– You do know. You know about the one you cannot smell or see.
I stop.
– Who is
–
Oh, Jesus. It's gonna be a ghost story.
– Bullshit.
– It watches you.
Screw this. I start to walk. He doesn't follow.
– Give them my regards then.
– Daniel wants to talk with you.
– You tell Daniel to stay out of my business.
– You are being watched, Simon. Have a care.
– I told you not to call me that.
I turn back around, but he's disappeared. Of course. That's how these Enclave guys are, dramatic entrance, dramatic exit, and a bunch of crap in between. I start walking again, and try not to feel the little tingles on the back of my neck that make me feel I'm being watched.
Evie loves me. I know she loves me because she buys all my drinks for me. I know for lots of other reasons, too, but right now this is the most important one because I want to get drunk. I took a walk around the neighborhood, looking for any indication of the carrier and coming up empty. I cruised back through the park to check on Leprosy, but the other squatters said he had split right after I did. So I heaved a sigh, said fuck it and came over here to see Evie and have a drink.
It's after midnight on a Sunday and the place is just starting to pick up. There's a late night hoedown-jam going on on the tiny stage and a few couples trying to two-step between the tables. Folks that work in the bars and restaurants in the neighborhood are getting off shift and coming in here to blow off steam. Evie likes working Sundays. She says it's the pros' night out. It's not as busy as Friday and Saturday, but she makes more money because these people know how to tip and most of them have Monday off so they're getting good and fucked up. And trust me, these people know a thing or two about getting fucked up.
Right now Evie is setting them up for the midget deadbeat I shook down the night we met. His name is Dixon and he turned out to be a pretty good guy other than being a degenerate gambler. I put another shot of Old Crow down my neck and take a sip off my Lone Star.
I can get drunk. It takes some seriously hard work because the Vyrus treats alcohol like any other poison and works quickly to neutralize it, but if I drink enough and I drink fast, I can get something resembling a buzz. And hey, no hangovers! The virtues of Vampyrism. Evie sidles back over to my side of the bar and refills my glass. She doesn't really need to do that since the bottle is right in front of me, but it's a nice gesture.
Every gesture Evie makes is a nice gesture because she's just that kind of girl. The kind I like to look at, but can't touch. I take another drink. She fills me back up. From the ground up she's wearing cowboy boots, low-cut jeans, a baby-doll T-shirt with the word TITS stretching tight as a drum across hers, and a smile that's all for me. I look her up and down and take another drink.
She fills my glass, takes a pull from the bottle and gives me the smile.
– So, can I come over tonight?
I bob my head up and down.
– Could be, could be.
She leans on the bar and puts her hand alongside my face.
– We could watch a movie maybe. Maybe play a little.
– A movie, hmm?
– Yeah.
She leans closer, puts her cheek against mine and flicks a tongue at my ear. I shiver. I almost cry. But I don't. Someone calls for a drink. Evie smiles at me and walks away down the bar. I watch her ass and take another drink.
This is what we do. This is what we do instead of sex. Not all the time, but some nights this is what we do. We flirt and tease. We slap and tickle. We go home and watch porn and make out. We jerk each other off through our clothes or sometimes we take them off and jerk off ourselves in front of each other. This is what we do because Evie will never take the chance of giving me her sickness, and it makes her feel guilty as hell that she won't fuck me, but that's just because she doesn't know that I'm afraid of giving her mine.
I don't know how to make a Vampyre. As far as I know, nobody really does. The Vyrus is certainly carried in the blood, but like HIV it might be in my come as well. I can't have sex with Evie because I might turn her into one of me, which would cure her, which would mean we could be together for… I take another drink.
Evie finishes up with her customer and wanders back over to me.
– So am I coming over tonight?
– I guess you are, babe, I guess you are.
– Cool. And maybe in the morning I can take you out for breakfast.
– Funny, you're a funny girl tonight.
Evie thinks I'm allergic to the sun. She thinks that because I told her I'm photosensitive and suffer from solar urticaria that would make my skin erupt in boils if I were exposed to sunlight. For that matter, that's what anyone who knows me well enough to know I don't go out during the day thinks. For that matter, I am allergic to the sun when you get right down to it.
She taps the tip of her index finger against the tip of my nose.
– I could
– And I could choke on it and die.
– Fuck you.
– You want breakfast I'll call someone and have it delivered.
– Well that's what I meant when I said I could make it.
– Silly me.
The phone rings and she grabs it off the back-bar. She talks to someone for a second then brings the phone over to me.
– It's for you.
It's Leprosy.
– What?
– Pitt?
– Yeah, what's up?
– I got something.
– What?
– Just come meet me.
– Is it the girl?
– No. I. Just meet me.
– Where?
– That garden on B.
– With the tower?
– Yeah.
– Don't fuck with me here, Lep. Is this solid?
– I'm not. Just meet me. Now.
He hangs up. I hand the phone back to Evie.
– Leprosy?
– Yeah. I got to go.
I stand up and realize I'm not packing. Not even a knife.
– You got that bat you keep behind the bar?
– Sure.
She reaches under the ice bin and comes up with a Frank Thomas edition Louisville Slugger. It's a big bat. She passes it to me.
