No Dominion

make it. Help make, I know how this is going to sound, but help make the world a better place.

I think about the world. I think about all the room there is for making it better than what it is. I think about the likelihood that I’m a guy who can do that.

– Yeah, let’s do that, Terry. Let’s clean it up.

– That’s the spirit. You come by tomorrow night. We’ll start talking. In earnest, I mean.

– Yeah. Sure. Tomorrow. I gotta go now. Got something to take care of.

I hang up.

I walk out through the space between two of the doors, hitting the mobile again. Hearing it chime.

Poncho and PJs are already out. Wrapped in their little coma of dreams. Seeing whatever visions it is they see. Pigtails is waiting for hers.

The Count points at the fridge.

– Sure you don’t?

I touch the blisters on my hands.

– A pint wouldn’t hurt. Or a drink.

He gets up.

– That’s the shit.

He grabs me a pint, brings it back along with a half-full bottle of Jack.

I retake my seat, open the pint, hit it.

The Count looks at me as he sets Pigtails up. He holds up the syringe.

– Want to do the honors?

Pigtails writhes on the floor.

– C’mon, Joe. Do it for me.

I finish the blood. Set the empty bag aside.

– Sure.

The Count hands me the syringe. I look at the careful measure of anathema inside. Pigtails is watching me, panting.

– C’mon, Joe.

I slip the needle into her arm. Push the plunger. She sighs, shivers, goes under. I go back to my seat, open the Jack, pour a shot down my throat. It mixes sweet with the blood.

The Count starts to fill the last syringe.

– You won’t regret staying, Joe. She is wicked crazy. Start in on her when she’s still half on the nod, she’ll do things no girl would ever think of doing.

I take another drink.

– Where’d you get them, anyway?

He looks up.

– The girls?

– Yeah.

He looks back down, focused on filling the syringe with the proper measure.

– Hell, man, I infected them. Wasn’t easy. Had to take a couple shots at it. But I followed the old lady’s plan. Made a profile. You know, looked for chicks like me. Couple of them couldn’t take the Vyrus at all, rejected it outright. Couple others just freaked out. But I had to have me the three brides. You were right about that, man. Totally cliche, but I had to have it. Like the ultimate Vampyre status symbol and all. I know it’s weak, but, like I said, spoiled rotten. That’s me.

I point at his syringe.

– Why don’t you put a little more in there?

He looks at it.

– Oh no, man. You don’t mess with this shit. Too much and you are fucked for life in the worst way.

– Yeah, that’s what Vandewater said.

He grins.

– Hey, is it true what Terry told me?

– What’s that?

– Said you dosed her. Gave her a hot shot. Said she’s hooked on the bad dose now.

– Got me. I didn’t even know she lived through it.

– That’s what he said.

– Must be true.

– Oh, man, that is the worst. She is so messed up! Bitch’s gonna be jonesin’ for the bad dose the rest of her life. That’s sooo F-ed in the A.

– That Spaz at Doc Holiday’s. That was you hooked him up, right?

He’s swabbing his arm.

– Yeah. Had to get the ball rolling. He was just a fish lost in the woods. Needed friends. Gave him a little of the needle and he was gone. I’d been haunting your background a little, looking for a good spot to open your eyes. Terry said he needed an inciting, like, agent. Whatever. I met The Spaz out back, by that take-out window they got. Gave him the needle good to go. Not a heavy dose, just enough to push him over the side. Told him to hit it in the can. Pow! That was that. I watched some of that through the window. Man, he was all over the place. Thought for a second I overdid it. But you, man, you handled that shit.

He has the tube around his arm.

I point at the syringe again.

– Yeah, so, like I said, why don’t you put a little more in there.

He’s focused on slapping a vein up.

– No joke, man, can’t mess with that. Take no chances on getting a hot shot.

I take out my piece, cock it. He looks up.

– Count, why don’t you put a little more in there.

He looks at the gun.

– Maaaan. Man, I thought you were taking all this a little too cool. I knew you were playing possum on me.

I point the gun at him.

– Yeah, surprise.

He smiles.

– Joe. I know you’re pissed right now, but what are you gonna do? Really. I’m Terry’s. I’m his guy now. You can’t fuck with me. You think you can intimidate me into taking a hot shot? How? You can’t lay a hand on me. Terry will freak. Kill me, you kill the golden goose. I mean, fuck all that spy shit, kill me, I won’t be opening my bank account to the Society. Period.

– Uh-huh. Thing is, I just bought myself a license to fuck people up. It’s gonna cost me plenty. So I need to start getting my money’s worth.

He squints.

– I don’t follow.

I shoot him in the foot. Blood sprays.

He stares at it, stares at the place his toes used to be.

– What the fuck?

I stand up.

– Amazing, isn’t it, that moment when you don’t feel any pain?

He drops the syringe, howls.

– And then it hits.

He grabs a pillow from the couch, crams it over the end of his foot.

I pick up the syringe.

– Jesus, Count, how long you been around? Give it a minute, that thing’ll stop bleeding on its own. And the pain?

I slip the needle into the bag of anathema.

– That goes away, too. Stick around long enough, you’re gonna have to live through no end of pain.