Internship with a Vampire

Author

Chapter 1

Help Wanted: smart, dependable, discreet youth needed

to help friendly non-murderous Vampire with daylight hour chores. $8/hour starting. Must be open to alternative

lifestyles. All races, genders, sexual orientations, creeds

accepted (that whole crucifix thing is a crock).

Call: (402) 555-0012. Ask for Lenny.

Nicholas Zink adjusted the brim of his red paper hat.

Eight bucks an hour. Not bad.

The hideous paper monstrosity on his head was the sole remnant of the burger flippin’ job he’d lost the night before over his less-than-kind words about a dead rat discovered in the deep fryer. He had favored the ‘let’s-stop-everything-and-clean-the-whole-place’ plan, whereas his boss had favored the ‘dump-the-critter-out-back-and-forget-the-whole-thing’ strategy. His pride in his integrity remained as high as ever. His college fund, however, remained as low as ever. The hat then had become the single greatest motivator in his hunt for new employment.

This ad doesn’t pass the sniff test. I’d hate to get all excited only to find out it’s a scam, or an offer to join the ranks of door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesmen.

Nick murmured to himself, What else is there?

He traced his finger down the Help Wanted page. The next entry read:

Pizza Palace.

Fired.

He checked the next one.

Atomic Burger.

Quit. On principle.

And the next.

Lightspeed Burger.

Quit. In protest of being fired.

Next.

Truck Driver.

He looked at his father, passed out on the couch. The beer bottle resting on his belly matched the six on the floor around him. The red cap next to him on the couch read ‘King of the Rig’.

Hell no. Not ever.

None of the remaining ads were any better.

Dental Assistant.

I so-almost wish I qualified for that.

X-Ray Technician.

No.

Applications Programmer.

No. Whatever that is.

Vacuum Cleaner Salesman.

No! No! No!

Staff Registered Nurse. Systems Engineer. Marketing Director.

If I qualified for any of those, I somehow doubt I’d be looking for cash for college.

Volunteers needed for Research Study.

He read on:

Wanted: men ages 19-35 for research trial of new brand of hemorrhoidal supposit —

He stopped there. I think I might not actually be desperate enough for that.

After a deep, resigned breath, he focused again. What was that funny one?

He found it, rereading Vampire Assistant for nearly a minute, reading and rereading the words in hope that the repetition would reveal a layer of sanity not present on first look.

Probably some lonely wannabe Goth playing nosferatu for kicks. Eight bucks an hour is good for a part time work. At seventeen and still in high school, the odds of me finding employment outside of the fast food industry is close to zilch.

Silence ruled the house. His mom had gone off with her lady friends for a late night round of gin rummy and gin.

Ya’ know, it might be fun. More fun than staying here all summer, at least.

The next morning around ten o’clock Nick called the number in the ad. After a long wait with the answering machine playing The Monster Mash the whole time, a man yawned a mighty yawn as he picked up.

Hi, there. The name’s Lenny. How can I help?

Hello. My name is Nick. I’m calling about the job.

Another yawn. Cool. You’re hired.

Nick’s mind did a double-take, then a triple-take for good measure. Um? Could you please repeat that last bit?

You’re hired, the man came back immediately.

This is too easy, and too easy means fake—fake–FAKE. He forced himself to sound calm. Well. . . thanks, but shouldn’t we meet or something? Have an interview?

Whatever floats your boat, bro.

Nick leaned against the wall. Yeah. I’d feel better about that.

Cool. Yeah, cool.

Nick decided not to press his luck. The call had progressed much better than he’d ever hoped, strange for sure, but better. Still, one thing needed to be asked.

Uh. . . Mister Lenny. I just wanted to ask one more thing. There’s something I’d like to get cleared up before we met.

Fire away.

You’re a vampire, right?

Right.

The man sounded sincere, but still Nick pressed on. Okay. Really?

Really. It’s no lie. I’m a nosferatu, or whatever they call it in Italy. Just don’t call me a bloodsucker. I’m not the only one of my kind to find it insulting.

No problem.

Come over at nine tonight. We can discuss the terms completely, maybe even get you started. There’s something I might need you for right away.

Okay. I’ll be there. Um, goodbye I guess, though it would help if I knew where you lived.

You’re right. Happy Hollow.

Nick waited a moment for the rest of the address to follow. It didn’t come. Ummmm. . . where on Happy Hollow exactly?

Let me check. Just a minute.

