Chapter 11

Saturday, January 6th

Patrick didn't want to venture out of his apartment the next day, but he was out of food and booze. Every time he closed his eyes, he pictured Michael's long pointed teeth. He needed something to wash the memories away.

A "Now Hiring" sign near the grocery store checkout left him asking for an application. He'd worked there before, and quit in a storm of cuss words, but it was so long ago that maybe they'd forgotten.

The clerk's expression said he remembered, but he handed the application over. The feel of the paper and the black printed words felt normal saneand gave Patrick the strength to stop in at the places he'd found listed in the paper. Two were filled, and the third also remembered him from a short employment a couple years ago, but they couldn't say no, either.

They just won't hire me.

Still, if he didn't try he'd never know.

It was dark by the time he reached his building, and the shadows pressed irrational memories on him; memories of a man with dark eyes who could see through his skull. The thought left him shaky, even locked inside his apartment.

He'd opened a new bottle of whisky when Anthony knocked on the door. Patrick let him in. His friend surveyed the messy apartment, then lit a cigarette and took his place on the couch. "They let you keep your job?"

"No. I got some applications, though. Hey, Smith's rehires, don't they?"

"As long as you weren't fired, it's six months, and if you were, it's a year. I think you quit, didn't you?" Patrick nodded, but Anthony shook his head. "It doesn't matter, though. They just laid off all the temps. Or got rid of 'em, or whatever you call it. I just hope they don't kick us part-timers out next." He looked thoughtful. "What about Lorden's? Doesn't your mom work there? You guys could car pool and shit."

"They're not hiring."

"Oh. I'd say you could come back working for me, but I don't really need the help, and you said you wanted out. I mean, if you need some quick cash"

The offer was tempting, but. "I dunno. Maybe."

Anthony shrugged. "Let me know. How'd it go with Mike?"

"It went." They dropped into silence and Anthony rolled an empty bottle with his foot. When the quiet stretched too long, Patrick asked, "Do you believe in vampires?"

Anthony choked on his cigarette. "What the fuck? You mean like real vampires? No."

"Me either." Patrick stared at nothing. "But if they were real, do you think they'd really kill people?"

"Dude, what the fuck? Seriously? Why you talking about vampires all of a sudden?"

"It's. Michael. He's. I dunno."

Anthony dropped his cigarette butt into an empty bottle. "Michael's what? Talking about vampires?"

"You could say that."

Anthony studied him. "You don't look so good. You look kind of. paranoid. You're not taking Michael's vampire shit seriously, are you?"

Patrick cleared his throat. "No, no of course not." He could still feel the invisible eyes on him, as if that guythat vampirewas watching him.

What in the fuck am I getting into?

Monday, January 8th

Two days later, Patrick ventured out again, this time in the daylight. The weak winter sun played peek-a-boo with the clouds, and the breeze scraped dead leaves over the sidewalk. Patrick stomped a few of them for good measure and returned his second round of applications. Then he veered into the cafe to start a third. He'd never worked there before, so maybe he had a shot.

He left, a carry-out in one hand and an application in the other. His eyes on his feet, he drew up short when he nearly crashed into someone.

It was Hailey Christenson.

With Michael's reappearance he'd forgotten about the New Year's party, but suddenly the memories were back. He couldn't decide whether to kiss her or scream at her.

"Hey, Pat." Her smile was warm, but wavered at the corners. "I know you've been lying low all week, but it's all right. I told Harold and Mark that I'm pregnant, and that made them forget about the mess at the party. Mark thinks the baby is his, so please, please don't tell him it's not."

She waited, as though she expected an oath of silence, but he only gave a grunt.

"Is that a promise?"

He rolled his eyes, and muttered, "Sure."

Her smile turned a little more genuine. "Good. I already messed things up having to tell him early. I'd decided to talk to the father first, see how he wanted to handle it, but then you kissed me, so I needed to distract Mark, to keep him and Harold from beating you up and"

"I kissed you?" Patrick asked incredulously.

"Yeah. At the party." She frowned. "How drunk were you?"

"I was sober enough to know you kissed me. Then you stood there while your jackass brother used me as a punching bag."

"No! You kissed me!" She got shriller with each word. "Then Mark spent all night quizzing me, because he thinks there's something between us, and I kept telling him there wasn't, and Harold said he was gonna kill you, so I had to just drop the news on them! Christ, you could at least thank me for distracting them instead of blaming me!"

"I don't believe this shit. Thank you? Fuck that, Hailey, and fuck you."

Her lip trembled and a single tear rolled down her cheek before she burst into sobs. "Why are you being mean?"

With her tears came guilt, but he couldn't back down now. "You don't even know what mean is."

Before she could reply, he turned on his heel and strode away without looking back.

***

That evening Patrick huddled on the couch with a bottle of whisky and watched the snow fall through the window. He took another swig and cursed Hailey. He could see her wide tear-filled eyes as he yelled at her in front of the cafe. Yelled at a pregnant chick who was hormonal and whacked out of her brain, who'd probably been drunk at the party and couldn't remember who did what.

Fuck.

Why did she have to tell him in the first place? Why did she have to drag him into it? It was like no matter how far apart they moved, they were always drawn back. There'd been girls since her, but no one serious. Casey was the closest, and she'd only lasted four months. Other than her, it was mostly drunk fucks, like New Year's Eve. He didn't even remember most of them, not like Hailey. He remembered her. The way she smelled, the way she felt, the way she tasted, the way

The door rattled, then opened. Patrick swiveled on the couch, the bottle clutched as a weapon, but it was only Michael.

Despite the cold, his brother wasn't wearing a coat. He brushed melting snowflakes off of his t-shirt and flopped on the other end of the sofa. "I didn't think I was ever gonna get away."

"Yeah," Patrick muttered around a mouthful of whiskey. Thoughts of Hailey evaporated in the face of Michael's strange appearance; pale skin, luminous eyes, pointed fangs. He'd traded memories of an angel for the reality of a new hell he didn't understand.

He took another drink and asked, "Let's say all this vampire crap is real. Is there a cure or something? "

"No, man. Once you're a vampire, you're that way forever. There's no going back."

"If that's the case, what do you want me to do about it?"

"I need you to help me get outta there. They all treat me like shit, like I'm some kind of servant. I have to wait on them, and they call me names. And that son of a bitch Troy knocks me around because he knows if I fight back, they'll all gang up on me. It's bullshit."

Patrick looked away. Even in his inebriated state, there was too much truth in his brother's eyes. "Then leave."

"You don't get it! I can't just leave."

"You're here now."

"I'm here because I snuck away, and if Claudius found out he could fuckin' kill me for it. I'm not 'allowed' to go anywhere without 'permission', and do you think they're gonna give me permission to come see my brother? If I try to leave they'll hunt me down and kill me!"

Of course they will. "Then go to the police or something."

"Oh, great fuckin' idea, Pat. I'll go to the cops and say, 'Hey, I'm a vampire,' and if they don't kill me, then the other vampires will. This shit is supposed to stay secret."

"Then I don't know what the hell you want from me!" Patrick flung the empty bottle across the room.

Michael didn't even flinch. "Help me kill them."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes! Look, you can sneak in during the daytime and go down to the basement and"

"And what?" Patrick asked sarcastically. "Pound stakes through their hearts? That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard."

"Do you have a better one?"

Patrick fell back against the couch. I can't deal with this. "What about getting help from another vampire?"

"They're all with Claudius, except that guy we ran into the other night."

The suggestion sounded golden. "Maybe we could ask him for help?"

"Now who has the dumb ass idea? We don't even know where to look for him."

"I think he'll find us. Come on."