A Rose on the Grave

“Is anything you’d like to say in closing to those people in the audience who are frightened of you, Ms. Latimer?”

“Only this,” the woman replied, “I would ask you to remember this; every vampire that has ever walked was first human. We are not a threat to human kind. We only wish to live peacefully side by side with you.”

~An excerpt from An Interview with a Real Vampire

A cold rain had begun to fall and it was late but the streets were crowded nonetheless. This was the city that never sleeps after all. It was not the city of his birth but Malcolm had always enjoyed his time in New York. He wasn’t enjoying it now.

Malcolm weaved in and out of people on the sidewalk. They all hustled about like ants, trying to find cabs and hurry home to escape the rain. That’s all they were, were insects-mindless drones. He flipped his collar up to keep the rain from running down his neck and chanced a glanced over his shoulder. There was no sign of his stalker-his own personal grim reaper.

“Hay! Watch where you’re going,” I man said as Malcolm bumped into him.

Malcolm only hissed back. While the man probably hadn’t noticed Malcolm’s dilated pupils, he most certainly couldn’t miss Malcolm’s fangs.

The man held up his hands and stepped back. “So-Sorry,” he stuttered as he stepped out of the way. Malcolm brushed by him and continued on his way.

The man would have a story to tell when he got home. No doubt he would tell his wife and kids that he had had a run in with a vampire. Not that meeting a vampire was all that unusual these days in the East Village-or Little Transylvania as it had come to be known over the last ten years.

It was hard to believe it had been ten years since vampires had reveled their existence to humans. He and Jerome had railed against it, but to no avail. Marcus had gotten what he wanted. Vampires had stepped into the light.

Malcolm heart ached when he thought of Jerome; if death had found him than it had most certainly found Jerome. Jerome had been his teacher, his father, his brother and his lover. He had been the one person Malcolm had ever truly loved and they had taken him away from him. He would kill every single one of them, he would have his revenge; but, first he had to get out of New York.

He decided he had put enough room between himself and his pursuer as he darted inside a bar. It was a vampire theme bar. There were dozens of them scattered across the city now. They all were more or less the same. Same gaudy gothic décor, same wait staff dressed like rejects from a Cure concert, and the same young vampire sitting at the bar dressed in a bad Dracula Halloween costume. It all made Malcolm sick but tonight perhaps hiding in plain sight might not be a bad idea.

This club was no exception down to the vampire sitting at the bar. Malcolm strode over to the young man pushing through the crowd ignoring protests. People stood in a line waiting for their turn to a few moments and a picture with a real honest to goodness vampire.

He was handsome enough even in his stupid costume. Dark hair was slicked back from his face, leaving a perfect widow’s peak. He had been young when he died, not more than twenty. He was still young by Malcolm’s standards. He couldn’t have been a vampire more than a decade. No self-respecting vampire older than that would make a living taking pictures with tourists.

“You’re going to help me,” Malcolm said to the young man.

“Excuse me,” the young vampire replied. He knew well enough what Malcolm was and that he was much older than himself.

“Someone is following me; if they come in here you are going to convince them that I am not here.”

“Why would I do that?”

“If you do I’ll make sure you’re rewarded. If you don’t well…”Malcolm let his voice trail off.

“I don’t need problems in here.”

“Then it behooves you to help me,” Malcolm said with a shrug and slipped back into the crowd.

Tony needed another vampire in his bar like a whole head. He especially didn’t need one who apparently had run afoul of the council. It had to be a mortiferi following the mysterious stranger.

The mortiferi scared the shit out of Tony. His maker had told him all about them. He assumed every maker told their young vampires about them. They were the boogey-men of vampire society. In theory they were vampires charged with catching vampires that broke the law, in practice they were they council’s assassins. You pissed off the council-especially Marcus, himself, and you were bound to have a mortiferi knocking on your door.

Tony liked his head on his shoulders. He did not need to piss off a mortiferi. He did however need money. He did not work in a crappy bar for the joy of it.

He had very little time to make his decision before the door to the bar swung open again and another vampire entered.

