MisStaked (4 page)

He stopped in front of the picture window dominating the second story sitting room. Even from behind its smeared and streaked surface, the city looked breathtaking. How gay the city looked all decked out with its blinking lights and garish marquees. Even the night couldn't hide the opulence this new world offered. It was so different from the world he had been born into.

Bloated, plague-ridden bodies and noxious gas lamps were no substitute for what lay before him. He shuddered at the images the thought invoked. So much had changed since the dark and stormy night so long ago. It really had been a dark and story night, but these novels just scream for a dark and stormy night to be inserted somewhere. The memory of it still lingered in his mind like an unwanted friend.

He didn't ask for what happened to him. This half-life had been thrust upon him. His wants and desires had taken no precedence in the decision whatsoever. Even now, the fate-filled moment controlled him. Soon, that would not be the case.

It had taken him a long time to discover his destiny. In the course of his dire existence, he had lived many lives—some grander than others. The others had been so putrid he tried not to dwell over-much on them. Despite their diversity, they all shared one thing: each was dictated by his unnatural existence. Well, no longer.

Leopold du Chambris Portus now knew who he was. He was more than the Belgian noble struck down in his youth by some vampiric specter. He was more than the undead prince who feasted on the lives of the wicked. Lewis had shown him this long ago, but he had been too blind to notice until now.

How much he owed sweet Lewis. To think he had lived for so long without his stalwart companion by his side. Looking back, Leopold marvel at how easily the years of loneliness had been swept away by the man's introduction into his life. For the first time in his long life he felt whole. It wasn't luck that brought the mulatto lad to his notice. It was fate. Just like fate had brought him to Seattle. Well, maybe not fate exactly, but it did involve at least one layover in Atlanta.

He turned away from the window. His maudlin thoughts were getting him nowhere. He had decided to think happy thoughts from now on. It was a strange concept to be sure. A vampire with happy thoughts—who ever heard of such? Despite the absurdity of his unspoken statement, it was all true.

He had Lewis to thank for it all. Who knew a reject from the seventies could awaken so much within him? Feelings he had long suppressed had come to the forefront. Leopold let a muffled whimper escape his puckered lips.

Leopold instantly stopped in mid-whiffle. He had to watch these melodramatic outbursts, but he had become so emotional as of late. It seemed like he was always either on the verge of tears or hysterical laughter. Lewis had said it was a natural reaction after coming to grips with the truth about oneself.

Leopold removed a pastel violet handkerchief from his jacket pocket. He gently dabbed the blood-red tears from his cheek. Yes, he must rein in these all-too-human emotions. It would not help for his enemies to learn the condition he was in. Only Lewis knew, and for now that was quite enough.

He plopped into the red velvet chair set beside the empty fireplace. Smoothing his pink frock coat, he let his mind drift to the reason he had come to Seattle. The Mother was waking. He, and the rest of the unholy court, had felt the shivers of her stirring through the veil.

While his role as her consort was now out of the question, Leopold still sought to ingratiate himself into her good graces. If he could somehow accomplish the feat, he would still have a foothold in the new regime he would soon bring about. How nice it would be to sit at the Mother's right hand when she again came to power. Perhaps she could get him into those exclusive shops that had long been denied him, like the Pier One. Damn them and their wicker delights.

But that time had yet come. The Mother was still far from waking. Only the slight tremors of foreboding announced her coming. The Bleeding Moon must rise before she reached her full strength and there was the problem of her sacrifice to be solved.

All the scrolls said the same thing: a virgin's newly-spilt blood must be presented to the Mother at the exact time of her awakening, or the waiting would continue for another millennia. Not just any blood would do. Oh no, the texts were quite clear on what type to use.

The question was—where was he going to find the blood of a thirty-five year old virgin who was pure of heart and not someone just too ugly to get laid? If the virgin hiccup wasn't enough, the sacrifice had to be a knight of the old order, a slayer of monsters. The impossibility of the task sent a migraine flowing to the pit of Leopold's brain. Lewis would know what to do. The young vampire had got him this far.

