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Chapter 1: Unexpected Dinner Guests

Peering out from under cover, Veronica watched as the last of the daylight dripped over the rooftops. She had to stay under the brownstone’s awning until twilight wrapped itself around the city. Slowly the golden light receded off her street. Finally. Quickly stepping out and rushing down her front steps onto the sidewalk, she barely noticed the people walking by. The workday must be over, she thought to herself. She didn’t really bother to keep track of the day of the week anymore. At her age, why bother?

It felt like a fall night. There was a brisk chill in the air that pressed across her sharp cheek bones as she walked towards Central Park. No decorations for Halloween are up yet, but the back-to-school signs still hang everywhere. September maybe?

She slipped past the people walking down the sidewalk like a panther stepping between blades of tall grass. They didn’t see her for anything more than the five-foot four slender woman she appeared to be. A child might ask their parent why her black hair was cut in a short pixie bop accentuated with neon pink highlights, but said child would have to be brave. Veronica’s glare was known to have sent the strongest souls to their knees in terror.

A man drinking an overly sugared coffee almost bumped into her, which would have totally ruined her faded black jeans. These jeans had seen many concerts, and she wasn’t about to let them fall victim to cheap coffee. She stepped out of the absent-minded man’s way with the grace of a ballerina.

Turning back, she watched as his coffee splashed across the sidewalk, destined to be someone else’s problem. She slowed her pace as Central Park came into view beyond the frazzled people heading home from a long workday. Even after all these years, the sight still elicited memories from deep inside her.

Best fucking city in the world, these hapless people tell themselves, Veronica growled to herself, but all of them are too busy to actually stop and appreciate it. 

Her nose twitched. 

Blood.

The scent was vibrant with a pungent undertone that called out to her senses even in a city where people left garbage on the sidewalk in thin plastic bags to be torn apart by the world’s fattest rats. 

Blood.

Spurred forward by this intoxicating scent, Veronica dashed into Central Park. Why she did so was as lost on her as it would be to you, for she’d already had the tastiest morning snack you could order via phone followed by a fantastic fuck. 

What is that underneath the smell? Electricity? Such a strange sensation.

That her nose was leading her on was of no concern. She freely walked off the paved jogging path, beyond where the bums’ beaten paths faded, past even where bird watchers would trek. Here in the dark were places only the unfriendliest moved about. She felt no fear. 

Her mouth felt heavy, and she could taste saliva forming at the edge of her lips. Seeking a meal this way was illegal in Manhattan, but something about the scent drew her closer, with fewer and fewer concerns about rules. Yes, there could be serious repercussions for hurting someone, but that’s only if she got caught. 

Who’s to know? Perhaps this poor sap was mugged and left for dead? It would be a total coincidence if some of their blood accidentally graced my lips while I helped them. Totally.

She smiled. It was decided. She wouldn’t kill this person, for that was a crime that would involve too much paperwork, but she would taste them before the sun rose. In the morning, when they were binding their wounds, they wouldn’t even realize what had happened. No teeth marks. Just some missing blood.

A sudden movement ahead sent her scurrying behind a tree. She peeked out, watching as a man wearing a helmet with a dim headlamp attached to the front fussed with a broken bicycle chain. His eyes apparently couldn’t see that it was missing links that now laid at his feet, but to Veronica the bits of metal shimmered brightly in the night.

She listened as he huffed and pouted about his poor lot in life. The man stood up to stretch his back, and she guessed that he was about six feet tall. Maybe taller. It was difficult to tell because even when he stood, there was a defeated slouch in his spine. He moved as if beaten by the world. His shuffling was unappetizing, even if his body was of acceptable proportions.

Moaning about being late, the man leaned back over his broken bicycle. She studied him for another moment. His hair was a rich brown that stuck out under the edges of the helmet, and it was offset by thick black stubble on his face. 

Does the carpet match the drapes? she chuffed, wondering what color the rest of the hair on his body was underneath his weathered yellow t-shirt and scuffed blue jeans. 

Even with keen vision, she squinted, trying to tell if the man’s appearance was fair or foul. Her efforts foiled by his headlamp. Even dim, it illuminated everything around him, save for his face. At best, she would say he was average.

This was not what Veronica expected from the lush wood-charred copper smell that had lured her so far away from her usual walk. In fact, this could be the most unappetizing human she’d consumed since that banker in the 90s who’d made the mistake of trying to foreclose on her favorite bar.

Her lips curled at the sight, but her nose vibrated. 