***

Malcolm made his way to the bar of the bar to the men’s bathroom. It was surprising clean for a men’s room. It kept the gothic theme going. The walls were painted blood red and all the fixtures were black as was the floor. A row of urinals were directly across from the door, a few stalls to the right and three sinks were to the left of the door.

It was deserted except for one man standing at urinal. He was humming along with the piped in music. He was dressed like a Goth, all in black with a plethora of chains and zippers.

“Get out,” Malcolm growled at the man.

The man glanced over his shoulder without stepping away from the urinal. “No need to be bashful, sweetie.”

Malcolm didn’t waste any more time arguing with the fool who obviously had a death wish. He grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and shoved him out of the men’s room. All while the man sputtered, cursed and tried to not to piss on his own shoes.

Malcolm locked the outer door to the bathroom after he pushed the man out. The man was now banging on the door screaming at Malcolm. Malcolm ignored the noise and pulled out a cell phone. He was only supposed to use it in case of an emergency-as far as he was concerned this qualified.

The phone rang twice before a man answered, “Yes?”

“We’re fucked,” Malcolm replied.

“Malcolm? What happed?”

“What part of ‘we’re fucked,’ escapes you?” Malcolm yelled into the phone.

“Calm down and tell me what happened,” the voice said.

“Kate came knocking on my door,” Malcolm said a bit more calmly.

There was no reply for a moment then finally the man cleared his throat and said, “Jerome?”

“If she found me,” his voice cracked, “then she found him.”

“And what do you expect me to do,” the man asked.

“I expect you to help me! I need money and a way out of New York.”

“Where are you?”

Malcolm took and a deep breath and let it out. He would get out of this with his head on his shoulders. He would disappear for a while and when the time was right he would come back and take his revenge for Jerome. He would start with the bitch. “Some crappy vampire bar in the East Village.”

“And when was the last time you saw Kate?”

“I lost her about an hour ago,” Malcolm said.

“No, you didn’t. I can’t help you,” the voice replied.

“What the hell are you talking about,” Malcolm asked confused.

“You didn’t just lose her. She’s better than that. I can’t help you.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do then?”

“Die, Malcolm that what you’re going to do.”

“And what exactly keeps me from giving her your name,” Malcolm said.

“She won’t bargain with you. If you want to give me up then that’s on your conscience. We all agreed that we’d give our lives for this. It’s time for you to make good on your promise. Goodbye, Malcolm.” And with that the man rang off.

Malcolm stared down at the phone at his hand for a moment. He couldn’t believe it. This is not how his life was going to end. He would not lie down and die like a dog.

He threw the phone to the ground hard enough that it shattered on impact. He then stomped on the pieces for good measure. He turned and looked at himself in the mirrors hanging over the sinks. He looked wild. His short curly brown hair was damp from the rain and stuck up in all directions. His fangs were out and his eyes were practically all pupils. He needed to calm down and think of a plan. He needed to get out of this club.

It was then that he noticed the man had stopped banging on the door. The only thing he heard now was something that no human would have heard-the subtle scrap of a pick in the door lock.

It only took a few seconds before the door swung open and woman stepped into the room. She closed the door behind her and relocked it. She smiled at Malcolm.

“’Ello, Malcolm,” she said.

“Hello, Kate,” He replied.

Everything about Kate Latimer’s appearance belied how lethal she was. She was petite, blonde and pretty. No one would call her stunningly beautiful but she had a wholesome girl next door look that worked for her. An easy smile and clear blue eyes helped

Tonight she was dressed like a college student. She could easily pass for early twenties. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a French braid. She was wearing a black trench coat over dark jeans and navy turtle neck sweater.

“There’s a man just out there very upset with you,” She said pointing over her shoulder at the door. “I took care of it, though.”

“Thanks,” Malcolm said dryly.

“How far did you think you think you’d get?” She said as she unbuttoned her coat. As it fell open it revealed a gun under her left arm and a large curved kukri knife on her left hip. She took off the coat and tossed it so it hung over the wall of the nearest stall.

“Farther than this,” He said with a faint laugh.

