Victor

I dedicate this story to my late-Grandmother who gave me this piano in her Will.  It was her pride and joy and I'm proud to have gotten it when she passed away.  I'm currently learning to play it and thought to write a story about this piano from the piano's viewpoint; just to be different.  Enjoy.  The names I have used are all fictional until the 1970's when the real people's names are used; including my first RL name.  I hope you enjoy this story as much I enjoyed writing it.

I don’t remember a time where I wasn’t played.  The first time was in the factory in Sydney; when they were putting me together.  I don’t mean the framework, I mean when the keys, pins and pedals were going into place.  They had to play me to make sure I sounded right.  Some of those guys could really play some good stuff!  But not a lot of them could read music; so there wasn’t any put up on my lid.  They just sat on an old stood that was at hand and played the unpainted keys. 

And did I sound beautiful!  Yes, I did.  I am a Paling & Company ‘Victor’ upright piano.  All I knew was that it was around the mid to late 1920’s and everyone wanted one of my kind of pianos in their sitting rooms or front parlours to play after supper.  And I was already bought… actually I was a commissioned piece; paid in full by the Archer family.  I had only heard his name:  Mr Archer; the father of the family being mentioned.  But I knew I was supposed to be a present for his daughter who wanted to learn.

The sitting room was full of light and I sat against the main stairs.  After the company had finished with me, moved me into place and tuned my strings and adjusted my pedals, they left a drop cloth over me.  I was in the dark for a little while.  But today, I watched the sunrise for the first time in my long life and found it was beautiful.  This house was modestly furnished.  They had a lot of books and a gramophone with plenty of records.  Seeing they loved their music, I think I’d be here for a good long while.  I felt my wheels settle into the carpet and the glass of water they had left in the right side of me evaporate a little more.

However, I knew one thing was for certain, somebody was moving around upstairs in the house.  I had a feeling it was the daughter; the birthday girl.  Soft gentle footsteps padded down the stairs behind me and I wished I could turn around like they could, but I had to be patient and wait for my new owner.  She turned the corner and stood there jumping up and down on the spot excitedly in her dressing gown and slippers.  Yes, she and I would get along nicely. 

She walked up to me touched the lid and with tears in her eyes as she pulled out the stool that came with me, but she didn’t lift my lid and play my keys; instead, she leaned in close and whispered:  “I’m Sophie.  You’re my birthday present.”

Very quickly, a few years passed and the Archer family had to sell me.  It tore Sophie’s heart out.  She cried and begged her father not to sell me; no matter how much she played me.  But as the gramophone and records were sold and the books and bookcase, then the car… well, I was the last item he looked at.  The night before they took me back to the Paling & Company factory, Mr Archer sat at my keys and played a touching serenade.  I had never had somebody play something like this before; not even Sophie.  I noticed he was crying as he played.  He didn’t want to let me go either.  The next afternoon, Sophie was on the footpath crying as her father fought the tears he kept trying to blink away.  The year was 1929.  Everyone was selling everything to make ends meet.  Sophie had been very good to me.  She rarely lost her temper, learnt to play wonderful show tunes and – when nobody was looking – played some jazz and blues.  Yes, we had our fun.  But it was too soon and we were parted.  The last time I saw her was in the afternoon when she stood on the footpath watching the door of the removal van roll shut.  Sophie turned her blond curls away from me and into her father’s chest and cried out loud.

Music pounded through the jazz club as the guy in the hat sweated over my keys and a grin pulled up his face.  He loved playing my keys so much; and I loved being in my new home; if you could call a blues club a home.  He pounded the dampener over and over as the saxophone and drums played loud.  Smoke filled the air and glasses lined the top of me.  I was sent to a blues club in Melbourne.  Every Friday and Saturday night, people went out to dance; and this place filled to capacity every week and the same man pounded my keys and the jazz band played until 3am; or until the place was empty and he just leaned against the front board and tinkled with a few of the keys to try out a new set of chords.  Sometimes, he and I watched the sun come up; and those times together reminded me of times with Sophie.  During those times, he’d look at the top and wince as he traced the rings with his long elegant fingers that had been left there by the drinks muttering: “Gotta getcha towel or somethin’ so you don’t have these rings, hey bub?” Other times, he’d pull the stool out and check the water in me and then refill it before tossing the cloth over me and closing up.  I missed seeing the sunrise; just I used to in the Archer’s home.  It was something I treasured.

The club went broke too soon; all because of some evil man called Adolph Hitler.  But there was one other man I kept hearing the name of: Glen Miller.  He and his band’s music rang through the radio all over the stations.  I could hear it in the back of the van as it drove me from Melbourne to Sydney.  The pianist who had played me in the club had enlisted into the army to fight.  I never saw him in another club again; wish he hadn’t done that.  He was a great musician and didn’t deserve to be in a war; not with the music that was inside him.

For some time, I was in a number of places with no real home to call my own.  My wheels really didn’t settle anywhere for long before I was moved again.  Sometimes I was moved by removalists and other times I was moved by proper piano movers; and they were most the gentle and wonderful people.  Piano movers really know how to handle us. 

I was tuned most times when I was moved.  Some of my keys were fixed when they needed fixing.  I got bumped, scratched and leaned on.  People put stuff on my lid (which is a big no-no because it leaves marks).  There were a few years where I was left with just a cover over me and I gathered a lot of dust and roaches nested in me!  Yuk!  I hated hearing them scratching around inside me and not being able to do anything about it!

But, mainly I lived in Sydney.  I was hired out, bought and sold, rented and borrowed.  However, I always found my way back to the old Palings & Company Factory to get stored.  They’d open up the van, look in at us all sitting there strapped up, see me and sigh.  One guy used to turn and call:  “Hey, the ’27 Victor’s back!” as if I was some kind of bad egg that kept on showing up.  In the end, I was sent to Brisbane.  They wanted to see how well I’d go there.  Well, I was snapped in a hurry!  A ballroom called Cloudland wanted me for a few shows and so I was moved there.  And what a place!  When they unrolled the doors, I saw two massive arches reaching all the way up to the sky.  The place was so majestic with its columns and curved entrance that invited you inside to its gorgeous wooden floors and balconies!  The stage was a much smaller duplicate of the outside, and I was set up there for a few shows.

The best nights to be at Cloudland were on Friday or Saturday nights.  The tram dropped you at the bottom of the drive and you walked up to the parking lot.  All the women wore lovely dresses and men wore ties or were not allowed in if they didn’t.  A lot of the time the place was packed; much like the blues club in Melbourne, but it was rock’n’roll music we played.  And it was amazing how everyone knew the words!  A brilliant musician called Billy Thorpe and the Aztecs played here and – even though I wasn’t needed much – the music they played was great!