He smells so good, she rationalized as her feet made the decision that her eyes had delayed. As she inched closer, her throat started to form a snarl, a feeding trait that decades of efforts had not yet suppressed. A second later, and the sound of a cross bolt being prepared wouldn’t have registered, but as she stepped out into the open the clicking sound was thunder crackling across her ears.

A fanged smile crossed Veronica’s lips as she grabbed the whizzing arrow inches from her head, Rookie mistake. The bushes around her and the hapless bicycle fixing man shook violently as five assailants dressed in black fatigues came leaping out of the night to attack her. It wasn’t a fair fight.

For them.

Her arm snapped out so fast that even before the bushes had stopped rustling the assailant closet to her was snatched mid-leap. She glared at the redheaded man, studying the line of freckles across his chubby cheeks, and then tossed him over the head of the bicycle fixing man as if he were just an overinflated football. They sailed into the dark, thunking loudly against one of their partners, a Hispanic man with a sick grin.

Veronica could hear the individual bones snapping under the skin of the redheaded man as the sudden impact of speed met gravity. A pair of pained moans whimpered from the darkness, letting her know that they’d live to see another day… if she let them.

Her throat rumbled as she growled at the remaining three assailants. She slashed with her right hand at a speed that left the humans blinking. A second later, one of the attackers dropped to their knees as foul-smelling blood poured out of their neck. 

Garlic! She stepped back as her hand came to her face to shield her from the smell. Only one kind of human purposefully eats that much garlic. 

“Hunters! What are you doing in my fucking city!?”

Distracted by the sight the dying human clutching at their neck, she missed the sound of a weapon being aimed at her back. Not missed was the ozone pulsing through the air behind her just a second after a pair of taser needles jabbed into her skin. 

Did that motherfucker just put holes in my favorite leather jacket?

Thoughts fled as her next heartbeat skipped twice thanks to a powerful jolt of electricity surging through her body.

The world went blurry as she stumbled forward slashing at air. Her lungs felt like there was fire in them as electricity ran through her spine down into the tips of her toes. It felt like the world’s worst hickey scratching at her back when the taser needles plopped out of singed skin.

Laughter bubbled out of the man holding the taser, a mistake he would never make again. Veronica closed her eyes and turned towards the infuriating gleeful noise. Her fists following her ears as she smashed his face so hard that he spun backwards into the dirt path with enough force to shatter his neck bones. His lifeless body hit the ground with his head looking at his own ass.

She turned to watch the bicycle man recoiling in horror from the sight of the dead man on the ground. The light from his headlamp caused her to go blind for a moment as her jolted eyes tried to adjust. She growled again, in reaction to the sudden beam of light, and heard him gulp. His feet shuffled and she followed his steps backwards as she shook her head to clear her vision. Were you part of this? A human fishing lure? Or just a hapless idiot?

Veronica had actually forgotten about the last assailant in all the excitement, and just as she was starting to debate whether to kill the bicycle man, the last attacker sprang into action. Turning on a dime at the sound of a zipper opening, she found herself staring down the muzzle of a silver-colored cylinder with a red button on top. Its diminutive size made her smile, and she pulled back her lips to let him see her fangs.

The container released a familiar ‘phsssssh’ sound but tumbling through the air ahead of the liquid contents of the container was an unexpected metallic smell. She realized all too late that she’d made a mistake. Her face began to sting, then burn, as the chemicals contained within the liquid splashed across her skin.

What the fuck? Silver!?!

She had just a brief moment to dwell on her mistake before the full blast of the container washed across her face and down her neck. 

A series of curses in languages unknown to the assailant and bicycle man filled the quiet park as she reeled backwards from the attack. Stumbling over the bicycle onto the ground, she was unable to escape a second blast from the container. Coughing violently as silver worked its way through her lungs, she laid on her back weakened beyond even raising her hand in self-defense. 

This is a shitty way to die, Veronica thought to herself as she watched the man prepare to follow up his silver spray attack with a stake to her heart. As the man swung towards her chest, all that ran through her mind was a single thought, I’ve seen better stakes.

Electricity crackled through the air. The assailant stiffened and started convulsing before they fell over twitching. Wiping her eyes she looked over to see the hapless bicycle fixing man holding the large stun gun in his hands. He looked surprised at what he’d done. As if saving her life was not what he intended when he picked the gun off the ground.

Behind the bicycle man, the Hispanic attacker stood up quietly, holding his face. She glared at him and as his eyes caught hers, he turned and ran away without even so much as a whimper.

Coward.

Shaking her head, wiping her eyes with her jacket sleeves, and trying to get as much silver off her skin as possible, Veronica started to get back onto her feet. Weakened. Slowed. More than a little embarrassed about having been saved by a hapless human. Her head pulsated as the world spun around in circles. It had been a long time since she’d been this close to death.

