Playing the Hero

Doyle had spent the day in the library. He quite liked it in there, it was air conditioned - which was more than could be said for his little apartment, plus it was quiet and he never had to look over his shoulder to see if any of his creditors were closing in on him. No one he was acquainted with would ever think to look for him in the city library.

But he was spending more and more time in there, using their internet, looking through their books. He was surprised at just how many occult and mystical books the library carried. He could lose whole days, sitting at a table and leafing through the pages of these books that no one ever seemed to check out or even realise were there.

Plus he wasn't allowed to smoke in the library, which made quitting all the easier. He was long past the stage where he actually craved nicotine, it was just breaking the habit that he needed now - but between shuffling his deck of cards to keep his hands busy and hanging out in no smoking zones, he seemed to be getting away with it.

When it reached closing time, he put the book he had been reading back on the shelf and trod the now familiar path to the exit: past the foreign language section, past the children's section, past the notice board covered with pinned ads and the one ancient, missing person poster with the missing young woman's picture smiling out at him, and then down into the stairwell and through the door onto the street.

Once he got out onto the sidewalk, he wondered what to do next. He could go home - but it wasn't late and he felt a little antsy. He'd spent the day reading about different dimensions and portals and he wanted to get his head out of that world for a while. Sitting at home and stewing wouldn't help. So, he decided to go to a bar. But - for the first time in... he couldn't remember how long - he decided to go to a human bar. Of course, it would strain all his willpower to not buy a pack of cigarettes and start smoking, or bum one off someone else in the bar but … well, maybe he needed his willpower testing every now and again. You didn't know how well you were doing, how strong you were, unless you tested it.

...

When he stepped inside the bar, the first thing he noticed was how clean it was. The floors weren't sticky, the counter was all shiny - and made of chrome, no one was passed out in a puddle of their own vomit and urine and no one was beating anyone else over the head with a pool cue. He'd forgotten what human bars were like… this was nice. He wondered why he'd ever stopped coming to places like this.

He hopped up on to a bar stool and ordered a beer. It was still early in the evening - a beer would do for now. He didn't need to be hitting the hard stuff. The bartender slid the bottle across to him and he picked it up and took a long drink. When he put it down, he noticed a pretty, young woman sitting at the other end of the bar. She smiled in his direction. He turned to look behind him to see what she was smiling at. There was no one there and, with a jolt, he realised she was smiling at him.

Well. That was unprecedented. He gave her an awkward smile back and then looked studiously down at his beer. He'd not really spoken to a woman since … Harri. Apart from the occasional waitress. He'd certainly not had any interaction with women of his own age who weren't working a retail or service job and therefore contractually obliged to notice him. He wondered what she could possibly see when she looked at him that made her think smiling at him was a good idea.

Maybe she couldn't see the demon, couldn't tell that he was tainted. Or maybe it was just that his clothes were cleaner than they had been in years, he wasn't smoking, he wasn't drunk, he was clean shaven … maybe he just looked less down and out than he usually did. Maybe it hadn't been the demon that had caused people to skirt around him and give him a wide berth all these years, maybe none of them could see the demon after all - maybe they just didn't want to get too close to an obvious drunk.

He could feel her eyes on him and he squirmed a little bit under her attention. Maybe, if he wasn't a demon, he'd go over there and talk to her, offer to buy her a drink. That's what it looked like she wanted him to do … but then, if he wasn't a demon, he'd still be a happily married man. And as he was a demon, he couldn't go over there and chat her up. He couldn't tell her what he was and he couldn't ask anything of her without her knowing - not when it might start as a drink and lead somewhere else. She looked like she might like it to lead somewhere else.

And demon aside, that prospect was more than a little daunting. If he had barely spoken to a woman since Harri then he definitely hadn't … not for years. Not since he found out what he was. The kind of life he lived, with the demon lowlifes - it was a very male world - and he had lived like a monk. A monk who drank too much and gambled, but then - he was from Ireland - he knew what monks got up to.

But the way he saw it, he didn't have a choice. Not that he hadn't been too depressed most of the time to pay much attention to women, and not that he hadn't been drinking so much his performance would have been affected… but it was more than unhappiness and alcohol causing a lack of inclination, he couldn't be with a human woman - not now he was a demon, now she would see his demon face. And he had no interest in demon women, so it looked like all he had to look forward to was a life of celibacy.

Which was fine, when he was alone and there were no women around to tempt him, anyway. But when a pretty one was going to sit just across from him and smile at him flirtatiously, that made everything harder. Everything.