Too soon, I was sent back to the Palings on Elizabeth Street in Brisbane.  This was because somebody there had seen me at Cloudland and was interested in buying me.  Finally, I was going to have a home!  So, they brought me back in to clean me up.  They polished up everything, tuned me, made sure everything right down to my pedals shone.  Then, when the people came in, they wrote the cheque and I was off to a new home where an older teenager was eager to learn.

Jodie was around sixteen and she was learning to play – just like Sophie had been, but Sophie was ten the last I saw her.  But Jodie didn’t practice for hours on end (unlike Sophie who played for the joy of it).  Instead, she’d walk past, give me a foul look and then when it came to playing the music she got very angry, blaming me for not playing right; bashing my keys hard.  Quite often, this spoilt young lady would slam the lid closed and storm off, leaving the music on the lid and the seat out for anyone to fall over.  Yes, Jodie was a very spoilt and non-committed kind of person indeed.  I wished I could have Sophie back at my keys for she was such a gentle soul and so patient; and so much fun! 

By 1973, Jodie had stopped playing me altogether.  She didn’t even look in my direction when she walked past; and nobody else tried to play me.  They had forgotten to fill up my water glass inside; and so I had begun to deteriorate.  My front panel was warped and the panel in front of the feet was so badly warped, there was a gap up in the top right corner.  Jodie hadn’t even gotten me tuned; or asked her father to get me tuned.  So, while she was off at college, he organised to have me shipped back to Brisbane to be reconditioned and sold at any price.

It was embarrassing when they pulled me out of the van this time; but instead of feeling like a bad egg that kept showing up, the people at Palings & Son’s stood in shock. 

“Aaaw, crap.” The driver ran a hand over his face.  He was trying not to cry, “Who’d not keep the water up in these things?”

“A careless teenager.” Another voice said that came close and ran an experienced hand over my lid, down one leg, across the warped under board, pedals and around the back, over the sides and all around, “Yep, I can fix her.”

The owner of Palings & Son’s came out, “Oh no, not the Victor.” He looked over at the man, “Can you?”

“Sure.  It’ll take a while.  You’ll need to be patient.  I gotta find the parts.”

“I’ll call Sydney.  It’s where she was made.” The owner turned and walked inside shaking his head.

“Well, let’s get this one in first and upstairs.” He looked to the sky, “I have a bad feeling it’s going to rain.”

The 1974 floods here in Brisbane were the worst they had had in about a century.  And fortunately for me, I was upstairs and out of the way of it.  However, the rest of the stock was underwater.  Palings & Sons lost a lot of money and some of the pianos up here on the second floor still had to be thrown out because of how much moisture there was in the air.  Me?  Well, I needed the moisture and so my boards sucked it up and I began to feel better and look better.  However the two front boards never looked the same again.

It took almost another year for the man who reconditioned to complete me.  But, a week from being finished, a married couple climbed the stairs and saw me sitting there with my pins, pegs and keys sitting bare.  I felt so naked and exposed.  But the woman didn’t see me that way.  To her I was an instrument; a beautiful instrument to play in her home. 

“So, Doris, what do you think?” the man asked.

“Oh, Sam I love it.  Can you ask if it’s been sold yet?” she ran her fingers lovingly over my keys and smiled just like Sophie used to.

Sam walked over to the salesman who was on his way over, “How much for that one at the top of the stairs?”

“Well, it’s being reconditioned right now.  However it’ll be finished in a week, sir.” He smiled, “Would you like to purchase the Victor?”

“My wife would love it.  How much?”

They talked about price while Doris looked at my pins and keys and smiled that particular kind of smile that a person gets when they’ve found an instrument that’s touched their soul.  I was absolutely certain I wasn’t going to be rejected from this home.

Within the week, I was finished and taken out to Tarragindi to this wonderful house.  Doris played me all the time to this little girl with bright red hair.  As the years passed, the little girl became curious about me and began playing me; but she just couldn’t get her left hand going.  But her right hand was playing up a storm!  This young girl turned into a woman over the decades and Doris told the young redhead that I was going to be hers; music and all.  So, I wasn’t going to be sold or turned away… wonderful!

Too soon, my wonderful owner died.  On the morning of her death, she propped up an envelope on my lid; her Will.  This was found by her grandson at his sister’s suggestion after he found Doris in the next room.  The whole family was gathered around from all over the city and they all sat outside until the Coroner arrived hours later to announce Doris gone.  But the young redhead did one good thing with me.  Out of respect for Doris, she locked my lid down so that the music that Doris had last played stayed within me until the funeral service.  She felt it was only right; and to me it was too.

Two years passed and I had to be moved again because the house was sold.  This time, I was put somewhere I had never been… storage.  It was cold, dry and creepy.  There were other pianos here.  And I was left here for a long time.  After a while, I lost track of time and saw the young redhead (who I found was named Lynda) a few times.  She’s often look over at me with a longing expression saying she’d wish she could have me back home.

It was in August 2009 that I was moved again by piano movers to Lynda’s house.  She had made a space in her modern life and her modern home for me and I had been installed via the side garage door by the best guys in the business I had ever been around.  The guys posed for a photograph with Lynda as she placed her hand on my lid and I now take pride of place in her living room.  But there was always one thing that bugged her about me… she had never heard me in tune.  So, she began saving up to have me tuned by a well-known tuner; and even phoned a few places for price comparisons.  I’m so excited it’s been so long between tunings!

On 16^th, April, Martin showed up at the door, took a look at me and was so amazed I had survived so well since 1920’s.  He immediately offered to tune me for life.  I was so excited about being tuned and now, I am getting tuned.  And Lynda’s so patient when she’s playing me; I don’t know how she finds the patience at her age. 

“Do you play?” he asked.

“No.  I’m trying.  But in truth, I’m a flautist; and I’ve decided to learn piano.” She smiled.

He smiled, “Welcome to a good challenge.”

“I know it’s going to be hard, but I can read music; so I’m halfway there.” She smiles.

My next tuning was on Tuesday.

You know… I think I’m going to be with this family for a good, long time.  Lynda’s happy with me; and she’ll make sure I’ll be given to somebody who’s also happy with me.

A few months passed and Lynda was reading practicing some music that she had learnt at a lesson when the phone rang.  She took off her glasses and picked up the cordless handset that rested on the top of me.

“Hello?” a few moments later, she hung up and resumed playing.  The phone rang again and she picked it up again, “Hello.” She had a strange conversation about me and how she had gotten me; one that I couldn’t quite follow.  But as she sat down on the piano seat, she wrote out a number and name; the first of which I knew:  ‘Sophie Richardson.’ But the phone number was of a nursing home nearby as she wrote out the name.

She phoned them back, “Yes.  Would it be okay if I came and visited Sophie before she came to see the piano?”