Leopold looked up at the dusty clock hanging limply on the faded wall. It was time to go. He could feel the hunger beginning to take root in his stomach. The stale want was driving him mad. Rising, he took one last look at the Seattle skyline. The newborn city called to him. He must dance among its varied people. The nightlife called, and he wanted to boogie.

Breathred emptied the change from his pocket. $1.76 was all he had to show for his night's work. Who knew one old lady could eat so much Chinese takeout? The number of egg rolls she ate alone, boggled the mind.

At least he was able to slink pass the hawk-like gaze of his stepmother without her noticing him. He couldn't take her snickering. It was bad enough having to live directly beneath her and his father. He was thirty-five years old and she was almost half his age. His father was twice her age plus eighteen years. Eeuw.

If the age difference wasn't bad enough, the noises the two of them created at all hours of the day and night were most unseemly. After six months of being forced to overhear them he wasn't entirely sure the sounds were altogether legal, either. Until he found out for sure, he intended to stay in the basement. He was just grateful they had moved into the upstairs bedroom, and there was no way he'd ever eat off the kitchen counter again.

Right now, all he cared about was a hot shower and enough Gold Bond Medicated to sooth his burning parts. He definitely had to rethink the leather. If nothing else, a body suit made of natural fibers underneath might help. He'd have to think on it some more.

"So, did you bag the big bad vampire?” a voice called mockingly as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

Breathred whipped around to find his chimp glaring at him from the bed. Breathred shook his head. He had entirely forgotten about Stud, something he thought he'd never be able to do. Wouldn't you know the only spell he ever had work for him was the one that gave his familiar the power of speech?

"No, it turned out to be a cat,” Breathred mumbled, slipping into the bathroom.

"It was a what? Did you say cat?” Stud howled from the bed.

"Yes, Stud. It was a cat, but it was a big cat."

"I told you I wished to be called Reginald,” Stud snorted.

"Nothing doing. I named you Stud before you could talk, so you're stuck with it,” Breathred retorted, a little angrier than he should have been. But the chimp was provoking him.

"Whatever. Did you at least kick the cat's ass?"

"Well, as I said, it was a big cat,” Breathred hoped the sound of the shower would drown out his answer. There was no way he could live with the monkey now. He slipped into the shower before he could hear Stud's response. The hot water felt good. He could almost ignore the places where the leather had rubbed him raw, except for when the spray of water chose to coat those areas. He bit down on his facecloth, so Stud wouldn't hear him whimpering. There was no way he would give the chimp any more fodder for his verbal abuse. Stud already had enough without him adding anything else to his already-scathing repartee.

Breathred let the steaming water soak his bunched neck. The muscles instantly relaxed. Who knew vampire slaying could be such a stressful endeavor? He chalked it up to first night jitters. Tomorrow would be better. If he ever got another client, that was. The handbook had said nothing about how long it took for vampires to surface. He had been surprised when the first call came in. He knew vampires liked to keep a low profile, otherwise they wouldn't have remained so well hidden for as long as they had.

The human race was just lucky they had people like him to watch out for them. He reached down and shut the water off. He had hidden from the monkey as long as he could. The last thing Breathred wanted was for the little poo-thrower to come in and tell him to stop playing with it, again.

He waded through the wall of steam and grabbed his towel from its hook. It seemed best to dab the tender parts first, then rub the rest as vigorously as possible to make up for the less than adequate drying delivered to those other parts. He knew it made no sense, but it made him feel better about neglecting them.

He draped the towel over his shoulder and turned to the mirror. He stroked his hand over the surface, wiping off the condensation. Man, he looked old. Whoever said clean living made you younger lied. He had more crow's feet than a Kansas farm. He definitely needed to talk to the Avon lady about some age-defying cream.

A rustling to his left snapped his attention away from the mirror. A vision of crazed, amorous felines flooded his brain. He slowly cocked his head to the left. Through the steam, a form took shape. Glowering eyes stared up at him from the commode.