Nick listened to the sounds of his potential boss getting up, obviously with the phone still in hand, as he rummaged through a mass of papers–probably his mail–while mumbling about waiting just one more minute. By the time Lenny read off the address, the man, uh, vampire sounded tired enough to collapse.

See ya’ at nine.

Click.

Wow. Nick dropped into the nearest chair. This guy’s as much a creature of the night as I am a singing lobster. Still, why not?

As he waited throughout the day Nick kept going over the conversation to check for any reason his potential boss could be legit.

Lenny kept yawning. Isn’t breathing one of the many things undead aren’t really known for?

An hour before the much anticipated-yet uncertain appointment, Nick showered, shaved, and dressed in a plain blue tee and white slacks or as he called it his job-hunter uniform. In front of the mirror he practiced standing tall, knowing that at five-five he would have to meet his potential boss on his tiptoes to even be mistaken for average. As a final gesture he patted down his dark-brown hair, which forever threatened to curl upwards in imitation of the world’s greatest scientist, no matter how low he cropped it.

Eventually Nick climbed into his ‘92 Oldsmobile and drove to the address he’d been given, in the heart of the city’s old neighborhood. The moment he set eyes on the area, he realized exactly what sort of potential employer he’d arranged to meet. Rich. Well, rich enough to keep up a huge, old house.

He’s got to be the biggest wannabe ever.

The houses all appeared to be made of old bricks. Most showed off saccharine picket fences around their yards. Pink flamingos, garden gnomes, and inflatable kiddie pools decorated several of the uniformly cut lawns. He had a hard time believing a Democrat could be found on the block let alone a vampire.

Nick pulled into the driveway of the house. It didn’t have a picket fence, but it did have twice the number of gnomes as any other house. On its mailbox the name DUMAS covered the side in painted happy letters next to a smiling sun.

Well, if this is a joke it’d be best to get it over with ASAP.

He rang the doorbell. A familiar tune played.

What’s with this guy’s obsession with The Monster Mash? Wouldn’t a real vampire find that song offensive?

The door swung open and Nick found himself face-to-face with a barefooted blond man, a head taller than himself, wearing an Old Navy tropical print shirt and holding a bottle of Corona in his left hand.

This must be Lenny.

They stood in awkward silence until, finally, the Corona man stuck out his other hand and said, The name’s Lysander Dumas, but please call me Lenny. You’re the dude answering my ad. He motioned Nick inside with the bottle. Well, come on in. I don’t bite . . . kids anyway.

Thanks. Nick followed the man inside. With a great swig, his prospective boss finished his beer and set it down next to a flowerpot full of daffodils on a nearby table.

Nick checked out the man’s living room. This has got to be a hoax.

Both a Jimmy Buffet poster and Elvis on black velvet hung on the tall man’s yellow walls. Hundreds of photos, dozens of posters, and thousands of other assorted knick-knacks decorated every square inch of his living room.

Lenny backed towards the adjoining kitchen.

Do you want a soda? I’ll go get one for both of us. Just a minute.

Nick’s first impression remained firm. Lenny’s claim of creature-of-the-night status couldn’t be anything more than a hyperactive imagination colliding with too much free time. He held the belief for the first ten seconds.

Then the man lifted off the ground as he cleared the open door to the kitchen. He rose until he nearly banged his head on the ceiling.

Nick did a double take he knew looked straight out of a silent picture. He couldn’t help walking toward the kitchen, his mouth gaping.

Nothing about Lenny’s demeanor changed in the slightest as he floated to the refrigerator, opening it with his foot and dipping down to get a two-liter of diet soda.

Oh. Crap.

The man whistled as he opened the nearby cabinet to retrieve two glasses.

I have to admit, I didn’t expect to get a response to the ad so soon. Normally it takes a few weeks for an interested party to contact me. I guess fate’s just smilin’ down on me.

Nick couldn’t contain his shock any longer.

You’re flying. In the kitchen!

From his perch in the air Lenny shot Nick a look of profound confusion. He offered a flat, reasoning response, as if surprised to have to bring it up at all. I’m really more levitating than flying. It’s not like I’m really going anywhere.

You’re levitating, then. How? Why? How again?

The floating man straightened himself like a bank president introducing himself to the mayor. I’m an amateur stage magician.

Yeah, frickin’ right.

Lenny hung his head as he dropped to the ground. Okay, I’m a vampire.

With that, he fell to his knees. Nick found the sight of a grown man, or vampire, kneeling before him to be a uniquely uncomfortable experience.

I hope he doesn’t cry. A Hollywood monster crying at my feet is a heck of a lot more than I’m willing to take.