About a week later, she had the place spotlessly tidy.  We were getting some serious company if this was happening; even her Mother was here to help.  Lynda had made some ice tea over the last few days and stocked up on a few biscuits (something she never buys).  And as she was making sure there wasn’t any dust on me (for the fourth time this morning), there was knock at the door and she rushed over and opened it.

A woman from a nursing home walked a very old woman inside, a woman whose eyes lit up when she saw me.  But somehow I didn’t know her.

“Oh, it’s just the same as I remember!” she smiled, “But the front boards have been replaced.”

Lynda nodded, “Yes, it had to be reconditioned in ‘70’s.”

“May I?” she touched my lid, “I’d love to play her again.”

Again?  What was this woman talking about?  I’ve never seen her before in my life!  Lynda lifted the lid up for her and assisted her with the seat as she sat down and looked at the keys.

“Beautiful… just beautiful.” She whispered, “It’s Sophie; you were my birthday present.” Then she played part of a show tune she had learnt turning it into a blues-jazz piece with a big grin on her face and tears glistening in her eyes.  As the last note rang in the air, she turned to Lynda, “She sounds great.”

“Thank you.  I just got it tuned a few months back.  And you were marvelous.” She smiled touching her arm, “So, you were the first owner?”

“Yes.” Sophie smiled sadly, “Daddy had to sell her in ’29 during the Great Stock Market Crash.  We had sold the car and two beds, the gramophone, all our books and bookcases.” She shook her head at the memory as she laid her old hand on my keys, “The next thing was the piano.  It absolutely broke my heart.” She touched the inscription of where ‘Palings & Company’ was and looked me over, “I just wonder exactly where this instrument has been.”

“If only it could talk.” Lynda smiled.

Two weeks later, Lynda received a letter in the mail that Sophie had passed away in her sleep from natural causes.  The doctors had wondered why she was hanging on for so long when a lot of her family had either passed on or were living overseas and nobody came to visit her.  Lynda went to her service and returned home with a large briefcase of music that had come with me in 1927 when I was first built.  A lot of it was show tunes… a few books were hand-written jazz; of Sophie’s own work over the years of when she didn’t have a piano to play.  She opened the first book to the first page, propped it up on the rest and put on her glasses.  After looking over the page for a minute, Lynda began to play the music that Sophie had written just for me.

Undercover Cop

From the moment I walked through the door, I knew there was something special about this one.  Music pumped through the haze of the warm room, others were feasting on hapless humans and the overpowering aroma of blood was pounding through the air; but all I saw was him.  He sat at the bar staring into his drink trying to ignore the orgy of bloodlust around him in the darkened room; but in the background, I could hear his buddies laughing from the doorway behind me.  Each of them saying it was a great joke; seeing none of them had ever been in here, yet they told him they had.

I walked over, sat next to him and waited for him to notice me.  He did slowly and looked at me with his hesitant brown eyes.  He wasn’t drunk; he was terrified, “Hi.”

“Hello.” I smiled, “How did you end up in here unwillingly?”

He groaned, “It’s my birthday; and the boys from the station thought it would be funny to bring me here.”

I grinned, “Into this room?”

He nodded, “Yeah.” He glanced over his shoulder, shuddered and turned back to his drink, “I really don’t like it here.”

Touching his arm, I leaned in close, whispering, “Have you been in here before?”

“No.”

“Do you know what we do here?”

“From what I’m seeing, everyone is being bitten.” He winced, “It’s disgusting.”

“Hey.  How do you know if you’ve never had it done to you?”

He looked at me and jerked back knocking over his drink as he caught a glimpse of my teeth and eyes, “No.  You’re not one, are you?” I stayed silent so he could put the pieces together in his mind, “What’s it like?”

I took his arm and turned it over so the tender fleshy part was showing, “Well, one of us bites you and you get a high from it; we get a feed.” I looked up at him as I ran my fingertips gently over his inner wrist and ulna, “Would you like me to do that to you?  Or did they just pay for me to talk to you?”

“They paid for a bite.” He whispered.

I looked around for a chair, “Well, seeing it’s your first time, I will insist you are in a comfortable chair and I’m sitting on your lap.” I led him to a vacant Eas-e-Boy chair and eased him into it, “Don’t want you passing out and hurting yourself now.” Climbing onto his lap, I sat sideways with my legs hanging over the arm and his left arm resting in my lap, “You’re right-handed… have I got that correct?”

He nodded looking at me, “Yes.”

“Good.” I whispered, “Now, let’s get to it.” I inspected his arm as my canines slid down from my upper jaw further and I could feel the hunger gnawing at me.  His pulse was racing; typical of a first-timer here, “I’ll be as gentle as I can, okay?” Leaning down, I let my hair fall over my shoulder as I bit into the tender flesh and a steady stream of his blood flowed into my mouth.  I counted four beats of his heart; five, six… and seven, before I pulled out.  It was pretty quick.  Licking my lips, I looked over at him to see he had the look on his face of a stoned human.  Smiling I signaled over a nurse who walked to us and tended to his wound immediately as I got off his lap.  Damn, he was a good feed. 

As I turned to leave, he grabbed my hand and muttered, “Do that again.”

Kneeling, I touched his hair, “I can’t.  Not until your sugar and blood pressure is back to normal.”

Dreamily, he smiled, “Shit, woman, that was great.  I want more.”

“I’m a curator at an art gallery in the Valley.  We can talk privately there if you want.” I gave him my business card and walked away into the gloom of the room.  His buddies jostled past me and asked him how it all went; but I didn’t hear his reply.

Three days had passed since my feed at ‘Wicked’ and I was fixing up some lighting for the next exhibition.  The gallery was closed and I was on my own for a good part of the day when I heard the doors open and close and somebody walked into the gallery I was in.

“We’re closed, people, go home.” I called from the top of my ladder as I angled the light just right onto a painting.

“Hi, you and I met three nights ago in a dim room at ‘Wicked’.” His voice reached my ears and I turned, “I was wondering if you’d like to talk now or later.”

“You really wanted to talk to me?” I climbed down the ladder quickly as it wobbled and shook.  He ran over to steady it but I had reached the floor already, “I have great balance.”

“You really should have somebody spot you.”

“Don’t you remember what I am?” I took up a clipboard and wrote down that the light that needed fixing was done, “Oh, that’s right, you usually don’t.”

He fingered the bandage on his arm, “I was given the week off because I wasn’t strong enough to do a workout yesterday.”

Putting down what I had in my hands, I smiled at him, “You wanted me to bite you again.”

He frowned as he took a step back, “Bite?”

I walked toward him and he moved back until he was against the wall between two paintings and I was very close to him, “Yeah, bite.”

It was then, the penny dropped and he realised what I was; what we all were, “Oh, shit.  You’re a…” he didn’t want to let the word escape his mouth; couldn’t let it out.  It stuck in his throat as he turned and walked away from me and down the gallery a few metres, “..oh, shit.”