And so he squirmed uncomfortably and tried not to catch her eye, hoping she would get the message that he wasn't interested. Which wasn't strictly true - he was interested, he just couldn't go there and he didn't fancy much like discussing it.

After five minutes deep breathing and studiously looking at his hands, he risked a glance to the side. There was a pool table and a couple of young men gathered around it. He slid off the bar stool, and wandered over - offering them a game, putting down bets on the winner. This might be a human bar, but he still had his demon hustle going on … but this was better, they wouldn't beat him up and dislocate his limbs when he won. They may not even realise he had cheated them.

They got going. He lost the first game. And the second. Much more money was put down for the third … and that's when he miraculously worked out how to use a cue and started potting shot after shot.

Sinking the green ball, he sneaked a glance up at the bar - to where the pretty lady was sitting. She wasn't watching him anymore. She was chatting to another guy - a tall, good looking one who apparently had no secrets so dark he couldn't even offer to buy her a drink.

Doyle tried not to feel disappointed. He couldn't go up and talk to her, what did he want her to do? Spend the whole night pining after him? He'd been uncomfortable when she had smiled at him, he should be relieved she'd moved onto someone else who actually had a bit of game. But still … his heart sank and he did feel a bit disappointed.

He put his head down and concentrated on potting the next ball. He determinedly kept his head down until he had won the game and collected his winnings. 'Sorry fellas,' he grinned, scooping all that lovely and much needed green into his pockets, 'must have just got in the zone, there.' That's when he looked back up at the bar. The pretty lady and the man were gone. His heart sank further, and he forced himself to shake it off, telling himself he was being ridiculous.

But he didn't stick around for another drink, or another game. He found that - all of a sudden - he'd had enough of pretending to be human, and the thought of sitting alone on his sofa in the dark seemed quite appealing. Maybe he'd overdone it for the night. Trying to be human would take practice after all these long years, and he wasn't even sure it was something he wanted. Maybe every now and again, he would hit up a human bar, hustle a group of human men - but he didn't belong here, he would always have to be alone here and being alone in a crowd was harder and more painful than just skulking in the shadows.

So, with extra cash in his pockets and not even a little bit drunk, he headed out into the night air - planning to walk straight home. But that plan was upended almost immediately, when he walked past the end of the alleyway next to the bar and heard a scuffle - and then a scream.

He came to a dead stop. His head turned to stare down the alleyway. He wanted it to be nothing, but he wasn't sure - and for some reason he was not walking away. Then came another scream - a woman's voice - and that decided it. Wondering what the hell it was he was doing, what the hell he was planning on doing, his feet began to walk him down the alley - as if they weren't even a part of him, taking steady, even steps until the path was eaten up and he had found the source of the disturbance.

It was the pretty woman from the bar and the man she had left with. Only he wasn't a man. He had a bumpy, ridged brow and yellow eyes and sharp fangs. Doyle had refused to speak to this lady to avoid her having to spend time with a demon - and had left her to get eaten by a vampire.

The pair of them were tussling, she was putting up a fight, but the vampire was strong and wasn't letting her go. There was already blood dripping down her neck where he had bitten here. 'Let me go!' she screamed. 'Help!'

'Hey,' Doyle's voice came out loud and clear - and much more confident than he was feeling. 'Let her go.'

The vampire pulled away from the woman and glanced back at Doyle, looked him up and down - taking him in; his height; his lack of muscles; how much of a threat he posed - or didn't - and then laughed. 'Believe me - you don't wanna get in the middle of this. Just walk away, Frodo.'

'Ah - see - I can't do that, I'm already in the middle of this.' He didn't know how on earth his voice was coming out this calm, or how he wasn't panicking and running. But he wasn't. 'Now I'm gonna have to ask y' to leave the lady alone.'

The vampire just laughed again, 'or what?'

'Or … I'll have to do somethin' about it.' He folded his arms and stared at the vampire - his gaze didn't waver, just like his voice hadn't. He didn't know where any of this was coming from.

The vampire tutted, sounding irritated and rolled it's eyes. 'Stay close,' he leered at the woman and then dropped her - before turning on Doyle.

Doyle barely had time to unfold his arms before the vampire came flying at him. He heard the woman scream again, and then the vampire was on top of him - grabbing hold of him. He knew vampires were strong, he had heard about it - he'd been attacked by one before, albeit very briefly, but he had never fully appreciated just how strong they were - just how much stronger than normal men they were.