To add to the difference between their heights, Lenny scrunched down as low as he could to plead up into Nick’s eyes. You can’t let the High Council find out about this. I’m still on probation for the funny little incident I caused in Oslo. If they found out I revealed my true nature to you, they might sic a squad of trolls on me or a pack of werewolves, or something really nasty.

Nick found himself unable to respond with anything more thoughtful or eloquent than, Ummmmm. . . okay. Whatever.

He didn’t get the impression the nosferatu had heard him at all, as a short, pathetic sob escaped and he continued with, It’s really just a bad habit. Some humans pick their noses. I levitate.

If you’d get in trouble for letting people know that you’re a––you-know––shouldn’t you have written a more discreet ad? At least one that didn’t mention you were a . . . were a . . . you-know, a you-know-what. That, and, when we talked on the phone today you confirmed it to me.

It kind of just slipped out, like slipped my mind.

‘Um, okay, Nick couldn’t help but think if he were a vampire and a cabal of ancient and powerful vampires ordered him not to go around telling everyone about it, he’d make a mental note to keep his mouth zipped. Hate to be a killjoy, but couldn’t they check the phone number?"

Lenny sniffed to get himself under control and got back to his feet. The fire in Oslo was ages and ages ago, literally, and by the time I remembered how my probation didn’t end until halfway through this century, I’d already paid for the ad. Besides, the Elders aren’t hip with the times. Most of ‘em are scared silly by newspapers. So, I figured, what the heck?

Well, Nick caught a bad case of brain paralysis as he tried to process the whole Vampires-are-real,-I’m-talking-to-one-right-now bit, and the sudden image of a large group of vampires gathered in some gloomy circle to decide the fate of a whole world of other monsters sent his panic into overdrive. There are elders of your kind?

Yes. Lots and lots of ‘em.

Are they evil?

Some are and even the ones who aren’t are still an unpleasant, nasty bunch, for sure.

Are there any around here?

I haven’t seen one in centuries so I’ll take a guess and say no. They prefer the old cities. The Midwest isn’t likely to get its own elder coven for a few more centuries, at least.

That’s good, I suppose. I mean, I wouldn’t want to meet any of these vampire elders myself. Ever.

And you won’t have to as long as you keep quiet. If you told someone about me, I guarantee you, they’d tell others. Since ‘Lenny’ is not a common name amongst my kind, it wouldn’t take two minutes for those old, evil geezers to put the finger on me. And, to respond to your earlier observation, I was tired when you called. That’s why I let it slip then. Lenny shot him puppy dog eyes. But, we’re cool? You won’t tell anyone about me?

It struck Nick as a good time to put some of his father’s advice on contract negotiation to the test and hemmed and hawed. I don’t know . . . It’s a big secret.

How’s ten dollars an hour sound?

Sounds great. I’m in.

The now-smiling vampire enthusiastically rose a foot off the floor to vigorously shake Nick’s hand. Fine. Just fine, sir. You really are a prince, you know. Can you start immediately?

Sure. As he said the word, his mind filled with images of neck bites and blood flowing from pointed teeth and him carrying a shovel into deserted woods in the dead of night. Even ten bucks an hour isn’t enough for that line of work.

Nick cleared his throat. What exactly would I be doing at this time of night? The ad said the work would mostly be in the daytime. You aren’t expecting me to help you hunt, are you?

His new employer shook his head and laughed as if the very question couldn’t be more ridiculous.

Nah, nothing of the sort. I don’t hunt, you see. Most of us don’t anymore. It’s dirty. And dangerous. Lenny then answered the question Nick had wondered but not asked. I order cow’s blood from a local supplier. There’s a wholesale distributor in Saskatchewan I go to for pig’s blood or chicken’s blood or any of a dozen others I save for special occasions. After settling in a chair to slip on a pair of worn out tennis shoes, he added. I prefer variety in my diet.

Nick made a mental note to never again inquire into the eating habits of his new undead boss.

Okay. ‘Cuz I wasn’t planning on going outside the law.

No, never that. This job is completely different. I’ve got an old vampire friend I need to have a chat with. Right now, for a few minutes I will need you to hold something for me.

In my hand?

It’s nothing gross. Just a tool. You’ll be fine.

Okay, sounds alright. I guess. Might even be fun.

Nick’s new boss patted him affectionately on the shoulder.

That’s the motto I live by, kiddo.