“Are you okay?”

He turned and looked at me, “You didn’t – like – make me one of you?  Did you?”

I smiled walking to his side, “No.  That’s against the rules; unless you really want to be one of us.  Then, I’d have to train you because I’ll be your Sire; and that’s a lot of work.”

“You never got my name, did you?”

I shook my head, “No, but I still know what you smell like.  I could follow you around the city for the next three days.”

“Shit!” he shook his head trying to get his mind around what I was; that I wasn’t trying to attack him or seduce him or… “Are all vamps the same?”

Turning, I walked back to the white cart where the supplies were to maintain the gallery, “No.  Not all of us are controlled enough to know the difference between right and wrong; and it’s a pity when we come across vampires that are Sired wrongly or not at all that it’s us good ones who have to destroy them.”

“Why not the humans?”

I looked at him, “Do you really think you’d have the skills or the strength to take on a rogue vampire?” at that question, he hesitated.  When he didn’t answer me and looked at his arm again, I raised my eyebrows, “Didn’t think so.”

“I’m Ryan.”

“Evelyn.” I smiled, “Now we know each other’s names, would you like to go out for a bite?”

He hesitated with wide doe-like eyes, “Um…”

“I mean you eat and I watch.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Or we could make something at my place.  I do have human friends; they just have to be careful around me.” I pushed the cart down the gallery and through the large door of where the paintings are stored awaiting other exhibitions.  Once the cart was safely put away, the lights were switched off and the alarm was switched on, I locked up the front doors of the place and turned to him, “I’m ready to go, are you?”

Ryan was a complete gentleman.  Instead of going to restaurant, we made them come to us.  We found a good place to eat at, got them to make the food to go and came back to my place.  He found my place was all decked out like a human’s house and I set the table for him and he dished up the meal for himself and sat down while I poured myself a wine glass of blood from the morgue (the guy there and I are good friends and he’s got better prices than the butcher).

“You’re drinking wine?” he asked.

“No.” I smiled a little, “But I won’t offer you any either.”

Ryan turned his eyes to his plate again and reluctantly went back to eating, “I’m sorry I asked.”

“Don’t be.  You were curious.” I took a sip and watched him carefully for a moment, “But now, I’m curious about you.”

His eyes rose from the plate to my glass, to my face as he swallowed, “Yeah?  What about?”

I leaned my elbows on the table and began swirling the glass around by the edges of the base of the wine glass so the liquid left a red stain on the inside of it, “I want to know why you came to me and not Roxanne.  I don’t own the pub; she does.”

He finished what was in his mouth and put his knife and fork together on the plate; he had half-finished his meal.  Sitting back, he sighed, “I’m a cop.”

“I know.  You mentioned the station the other night.”

“Damn.”

“Why me?”

“You’re clientele.” He said, “You’re her closest friend and she trusts you.”

I downed the rest of my blood and stood, “Take off your shirt.”

“What?”

Looking at him, I put the glass down on the table in front of his half-eaten meal, “Shirt.  Off.  Now.” Looking him up and down, I noticed he didn’t move, “Unless you’re wearing a wire.”

Ryan’s face fell, “Crap.”

“Get rid of it.” I took up his plate and the glass and walked into the kitchen to dump the food and wash off the plate.  By the time I returned, he had dumped the whole contraption on the table. These things were getting smaller!  This thing looked no bigger than a usb memory stick!  I took it up, inspected it, dumped it on the floor and stood on it.  From his ear, I heard what I had done was destroy the bug, “Get rid of the ear wig too.” At this, he pulled it out immediately and crushed it in front of me, “Good.  Now, we can have a private conversation without anyone interrupting.”

Pulling off his bandage, he showed me the two holes I had left.  They looked dainty really, “Do it again.”

“You’re healing really well.” I smiled, “But it’s more fun if there’s sex involved.”

He stood and took my hand, “I want you to do it.”

“Do it?”

“I’d be the ideal undercover cop if I was one of you.” He whispered.

“It doesn’t work that way.  It would get to a point nobody will work with you because you don’t age; cops hate that.” I stood as he began to look me up and down, “Ryan, you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.”

“No, there’s another.”

“Unless you’re dying from some incurable disease I can’t – and won’t – turn you.” I said.

He pulled from his pants pocket a letter from the doctor, “Here.  It arrived yesterday.”

I read the letter about his brain tumor and how bad it had gotten and that seeing he had only just graduated from the academy he’d be able to get the pension, “I gotta make sure this is right.” I called the number on the letter and the oncologist’s office answered telling me almost word for word what the letter had said.  They had found it during a physical and he had better tell his Captain before too long.  I thanked them and hung up slowly putting the cordless phone down and turned to him, “Shit, Ryan.”

“I don’t want to fight it.  It’s so far gone that I’ll be dead in a year.” He said, “Please, you’re my only chance to be a great cop.”

I handed the letter back as I held him close.  His heartbeat was steady and fast as we stood holding each other; him depressed, me thinking about what he had asked me to do.  It was against all my usual ethics; but he needed this.  He had gotten his letter two days after his birthday – of all days!  Standing back, I took his shoulders, “Okay, do you have a wife, girlfriend or anyone in your life right now?”

“No.”

“Family?”

“They’re preparing for my funeral.”

“Friends?”

“On the force.”

I made sure he was looking at me, “You will have to turn your back on everyone you know who is human if you go through with this.”

He nodded, “I know.”

“Do you?”

“I’ll be on my own by the end anyway.”

Sighing, I wondered what I was getting myself into, “I’ll do it.”

A smile spread across his face slowly as tears glittered in his eyes, “Thank you.”

“But you must let me train you properly; and you can’t tell anyone you’ve done this.”

“I will allow your training and won’t tell anyone.” He nodded.

“Come here.” I put my hand out and Ryan pulled me close and kissed me.  His sudden wont and love was strong as his hands pulled out the three pins that held my hair in place and it fell in a mass of curls through his fingers.  Ryan inhaled my scent and reacted in an animalistic way; wanting more of me as he pulled at my clothes, just what I expected as I began undressing him.

We found our way to the bedroom – pealing off each other’s clothes as we did – and eventually found the bed (even though it was in the middle of the room) and he stopped suddenly.  He just looked at me as though he was scared – terrified – that I was going to hurt him.

“It’s okay to leave if you want.” I whispered.

His fingers traced the contours of my left cheek as a smile touched his mouth, “No.  I wish to stay here with you.”

“Good.”

From there, everything went in slow motion.  The love-making wasn’t frenzied like I’ve always experienced; this man was a different kind of man who knew how to please a woman (no matter how old they were).  I got so close to climaxing so many times and he’d tease me and tease me that I nearly lost it, letting the demon take over.  I had to put a leash on it and keep it from showing too much; which was hard.  But he kept watching my face for my eyes to change colour.

