Coda
Ethan found Noah in the library's nonfiction section one afternoon. His friend no longer wore the whimsical bowties that had been his trademark before revealing his true nature, but he still hung around on Earth rather than returning to Heaven.
"There you are," Ethan said, setting down two cups of coffee from the cart outside. "I brought you the usual."
Noah looked up with a smile. "Thanks."
"Don't worry about it," Ethan said. Noah had done so much for him, after all. "I realized I never properly thanked you."
"For what?"
Ethan looked around and lowered his voice. "For being my guardian angel. For helping me and Mal figure things out."
"You're welcome." Noah's eyes crinkled at the corners. "But I used you as an excuse so I could stay here and keep an eye on someone else."
"What do you mean?" Ethan took a sip of his coffee.
"Mal wasn't my only failure," Noah admitted.
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Is there another demon?"
"No, not exactly. There's a…" Noah shook his head. "You know what?" He glanced at the window. It was already dark outside. "I'm just going to show you."
"Show me what?"
"Just come." Noah gestured. Ethan was too curious not to.
Ethan followed Noah down a dimly lit sidewalk, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. “So, where exactly are we going?”
Noah, ever cryptic, simply replied, “You’ll see.”
They stopped outside a dingy, 24-hour laundromat, the kind with flickering fluorescent lights and a vending machine that looked older than time itself. Inside, rows of humming washers and dryers lined the walls, but the place was nearly empty—aside from one lone figure slumped in a plastic chair near the back.
Ethan frowned. “Uh. What are we doing here?”
Noah let out a slow sigh and gestured toward the lone figure like he was unveiling a tragic art piece. “Ethan, meet my other failure.”
The guy in question was pale—not the tragic gothic romance kind of pale, but the this man looks like he hasn’t had a full meal or a restful night’s sleep in a decade kind of pale. He wore a faded hoodie that had seen better days, sleeves pulled over his hands as he hunched over himself. His dark, tired eyes were fixed blankly on the linoleum floor.
And in his hands?
A ketchup packet.
Which he was sucking on like a tiny juice box.
Ethan stared. “…What is he doing?”
Noah explained. “He thinks the red color might have nutritional benefits.”
“Nutritional benefits? Is he…?” Ethan let the question hang, but Noah understood what he was asking.
“Yes, Charlie is a vampire.”
Ethan didn't know what to make of that.
Vampires were real?
And they ate ketchup?
No wonder Noah had wanted him to see this. He wouldn't have believed it.
“He’s trying to be ethical,” Noah said. “Doesn’t want to bite people. Says it’s a ‘consent issue.’”
Ethan gave him a flat look. “And this is his alternative?.”
Noah nodded grimly. “Last week, it was cherry Kool-Aid. Before that, beet juice.”
Inside, Charlie slumped deeper into his chair and stared at the ceiling. He reached for another ketchup packet, paused, made a disgusted face…
Then he ate it anyway.
Ethan shook his head. “Jesus Christ.”
Finally, Charlie pulled a damp hoodie from a nearby dryer, held it up to his face like a security blanket, and trudged toward the exit. His shoelace was untied. He did not notice.
As he shuffled out the door and into the night, Ethan exhaled. "That's not exactly how I pictured a vampire."
Noah made a face. "A drunk vampire turned him on a dare and then immediately regretted it."
"Damn. And now he's out here all by himself?"
Noah licked his lips. "The other vampires bully him because he faints at the sight of blood."
Ethan stared after Charlie's sad, ketchup-fueled existence. "…That's tragic."
Noah only sighed again. "Tell me about it."
Read more about Charlie in The World's Wimpiest Vampire releasing later this year .