"Got a shrinkage problem there don't you, Big Boy,” a decidedly feminine voice said.

Breathred bent forward for a better look at his stalker. Hazel eyes peered over a wilting comic book and recognition slammed home.

"Luna, what are you doing in my bathroom?"

"Number one, I swear,” Luna answered, putting the book on the floor beside the commode.

"That's not what I mean. What are you doing in here at the same time as me?” Breathred hid himself as best he could behind his soaking hand towel wishing he hadn't slung the big fluffy one back over the shower rod.

"Reginald said it would be all right.” She reached for the toilet paper.

Breathred turned his head. “Do you think you could wait until I leave the room before you do that?"

"Don't be so uptight. You're one to talk. Don't you think you'd better cover Mr. Happy before Seattle gets a new space needle?” She laughed, snapping her fingers at his groin.

Breathred did the only thing he could do in such a situation. He ran from the room like a scared little girl.

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The female of the species is oft time the most dangerous to handle.

Breathred did his utmost to ignore the chimp, but found it increasingly hard as the evening wore on. Everything would have been fine if it wasn't for the fact the chimpanzee was ignoring him, a preposterous thing for it to do in the first place. How dare Stud ignore him when it was his place to ignore the chimp?

This whole embarrassing situation was all Stud's fault, anyway. After all, the chimp had been the one who let the girl into the bathroom. Women and male nudity had no place in the same apartment, let alone the same room. He was still reeling from the encounter. He doubted even therapy would erase the incident from his mind. The very idea that Luna had seen his Mr. Wigglesworm was damaging enough without the little monster shooting him obscene winks every few seconds.

Luna gave him a sly smile from where she sat across the room. His hand fell to his lap. It was a reflex action. He didn't do it because he thought she had some kind of x-ray vision, but why take chances? Women were mysterious creatures. Who knew what secret powers they could be hiding?

Breathred scratched his head and gave the girl an appraising glance, trying not to appear to be looking at her. Yes, he would have to remember to look into getting some lead-lined boxer briefs online once she left, just in case. Maybe, he could check on EBAY. Perhaps they had something there he could buy. If not, he could start wrapping his personality in aluminum foil.

Through his fog of paranoia, he heard Luna laugh; her soft giggle always distracted him. Breathred looked up. From the expression on Stud's face, he had just said something extremely witty. They both looked at him and burst into a roaring fit of laughter. Whatever it had been, it was obviously about him. It always was.

Luna gave him a warm smile. The world around him fell silent as he fell into her. Her soft hazel eyes twinkled back, when she caught his glazed eyes staring at her. Her full lips upturned at their corners ever so slightly, drawing a thin sheen of sweat across his brow.

She always made him melt like a warm bowl of Rocky Road. Normally it was only when he was in her company, but lately it had been happening when he wasn't even around her. The odd thing was, she had the opposite effect on other parts of his anatomy he'd rather not mention, propriety being what it was.

It was totally ridiculous for him to feel this way. He had only known the girl for six months. It was silly to think she could have such a profound effect on him in such a short period of time, but she had. If he had been a tad bit wiser on such matters, it wouldn't have been a mystery to him at all. Instead, he looked for answers to fit into his logical world.

After numerous attempts at reasoning it out, he settled on the most plausible of his irrational explanations for his condition. It had to be an allergic reaction. His condition had to be purely medical in nature. It was the only answer to fit all his symptoms. Unfortunately, his bevy of doctors had, as of yet, found no visible cure for his unique dilemma.

Breathred found his mind drifting back to that singular moment six months ago. He had gone to the Java Jumper, a place similar to a well-known coffee establishment based in the Seattle area. (I should point out said company refused to allow the author the use of their much-publicized name in this manuscript due to a contractual dispute or, in other words, the money grubbing sum-bitches wouldn't cough up the cash for the endorsement.)

The day, like any other day, had been wet. His only thoughts were on getting a warm cup of coffee into him and escaping the downpour. He made it inside just before the bottom fell out.