* * *

Less than ten minutes later Nick glimpsed the speedometer passing eighty and had to force himself to look away. Even with his seatbelt securely fastened, he gripped the leather cushion with every ounce of his strength.

Being immortal must not encourage defensive driving.

Lenny drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the frame of the open window.

Would you believe that this Impala is the first car I ever owned? Got it brand new in ‘72. They had a red one, too, but this lime-green baby beckoned to me.

On long family trips Nick had learned to distract himself by watching the scenery pass by. He soon came to the realization there were limits to how relaxing looking out the window of a car pushing ninety miles-per-hour could ever be. The land consisted of one long blur with most structures whizzing by too quickly to identify. What buildings he could make out were an abandoned, ramshackle house or an equally abandoned gas station. They reminded him of the kind of buildings that would inhabit the nightmares of a horror writer after an entire night of drinking cheap booze.

Where the heck are we anyway? Are we even in the boondocks anymore, or did we pass those on the last country road?

The entire ride, the radio blared out on unending succession of classic rock tunes.

Geez, Dad listens to this station.

The vampire’s head bobbed in time to every beat.

Quickly becoming numb to the passing of the derelict buildings and finding the ride to otherwise be both terrifying and boring, he remembered everything he had wanted to ask about since he witnessed Lenny levitate.

All right if I ask a few questions about your kind?

Without missing a beat to the song, his boss turned and snapped him a clear gesture of Fire away, man with his pointer finger.

I’ve seen you fly. What I want to know is, can you do anything else that’s special?

Like what, kiddo?

In the movies not only can you guys fly, you also turn into bats and have freaky powers of mind-control. Can you do any of that? Turn into a bat? Command people to do things with the power of your mind?

His boss turned to answer while keeping the beat going.

Most of us can fly. Some of us even insist on taking it all the way to the clouds. Of course, some get sucked into jet intakes. That is why I stick to flying of the low-altitude variety.

And the rest? The bats?

The nosferatu stopped nodding to the beat.

I would bet my lucky two-dollar bill that stories of shape-shifting vampires, or ones with freaky mental powers, and the rest of that Hollywood hokum comes from personal encounters with those of my kind who had some magical talent and an incredible need to show off.

Okay. Nick thought on it. Makes sense.

Lenny switched to tapping on the steering wheel. There are plenty of humans who can turn into bats and other critters. It’s not just us.

Yeah, sure. And becoming a vampire. How is that done?

It involves one of us drinking your blood. You drinking some of theirs. It’s really gross.

Okay. And sunlight, does it, you know?

Lenny jumped in with, Not right away, but it will burn —, then switched 180 degrees to, Hey, Nicky, I love this song, and started singing with deafening volume along with the radio. As he parked the Impala, he belted out the final sustained note.

Nick scanned the empty parking lot in the worst part of any town he’d ever imagined existed anywhere outside of LA. Well, here I am. Guess it’s my first shift in the ‘ol salt mines.

* * *

Loud music screamed from out of the biker bar. Nick crouched near the front quarter panel of the lime-green Impala with his boss. Despite the summer air remaining warm after the sun’s long ago clock-out for the night, Nick held his arms tight against his chest to control a shiver. Though he only intended to think it, he accidentally blurted out, This wasn’t in the ad.

Every now and then one of the illustrious patrons stepped outside for a quick smoke, but never stayed long. Whatever had drawn them inside in the first place, kept them there.

Lenny kept still and spoke in hushed tones. He’ll be out any minute now. He can’t go twenty minutes without a smoke. If he weren’t already undead, he’d have gotten lung cancer by now.

Why are we hiding?

I want to surprise him.

This is an ambush? You brought me into combat thirty minutes after hiring me?

Nothing of the sort. I just want to talk to him a little. Settle some old debts. Get a few apologies. That sort of stuff.

Great.

What’s this guy look like?

Tall. Broad, y’know. All muscles. Cold eyes and off-kilter, like at any moment he might snap into a berserker rage––Well, speak of the devil. There he is! Lenny pointed out a pale, burly, man in a spiked leather jacket and combat boots. The guy leaned against the outside wall of the bar and lit up a cigarette.

Okay, he looks like the sort of bloodsucker you’d find in a horror flick.

Nick whispered, What’s this guy’s name?

Mordanatos. Or as I call him, Mordie.

Morda-what???

Mordanatos. It’s what he’s gone by as long as I’ve known him. Can’t say I know where a name like that comes from. Maybe he’s Welsh.

Nick took another look at the vicious looking fiend.

And he’s your friend?