Kate smiled and laughed back. She pulled the gun and pointed it at Malcolm’s head.

“And Jerome?”

To her credit she didn’t gloat or rub it in. She simply said, “He walks no more.”

Malcolm felt a knife twist in his gut. He had known what her answer would be but to hear it aloud was a blow. He was going to kill this bitch. He was going to tear her apart with his bare hands but first he needed to get the gun out of her hands.

***

Kate hadn’t particularly enjoyed killing Jerome. She hadn’t always agreed with him but she had always respected him. And he had died well. She doubted that Malcolm would go as easy. He had already made it more complicated by running to a public place.

“I think you’re a hair faster than me, but I’d guess I’m a hair stronger. What do you think?” He asked.

“I think it doesn’t much matter at this point,” she said. She wondered what game he was trying to play.

“Haven’t you ever wondered which one of us was better?”

“No,” she said simply.

“I have. You put down that,” he nodded at the gun, “and we’ll see.” Kate smiled and let the gun drop just a hair before pulling the trigger. It was silenced but even so it sounded far too loud in the small room for Kate’s liking. She hoped the music in the club was loud enough to drown it out.

The bullet smashed into Malcolm’s right knee cap shattering it. His leg collapsed underneath him. He cursed as he fell to the floor. He quickly pushed himself back up on one knee but he couldn’t stand.

“I was born at night, it was not, however, last night,” she said as she lowered the gun and removed the kukri from its sheath. She walked over to Malcolm. “Any last words you’d like kept for posterity?”

“I’ll see you in hell you fucking cunt,” he snarled.

“Not the most original,” she said calmly as she raised the knife.

Malcolm may have been wrong about being a hair slower than Kate because at that moment he launched himself at her using his good leg faster than Kate ever expected. He caught her around the waist and sent them both crashing into the sinks.

The gun flew from her hand on impact but she gripped the knife. She brought it down letting it cleave deep into Malcolm’s shoulder. He howled and then turned his head and sank his teeth into her wrist tearing the flesh. He must have hit a tendon because Kate lost the ability to close her hand and the grip on the knife.

He pivoted and tossed her across the room. She hit wall and dropped down into a crouch. She watched as he pulled the knife out of his shoulder and slowly stood up. His left leg was still practically useless but he half limped, half hopped towards her.

“Any last words you’d like kept for posterity,” he said sarcastically. He swung the knife at Kate’s neck. She dodged it easily and slammed her elbow into the side of Malcolm right leg. All his weight was on that leg and it wouldn’t have even taken a vampire’s strength to dislocate it. There was an audible pop as he crumpled.

Kate scrambled on her hands and knees to the other side of the room and the gun but Malcolm grabbed her ankle and jerked her back towards him. He raised his arm with the knife again but Kate kicked out and sent the knife flying.

He released her leg and lunged at her throat. Kate brought her legs up and wrapped them around his neck. Her left leg was behind his right shoulder and across his neck; her other knee was hooked over her own left ankle. If it was a mixed martial arts match the announcer would call a triangle choke. Kate called a way to keep Malcolm from ripping her throat out.

Malcolm’s face was a mask of blood. He snarled and gnashed his teeth like a rabid dog. His hands clawed at her and continued to throw his weight against her legs trying to break her hold on him. Luckily for Kate this was also pushing them both across the floor towards the other side of the room. She glanced over her head and found the gun lying about a foot out of her reach. Unfortunately having a vampire’s speed, strength and reflexes, did not give you longer arms.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” Malcolm growled and threw his weight one last against Kate. This slid them close enough for her to grab the gun. In one motion her fingers found the gun’s grip and lifted it and brought it up and pressed in between Malcolm’s eyes and pulled the trigger. Blood and brain matter sprayed against her and Malcolm went limp.

She kicked him off her and got up. She walked across the room and picked up the kukri knife. She stood over Malcolm for a second. “Guess we know who is better now, you bloody bastard,” she said as she brought the knife down and separated Malcolm’s head from the rest of him.



