I carried the glass to the sink and washed it out, having learned the hard way that old blood stunk. It took forever to get the stink of it out too. Being a vampire also came with a slightly heightened sense of smell. Not as good as a werewolf’s but good enough that the smell of old food drove me crazy after a while. That was something that they hadn’t included in their little book.
Frustrated at the totally pointless risk I took in procuring a book with no new information, I spent the rest of the night watching Netflix until shortly before dawn. I shut things down and headed to my bedroom where I prepared for the forced rest I’d experience as the sun began its ascent across the sky.
As I had many times before, I held up a timer. Two minutes before sunrise was scheduled, I hit the start button and then stared at the alarm clock. I knew the moment the sun cleared the horizon as I could literally feel sleep sucking away my consciousness. As I had every morning since learning that vampires could be awake during the day, I fought against closing my eyes with everything I had, trying to delay my eventual loss by even a second longer than the day before.
Every sunrise felt like I’d spent an entire week awake. Like my eyelids had lead weights attached to them. I went crossed eyed as I fought to stay awake, my vision wavering.
Then it was lights out.
* * *
I woke to a trio of alarms blaring, going from dead to the world to awake and aware in less than a second. One of my favorite things about being a vampire was how clear headed I was when I woke. Well, as long as the sun had set.
I may have been able to stay awake for a few minutes in the morning, but I still couldn’t repeat my success during the draugr incident of waking earlier than sunset. I wanted to replicate that trick when my life wasn’t on the line, or when I got a big power boost from a clan elder. It’d be a nice thing to have in my back pocket if my life ever counted on it again.
Blindly, I groped for the alarm, my hand hitting nothing by air. With a growl, I lifted my head off the pillow and looked around. The alarm clocks were all on the dresser on the other side of the room.
How did they get over there? I usually had them on the nightstand next to my bed. Grumbling to myself, I lumbered out of bed and shuffled over to turn them off.
There was nothing in this world more annoying than the sound of an alarm clock. I’d picked the most annoying ones I could find in the hopes it would inspire me to wake before the sunset.
So far I’d been unsuccessful and it looked like today was a repeat of more of the same. The sun set three minutes ago.
I picked up the timer sitting by the alarm clocks, puzzled at how it’d made its way over here. Unless I somehow managed to sleep walk and didn’t remember it. Possible, but I’d never done so in my previous experiments.
The timer said five minutes and thirty seconds. That was almost a minute better than my previous best time.
Nice.
I had plenty of time before I needed to be at the Sunshine Diner for my meeting to learn about the job that had a little ‘more’ to it.
My breakfast of champions, well vampire ones anyway, consisted of another glass of O negative and a Reece’s peanut butter cup. I’d found, much to my relief, that the myths surrounding vampires were only half right. We needed to drink blood, but we could also consume real food in moderation. Most of our nutrients still came from the blood, but my stomach could still handle solid food in small portions. The best part was that I never gained an ounce. I chose to eat a lot of things I never did as a human for fear of blowing up like a balloon.
I set the glass down and turned away from the counter before tripping and falling into the wall. I turned and glared at the object that had nearly caused me to break my neck.
The book sat innocently on the old, cracked linoleum.
I sank back into the wall and gave serious thought to leaping over the island to get out of the kitchen. That thing moved, and not like I put it somewhere and forgot. I knew I left it on the coffee table last night. No, it somehow moved itself to its present spot in the kitchen. Worse, it did it after I was in here.
There was something magical to the thing. Whether it had benign or malevolent intentions was the question. From the way the shop keeper had reacted when I picked it up, I was willing to bet he knew exactly what this thing could do.
Now, I wasn’t against magic per se. Just extremely cautious of it. I’d already been forced into a situation I didn’t care for once by it. I’d rather avoid something like that happening again.
Until I knew more about the repercussions of using this thing, I wanted nothing to do with it. I didn’t even want to touch it.
I gave the book another suspicious look before edging around it. The thing could stay where it was for now. When I had a moment, I’d talk to the shop keeper to see what I could find out about the book. I wouldn’t accept any of his half-truths this time.
More and more I regretted the ill-conceived notion that had led me to the Book Haven. Too late now. Chalk it up to a lesson learned. For now I needed to get ready for my meeting with my new client.
* * *
The Sunshine Diner was a throwback to the diners popular in the fifties. It was nearly thirty years old and a staple in the neighborhood. It had much of the same décor as when it was built, but instead of seeming ancient and run down, it managed to seem charming, like it was something out of my grandparents’ courting days.
During breakfast they were always packed. Arrive any time after seven and you were looking at an hour wait. Lunch and dinner were only slightly less busy. Their peanut butter s’more milkshake was impossible to pass up.
That held true this time as I sat in a cracked, red vinyl booth and gave my waitress my typical order of milkshake and fries.
I people watched out the window as I waited for my meal. I was a little early but figured I’d top up on my sugar habit if I had to deal with a problem client. Might as well kill two birds with one stone. Eat and make sure I was here in plenty of time to scope out the area.
