Bite Me: A Love Story Chapter 17

17. Wide A take fire in Sucker-FreeOkata scraped the final stage few drops of inception from the container into the burned-up white girls rima oris. Hed managed to save two of the eight quart containers, further it wasnt divergence to be enough, he could tell, and later on the fight at the only ifcher break and his escape, he knew he wasnt strong enough to give her whatever more(prenominal) of his own blood. Shed need more, and he was pass to ca-ca to start intellection of her as both(prenominal)thing besides the burned-up white girl. She was starting to resemble a conty person straight away(p), more than a person- pulpd cinder. A very old, very alarming dead person, to be sure, nevertheless a person nonetheless. Her deprivation vibrissa nearly everyplacelayed the pillow now, and shed moved, if only a subaltern, closing her m byh after the last drops of blood went in. No ash had flaked away with the movement. Okata was glad. Her subject fangs made him a littl e uneasy, merely now she had lips, sort of.He picked up his sketch pad from the floor, moved to the end of the futon to reveal a different angle, and began drawing her, as hed been doing perpetuallyy hour or so since hed re snatched from the butcher. He was hushed cove rose-cheeked with the blood that had splashed on him during the fight, but it had long since dried and demur for washing his hands so he could work, hed forgotten it. He finished the sketch, then moved to his workbench, where he transferred a refined version of the drawing to a piece of strain topic so thin it was nearly transparent. He would replicate this drawing quadruplet more times, then each would be glued to a wood frustrate and carve away to make the plate for a different line or color.He figureed over his shoulder at her, and felt a diswhitethorn of shame. Yes, she looked uniform a person now, an old, desiccated grandmother, but he shouldnt set out her equivalent that. He took a bowl from the shelf above his little kitchen sink, filled it with warm water, and then knelt by the side of the futon and gently sponged the last patina of ash from her body, revealing the blue-white skin at a lower placen sweep awayh. The skin was smooth, the likes of polished rice paper, but pores and hair follicles were forming as he wiped the ash away.Sorry, he say in English. Then in Japanese he give tongue to, I move over non been mindful, my burned-up gaijin girl. I will do break down.He went to the cabinet under his workbench and removed a cedar box that looked like it capability film been fashioned to hold a set of silverware. He clear the lid and removed the square of white silk, then stood and let the turn fall well-defined to its full length. Yurikos wedding kimono. It smelled of cedar, and perhaps of a arcminute of incense, but merci fully, it didnt smell of her.He laid the kimono out next to the burned-up girl, and ever so slowly, he moved it under her, gently worked he r skeletal blazonry into the sleeves, then shut the robe and tied it loosely with the white obi. He arranged her arms at her sides so they looked comfortable, then picked up a small flake of dried blood that had fallen from his sheath onto her breast. She looked better now. Still wraithlike and monstrous, but better.There you go. Yuriko would be pleased that her kimono helped overwhelm one who had nonhing.He returned to his workbench and began the drawing for the block that would carry the chickenhearted ink for the futon, when he heard movement female genitals him and wheeled around.Well, dont you look yummy, Jody said.TOMMY Tommy spent the early evening in the library, reading The Economist and scientific Ameri nonify. He felt as if all the haggle were bringing him binding from the animal realm to being a merciful being, and there were surge of words in those magazines. He cherished his full powers of speech and human thought before he confronted Jody. He also hoped th at his memory of what had happened would go far bottom with his words, but that didnt tickm to be work. He remembered a red blur of hunger in his head, being thrown through a window and landing on the street, but between that and the time when his words returned in the basement, with the emperor, he could remember very little. It was as if those experiences-hunting, finding trade protection of injusticeness, snaking his way through the City in a cloud of predigital audiotapeors at peace(p) to mist-were filed in a part of his mind that locked as soon as the ability to tack together words to senses returned. He suspected that he may provoke helped Chet kill people, but if that was the case, why had he saved the Emperor?Fortunately, he hadnt baffled the ability to turn to mist, which was how hed obtained the outfit he was vesture now. The whole ensemble-khaki slacks, blue Oxford-cloth shirt, leather jacket, and leather boating moccasins-had been on break in a window at a m ens workshop on Union Square, suspended by monofilament fishing line into the shape of a casual cotton ghost that was haunting other, equally chichi but substanceless marionettes around some deck chairs and artificial sand. Just after the dinner hour, when the store was at its busiest, Tommy streamed in under the door, into the outfit and became solid. With a quick crouch, he snapped all the monofilament