun” in coffin. I might be more
inclined to believe you if I hadn’t looked up the history of the
Urinator. The authorities always thought it was a series of
copycats, but it was you all along wasn’t it? You’ve been killing
for decades, maybe centuries. You’ve murdered hundreds of
people.”

“Thousands,” I corrected unemotionally. “But
I don’t kill good people. You’ve researched my victims. Who did I
kill? Jehovah Witnesses and spam e-mailers. Crooked landlords and
child molesters. Conmen, Klansmen, car thieves and congressmen.
Everyone I ate deserved to die.”

“So… you’re some sort of good vampire?”
Anthony asked skeptically.

“I’m not a good vampire,” I said. “I’m just
better than most.”

Anthony and I entered his living room and sat
down. I spent the next hour explaining my life and my philosophy to
the young man. I did not lie or diminish the brutality of my
crimes. He was fascinated as I told him about the vampire gang that
had been harassing me, and the reason why I had been so careless
and stressed lately. By the end of my story my neighbor no longer
seemed tense or worried. He listened to me like a friend and it was
just like old times. It felt good to get everything off my
chest.

“… and then the fake Irish bastard made me
turn in my gun and badge. Well, any questions?” I asked.

Anthony, who had been respectfully quiet
through most of the story, opened his mouth immediately. “So how
old are you exactly?”

“Old enough to remember when Bowser was just
called King Koopa,” I tried to joke. “But not old enough to
remember the signing of the Magna Carta. I’ve been alive for 677
years total. Twenty-six of those were as a normal human, the rest
were after I was infected with the virus.”