“What are you waiting for?” he whispered in my ear.

“I’m trying not to bite you.”

Looking into my face, he grinned, “I want you to.  You have been keeping a lid on that demon for the past hour.  Let it out.  I want to see it.” Ryan then began pleasuring me again.  How this guy didn’t have a chick in his life was way beyond me!  And so as I came close to climaxing again, I grabbed him hard, turned his head gently and inhaled the beautiful elixir that ran through his veins.  His arteries throbbed in time with his racing heart and as I came to my sexual climax, I bit in hard.  The gush of hot blood rushed into my mouth and down my throat as I drank deeply through the adrenaline of the climax.  As I drank fully, Ryan began to panic and tried to pull away, but I held fast as he weakened quickly and died in my arms.  Then, quickly, I rolled him onto the other side of the bed, sliced my arm and let it drip into his mouth.  Soon, it was a splattering onto his lips and he was licking it up and swallowing, then he grabbed my arm and suckled; biting in as his new teeth bored through his gums and he took in his first meal as an immortal.

I pulled away quickly and wrapped my arm with a nearby towel, “That’s enough for now.”

“I’m hungry.” He said, “Ravenous.”

“I know.” I smiled, “And the night is young.”

I now had a new vampire to train.  The first thing he had to do was disappear for a while and create a new identity for himself; this was something I could do with Roxanne’s husband’s help.  But after Ryan’s turning, I saw a real promising future for him in police work; he became more dedicated in it.  And I was right, nobody wanted to work with him.  His friends turned away from him, his family hated what I had done to him. 

Ryan felt so lonely he almost lost his job as a cop; until he terrified the truth out of a suspect one afternoon.  It was lucky I showed up when I did to pick him up.  He had the guy against the wall and had shown him what he was for a few seconds; thus getting the full address in five minutes of what everyone else couldn’t in three days.  I had watched my man suddenly turn from a sedate person into an animalistic creature that was ready to feast on the crim in the interrogation room.  It was fortunate that there was only one camera (facing the suspect) and the two-way mirror was behind Ryan.  He could still see himself, but after this night, he wouldn’t.

When I showed up, they were just peeling him off the poor breeder and rescuing the man they were going to charge.  I rushed in saying that he had been stressed out due to a family problem.

“Really?  Well, get his fuckin’ arse outa here and help him clean up is act before he kills somebody who is bloody innocent!” his Captain shouted as I rushed him out the door.

We had sat in a café I knew of for vamps where I knew he’d feel comfortable; as ‘Wicked’ wasn’t open as yet.  He sat there in his uniform looking like a fish out of water and feeling about the same too.

I touched his hand, “It’s always awkward when you first start out.”

Squeezing my hand, he glanced around, “They’re all staring at me.”

I looked around too, “Yeah, well, you are a cop and you’re still in uniform.”

“I nearly fed on him… I could smell the blood,” he looked at me, “and it smelt delicious, Evelyn.”

“I know.”

“How do you stop yourself from attacking the ones who don’t deserve it?”

Smiling I leaned across the table and touched his face, “You learn how to do that through your Sire.”

“I have to stay away from my workmates and work until I can control this.” He sighed, “First, though, you have to teach me to make my first kill; otherwise, I’ll end up hurting somebody I love.”

“I know.” I stood, “Come on, first lesson’s today after you get out of uniform because blood is just shitty to get out of anything.”

He and I walked out of the café when the owner stopped me, “What are you doin’ bringing a cop in here?”

“He’s been turned.” I said, “He’s just fresh from the academy, been diagnosed with a tumor and didn’t want to die next year.  I confirmed it and made sure it’s what he wanted.  But there’s some teething problems at work; nobody likes working with him.”

“So, you’re going to teach him restraint?”

“Yeah.”

“They teach them that at the academy; but they don’t teach vampires how to restrain themselves.” He said, “And make sure he’s out of uniform next time; I don’t want people walking out of here again.”

“Sorry, Manny.  I didn’t mean to; but ‘Wicked’ wasn’t open yet.” I said.

He nodded smiling as he looked at Ryan, “Be out of uniform next time man.”

“Sure.” He nodded as he tried to keep from following a few breeders down the street.

“Jeez, you’re starvin’.” I shook my head, “Come on, we’ll begin with tracking.  First, though, I gotta get that uniform off you.  You’ll look weird.”

Back at his place, I noticed that it was all closed up and smelt very musty.  I opened the windows and pulled back the curtains that he had made for the place.  This was something he hadn’t expected from this new life.  The food in the fridge had dwindled to almost nothing and he had to build in a new fridge tucked behind the mirror of the bar where he kept his blood; yet he hadn’t touched it yet.

I opened the door and looked at the date of the bags, “You have to drink some of this.”

He looked at them sitting on the counter in front of me as he unbuttoned his cuffs and pulled down his tie, “I know.  I just hate the taste of it when it’s cold.”

Looking at him, I smiled, “It’s fresh stuff you want.”

“I gotta have a shower, I smell horrible.” He muttered.

“You know, only you can smell that; and me, and other vamps.” I smiled as I put the blood back into the secret fridge, “The humans can’t smell it.”

“No, really, somebody puked on me.” He turned from me and headed to his bathroom as he pulled his tie from around his neck and bunched it up in his hands.

He was depressed that his new life wasn’t all the glitz that Hollywood had put across.  I had made a promise to him that I’d help him; and that’s exactly what I would do. 

I followed him down the hall to the bathroom and saw him staring into his bedroom, “You okay?”

“I have mirrors everywhere.” He said, then looked at me, “What do I do with them all?”

“Keep them.  They’ll be good for you human friend when they realise you’re going to be okay.” I looked at one and it didn’t show my reflection to me, but it did look gorgeous, “They are lovely.”

He looked into it and saw just him looking back, “How do you get over the fact you’ll never see yourself in a mirror again?”

“I’ve been like this for over a hundred years.  I kinda forget about it until I see a mirror; then remember it.” I smiled and touched his shoulder, “But you chose this life whereas I had it forced upon me.”

“Will you stay here with me tonight?” he whispered, “I don’t think I trust myself with anyone right now.”

“You have to feed.” I smiled, “And the bagged blood acquires a taste, so I’ll take you out to ‘Wicked’ and we’ll see who’s a criminal there and be referred by Roxanne’s boyfriend.”

“Shower first.” He nodded.

“I’ll join you.”

The vamp pub was thumping by the time we arrived.  Ryan had dressed in a new set of clothes he had bought for himself a few days ago and I loved.  He looked like he had money; and so we had to drop by my place so I looked the part with him.  We showed up and Roxanne and her man both looked us up and down as we approached the Manager’s Table.

“I have a favour to ask.” I said to her.