Her first step staggered in the direction of the bicycle man by accident. She’d meant to step the other direction, towards the man he’d zapped. In a panic, he dropped the stun gun and waved his hands at her as words failed him. She got the gist, though, He doesn’t want to die. A smile flashed across her lips at him. Deal with you in a moment.

Blinking the last of the silver from her eyes, she stumbled the other direction back towards her would be killer. She lifted her foot up and brought it down on the convulsing man’s neck. Smiling as his breath rattled to a stop.

Behind her, she heard the bicycle fixing man gasp. Thoughts faded as her body’s healing cycle started kicking into gear. With each pump of her heart, every wound started mending itself. But such a gift was not free. Hunger came clawing up from the depths of her stomach.

She hadn’t planned on draining him tonight, but after being blasted with silver and electricity? Blood was back on the menu. Her smile faded as two fangs were unleashed into the night air. Veronica held up her hands, preparing to make the man’s death quick and mostly painless.

Falling backwards onto the ground in terror, the bicycle fixing man finally spoke, “Vampire…”

Chapter 2: Unusually Rotten Luck

Lying on the cold ground, staring up at the woman in the leather jacket as she bared fangs at him, all Larry could do was think about how this was the shittiest last day on Earth any man could ever have.

He’d started the day waking up to a short blunt text message from a woman he’d grabbed a drink with the night before.

 “I’d rather date a Yankee shortstop than spend another evening with you.”

Such a pronouncement coming before he’d had a chance to get out of bed, much less have coffee, felt rude, even by modern dating standards.

It was an omen of things to come.

His favorite curvy barista at the corner coffee shop had quit. Her replacement was a newbie who’d clearly never worked an espresso machine before in their life. Slow hands and weak milk frothing left him delayed and unsatisfied.

Arriving late to work, he had doggedly pursued a bug through twelve thousand lines of code. His reward for vanquishing a glitch impacting users worldwide? A surprise visit by his boss and the head of people management. Whisking him away into a conference room, there was no small talk. Just, “We’re sorry, but as part of the upcoming merger, our local technical resources are being made redundant.”

Corporate speak for “Once again, a merger will fuck you.” He’d been downsized from his last job when they outsourced IT overseas. Then he’d been on the wrong side of betting on an investment coming in time to save a startup he’d joined. Now here he was in a growing profitable company being told he was redundant. Everyone else got a go forward position. 

Luckless Larry 

That’s what his friends in college had nicknamed him. The schmuck who’d be caught when everyone else got away clean. The dope who’d spill ketchup on his shirt right before a date. The goof who’d stay up all night working on a coding challenge and then email it to the wrong professor. Tripping and falling at the one-yard line. Swinging and hitting nothing but air when it came to the ladies. 

Except for Sarah, that was a hit. Until it ended.

“What a garbage day,” he whined to no one as he peddled home from the office for the last time. Ahead of him, there were still miles to go, and a lot of paperwork to submit if he was going to claim his unemployment benefits in time to cover rent.

There, along the bike path in Central Park that served as his respite from the cars trying to run him over, awaited the final indignity of the day: A small, sharp piece of metal. If he hadn’t stopped to stuff his backpack with free snacks from the break room before they escorted him from the building, maybe there would have been enough sunlight to see the jagged object. Instead, he steered his bicycle directly over it.

The front wheel jerked roughly to the side as all the air chuffed out of the tire in a single dramatic huff. Before he had time to brace, both he and the bicycle came to a sudden stop, sending both flying in opposite directions. 

Well, this is the perfect fucking end to this day.

Feeling his body start to ache from the fall, Larry thought about calling a cab. With what money? I’m overdrawn as it is. Rolling over and getting back on his feet, he let curses fly. Reaching down, feeling muscles cry out, he scooted himself and the broken bicycle off the paved park path.

There in the dark he took stock of what had happened to his bike. The front tire was flat as a pancake. Which wasn’t great, but that’s why he always carried a spare tube at the bottom of his bag. The real problem was that in crashing he’d somehow knocked the bike chain off the gears. 

Fussing with the chain and the gears, he felt the metal drag across the skin on his hand as it slipped loose again. Cold air stung across his palm as he realized instantly that he’d cut himself.

“Fuck,” he exhaled while squeezing his hand slowly, feeling the sliced skin flex and burn in the dark.

His headlamp dimmed just as he opened his hand to inspect the injury, “Come on. Really?” Tapping on his head produced only flickers from the last vestiges of light the batteries could muster.

