How Not to Vampire - Season 1

18. All Hail, The Drunken King

Pro-tip for Vampires #8: You don't have to live your life in the shadows, if you have enough money.

There was something almost comforting about riding in the trunk of Beatrice's Dodge Charger, the predatory rumble of the souped-up engine filling the world for a while. The trunk was surprisingly spacious and still had that new car smell, as if Beatrice had driven it right off the showroom floor. If I ever had to recommend a trunk in which to travel or carry a dead body, this one was getting a very high score. The comforter I'd dragged off my bed to protect me from the sun had ended up being a very handy pillow and allowed me to get relatively comfortable.

The only downside to being alone in the darkness, waiting for the ride to end, was that it turned out all I had to occupy myself was my own thoughts, as Beatrice had insisted on taking my phone. For some reason she thought I'd do something stupid like call in the Royal Mounties for a quick rescue or something equally suicidal, like maybe look up how to escape from vampires on the internet, which is exactly reliable as it sounds.

My thoughts were scary and dark, as every single bit of anxiety was taking a tour of my head—a conga line of despair, memory and trepidation. This was mostly thanks to those... Gentlemen, who still made the hair stand up on the back of my neck and made my body want to curl up in the fetal position to escape just the thought of them. Those Gentlemen who had mojoed Doreen into killing the ever loving fuck out of the love of her life, blow by terrible blow shattering bone, splitting flesh and spraying blood, and still unable to stop--

Being in the same room as those Gentlemen meant you were about to die, and there was nothing you could do about it, goddammit. I could still see the blood all over Doreen's face and hear the screams and how she sobbed and cried, but more than anything, the unrelenting thump... thump... thump... of her fists beating Tanya to death, but only if I let my mind relax too much.

On the bright side, Beatrice was taking me to see the vampire king who was the boss of the Gentlemen, so that would make him at least twice as horrible. Stomach acid surged into my throat every time I started to think about it. I'd try to think of something else and end up seeing myself turn around face to teeth with Mr. Sinnel... a thought I would rather avoid, thank you very much. Which led me back to Tanya's terrible death... you see where this is going, right?

When Beatrice popped the trunk of her car to exhume me, I had just about finally gotten into a somewhat comfortable position or at least one where I didn't feel like my neck was breaking. She peered in at me, framed like a shot in a Tarantino movie with the backdrop of a grey concrete of an underground parking garage. A smile played about her lips in slight amusement.

"Sorry about having to put you in the trunk," Beatrice said by way of greeting.

"It's okay," I reassured her, "between this or burning in the sun, I'll take the trunk any day." I reached to grab inside of the trunk-door. "And you know what, I've been thinking that you don't actually need me--"

"You're scared of meeting Harry."

"Well, he is the vampire king and all that. It could get awkward."

"He's not actually a king. I just call him that to get on his nerves."

"But he's still the big bad boss vampire dude, so hard pass?"

"Oh for fucksake--" Beatrice lunged at me, clearly out of patience and then pulled herself back, curling her hand into a restrained fist. She clenched her teeth and took a deep breath as if to calm herself.

I considered my options, and they weren't looking good. "You're going to drag me out of this trunk are you?"

"That... is one of the lesser options I was considering," Beatrice admitted. "Slightly less murdery, but yeah, that could work."