Lenny shook his head. More of an acquaintance. His boss then looked Nick in the eye. I’ll do the talking. If things get hairy or rough, I’m going to have to count on you for backup. But don’t you worry, Nicky. This’ll only take five minutes. Tops.

Nick grabbed his boss by the shoulder. What could you be expecting me to do against that monster, ah, big guy?

Lenny shook his shoulder free. Just keep watch and . . . and . . . well. The vampire stopped for a less-than-entirely-reassuring moment. I’ve got something in my trunk. You stay here. Then he ran around to the back of his car.

Nick hissed, This is nuts.

With the key in the trunk’s lock Lenny paused as if considering how to word his reassurance, which made it not so reassuring. His type doesn’t respect those who ask nicely. Therefore, I’m going to make darn certain Mordie-boy knows I mean business. With that he threw open the trunk and ducked in.

Nick stole a second look at the brutal-looking vamp. He kind of looks like my Uncle George. The broad, square shoulders and thick jaw were a perfect match though Uncle George would have to drop out of the Douglas County Republican Party, buy a Harley, start wearing a biker jacket and get a snake tattoo on each arm. Like his Uncle George, the monster struck Nick as a figure from a bygone era, the Eisenhower administration for his uncle, the Sacking of Rome for the monster.

Nick’s daydream ended when Lenny handed him a wooden crossbow so worn and battle-scarred he imagined his boss picking it out of a Crusader surplus sale.

I’ve tangled with the bum dozens of times and always came out A-OK. All you have to do is watch my back and keep the big lug from getting too close. Lenny flashed a smile, Hey it’s going to work out, Nicky.

With that he stood up and walked towards Mordie, his shoulders high and his chest out. The target stomped out his cigarette on the cement, never once looking at his challenger. Lenny angled his arms at his side like a superhero, Here I am Mister Macho Biker Vamp.

The evil-looking vampire took a swig from a hip flask then faced his rival. Though he did not shout, his words rumbled across the parking lot. "I see you. How could I miss such a bright outfit such as yours."

From his vantage point, Nick noticed his boss quivered ever so slightly before taunting, You weren’t expecting me to call you out straight to your sissy face.

Mordanatos growled. I’ve long since stopped trying to predict your foolishness, Lysander.

Nick hissed. Len-ny!

His boss glanced over his shoulder to whisper, Don’t worry. It’s all going according to plan. He then turned back to Mordanatos and again raised his voice, You’re going to regret what you tried to pull on me in Istanbul. And Tibet. And Wichita.

Contemptuously, Mordanatos waved him off. I am too busy right now to waste time fighting petty vendettas.

Lenny did not back down. "You are going to listen to me."

Mordanatos scowled at him. "No, I’m not. Now go away, you pathetic excuse for vampyrekind, or I’ll have to end you right here and now."

I’m going nowhere. This will be settled between us. My right here. Your right now. What do you have to say about that, sissy boy?

Nick choked at his boss’s idea of negotiation. Crap, that’s bad. That’s so, so, so bad.

Like a mad bull, Mordanatos charged Lenny. Who leapt out of the way only at the last moment.

The subsequent attacks came with inhuman speed, mere flashes. Nick had to squint to make out anything at all. If it were a movie, he knew they would be fighting in bullet-time, with each attack rendered as graceful, almost ballet-style moves, while a heavy metal soundtrack screamed away.

Lenny kicked his rival in the jaw, sending him back a few paces. Nick experienced a momentary surge of hope. Then Mordanatos returned with a roundhouse kick that knocked Lenny off his feet and against the wall of the bar. A head butt followed.

And a punch.

And another kick.

And another punch.

And another.

And another.

And another.

And another.

And another.

And a few more on top of that.

Lenny slipped away from the onslaught and took flight, dive-bombing his rival like Mighty Mouse. Mordanatos ducked and braced for impact. The collision sent both to the pavement. No sooner had he landed than the biker vamp sprang back to his feet. In contrast, Lenny fumbled, rolled and barely managed to push himself upright.

In mute terror Nick watched the melee. After a few seconds his eyes refocused and he got a clear look at his boss. The many bruises and cuts all over Lenny’s body testified to his failure to block much of anything his rival had thrown at him.

A wave of nausea shot through his stomach once Nick realized his boss, the crazy-Old-Navy-wearing-Impala-driving-vampire, held precious little hope of coming out no deader than he had been before. As a back-up guy, Nick doubted he stood a chance at succeeding where a vampire failed.

The crossbow weighed heavy in