“Involves Ryan?” she smiled.

“Yep, and I need the help of your man.”

She looked over at him and he nodded at her unasked question.  She turned back to me, “Sure, he’ll help with his first.  You gotta be there.”

“Of course, I’m his Sire.” I smiled.

A few hours later, we were walking down Brunswick Street in Fortitude Valley.  The Elephant and Wheelbarrow was doing fantastic business and Chinatown celebrated another festival with firecrackers, drums and dragon dancing through the main mall.  It was loud and beautiful at the same time; but we weren’t there to see this spectacle.  We were there to find somebody for Ryan to kill.  And him being a cop would make it easier for him; well kind of.  We had to break him a little first.

During the fireworks, we heard our first screams of a mugging.  This was exactly what we needed; the perfect time for somebody to get grabbed was during this kind of festival.  Nobody would hear it but us and Ryan had to work fast to get the job done.  The three of us followed the screams down a side street and found the mugger wasn’t only grabbing her purse, but trying to get in on some action too.  And she couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old.  Her eyes begged us to help.

I looked at Ryan, “What do you want to do to him?  He’s raping her.” I pushed him in the attacker’s direction and Ryan transformed into the creature I had turned him into.  He grabbed the mugger and pulled him off the girl roughly.  The guy dropped her bag and that’s where I rushed in and picked up all her stuff, packed the bag again and helped the young teen stay out of the way.  I walked her to the nearest street with plenty of light, handed her bag back and told her that she was on her way to hospital because she had just been attacked.  Numbly, she rose and walked off in the direction of Brunswick Street to get a taxi.

I was around the corner again as Roxanne’s man supervised the killing.  Ryan was going really well as he pinned the guy down from behind, pulled his head back on an angle and then bit in and drank it all down.  All three of us could feel the fear in the air here still as the limp body was disposed of by me and Roxanne’s man in a dumpster and the lid was closed.

Ryan leaned against a nearby building catching his breath as his teeth shone in the dim light of the alley, “I can’t believe I did that.” His voice grated, “I… killed somebody.”

I walked to him slowly, “He was attacking a young teen. He deserved to die.”

He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his mouth and ran his tongue over his teeth as he looked at me and Roxanne’s man, “Any blood left?”

We shook our heads as he answered, “Well, you were on the ground, it pretty much spilled there.”

He nodded, “Okay, what’s next.”

“Restraint.” I smiled, “We’re about to go out in public again and you have to remember they are not all meals.”

“Right.” He nodded.

Roxanne’s man punched Ryan’s shoulder gently, “You’ll get it.  It just takes time.”

“Time is what we all have right now.” I smiled as all walked out into the Chinatown Mall again and watched Ryan.  He grabbed my hand and I found he was having a hard time with restraining himself, “Just breathe you way through it.”

“How do you two do this?” he muttered, “They all look so… so…” he shook his head as he looked to his feet.

“It takes a lot of practice and time.” Roxanne’s boyfriend said as we walked him up the Mall away from the dragon dancing, fireworks and people.  Ryan had a lot to learn from us; and there was no better time to teach than now.

However, as we were about to turn the corner near the Peace Bell, I caught a scent on the night breeze; in amongst the smoke of the fire crackers.  It was a familiar smell; as I had scented it a few days before.  I raised my nose a little into the air to see if I could smell it again, but the breeze had died down taking the scent with it.

Ryan looked at me with blood-hunger tinting his eyes red, “What is it?”

I glanced at him as I pushed sunglasses onto his face, “Nothing, I thought I had sensed somebody following us.  Guess I was wrong.” But I couldn’t shake the feeling we were still being followed; and the person following us wasn’t friendly.

The Carnival

It was just on sun set when the lights of the carnival lit up the sky; and could be seen from all around.  Throughout the day, the people had worked quickly and quietly to be ready for the first evening – the opening night.  The side-show was full of toys and prizes for anyone to win, the Dodgem Cars were working.  The mirror maze was a shining attraction to children and adults alike… all of it was sitting ready for the first people to wander through and spend their money. It was ready for my friends and me too when we decided to leave the van park and have some fun.  But fun wasn’t exactly what I would have called it.  

