Isidoro, with that fluid elegance of his, paces a few steps to the left, then back to where he was, twirling a lock of his fiery red hair. “Oh, you heard me. We aren’t humans.” Exasperation drips from his voice. “We are vampires.”
“What?” I blurt out, not sure I heard him right. This must be a joke.
“Oh, come on, Niko.” He rolls his eyes, something I’ve never seen him do. “Look at the facts. I mean, you caught us red-handed drinking blood. Besides…” His lips lift on one side, a mischievous spark of amusement appearing in his glowing red eyes. “How long have you known me for? About twenty years? How do you think I’ve stayed so young and attractive?”
This gives me pause. I survey his face, realizing he’s right—it looks exactly as it did the last time I saw him, some ten years ago. Not a single wrinkle mares his smooth skin, no blemish, no sign of age. He should be in his late forties, but he looks no older than twenty-five.
Shit. How did I never notice? Even back then, before I took on the robe and that fake boring life as Father Gabriel.No matter what nasty stuff we got up to, no cut ever lingered on his body, no wound scarred. I simply assumed that his personal doctor was that good.
“Whoa. Yeah, right,” Tommy snorts, shaking his head. “Nice one, buddy. But c’mon, do you take us for idiots?” With determination in his gait, he goes up to Isidoro and, to my utmost terror, plunges his fingers inside my friend’s mouth to feel his supposedly vampire fangs. “This is just some fancy prosthetic. I’ve seen them online.”
The three men behind me rattle, hissing and growling like snakes in cages. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and my body tenses as I sense a wave of hostility crash into me. It’s meant for Tommy, no doubt, but I’ll throw myself in the way of any danger before it can reach him. No matter its origin.
Isidoro smiles despite the invasion of his mouth and raises his hand. This calms the restless cavalry, though it’s not without a chorus of dissatisfied noises. Visibly amused, he lets my lovely sweetpea probe and prod freely.
“Uh, how do you remove these?” Tommy pokes at the tips, confusion spreading across his pretty face.
“You don’t. They are real,” Isidoro replies casually.
“Uh… Niko, come over for a sec? Maybe you can figure it out?”
I stand behind the love of my life decisively, set on proving he’s right. But the moment my fingers touch the pointy incisors, my stomach sinks to the ground. I’ve had my fair share of dealing with all kinds of prosthetics, teeth, bones, sinew and other parts of the human body, and Isidoro’s teeth are, without a doubt, one hundred percent the real deal.
“Tommy…” I grasp his wrist and very carefully extricate his fingers away from my friend’s still smiling mouth. “These are most definitely real.”
Tommy jerks his hand away, rubbing his palm. “Oh.”
Yeah, oh.My head goes for a spin.Oh.Well, fuck. Does this mean Isidoro is telling the truth? That he is indeed a vampire, like he claims? A throbbing surge along my temples makes it hard to think.Shit. I think I need to sit down and process this.
Isidoro holds up his hand and makes black claws grow out of his fingers. He uses one to slice the flesh of his own palm, but instead of blood gushing out, the incision closes in on itself, vanishing just a heartbeat later as if it was never there to begin with. “In case you had any lingering doubts.”
Well, fuck me. This is… I sway a bit, the vertigo quickly overwhelming me.Fuuuck, vampires are real? This is crazy, this makes no sense…Except that one of them is currently standing in front of me, smiling like he didn’t just drop a bomb on me which turned what I knew about life up on its ass.
Thanks, buddy.
Isidoro snaps his fingers and a blurry moment later, his goons appear next to him with three upholstered chairs. “I suggest we sit down for a chat, hmm?” He snaps his fingers again. “Allen, Dima, would you bring us chamomile tea and some fresh biscuits, please? Samuel, the garden table, if you don’t mind.”
The three men rock their heels in confirmation, then disappear right in front of my eyes. It’s a strange thing, inexplicable almost, the way they kind of transform into a flickering cloud of fog that darts toward the house.
“Wow, siiiiick!” Tommy’s fear is gone in a flash so quick I get whiplash. “Shiiit, I knew there was something off about the guys that night! And about you! No offence. This makes soooo much sense now!”
I’m still reeling back from Tommy’s reaction as we sit down. The ease with which he just took all of this in and moved on is frankly impressive.
“I’d like to clear the air before we start—contrary to what it might have looked like, we weren’t chasing you in order to hurt you,” Isidoro says in a voice both apologetic and a little amused. “But I understand why you thought so, given what you witnessed. You have my deepest apologies, Niko, Thomas.”
“Whatdidwe witness? You killed and sucked that guy dry, no?” Tommy waves Isidoro off, like it’s all already in the past and forgiven.
“Well, yes. But it was necessary so we could extract what information he had. We picked him up from the village the Crew razed, after we flew you in. They must have posted him there to monitor things. He was sniffing around and harassing the residents.”
Isidoro pauses, a small smile lifting his lips. The three men pick that moment to return, appearing as a whoosh of that black fog. As requested, they’ve brought over a cute little garden table, biscuits and tea. Once the table is in place, and we’ve been poured tea, the blond guy among them produces a three-tier cake stand and pops it in the middle of the table. A minute later, biscuits, cakes, scones and small sandwiches threaten to overflow it.
“Thank you, my lovelies. Now give us some space, will you?” Isidoro requests, nodding his chin toward a grand palm tree.
The three men give him tiny bows and retreat to the tree to stand watch without infringing on the privacy of our conversation.
“So, now that we are ready to have no secrets between us, could I have a look at your pretty red gem, please?” Isidoro starts.
Tommy hesitates, slipping his hand inside his pocket but not taking the stone out just yet. He glances at me, a question written on his face, and I nod. Before the stone enters the picture, we need to know what it really is and why it made Isidoro act like a lunatic.