line and walked out of the store fully dolled up, bits of fishing line curling in his wake. It would, he thought, get hold of been the smoothest, more or less audaciously cool thing he had ever done, if it hadnt been for the straight pins that had fastened the shirt to the slacks. merely after a minor fit on the sidewalk as he yanked the pins out of his back, hips, and abdomen, period rhythmically chanting, Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, he returned to the calm and casual cotton-clad vampire aspect hed been going for. He waited until he was at the library, in the stacks, before he pulled the piece of cardboard out of his collar and yanked off various tags and threads. Fortunately, there had been no anti-theft tags on the reveal outfit.Now he was ready, or as ready as he was going to get. He had to go to Jody now, hold her, tell her he make do her, kiss her, shag her until all the furniture was broken and the neighbors complained (undead predator or not, he was still nineteen and horny), then figure out what they were going to do about their future.As he walked back through the Tenderloin, dressed in his please rob me white boy outfit, a high-strung crackhead in a hoody that had once been green, but now was so dreary it was shiny, tried to rob him with a screwdriver.Give me your currency, bitch.Thats a screwdriver, Tommy said.Yeah. Give me your money or Ill stab you with it.Tommy could hear the tweakers heart fluttering, smell the acrid malodour of rotting teeth, body odor, and urine on him, and could see an unhealthy, dark color aura around him. His pr edator mind flashed the word prey.Tommy shrugged. Im wearing a leather jacket. Youll never get a screwdriver through it.You dont know that. Ill get a running start. Give me your money.I dont strike whatsoever money. Youre sick. You should go to the hospital.Thats it, bitch The crackhead thrust the screwdriver at Tommys stomach.Tommy stepped aside. The tweakers movements seemed almost comically slow. As the screwdriver went by, Tommy refractory it dexterityiness be best if he took it, and he snatched it away. The robber lost his balance and tumbled forward into the street and lay there.With the flick of his wrist, Tommy threw the screwdriver onto the roof of a four-story building across the street. Two guys who had been standing in an alley a few feet away, thinking about taking the robbery over from the crackhead, or at least robbing him if he was successful, decided they would rather go see what was happening on the next block.Tommy was a half a block away when he heard the un even, limping foot go of the crackhead advent up behind him. He turned and the crackhead stopped.Give me your money, said the tweaker.Stop robbing me, said Tommy. You dont have a weapon and I dont have any money. Its totally not working for you.Okay, give me a dollar, said the crackhead.Still dont have any money, Tommy said, turning his pants pockets inside out. A note from inspector 18 fluttered to the sidewalk. He heard movement above-claws on stone-and cringed. Uh-oh.Fifty cents, said the crackhead. He put his hand in the pouch pocket of his hoody and pointed his finger like it was a gun. Ill shoot.You have got to be the worst armed robber ever.The crackhead pa employ for a second and pulled his gun-posed hand out of his pocket. I have my G.E.D.Tommy shook his head. He thought hed left the cats behind, but the felines either still had some fraternity to him, or there were so many of them now that there was nowhere in the City you could go where they wouldnt be hunting. He didnt relish nerve-racking to explain the whole phenomenon to Jody. Whats your name? he said to the crackhead.Im not recounting you. You could turn me in.Okay, Tommy said. Ill call you Bob. Bob, have you ever seen a cat do that? Tommy pointed up.The crackhead looked up the side of the building to see a dozen cats coming down the bricks, face-down, toward him.No. Okay, Im not robbing you anymore, said the tweaker, his attention taken by the clutter of vampire cats descending on him. Have a puritanical evening.Sorry, said Tommy, meaning it. He turned and jogged up the street to put some distance between himself and the screaming, which only lasted a few seconds. He looked back to see the crackhead gone. Well, not really gone, but reduced to a pile of gray powder amidst his empty clothing.Its how he would have wanted to go, Tommy said to himself.He would have thought the cats would go for the two in the alley, but now they were taking the people in good order out on the open street. He was going to have to get Jody and talk her into going the City, like they should have in the prototypical place.He jogged the twelve blocks to the loft, detailed not to run so fast that he might be noticed. He tried to look like a guy who was skillful late getting home to his girlfriend, which, in a way, he was. He waited outside the door for a moment before pushing the doorbell. What was he going to say? What if she didnt want to see him? He didnt have any experience to draw on. Shed been the first girl hed had sex with while sober. She was the first girl hed ever lived with. She was the first to take a shower with him, to sup his blood, to turn him into a vampire, and to throw him broken and naked through a second-story window. She was his first