Page 5 of Only Fangs

“This could be a life changer,” Ivan adds, matching Clara’s tone.

I hate that they pity me. But perhaps they’re right. I narrow my eyes at them. “Do you really think so?”

“One hundred percent. This could be exactly what you need.” Clara reaches out and squeezes my hand.

I think for a few moments, allowing an image to bloom in my mind. I’m standing on a stage, accepting an award for App of the Year and the whole audience is clapping. I’m wearing a gorgeous black Valentino dress with mesh panelling details and a pair of skyscraper Louboutin’s, my hair cascading down my back in soft waves, makeup sultry. I look successful. I look happy.

Could I do this? I’d need to hire someone to help with the actual coding and I don’t think that kind of skill set comes cheap. But if I was careful, I could stretch the money I have in the bank just far enough to employ someone for a few months and pay my bills.

And it isn’t like I have a better plan. I shiver at the thought of the alternative. What do I have to lose by trying?

“Alright,” I tell my friends. I can’t help but smile at their little excited faces as my words sink in. “I’ll do it.”

“Eek!” Clara squeaks and claps her hands together like an excited five year old at the fair. “This is going to be so much fun.”

We have yet another martini and write a job description, posting it to r/VampireLife on Reddit.

Are you looking for a job you can sink your teeth into?

App start-up looking for a coder to help bring the idea to the market. Must be proficient in Kotlin (Swift desirable).

Salary negotiable.

Perks include 30 days paid holiday, fully stocked fridge (Sanguis of course!).

Flexible hours, evenings preferred.

Life’s too long to grind that corporate millstone.

Email [email protected] for more info.

Chapter 4

Brody

Ihave to confess to being a lazy slob, but last year Matt decided he needed to start looking after himself a little bit more, on account of the whole being immortal thing.

“This body has got to last me for a long time,” he’d told me in June, sucking his stomach in as he twisted in front of me, asking me a barrage of questions about whether his beer gut was visible. I guess that’s one of the downsides of not having a reflection.

We made a commitment to get fit together and it’s been going pretty well. I’ve even started to take these pre-mixed shakes into the office with me to make sure I get my protein hit in the middle of the day. I feel like a bit of a twat if I’m honest, but it does seem to be working. Although I do have to write my name on the bottle in huge black letters with a sharpie for fear that someone else will simply help themselves. Oh, the joys of the communal office fridge.

I’m just contemplating getting my shake, I bought a chocolate flavour in today and if you don’t concentrate too hard you could be forgiven for thinking it was just a delicious ice cold milkshake. I’m almost looking forward to it. But then there’s a screech from one of the meeting rooms.

“Jesus, shitting, fuck!”

I turn to look at the door to the room just in time to see it come flying open and Danely to take a tentative step into the hallway. And then, in a scene reminiscent of the Exorcist, he opens his mouth and bright red projectile vomit streams in an arch onto the carpet tiles at his feet.

“What the actual fu—” my boss starts to say from inside the meeting room but he’s interrupted by the bellow from Danely as he turns to point a finger directly at me.

“You!”

I look around me, as if he could possibly be pointing at some other poor sap. “What did I do?” But even as the words are leaving my mouth I can see the bottle in his hands. The chocolate flavour protein shake with my name written in block capitals across it.

The bottle that I’m starting to suspect did not, in fact, contain what it purports to on the label.

“You!” Danely splutters again and takes a few tentative steps towards me, but his face is deathly pale and he stops in the middle of the office. “You.” This time it’s nothing more than a whisper as he clutches his stomach with one hand, the other moving to cover his mouth in a pointless attempt to stop another stream of vomit from bubbling between his fingers.

This time the smell hits me and it’s unmistakable. Like pennies. Or a slaughterhouse on a warm day.