But the second the vampire laid hands on him, he felt his arms pinioned to his side by its iron grip and then he was thrown across the alleyway. The woman screamed again, in the background, Doyle staggered back - nearly losing his footing - and the vampire turned back to the woman.

But Doyle didn't fall. He staggered and stumbled a bit but managed to regain his balance. And before the vampire could touch the woman again, he launched himself at its back; dragging it away from the girl. The vampire turned, and Doyle threw a punch. It barely connected but he followed it up with a headbutt. The vampire actually stumbled back after that, and Doyle grabbed hold of its arm and used all his strength to throw it against the wall.

It grabbed hold of him, as it staggered backwards, and they tumbled over together; crashing into a stack of wooden crates, which smashed on impact. They rolled around the ground, grappling. The vampire was stronger, but Doyle was small and wiry and used to struggling his way out of sticky situations, and eventually he landed on top. They were surrounded by sharp splinters of wood from the busted crates and - without even thinking - he grabbed hold of one and then plunged it into the vampire's chest - making a guess at where its heart would be.

There was a moment where nothing happened. The vampire just stared up at him, wide eyed in surprise, and then - all of a sudden - it just disintegrated into a cloud of dust - and Doyle dropped the couple of inches to the ground, coughing.

'Oh my God.'

He tensed up when he heard the woman's voice.

'What was that? What did you do? What happened to him?'

'Um…' He got back to his feet, stumbling a little, feeling unsteady. He'd never killed a vampire before. He'd never killed anything before. But he'd never seen anything like that happen. He'd heard about it - he knew they turned into dust … but he'd never seen it for himself. And now he'd taken one out, all by himself. He felt his heart beat faster, the blood thrummed through his veins and he felt a surge of adrenaline - even though it now came too late.

'It just - it exploded,' the woman said.

'Uh - yeah - it did. Listen, you should get home - patch up your neck.'

Her hand flew to her neck and she felt the puncture wounds, when she brought her fingers away they were stained with blood. 'It - it bit me,' she said. Her eyes were wide and frightened.

'You'll be OK.'

'Was it … was it?' She suddenly laughed, wild and disbelieving. 'It can't have been…'

He nodded. 'It was,' he said grimly.

'But it bit me. Am I gonna …?'

'You'll be fine,' he repeated. 'Just go home and forget about it.'

She suddenly grabbed at him, he looked alarmed - but all she wanted was to thank him. Her voice was sincere, her eyes were warm and appreciative and even … a little admiring. 'Thank you - I don't know how I can ever repay you…'

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. 'Really there's no need. I'm glad you're safe.'

'Is this what you do?' she asked him, 'you kill monsters? - You save people?'

'I…' He began to shake his head.

But she cut him off, 'you're a hero.'

'I'm not. I was just … in the right place. And I knew what to do.'

'He was so strong. You must - you must have special powers to be able to kill things like that.'

He shook his head vehemently. 'Oh no - I just - I got lucky. If that box hadn't smashed … I mean, I really hadn't thought my strategy through, y'know? I could have ended up getting us both killed. Honestly, it was nothin'. I was glad to help, but it was nothin'.' He looked awkward for a moment. The way she was looking at him … If he wanted to, he could take her home and he knew she would spend all night finding novel and exciting and most of all pleasurable ways to thank him for saving her life. And he couldn't lie - after so many years alone, it was tempting.

But - when it came to the … moment … she would see the demon. And then that warm and admiring look would vanish. And she would scream - just like Harri had done. This woman thought he was a hero, he didn't want her to know he was just another monster. So he shuffled his feet uncomfortably, dropped his gaze and offered to escort her to find a cab.

'You could get in the cab with me,' she said in a husky and seductive voice.

He felt another sudden surge of adrenaline - and his blood rushing southward. He shook his head. 'I - I'm married,' he heard himself say. Well - it wasn't actually a lie.

'Oh,' she looked disappointed. She actually seemed disappointed that Doyle wasn't going to sleep with her. He felt like he'd stumbled into an alternate universe somewhere and not noticed until now. 'That's a pity,' she said, softly.

He just nodded, not making eye contact, and then ushered her out of the alley - and avoided looking directly at her until she was safely in the cab. He didn't know why he didn't want to look at her: in case she realised he was lying about Harri? In case looking at her undermined his resolve and he changed his mind? Whatever his reasoning, it was easier to keep his eyes lowered until she was gone.

And then he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and started his lonely walk home.

...

He didn't even switch the lights on when he got in. He just sank down on the sofa and stared blankly at the opposite wall - not quite believing what had happened tonight. He had just killed a vampire. He had just saved a woman's life. Him.