Chapter 5
It sounds like the beginning of a joke: a muscle-bound woman with unexplained pyrotechnic abilities walks into a bar. Only I don’t know what the punch line is. I’m not sure there even is one.
I step into Pete’s. The place is about halfway filled with patrons sipping drinks and munching on bowls of complimentary pretzels and peanuts. Based on the number of guidebooks on the tops of tables and shopping bags tucked underneath, I’d say most of the current customers are tourists. Pete’s is written up in a bunch of the LA visitors’ guides as “a refreshingly downscale drinking establishment in the heart of the upscale Melrose shopping and dining district,” so we get a lot of out-of-towners dropping by. The rest appear to be locals taking advantage of the happy hour specials.
“Hiya, Carrie,” calls Sara from behind the bar. A thirtysomething single mom, she works the afternoon shift while her kids are in school. She starts to go back to wiping down the bar counter, but then she does a double take. “Cute outfit,” she says.
But her body language and tone seem to be saying something else. Maybe she’s just wondering why I’m not wearing my usual work attire of jeans and a T-shirt. Or maybe she’s struggling to put her finger on why I look noticeably bigger than I did the last time she saw me, around this same time yesterday.
Either way, I’m not going to worry about it right now. Nope. I’ve got something else on my mind.
“Is Nick here yet?” I ask.
I don’t really need to ask though. I know he’s not here, and not just because the guy has never once had the initiative to show up early for a shift. No, it’s more like I can sense he’s not here.
“Not yet,” confirms Sara.
But I know he’s on his way. Strange as it is, I can totally sense that too.
***
A little later, I’m helping Sara out behind the bar, refilling the bowls of snacks, when the door swings open. I look up to see Nick’s broad-shouldered frame filling the doorway, and suddenly, a wave of absolute loathing washes over me. Admittedly, it’s not as if I’m ever exactly jumping for joy at the sight of the guy. But this? This is way more than any ordinary dislike. What I’m rocking right now is an epic, good-versus-evil kind of bone-deep hatred. Like Nick is a blight on the face of humanity, and I must be the one to remove him. Eradicate him. Freaking destroy him.
Nick’s eyes find mine, and once again, my field of vision becomes saturated in a bloodred fog.
I want to launch myself over the bar counter, conjure my fiery blade, and cut Nick down right where he stands. Although “want” doesn’t even come close to expressing what I feel. The urge to attack my fellow bartender is all-consuming and irresistible.
But I do resist it. Just .
Because there’s something holding me back that’s a teensy bit stronger. I’m acutely aware of all the people around me, talking and laughing and getting tipsy on four-dollar drafts and house wine, and I know I can’t get them caught in the middle of this—whatever this even is. As compelled as I am to assault Nick, I’m compelled to protect them more.
My vision clears.
Nick hasn’t moved. He’s still staring at me from the doorway. But the atmosphere between us prickles with a volatile energy, and I know there’s something between us that’s bigger than us both, that’s building to some kind of an inevitable clash.
And I can tell he knows it too. He nods, indicating the back of the bar. Then his lean figure, clad tonight in worn Levis and a black Guns N’ Roses tee, strides through the main room, strolls past me, and heads for the rear exit.
“Can you cover here alone for a few?” I ask Sara.
But I don’t bother waiting for her to answer. Like a moth to a flame, I follow after Nick.
***
Darkness has fallen completely by now, and the moon has slipped behind a cloud. The alley in back of Pete’s, devoid of lighting, is inky black, but I don’t need light to find Nick. It’s as if Google Maps has been downloaded into my brain, and Nick is my destination.
We stand in the middle of the alleyway, facing each other but keeping our distance. The whole scene has the vibe of an old-school western. We’re like two rival gunslingers sizing each other up, about to draw pistols and aim.
“What do you know about all this?” I demand, cutting straight to the chase. I don’t see any reason to be coy. “What in the actual hell is going on with me?”
At first, Nick doesn’t say anything. He just shoves his big hands deep into the pockets of his jeans and transfers his weight from one black Converse high-top to the other.
“Before I answer that,” he says finally, “I think you need to know what’s going on with me .”
“Really?” I ask. “You’re going to make this about you ?”
This is just so typical. Once again, Nick has absolutely no freaking consideration for anyone but himself.
My anger flares, my vision goes red, and incredibly, my eyes illuminate the space between Nick and me. The light emanating from my gaze cuts through the darkness like twin headlights. It glints off the silver chain hanging from Nick’s belt and makes the barbell piercing in his eyebrow sparkle. Now I understand what my friends must have witnessed earlier. But unlike Liv and Heather, Nick doesn’t look the least bit shocked by the light show.
“Carrie,” he says slowly, “I’m a vampire.”
It makes absolutely no sense, yet somehow, it makes perfect sense. This morning, when Liv said the same exact thing, I dismissed it as pure fiction. Because it is pure fiction—or I thought it was. But in this moment, it’s like I can feel the truth of the statement vibrating through every inch of my body.
“Vampire,” I whisper.
“I was turned this past weekend,” he says. “And I thought I knew what I was getting into. But as it turns out, there were things I didn’t know.”
“Your skin is cold,” I say as I recall what I told my besties. “You’re unnaturally fast. And you don’t have a reflection.”