As the sun dropped behind the hills and the music of the carnival fill the air, the three of us walked through the gates.  I hadn’t noticed anything out of place.  This place was your average, run-of-the-mill traveling carnival.  It even had a reasonably sized Ferris Wheel glittering with lights and a portable Bingo Hall.   This year, there was a dance program and people were already surrounding the large, dark floor when I arrived.  For a while, I sat on the sidelines and watched as the couples moved around the floor to a familiar Glen Miller tune.  The men looked like they had just stepped off a movie set in their tails and shoes with their hair slicked back; and the women looked just a beautiful in ballroom gowns that must have cost a fortune to keep clean. There was one man in particular who I watched.  His form and stance was fantastic.  He noticed me looking at him from the sidelines and by the time he and his partner came around the floor again to my side, they stepped away from each other gracefully and she walked off the floor to take up another dancer.  
He walked straight for me, put out his right hand and asked:  “Would you care to dance?” Without hesitation, I placed my left hand in his right and allowed myself to be led out onto the floor.  Kissing my hand, he didn’t take his eyes from mine as he bowed and I curtseyed, then he pulled me close up against him in the beginning stance of a dance.  I had never danced before, however, my feet moved in time with his and so did my body.  It was really weird; as though he hypnotised me to follow his orders yet not a word had passed between us. “You are very beautiful.” He said as we spun around the floor. 
“Thank you.” I blushed.
“You don’t hear that very often?”
I tried to look away from his eyes and failed, “No.”
“Pity. You have such potential to be more.” He smiled and his eyes lit up as the music slowed to an end and he led me to a low dip and held me there for a few beats; until the audience finished applauding, then he helped me to my feet, “I could make you more than what you are now.”
I frowned a little, “What do you mean?”
Another man approached us and tapped him on the shoulder, “You’re up for a break Fritz.” He nodded smiling then turned back to me as he led me off the dance floor and more music filled the air. Fritz’s fill-in showed up with his partner and they took to the floor, filling in the space as though they had never left, “You are a natural dancer.” 
“Nah.” Shaking my head, I began walking toward the pub where I had promised to meet my friends.  When he didn’t follow, I stopped and turned to look at him, “Coming?”
He glanced at the building across the street and shook his head, “No thank you.  I wish to talk to you personally; without interruptions.”
I walked to him and smiled, “What about your partner?”
He turned, glanced at her and looked back at me, “We’re not together in that manner.  We just dance together and that’s it.”
I looked over to see his partner making out with the man she had danced with and smiled, “Okay, let’s go for a walk.” 
The Surf Bridge was the safest distance I felt from the carnival.  I didn’t want to go too far from anywhere with this guy I barely knew and end up going missing in such a small town.  We leaned against the old white railing and looked at the South Arm as the tide came in.
“So, what do you do?” he asked as he turned his back to it and leaned his back against it; propping his elbows on the top, “You don’t seem to be the type who is spoilt for money.”
I smiled, “No.  I don’t have that much.”
“But you are very beautiful.”
“You keep saying that.”
His eyes wandered up and down my body for a split-second and then back to my face before he leaned in close, “I’d like to …”
“To what?” I leaned closer. He brushed his lips on mine and I found I couldn’t stop myself.  There was an animal need that arose in me that I wanted this man; and yet I didn’t know anything about him… okay, he was a hot dancer and was a babe in an old-fashioned tux, but really, who was he?  His hands ran around my waist and up my back as his tongue explored my mouth and his teeth nipped my lips; the pain was exquisite. He moved to my cheek and neck and nuzzled me there.  His warm breath made me tingle as he gently moved my hair out of the way and held me close against his body; so close I could feel his hardness through his dress pants and I began to rub against it slowly.
Then, he did the most unusual thing:  he looked at me, stopping what he was doing altogether, “I have to tell you something.”
“What?” I smiled as I tried to undo his shirt buttons. 
“It’s horrible.” He took my hands gently and stopped me, “I need to tell you something about me.”
“We getting it on in public and you stop to tell me something.”
“I’m going to feed off you.” He whispered looking down, “You’re too good-a person to keep this from.”
“Feed?”
He kept his eyes on our hands as he nodded, “Yes.  I need to.” I took a step back and he pulled me toward him, “We’re on a road-bridge; be careful.  I don’t want you dead.” It was then he looked at me and I found his golden eyes staring back at me with the town’s lights reflecting off the iris. I forced myself to take a deep breath and I stepped back again, “Oh, shit!”
“Hey.” Fritz took my arm again and pulled me toward him, “Road-bridge, remember?” 
“You’re a…a… vampire.”
He nodded, “Yeah, Valerie, I am.”
“How did you know my name?”
Fritz smiled, “I nicked your lips and tasted your blood to see who you were.  Everything you are is in your blood; right down to your name.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, creepy, hey?” he smiled and it was then he forgot he had let his canines slip down. For me, the whole world slowed down.  I stepped back again; but I didn’t see the Mustang coming.  They were speeding across the bridge and hadn’t even given way (as you were supposed to).  And Fritz wasn’t fast enough to grab me this time.  By the time the driver had blasted the horn, the left fender had hit me – breaking my pelvis and smacking my head against the bonnet – and they ran over my left arm with the rear tyre.  He raced forward as I looked at him and he looked up to watch them drive off without so much as a pause to see if I was okay.  It was then he made the hardest decision of his life and picked me up carefully.