***

Kate surveyed the damage to the bathroom. It wasn’t as bad as she had feared but it still wasn’t good. A sink was smashed and there was blood all over the floor and walls. She prided herself on doing a clean job and this had been anything but clean.

She looked at herself in the mirror. She hadn’t gotten away clean either. Her sweater was soaked through with blood. Blood and brain matter were splattered across her pants; not to mention smeared across her face. She examined her wrist. It was ugly. Malcolm had done a good job ripping it open. It had thankfully stopped gushing blood but she still couldn’t open and close her hand properly.

She turned on one of the remaining sinks and began to wash up. She washed her face and did her best to get the blood off her pants. They were dark enough so the blood stains weren’t too terribly noticeable. Her sweater was hopeless.

After cleaning up she donned her trench coat and belted it. It covered most of the stains. She hoped the darkness of the club would cover the rest of them. She dug her cell phone out of the pocket of her coat and dialed. She waited a few rings for an answer.

“Yes,” a voice answered.

“It’s done but, I need a cleaning crew,” Kate said.

“Your location?” Kate gave them the address of the club, “Will you be waiting,” the voice asked.

“No, will be a contact here though.”

“Very good, a cleaning crew will be there in approximately one hour,” the voice said before ringing off.

Kate glanced at herself one last time before heading out into the club. She smoothed her hair. She was about as good as she was going to get.

***

Tony nervously sat the bar. He had told the pretty blond vampire that the first vampire had headed to the men’s room. He didn’t know exactly what was happening in there but it couldn’t be anything good.

He was taking a picture with a middle aged woman when he spotted the blonde vampire again. She pushed her way to the front of the line of people waiting to meet him. She threw her arms around his next and said, “Buy me a drink,” in a very middle American accent. She was vaguely slurring her words. She smelled strongly of blood.

Tony nodded and called out to the bar tender, “I’m taking my break.” The crowd of people let out a unified sigh.

“Come on man,” the bartender said, “people are waiting for you.”

“I get a break don’t I,” Tony said as he led the other vampire down to the other end of the bar. She continued to hang on him like a drunken co-ed.

They sat the far end of the bar, where it was slightly quieter. Tony looked at the vampire expectantly but she said nothing, until the bartender made his way over too them.

“What can I get you, honey,” he asked her.

She drummer her fingers on the bar and wrinkled her nose, “I’m not sure,” she said, “What do you think I should get,” she asked Tony.

“I-I don’t know,” he stammered.

“You’re no fun,” she said with a pout, “I guess I’ll have a Bloody Mary,” she giggled.

The bartender took her order with a smile and went off to mix the drink. Tony was about ready to jump out of his skin. If he could still sweat he would be sweating bullets. He had no idea why the vampire hadn’t just left when she was done with her business.

“Look-” he started to say before she cut him off by holding up one finger. The bartender returned with her drink. She smiled and thanked him. When he left to serve other customers she finally spoke.

Her voice had dropped by about an octave and she gained an English accent when she said, “What’s your name?”

“Damien,” Tony said. It was the name the bar used when they advertised they had a real vampire available for pictures.

She snorted.

“What’s your real name?”

“Tony.”

“Nice to meet you, Tony.” Tony wished he could say the same to her but he bit his tongue. “Do you know who I am?” she asked.

“I know what you are,” he replied.

“Good enough, I suppose.”

“What happened in there,” he asked.

She raised an eyebrow, “What do you think happened in there?” She didn’t let him answer before saying, “I need you keep people away from that loo for about an hour.”

“Jesus,” Tony muttered. That’s why she hadn’t just left. She needed him to keep people from finding the dead body in the bathroom.

“My name is Katharine Latimer,” she said, “You do this for me and I owe you a favor. I am a very good person to have owe you a favor. The door is jammed all you have to do is convince people that it’s out of order until a cleaning crew arrives. They’ll take it from there.”

“Okay,” he said. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice.

She patted him on the cheek, “Good Boy.” She got up off the bar stool and said loudly, “Call me,” with the American accent. She staggered towards the exit turning back once and blowing a kiss at Tony.