He nods. “I expected all that,” he says. “But something happened that I didn’t expect. Something no one warned me about. Not until after.”
“Me,” I say. I don’t know why I say it or what it means. But again, I feel the truth of it. “No one warned you about me .”
Nick nods again. “Your skin is hot,” he says. “Your body is strong. And you can produce a weapon made of fire.”
“But how do you even know that?” I ask. “How do you know ?”
He takes one of his hands out of his pocket and runs it through his long, black hair with a sigh. “Here’s what I was told,” he says. “When a new vampire is created, the universe sometimes seeks… balance .”
“ Balance ?” I ask.
He nods at me once again. “If somebody becomes a vampire, there’s always a chance that somebody else will become, well, a vampire slayer.”
“Vampire slayer,” I repeat softly.
“And if that happens,” Nick adds, “the ‘somebody else’ is always somebody the vampire already knows. And it’s always somebody…” He takes a moment, seeming to search for the right words. “Somebody who’s not exactly a friend” is where he ends up.
I try to get my mind around what he’s telling me, only it’s like my mind isn’t completely under my control anymore. It’s as if some other force is starting to creep through me and take over.
“Carrie,” Nick says, “you’re a vampire slayer.”
The idea lands in my head, but it’s a crash landing at best. I mean, I believe what he’s telling me. I do. But how can it be true? How is it possible that one of the wild theories that Liv was throwing around earlier today actually hit the bull’s-eye?
“So let me get this straight,” I say. At this point, I’m not just struggling with the absurdity of what he’s telling me. I’m seriously fighting to stay coherent, to maintain command of my own body, of my own brain. “You decided to turn into some kind of a real-life Count Dracula. And because I’m not your goddamn BFF, I changed too?”
He looks a little pained. He opens his mouth—to try to explain maybe? Or to apologize? But I don’t want to hear it. Dammit, I won’t hear it. I am absolutely freaking furious.
I look at Nick, and just like last night, I want to kill him. Kill him. But this time, I know exactly why. “Because of you, I blew my big audition!” I scream at him. “Because of you, I lost the J.Lo movie!”
That’s it. I can’t contain myself any longer. I just can’t.
In a flash, fire explodes from me, and I’m wielding that blazing sword. The flame of my blade lights up the dark alley. And now I can see that Nick has fangs.
Fangs , I think. Holy crap! He is a vampire.
And suddenly, that’s all I can see. I’m not looking at my coworker anymore, the slacker who kind of rubs me the wrong way. Nope. I only see my enemy. A bloodsucker who must die. And I must be the one to take him down.
I unleash my fury and swing at Nick, fire streaking in an arc through the dark. But I’m no swashbuckler, and Nick is too fast for me. He moves out of the way before I can strike him, and my sword just slices through empty air.
I sense him behind me, so I spin. Swing again. But again, he evades my blade.
Now he’s on top of the dumpster. And he’s saying something, saying my name I think, but it barely even registers. All I can hear is the voice inside my head. The voice that’s urging me on, telling me to slay .
Instinctively, I bend my knees. I push off the ground, and before I know what’s happening, I’m doing a pretty convincing Simone Biles imitation. My body launches up with a twist and a flip and— thunk! —I stick the landing on the dumpster lid right in front of Nick.
Slay , says the voice echoing through my skull. Slay!
So I take another stab at it. At him .
But Nick jumps out of the line of my fire, back down to the alley. And I miss again.
Driven by a force I still don’t understand, I go after him. Relinquishing the high ground, I leap down from my perch atop the dumpster and square off with him once more.
“Carrie!”
Even though Nick is standing right in front of me, his shout sounds muffled. It’s as if his voice is traveling to me through an invisible wall.
“Carrie!” he repeats more forcefully. And that’s when the wall between us begins to crack.
Regardless, I draw my sword hand back, preparing to attack again.
“ Carrie! ” he screams. “Will you quit being so uptight for once? You need to chill and rein this shit in.”
Just then, something in my brain clicks, and I surface. The light shining from my eyes dims. The fire wanes. And I’m me again. Fully me.
“Did you just call me uptight?” I demand.
For a moment, Nick just stares at me. Then, as the moon emerges from behind the cloud bank, he tosses his head back and laughs. The moonlight makes the piercing in his eyebrow glimmer.
“Well, it got your attention, didn’t it?” he asks, still grinning.
I can see that Nick’s fangs, like my blade, have also receded.
I smile back despite myself. Despite my uptight self.
“Uh, hello?”
The voice startles us both. In unison, we turn toward the back door to Pete’s. Sara is poking her head out, surveying us curiously.
“Are you two about done out here?” she asks. “I need to get home and feed my kids.”
Immediately, I feel a twinge of guilt for leaving her on her own to deal with the happy hour crowd. I kind of welcome the guilt though. It helps to reinforce that I am, in fact, still me . The conscientious worker. Not the angry vampire slayer. For now, at least, my rage at Nick switches to the back burner.
“Sorry,” I tell her. “We’ll be right in.”
Sara gives me and Nick another speculative look. Then she nods and disappears inside.
I start to go after her. But before I reach the door, Nick taps me lightly on the shoulder. Even through my sweater, I can feel his unnaturally cold touch.
“We still need to talk,” he says. “There’s more you need to know.”