love, really. What if she sent him away?He listened, looked at the plywood still over the windows, sniffed the air. He could hear people inside, at least two, but they werent talking. There were machines running, lights buzzing, the smell of blood and rat whiz wafting under the door. It really would have felt better if there were romance in the air, but, well, okay.He ran his fingers through his hair, snatched away the last strands of fishing line trailing from his dress like errant crystallisation pubes, and pushed the button.FOO Foo had just placed the vials of Abbys blood in the centrifuge when the buzzer on the intercom went off. He flipped the switch, then looked over at Abby, lying on the bed. She looked so peaceful, undead and drugged and not talking. just about happy, despite having a tail. But the police wouldnt understand. He ran into the living agency and shook Jared out of the game-induced trance he had entered on his game console. Foo could hear the death-metal sound track coming from Jareds headphones, tinny screeching and tiny chainsaw rhythms, like angry chipmunks humping a kazoo inside a sealed mayo jar.Whaaa? said Jared, yanking out his earbuds.Someones at the door, whispered Foo. Hide A bby.Hide her? Where? The water closet is full of medical crap.Between the mattress and the box springs. Shes skinny. You can mash her in there.How will she breathe?She doesnt need to breathe.Sweet.Jared went for the bedroom, Foo for the intercom.Who is it? he said, keying the button. He really should have installed a camera. They were easy to wire and he got a discount at Stereo World. Stupid.Let me in, Steve. Its Tommy.Foo thought for a second he might pee a little. He hadnt finished building the high-intensity UV laser, and Abby hadnt gaunt her sun jacket. He was defenseless.I can see why you might be mad, said Foo, but it was Abbys idea. I wanted to turn you back to human, like you wanted. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Tommy was going to kill him. It would be humiliating. The guy didnt even have an undergrad degree. He was going to be murdered by an undead Anglo liberal-arts tard who quoted poetry.The buzzer went off again. Foo jumped and keyed the intercom.I didnt want to do it. I told her it was condemnable to put you guys in there.Im not mad, Steve. I need to see Jody.Shes not here.I dont believe you. Let me in.I cant, I have things to do. scientific things that you wouldnt understand. You have to go away. Okay, now he was a tard.I can come in, Steve, under the door or through the cracks around the windows, but when I go back to solid, Ill be naked. Nobody wants that.You dont know how to do that.I learned.Oh, thats cool, said Foo. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Could he get the door shut and groove tape before Tommy could ooze in. The great room was already taped up to contain the rat fog.Buzz me in, Foo. I have to see Jody and I have to banquet. You still have some of those blood pouches, right?Nope. Sorry, were all out. And Jodys not here. And weve installed sunlamps all over the loft, Tommy. Youd be toast. He did have some blood bags. In fact, he still had some of the ones with the tranquilising in it that hed used to knock Abby out.Steve, please, Im h ungry and hurt and Ive been living in a basement with a bunch of vampire cats and if I turn to mist my new outfit is going to get stolen while Im up there snapping your neck with my junk hanging out.Foo was trying to think of a better bluff when a dark sleeve childs play by him and he heard the door lock buzz downstairs. He looked up at Jared. What the fuck have you done?Hi, Tommy said in Foos ear.He sounded so sad, Jared said.THE OLD ONES At sundown the three awoke inside a titanium vault under the main cabin and checked the monitors that were equip like a nervous system to every extremity of the moody ship.Clear, said the male. He was tall and ash-blonde and hed been lean in life, so he remained so, would remain so, forever. He wore a colour silk kimono.The two females cranked open the hatch and climbed out into what appeared to be a walk-in refrigerator. The male closed the hatch, pushed a button concealed behind a shelf, and a stainless-steel gameboard slid across the hatc h. They walked out of the fridge, into the empty galley.I hate this, said the African female. She had been Ethiopian in life, descended from royalty, with a high forehead and wide eye that slanted like a cats. It was to this face that Solomon lost his heart, Elijah had told her, holding her face in his hands as she died. And so he called her Makeda, after the fabled Queen of Sheba. She didnt remember her real name, for she had worn it for only eighteen age, and she had been Makeda for septenary centuries.Its different, said the other female, a dark-haired beauty who had been born on the island of Corsica a hundred years before Napoleon. Her name had been Isabella. Elijah had always called her Belladonna. She answered to Bella.Its not that different, said Makeda, leading the way up a flight of steps to the cockpit. It seems like we just did this. We just did this-when?A hundred and fifty years ago. Macao, said the male. His name was Rolf, and he was the middle child, the peace-maker , turned by Elijah in the time of Martin Luther.See what I mean, said Makeda. All we do is traverse around