  My eyes opened and I was in a room that was clearly not mine.  Fritz was sitting by my side.  I was sure I had been hit by a car; but it didn’t make sense that I was supposed to be alive.
“Hey.” He said, “I made either a very stupid decision or the right one.”
I looked at my arm, “I was hit by a car, right?”
“Yeah.” He muttered, “About that… they didn’t stop.  I picked you up and you were close to death.” Tears – red tears – brimmed his eyes as he sniffed, “I had no choice.  You were under my protection last night.”
“You sired me?”
He nodded, “You’re alive in some way.”
“Can I go out into the daylight?”
“For a short amount of time.”
“Okay.” The man who had approached Fritz on the dance floor walked into the room and smiled at me, “And so, Valerie, how are you feeling?”
I looked at him for a moment and realised I was absolutely starving, “I’m hungry.”
He gave me a tight smile, “Good.  You need to perform your first kill soon.” He checked his clipboard that seemed to be glued to his hand, “We don’t want a sick vamp on our hands.” He turned and walked out of the room signaling Fritz to follow him to the door.  They talked for a minute then he walked out leaving him standing there looking ashamed.
When he approached the bed again, he pulled back the covers and helped me up in silence, “Are you okay?”
His eyes flicked to me then away again, “Yeah.  Fine.” 
“He grilled you, didn’t he?” 
Fritz stopped what he was doing and nodded, “More than a bit.  We weren’t looking to recruit anymore new ones.”
I nodded, “I see.”
“I was supposed to feed off you and then take you home.  But that car was something that was unexpected.”
“I’m supposed to dead.”
Taking my hand, he looked straight at me, “Let’s not talk of that.  We have a party to go to; and you have a kill to perform.”  
The sunset was pretty as the sky turned a burnt orange and the carnival started up again.  My clothes had been cleaned from the night before and I was beginning to smell like a dead body; so I wore stronger perfume than usual; truthfully, I don’t think anyone really noticed the smell but me.  Looking around the fairgrounds from the long metal caravan, I watched at the rest of the vamps opened up their stalls and began working and wondered how they did it all without feeding off their customers.
“Not all our carni-folk are immortal.” Fritz said at my shoulder, “Some are just travelers who work around Australia with us for a time, then leave.  We don’t hold anyone to their jobs.”
“But the dancers?”
He smiled, “Yep.  We’re all vamps; that’s how we know how to do the ballroom steps so well.”
I looked at his pale face in the colourful lights of the Dodgem Cars while people lined up to have a drive, “So, how old are you?” 
He looked at me, “I’ll tell you when we’re closer to the party.”
He took my hand and smiled as he inhaled the scent of any human that came within a few feet of us.  I did a few times and found that if he hadn’t been holding my hand, I would have wandered off.  The scent was mouth-watering and delicious and something I could follow to the ends of the Earth if given a choice. It didn’t take long to get to the house just outside the town center where the party was thumping.  Cars parked a good two blocks away to get to it and we walked up to the place and nobody seemed to care if we were there or not; nobody stopped us. 
Fritz took me off to one side where we could peruse the whole room in one go and he smiled at me, “Okay, there are three different types of humans.  The extraverts, introverts and the ones nobody wants.”
“And we go for the last one.” I smiled. 
“Sometimes.  It depends on who they are.”He said, “In a place like this, the third one could be the bottom of the barrel kind of people.  Druggies and prostitutes.  You don’t want them in your system.” He looked around the room as I did, “That’s when you go for the introverts; the shy.  Those people have an extrovert screaming to get out inside them.”
I looked at him and smiled, “Sounds like my kinda person to pick.” He kissed me on the forehead as he squeezed my butt and let me take a walk around the house.  I wandered around the place and it wasn’t very big; but there were two stories to it and so I went upstairs too.  It was mainly bedrooms, showers and a balcony or two; nothing too exciting. 
As I was heading back to the hall, a guy exited a room and he looked at me as he carried his shoes. “She told me to leave… she’s not who I thought she was.” He muttered.
“Shy, right?” I smiled.
He nodded, “Yeah.” he rushed down the stairs without another word as I looked at the door and – without hesitation – opened it.
“I told you, I didn’t want to…” a young blond began, “Who are you?”
“Are you okay?” I asked, “The guy who left is going to paint a bad picture of you all because you’re too shy for your own good.”
She sat on the end of the bed and burst into tears as I locked the door, “I want to – really I do – but I don’t know why I stop when a guy gets close.”
I sat next to her touching her shoulder, “It’s okay.  You’ll do it when you’re ready.”
“I’m only sixteen.”
I smiled, then laughed, “Don’t worry, you’ve got your life ahead of you to do that.”
She looked at me as she wiped the tears away, “I haven’t even kissed a girl.”
“Does that matter so much?” I moved a loch of her hair from her face to see her better.
“Well, most of my friends have.”
“How do you know?  Do they have photos?”
She considered this and shook her head, “No.”
I rubbed her back gently, “I wouldn’t worry about what other people are doing and worry about what you want to do with yourself.”
Looking at me, she smiled, “You’re nice.”
“Thanks.”
“But that guy is going to badmouth me isn’t he?”
I nodded, “Unless you do something completely outrageous to make his jaw drop.” 
“Like?”
I touched her face with the back of my fingers, “Well, we’ll think of something.  But first I need you to tell me something.”
“What?”
“What kind of car does he own?”
“A blue Mustang.” She said, “He was gloating about how he had run over some street kid last night and just left them on the Surf Bridge.”
“Thanks.” I smiled, “Oh, and that thing you want to do?  Wait until you’re ready and in love.” 
“What about kissing a girl?” I looked at her and thought who could it hurt.  But as I leaned in close, I caught a whiff of marijuana and sat back, “Have you smoked some pot?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not into that.  Sorry, I can’t tonight.” I stood and left the room quickly remembering what Fritz had told me.  For now, I had to find the guy who had left her alone for being shy; I had to have words with him. As I headed downstairs, I spotted the guy standing with his buddies near the front door.  Glancing at Fritz, he saw that I had a target in mind for my first kill and understood immediately what I was going to do.
I trotted down the stairs, pushed through his circle of friends and looked straight at him, “I want you.”
He looked me up and down for a moment, “Really?”
“Yes.”
“What about my buddies?”
“What about them?  Can’t they get a chick of their own?”
He pulled his keys from his pocket and – as expected – I saw the key fob for Mustang hanging off it, “Come on, then.” He took my hand and led me out the door; much to his five other friends’ disappointment, “Hey, guys, she’s right.  There’s something wrong if you can’t get dates of your own.”
Fritz followed us out and passed us, handing me a mobile phone, ‘Leave it switched on.’
I looked at him, ‘Of course.’
The guy led me to the Mustang and opened the right hand door, “Ladies first.” 
“Thank you.” I smiled as I slid in, “Oh… American-style!”
He jumped into the driver’s side and started the car, “Where would you like to go?” 
“The beach.”
“Which one?”
“Surprise me.  I like seeing the stars… no light.”
“Mmmm, I know just the place.” He put the car in gear and we drove away; leaving the small town behind us as we found our way to the highway. 
He turned off the lights once he killed the engine and the darkness of the night surrounded us.  We were about twenty minutes outside of Byron Bay in between Brunswick Heads where surfies usually hung out; but tonight, it was very quiet. “Come on, I’ve got a blanket in the boot and we can look at the stars while hiding in the dunes.” He smiled getting out. I got out of the car and cold night air hit my skin, yet I didn’t feel it.  It tingled making me feel more alive than anything else.   He soon joined me by the front of the car and led me onto the beach and the sand dunes; and we were out of the wind.  It was quite warm there.
“Well, the stars really are out tonight.” He smiled, “You were right.”
I laid there as I looked at him knowing it was time to kill him, “I heard you hit a street kid last night.”
“Yeah, they dented my fender and the police never found a body.” He said. 
“Did you stop to see if they were okay?”
He looked at me, “Yeah, of course.”
Liar… damn you! “Oh, that’s good.”
He sat up and the wind ruffled his hair, “Do you think I didn’t?  You weren’t there.”
“I was just askin’.”
Nodding he muttered, “I know… sorry.”  He was starting to come apart.  His nerves were still raw from the accident; and he knew that at any point he’d get caught.
“Come here.” I put my arms out and he smiled as he leaned down and held me close.  He smelt of cigarettes and a slight odour of booze; bourbon, “Mmmm, feel better now?”
“Yeah.” He had a smile in his voice.
“Good.” My first kill was about to be performed as I felt the canines slide down from my upper jaw.  It was time before he pulled back to look at me with lusty looks and promises of calling me tomorrow after we fuck; and the beach isn’t exactly the best place for it.  I began to nuzzle his neck and make out that I’m going to leave a hikkie there… moving his hair.  He sat up and I lowered my eyes as he muttered about making this easier for me as I straddled him; face to face.  But still, I made no eye contact – I’m still concentrating on that big throbbing artery in his neck.  It looked too good to be true!  Licking my lips, I feel the razor sharp teeth in my mouth as I wrapped my legs around him; locking my ankles around his lower back (so he couldn’t get me off him no matter how much he tried).   The best thing happened!  He put his head back and closed his eyes.  I had his complete trust.  What a wonderful thing!  Moving closer, I kissed his neck, nuzzled and heard him chuckle muttering how much it tickled.  Then, it’s time to attack!  Digging my fingernails in his shoulderblades and grabbing a handful of hair, I bit straight into the pumping artery; piercing it beautifully!  The blood came fast and hot from his body to mine!  The rush of nourishing food was amazing!  I couldn’t believe how good this felt. He struggled feebly to get away from me and failed miserably.  His drum beat of fists on my back weakened quickly as I drained him completely of all he had, wiped my mouth and caught my breath.  Thank God he brought a blanket.  I moved his carcass to the middle of the blanket and wrapped him up like a mummy; but not before grabbing his car keys and leather jacket off him.  Mine was covered in his blood.
 
I drove to Byron Bay and found a car dealership where they paid top money for the Mustang and sold me a Monaro which was just as lovely; and I drove that one back to the carnival.
Fritz saw me emerge from it and smiled, “I see you didn’t need our help.” 
“Nope.” I grinned as he held me close, “And he won’t be found for a few days.” 
“Where’s the Mustang?” the guy with the clipboard asked, “You better have gotten rid of it.”
“Very legally.  I sold it for top money and got this.” I ran my hand over the bonnet of the Monaro.
“Good.” He smiled, “That’s the way.  I’m proud of you for not bringing it back.”
“Where to next, boss?” I asked.
“Well, seeing you’re so good at hiding things, we need you to talk to his buddies.  They need to know where he vanished to.”
Fritz smiled, “I’ll help.”
The boss smiled as he walked away, “Do what you want to do with them… just don’t get caught.”