Chapter 13

Monday, January 15th

"Sorry, the position has been filled. We'll keep your application on file for three months, and if another opening comes up we feel you'd be suited for, we'll call. Thanks again."

The phone went silent and Patrick flopped back on the bed. That was the last one. He'd have to find somewhere else to apply.

As if there's anywhere left.

The landlord's voicemail was still on his phone; a polite reminder that his rent was due two days ago. The new electric bill was on the kitchen counter and there wasn't any booze left. He'd given the last of his money to Anthony, Saturday night, but the high it bought was gone and he was stuck in his depressing reality.

I am so fucked.

He wandered into the bathroom and peeled off one set of smelly clothes for some that were less dirty. Laundry was something else he needed to do. Maybe he could go to his mother's tomorrow?

He brushed his hair, and checked his arm. The bite was pretty much healed, with a glossy sheen that promised a scar.

Just what I need.

A knock sounded on the front door and he answered. Michael hurried inside, looking agitated.

"I think someone was following me," he hissed as he slammed the door.

Patrick's eyes went wide and alarm bells rang in his head. "Who? Jorick? Oren?"

"I don't know." Michael paced around the room, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "I don't think so. It wasn't a smell I recognized, though I can't tell everyone apart yet."

Patrick refused to acknowledge the bizarre statement. Restlessly, he moved to the kitchen. He opened the cupboards, one after another, hoping for a stray bottle of something, but there was only secondhand dishes.

"Pat, we have to do something! I can't take any more of this." Michael waved his arms wildly. "You have to help me. We have to kill them soon."

Patrick stopped his inspection and closed the cupboard doors. "How?"

"I told you already. You wait for daylight and"

Patrick grabbed the electric bill from the counter and clutched it threateningly, as if he could bludgeon some sense into his brother with it. "I don't even know how to get to the damn place."

"You head out of town and give me something to write on." Michael snatched the envelope and snagged the ink pen from the counter to make a map. "Here, you follow this road, then turn at the big tree." When he'd finished he handed it back.

Patrick stared at the map dispassionately. "I said no."

Michael's face clouded with anger, but it dissipated quickly. "Just go case the place out and see if you think the plan is feasible. It's always quiet in the daytime. All the vampires are asleep in the basement. They won't even know you're there."

"Goddammit, I said no!"

"Come on," Michael whined. "Go out and look around. Please?"

Jorick's words rang in Patrick's ears. "I'm sure you can eventually wear your brother down and he'll agree to storm the basement."

"Dammit, Mikey, I'm not going to die for this!"

"I'm not asking you to die. I'm just asking you to check the place out, while everyone is asleep, and see what you think. After that, if you say it's too hard, then okay, enough said. I'll drop it and we'll come up with a better plan."

"Then come up with a better plan now." Patrick paced a worried circle, waving the electric bill. "I have enough shit to deal with. I have to figure out how the fuck to pay the electric company before they shut me off!"

"It's February, they can't shut it off." Patrick glared, and a sly gleam settled in Michael's eyes. "Claudius is rich. Don't worry, I'll make sure you've got enough money to pay all your bills; rent, electric, you name it."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"That's what brothers are for." He offered him a winning smile; though the fangs ruined the illusion. "Brothers stick together and help each other out."

"No, Mikey. I'm happy to help you most of the time, but this is ridiculous. For Christ's sake, you're one of them and they scare you. What the fuck am I supposed to do?"

"I already told you. They'll be asleep."

"And Jorick told you what would happen. He said they'd kill me!"

"Not if they're asleep. Are you even listening to me?" The silence was his answer. "Fine. Forget it. Let me down, like everyone else."

"Mikey"

His brother slammed out the door before he could finish. Patrick stared after him, and in a fit of fury flung the electric bill in the direction he'd disappeared. "Fuck you!"

***

Tuesday, January 16th

Michael knocked on the door the next evening. When Patrick answered it, he shoved a bulging envelope in his hand, then turned for the hallway.

Patrick thumbed the envelope open and stared at the contents: cash. Lots of cash. He flipped through the bills in disbelief, then looked up to see his brother starting down the stairs.

"Mikey! What is this?"

Michael looked over his shoulder. "I told you I'd help you out. We're brothers, remember?"

"But where the hell did you get it?"

Michael shook his head sadly, then made a point of turning away and walking down the stairs.

Patrick called after him, then swore under his breath and followed. He took the stairs two at a time and landed in the lobby. There was no one there. He ran to the door and flung himself out onto the sidewalk, but again there was no sign of his brother.

His attention moved to the envelope. There was a lot of money in there, enough to live on for several months. That would give him time to find a new job.

But Michael didn't do it to help him out. Patrick knew his brother was just trying to guilt him.

So why is it working?