Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
The door chimed.
"Yo, is this place open or what?"
Simon looked up to find a college-aged kid in a backward cap standing at the counter, peering over at him. The blood from his finger was still dripping onto the floor next to Charlie's unconscious form.
"He's... taking a break," Simon said.
"Behind the counter?"
"Yes."
The kid shrugged. "Can you ring me up then? I just need a Monster and some Doritos."
Simon stared at him. Then at Charlie. Then back at the kid, who was already placing items on the counter.
"I don't work here."
"Come on, man. I've got exact change." The kid slapped three dollars down. "Unless you want me to just take it?"
The office door banged open.
"What the hell is—" Mr. Denton stopped, taking in the scene: Simon standing behind the counter with blood dripping from his finger, Charlie sprawled on the floor, and a customer waiting with increasing impatience.
"For fuck's sake." Mr. Denton stepped over Charlie's body to reach the register. "Not again."
"Again?" Simon couldn't help asking.
"Third time this month." Mr. Denton rang up the customer with practiced efficiency. "Last week it was some lady with a papercut. The week before that, some kid scraped his knee in the parking lot."
The customer grabbed his items and left, apparently unbothered by the unconscious employee on the floor.
Mr. Denton pointed at Simon. "You. You're helping me move him."
"I don't—"
"You made him faint, you help carry him." Mr. Denton grabbed Charlie under the arms. "Get his legs."
Simon found himself obeying automatically, gripping Charlie's ankles. The vampire weighed almost nothing. Simon had carried gear packs heavier than this entire person.
"Break room's back here," Mr. Denton grunted, backing through a doorway.
They maneuvered down a narrow hallway to a cramped break room that smelled like burnt coffee and existential dread. A sagging couch occupied one wall.
"Gentle," Mr. Denton warned as they lowered Charlie onto it. "Kid bruises like a peach."
That was interesting. Vampires shouldn't bruise.
Then again, they also shouldn't be eating ketchup.
Who knew what this fool had done to his body?
Simon watched Mr. Denton arrange Charlie's limbs with surprising care, putting a lumpy cushion under his head.
"There's a first aid kit above the sink," Mr. Denton said. "Fix your finger before you bleed all over my break room."
Simon moved to the sink, unable to process how he'd gotten himself in this situation.
He found the kit and started cleaning his cut, watching Charlie in the mirror. This close, under the harsh fluorescents, the vampire looked even worse. Hollow cheeks. Cracked lips. Deep rings under his eyes.
A bottle of cherry syrup sat on the table next to someone's abandoned lunch.
Simon picked it up. It was nearly empty, and there were teeth marks on the cap like someone had been gnawing on it.
Mr. Denton glanced over. "That's Charlie's new favorite snack. Caught him with another bottle of it earlier." He shook his head. "Kid's a basket case. But he shows up, works hard, doesn't steal from the register. That's more than I can say for most."
Charlie stirred.
His eyes fluttered open, unfocused. He tried to sit up, made it halfway, then stopped as the room apparently spun around him.
"Easy," Mr. Denton said.
But Charlie's gaze landed on Simon, and his whole body went rigid. He tried to stand—too fast—and his legs immediately gave out.
Simon moved on instinct, catching Charlie's upper arms before his knees hit the floor.
Charlie's hands came up, gripping Simon's forearms for balance.
They froze.
Charlie's fingers pressed against Simon's jacket, and even through the leather, Simon felt how cold they were. The vampire stared up at him, eyes still dilated but clearing, confusion giving way to recognition and then panic.
"You," Charlie breathed.
"Me," Simon agreed.
Charlie's grip tightened for just a moment—surprisingly strong despite everything—before he seemed to realize what he was doing. He jerked back, stumbling until his back hit the wall.
"I need to—I should—" Charlie stuttered.
"Sit your ass down," Mr. Denton ordered. "You just fainted. Again."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You look like death warmed over. Why did you even come in?" Mr. Denton pulled out his phone. "I'm calling someone to cover the rest of your shift."
“But I only came in because—”
“Well, it doesn’t matter. You're going home." He looked at Simon. "You. Make sure he doesn't pass out again while I find coverage."
Mr. Denton left, already dialing.
Simon and Charlie stared at each other across the break room.
"You cut yourself on purpose," Charlie said quietly, sitting back down on the couch.
"Yes."
"To test me."
"Yes."
Charlie pulled his knees to his chest, making himself smaller on the couch. "Are you going to kill me now?"
The question should have had an easy answer. Yes. That was Simon's job. That was why he was here.
But if he killed Charlie now, he'd never get answers to the many questions this vampire stirred in him. Like who the hell had set him on Charlie's trail, and why?
Who would profit if Simon killed this incompetent fledgling?
So many questions.
Simon started with the first one on his mind. "When were you turned?"
"Three weeks ago."
Three weeks. Christ.
"Your maker?"
"Gone." Charlie's voice went flat. "He was drunk. Thought it would be funny, I guess. Bit me in an alley and left."
Simon felt his hands curl into fists. Whatever he thought of vampires, there were lines. You didn't just turn someone and abandon them. You taught them to hunt, to feed, to control their abilities. You didn't leave them drinking cherry syrup in a convenience store break room.
"You don't know anything," Simon observed.
"I know I need blood. I know sunlight hurts. I know I'm stronger and faster than before." Charlie's laugh had a hysterical edge. "I also know I can't use any of it properly and blood makes me pass out, so I'm basically the world's most useless vampire."
Simon rubbed his face. This was ridiculous. He was a hunter. The Organization's best. He had over a hundred kills. He did not feel bad for vampires.
He definitely didn't feel exasperated on their behalf.
"Someone reported you as Charlie Dracul," Simon said. "Multiple murders. Warehouse full of victims. Ring any bells?"
Charlie's eyes widened. "What? No! I've never… I work retail! The most violent thing I've done is argue with the slushie machine!"
Either Charlie was an incredible actor, or someone had played Simon.
In any case, Simon needed to get to the bottom of this.
"I can't let you roam free," he said finally. "You're coming with me."