Bloody Bookkeeping (A Nonsensical Gothic Story)

A Vampire

"A vampire."

A... vampire?!

A vampire?

A vampire...

"A vampire?"

"Yes, a vampire."

Leigh gave him a disbelieving look. "You're telling me you're a–"

"Vampire, yes."

They'd repeated the word so many times that it had lost its meaning at this stage. It's just noise now. Like bleh-bleh-bleh.

"A vampire as in a blood-sucking corpse?" Leigh decided to confirm.

"Technically... yes," he said. "But the question of what qualifies as living is deeply philosophical. It's probably best left for another day. And I don't suck blood," he added firmly. "Unless I have to. And what I mean by 'I have to' is if I'm asked," he rushed to clarify. "I don't suck human blood without consent."

"What blood do you suck then?" Leigh asked, and only then realised that she was, either, encouraging his delusions, or allowing him to pull her into some bizarre game of his. She raised her hand, halting him. "Pardon me, but specific details will have to wait. Let me process this."

He straightened in his chair, folding his hands on his lap like a diligent school pupil. Leigh was sorting through the data; Oakby patiently waited.

"Two questions," Leigh finally spoke up. If Oakby was a dog, he'd eagerly wag his tail; his enthusiasm was written all over his face. "Why are you telling me this right now?" Leigh started. "I imagine, you don't normally go around informing everyone around you about–" She froze with her mouth half-open, struck by a sudden suspicion. "Wait, I've got to ask - and consider it an adjusting entry to the previous list of my two questions - but how many people in the villages are privy to your... condition? Is anyone aware of it?" She squinted at him. "Are Dr. Rice, Amy, and Mrs. Butler?"

"The majority of the locals are aware," he answered and chuckled. "They've known me all their lives. So did their grandparents."

Putting aside the question of whether he was mentally ill or trying to pull off some sort of a con, Leigh felt rather cheesed off: all of these ridiculous hints, and no one had had the decency to warn her that she was going to have to deal with this sort of hogwash!

"Dr. Rice found out due to certain events three years ago," Oakby continued. "And Amy– It's not my story to tell, but yes, she knows as well. Mrs. Butler grew up in the castle. Her grandmother was a housekeeper here. It would be hardly possible for her to fail to notice the signs."

"Alright, let's address my second question then," Leigh said in a business-like tone. "We can always circle back to the matter of the timing of your admission. What I would like to know is what exactly said signs are - and more so, could I have some direct, concrete, conclusive, and reflective evidence of you being–"

She just couldn't bring herself to say it! What nonsense!

"A vampire," he finished her sentence. "Ah, right, the proof of the pudding, and such."

"No 'proving by eating,'" Leigh ordered strictly. "By 'presenting evidence' I don't mean biting my neck. I don't have the odaxelagnia kink. I generally dislike pain, and I bruise easily."

He threw her a cheeky glance from under a raised eyebrow. "How did this conversation suddenly shifted onto the discussion of sexual fetishism? I thought we were talking about my vampirism."

"It's only logical. I find you physically attractive, and vampires are a common metaphor for suppressed sexual urges." Leigh shrugged. "And my neck is one of my most prominent erogenous zones. Plus there are all those puns about 'eating someone out,' 'tasting,' and someone being 'mouth-watering,' and–"