Valentine's Day Sucks

Valentine’s Day sucks.

Boyd sighed as he saw Charlie sidle up to the bar and order a beer. A few feet away sat his girlfriend. This was a problem. His friend Charlie ran a standard Valentino scam on vampires: He would seduce them and then kill them. He was good at it. However, he had a healthy libido, so occasionally he would fall for a target. This could cause complications.

Vanessa had been his latest target.

She was smart, beautiful, and vivacious. She was the life of any party she was part of, and was invited to parties just to keep them from dying. Her party skills were so welcome in vampire society, a society that was afraid of losing its humanity, that she had built a network of contacts, favors, and allies; in vampire terms, she was rich. And she loved Charlie: While he was as passionate as he was, the two flames created a bigger flame, and one that somehow grounded the other. They challenged each other while knowing when to back each other up, thus making a couple that made for interesting viewing for anyone around them.

Ah, there he goes. He had his beer and spun around so that he was pointed directly at her. He walked over to the table, acted like he had never seen her before, there was some quick repartee, and then he sat down opposite her. The two were no doubt engaged in figuring out a new scam to run.

She wasn’t the complication. The romance would run its course, if anyone was lucky, and he would be depressed for a while before finding another romance. It was predictable pattern, even though Boyd was hoping they would stay together for what could be a 50-year fling for her.

The brunette edge lord wearing all of the leather, however, was the complication. This is going to be fun. He ran his finger over his newest stake, one with some rather unique properties, as he calculated where it would be best to intercept him: He needed to get him into the bathroom, preferably alone. He smirked. Looks like I’m running a play from his playbook. He grabbed his beer and walked over to the edge lord.

Boyd did a very casual weapon check on the “young man.” He had to have at least four throwing blades, two stakes, and something up his left sleeve, possibly a derringer or a sleeve blade. My stake is going to have to do. He put his beer down right in front of the vampire assassin. “How’s the weather?” The assassin glared at him. “Well, it just got hotter.” Inwardly, part of him died. So much cheese, but it’s for a cause.

The assassin looked him up and down. “You don’t want any of this. Back off.”

Boyd took one step forward, putting him well within his personal space. “True, but you do want part of this.” He needed the vampire to get a good sniff of him, to smell his blood, to get a sniff of what he had to offer.

The assassin straightened up and smiled. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Boyd put his arm on his shoulder. How did Charlie do this? Oh, yeah. “Want a sample?” He cocked his head, revealing his neck.

The assassin wrapped an arm around him. He spared a glance at the happy couple. He apparently decided that they would be there for a while. “Sure, I have the time.” He pulled Boyd to the bathroom. Once they entered the bathroom, the assassin shoved Boyd against the wall. Boyd used the inertia to pull out his stake. The assassin backed up a step. He pulled out a knife. Boyd stabbed. The assassin ducked the blow. He slashed at Boyd. Boyd looked down at the torn shirt and red bloom on his chest. He tossed the stake, shouting, “Evigilare faciatis!”

The assassin took a step back. In midair, the stake sprouted legs from its midpoint and arms from its top. Both arms and legs grew hands. It fell on the assassin’s pants. It began to crawl up the assassin. He tried to swat the stake. It dodged. It ran up his coat. He tried to grab it. It ducked. It stopped just above his upper chest. It went erect. It pierced the jacket. The assassin screamed. He started smoking as the stake buried itself in the vampire’s chest. In mere moments the vampire was dust, including its jacket and weapons.

Boyd said one word. “Somnos.” The stake lost its arms and legs, becoming a regular stake. He picked up the stake and walked out of the bathroom, exhaling. He looked at the happy couple. They have no idea what just happened. Good. He walked up to the bar and ordered a new beer. He took a sip, then saw another man in leather enter the bar. He sighed and took a big sip. It’s going to be a long night.

Valentine’s Day sucks.