Flash Friday 11/03/2016: Immortality Bites
Kane was probably the first serious vampire hunter in centuries.
At least, he thought he was. His trusted internet sources stated that there was a very high chance a vampire who went by the name of Vincent stalked these grounds. If he came all the way out to this abandoned castle with nothing but a torch, stake, and crucifix for a simple rumour, he wasn’t going to trust websites that use blood-dripping fonts for their titles ever again.
It looked legitimate. With the aged tapestries showing the long-forgotten family insignia of a black bat, it looked like Kane had walked straight into a vampire movie. The hunch became stronger as he climbed the castle’s aged belfry, finding a worn-out bell having gone years of no use. Underneath was a single coffin.
Kane knew what was inside. All legends have a base of origin, and the idea of a bloodsucking demon coming out of a wooden box wasn’t all too farfetched. Kane approached, keeping the stake raised above his head. With his free hand, he slowly pushed the lid of the coffin off, revealing the suit-wearing body lying within.
“Ah, no,” the person in the coffin said, no surprised in his voice whatsoever. His accent was Romanian, his white skin contrasted with his slicked-back black hair, and fangs protruded from his mouth at all times. “They found me, aah, what am I going to do, woe is me, I am truly done for.”
Kane frowned. “You could sound a little more scared, you know.”
“Oh, could I? I’m sorry, I had no idea.” Vincent spat. “It’s not like I’ve been cooped up in a wooden box regretting every decision I’ve made up to this point. Thank you for asking.” He muttered an expletive that Kane, thankfully, didn’t catch.
“I just thought you’d try and fight me, that’s all.”
“Yes, if I had any desire whatsoever to continue being a vampire. But I don’t, and you’re here, and that makes everything convenient. Now I can finally die, instead of living this pitiful existence. Do you know how great vampirism sounded back in the day? Immortality, immense power, turn into a bat. All you had to do was cancel your annual trip of sunbathing at the beach and you were set forever. And then, oh! Turns out, a literal wooden peg kills us. Great. Thanks for telling me after I signed up to be one of the night.”
“A wooden peg would kill just about anyone. I don’t think being a vampire is that bad.”
“Oh, that’s rich coming from Mr. Vampire Hunter over here. Biting people to maintain your own health used to be easy. You were faster than burning torches and pitchforks, after all. Now you bite one person, and a SWAT team kick down your door and fill you with lead. All the other vampires I knew died trying to get one last bite out of this modern world. Not me.”
“So you just cooped up here and decided to ride it out? How did you get by?”
Vincent revealed a small empty carton of tomato juice from a pocket. “Vegan diet.”
“So, go ahead. Do what you came here to do, go home a hero, let me rest in peace. Everyone wins, right?”
“Surely there’s something that can be done. I’m not very keen on being history’s first ‘vampire euthanizer’.”
“Oh, you think so, do you? How, pray-tell, am I going to integrate into society with these fangs, this pale white skin, and this outrageous Romanian accent? And I’m weak, to boot. Haven’t had any of the red stuff in centuries. How I would kill for some B right now.”
“Whatever the answer is, I’m sure moping in a coffin doesn’t help. What did you say you’d kill for, again?”
Vincent frowned. “Some B. What else?”
“…what do you mean, ‘some B?'”
“You know. How B-type blood tastes better than any other type. You can taste it the instant it hits your tongue. Much more palatable than O. More body to it. Why, what’s it to you?”
Kane blinked. “This whole ‘society reintroduction’ thing just got a lot easier.”
“I think I might be AB plus, actually,” the woman said, with a smile.
“Oh?” the doctor said, peering at the syringe full of blood. “What makes you say that?”
“I took a personality test. One of those online websites with all the different quizzes on them. Did you know they say that your blood type can dictate your personality? I had no idea.”
“Really?” the doctor said, passing off his skeptic glance onto the blood itself. “Fascinating.”
“How long does it usually take to study blood ? A week or so?”
“Used to be, but we have some, ah, advanced medical procedures that allow us to tell within seconds. If you’ll excuse me.”
The doctor opened the door to the back of the room. He never liked the proposition of letting a creature of the night skulk in the back. He couldn’t deny, however, that having him on call was the most productive medical advancement he’d seen in years. “Type, if you will, please.”
Vincent took the vial of blood, dabbed it on his finger, then tasted it.
“I think it might be an A minus. No, wait.” Vincent smacked his lips. “Slight aftertaste of almond. That’s a B minus for sure. Ooh. And a slight oregano hint to it, too. Oh, that’s truly premium stuff. Probably organic. Do you think I could quickly go out there in a doctor’s coat and grab a bite before she leaves?”
The doctor gave a glare.
“Oh, right.” Vincent laughed nervously. “No eating on the job.”