Leaning back and sighing, he thought only of getting home. Ignoring the blood dripping down his wrist, he tried to press on with fixing the bike using his utility tool. So focused on this impossible task that he missed the men in black fatigues who’d surrounded him, and the woman in the leather jacket who’d turned down the path, aiming her nose right at him.

The violence that followed the two forces meeting was a whirlwind that blinked by in seconds to Larry. He barely had time to comprehend what was happening before one of the men pepper-sprayed the woman in the face. She fell backwards over his bicycle, coughing as if her lungs were collapsing. 

What the fuck is happening? Oh shit, is that a stake?

Larry was many things, and a coward was normally one of them, but something about the sight of a woman about to be murdered spurred him into action. Grabbing the stun gun off the ground he aimed right at the man with the stake without hesitation. He was pulling the trigger before the consequences of his actions even registered in his brain. It was all instinctual. 

He was about to smile when the woman stood up and staggered towards him growling. The shock of her coming at him caused him to drop the gun. He waved his hands to signal that he wasn’t with the guys in black fatigues. This seemed to be enough. She shot him a smile with a wink, before turning her attention back towards the man who’d sprayed her in the face.

With no warning, she brought her boot up and then crashing down on the man’s neck. The cracking sound his bones made reverberated through his ears as he watched. Oh fuck. A snarl crept out of her lips, and she staggered towards him with a renewed focus. 

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

Larry tripped over something as he backed up, leaving him looking up at the woman who’d killed her attackers. She squinted as his headlamp shined across her face. Her lips pulled back and revealed a set of fangs that would make a cobra jealous. Her bloodshot eyes glinted in a way that made him remember that time he’d seen a coyote after the sun had set.

However, tonight a different word came to mind, “Vampire…”

With a speed that left his head spinning the fanged woman grabbed him off the ground and lifted him into the air. She held him off his toes like he was a child and not a six-foot tall man. He dangled there for a moment staring at her fangs before he remembered, I still have the utility tool. 

In his 22 years, Larry had never committed violence against another person. Tonight, he’d already zapped one man. Now he was contemplating stabbing a woman. Any concerns about his actions left him as he watched her fangs approach his face. With all the force he could muster, he stabbed the utility tool’s flat blade into the woman.

The fanged woman dropped him on the ground as her hands rushed to clutch the side where the metal instrument had pierced her. Her breath stuttered as she appeared to struggle for air. Words started to form as her breath rattled loudly, but what they would have been remained unclear for at that exact moment the assailant she’d thrown over his head earlier came stumbling back into the clearing.

Larry turned his head, meaning to warn the man, but he was too slow. She appeared to practically blink across the clearing to grab the man. Pulling his head to the side, she sunk her fangs into his neck. There was a soft purring sound as she drank heartily from her victim.

He gulped loudly and the woman looked at him with a dark red toothy grin. A warning that he was about to be next. Shuffling backwards, he had no thoughts other than trying his luck at running. Then he felt his fingers touch the silver container that one of the thugs had used. Grabbing and firing it in a panic, he almost hit her dead on as she came rushing up towards him.

However, once was apparently all it took for her to learn to step aside. She avoided most of the gray mist, but some caught her on the side of the face. Coughing and holding her side, the woman growled at him but stepped backwards. She hesitated, glaring at him as if by her eyes alone she could kill. She was clearly debating whether to try rushing him again. Then as quickly as she’d entered his life the woman in the leather jacket was gone.

What the fuckity fuck was that?

Larry sat there on the ground for another moment as panic shook him. Finally, he found his way back onto his feet. His breath threatening to race away from him as he took stock of his situation. Four bodies. Blood all over my utility tool. A woman who bites people like some kind of vampire? Calling the cops kept dancing through his mind, but as he kept replaying the events he’d witnessed that option seemed worse and worse.

 Fuck this shit.

He shoved the silver container into his back pocket. He grabbed his backpack and slung it back on his shoulders. He was about to grab his bicycle when his foot scuffed against something. 

Looking down, he found a matchbook half smashed into the dirt. The sharp lines of the cardboard matches stood out amongst the smashed bloody grass. He didn’t recognize the bar name, but the embossed silver logo looked fancy. It was a pair of hands gripping a curved knife. Even though he didn’t smoke, he reached down and pocketed the matchbook.

With panic and fear at his back, he quickly scooped the bike chain into his backpack before lifting the broken bicycle up onto his shoulder. Looking around as he stepped back onto the path under the lights, he wondered, Is she waiting for me around the bend?

Moving quickly, but cautiously, he jogged briskly away from the dead men. Behind him, he could hear a police siren. It felt like it was getting closer, but it cut past him into the night as he moved quickly to leave the park behind before anyone else came out of the dark to try to bite him.

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