cleaning up his messes. If he does this again Im going to have the boy drag him out onto the deck during the day and video it while he burns. Ill watch it every wickedness on the big test in the dining room and laugh. Ha Although the oldest, Makeda was the brat.And what if we die with the sire? asked Rolf. What if you wake up in the vault on fire? He palmed a black glass console and a panel whooshed open in the bulkhead. The cockpit, big enough to host a party for thirty, was lined in curving mahogany, stainless steel, and black glass. The stern half was open to the night sky. But for the ships wheel, it looked like an enormous Art Deco casket designed for home travel.Ive died before, said Makeda. Its not that bad.You dont remember, said Bella.Maybe not. But I dont like this. I hate cats. Shouldnt we have people for this?We had people, said Rolf. You ate them.Fine, said Make da. Give me my suit.Rolf touched the glass console again and a bulkhead undefendable to reveal a cabinet filled with tactical gear. Makeda pulled three black bodysuits from the cabinet and handed one each to Rolf and Bella. Then she slid out of her red silk gown and stretched, naked, her arms wide like Winged Victory, her head back, fangs pointed at the skylight.Speaking of people, said Bella. Wheres the boy? Im hungry.He was feeding Elijah when we awoke, said Rolf. Hell be along.Elijah was kept below in a vault similar to their own, except the prime vampires vault was airtight, locked from the outside, and was fitted with an airlock system so the boy could feed him.Irie, me undead dreadies, said the pseudo-Hawaiian as he came up the steps, barefoot and shirtless, carrying a tray of crystal balloon goblets. Capn Kona bringin ya the jammin grinds, yeah?The vampires each spoke a dozen languages but none of them had the slightest idea what the fuck Kona was talking about.When he saw M akeda stretching, the blond Rastafarian stopped and nearly dumped the goblets off the tray. Oh, Jahs sweet love sistah, dat smoky biscuit givin me da rippin stiffy like dis fellah need to poke squid with that silver sistah on de Rolls-Royce, dont you know?Makeda fell out of her Nike posture and looked at Rolf. Huh?I think he said he would enjoy violating you like a hood ornament, said Rolf, taking a snifter from the tray and swirling dark liquid under his nose. Tuna?Just caught, bruddah, said Kona, having trouble now balancing the tray while trying to hunch to conceal the erection dwell his baggies.Bella took her snifter from the tray and grinned as she turned to look out the windscreen at the City. The Transamerica Pyramid was lit up in front of them, Coit Tower just to the right, jutting from Telegraph Hill like a great concrete phallus.Makeda took a slinky step toward Kona, Should I let him rub oil on me, Rolf? Do I look ashy?Just dont eat him, Rolf said. He sat in one of the ca ptains chairs, loosened the belt of his black kimono, and began working the Kevlar bodysuit over his feet.Quaint, said Makeda. She took another step toward Kona, held her bodysuit before her, then dropped it. In an instant she had gone to mist and streamed into the suit, which filled as if a girl-shaped parking brake raft had been deployed inside. She snatched the last goblet out of the air as Kona flinched and dumped the tray.will you oil me up later, Kona? Makeda said, standing over the surfer now as he cowered.Nah need, matey, you shinin plenny fine. But dat other ting bein a imp fo sure. He held his hand to his chest and ventured a glance up at her. Please.Its your turn, said Bella with a smile, her lips rouged with tuna blood.Oh, all right, said Makeda. But use a glass.Kona reached into the pocket of his baggies and came out with a shot glass, which he held with both hands before his head like a Buddhist monk receiving alms.She pushed her thumb against one of her fangs, then let the blood dribble into Konas shot glass. Ten drops in, she pulled her thumb away and licked it. Thats all you get.Oh, mahalo, sistah. Jahs love on ya. He drained the blood then licked the shot glass clean, as Makeda watched and sipped her tuna blood. After a full minute, with the alternate Hawaiian still lapping away at the glass, his breath panting like he was hoisting the anchor by hand, she took the shot glass and held it away from him. Youre done.Bug eater, Bella said, disgusted. Now she was in her own bodysuit and had drained her goblet of blood.Oh, I think hes cute, said Makeda. I may let him oil me up yet. She ruffled Konas dreadlocks. He was staring blankly into space, his mouth open, drooling.Just dont eat him, Rolf said.Stop saying that. I wont eat him, said Makeda.Hes a authorise captain. We need him.All right. Im not going to eat him.Bella walked over, yanked a dreadlock from Konas head, and used it to tie back her own, waist-length black hair. The surfer didnt f linch. Bug eater, she repeated.Rolf was back at the cabinet, snapping together various bits of weaponry. We should go. Grab a hood, gloves to go with the sunglasses. Elijah said they had some sort of sunlight weapons.This is different, said Bella, gathering all the high-tech kit from the weapons cabinet, as well as a long overcoat to cover it all. We didnt have all this in Macao.As long as youre not bored, darling, said Rolf.I hate cats, said Makeda as she pulled on her gloves.