Disclaimer in Part 1
****************
He hadn't met a vampire since leaving Sunnydale. Which was good before, but now he went in search of them. There had to be vamps on the East Coast; they couldn't all have migrated to Southern California. Could they?
He hung out at night in a rough neighborhood. That's where he met Holly. He saw what she was before she saw what he was. She was going to ignore him until he smiled at her.
"Hi, stud," she said with a practiced smile. She looked old enough to be his mother, but there was still an attractiveness to her. She was clean and petite and thin. But no mistaking her for anything other than a hooker . . . unless you also had vampire radar.
[Almost too thin; anorexic? Something else. . . .] "Hi, yourself." He smiled back. He waited for the moment of recognition in her eyes and he winked at her surprise when he saw it. [Not age lines in her face . . . just worn out, the lady is.] He could smell the animal blood in her. She hadn't had human in a long time.
"Wow! I haven't seen another one of us in a long time. . . . Are you looking for pleasure tonight?"
"Yeah . . . and maybe to talk with somebody who doesn't ring my dinnerbell."
She giggled in a charmingly girlish manner. "Sure. I can't do it for free, though."
He got close and whispered in her ear, "No prob. Fresh human at my place. That good enough?"
Her big eyes got even bigger. "Okay!"
She didn't quite believe a young guy like Allan wanted her. Sure, he was no Hollywood stud but still his wardrobe and confidence indicated he could afford a better class of hooker. But he was a vampire and he wanted to talk as well as screw. Birds of a feather and all.
"Have a seat," after he unlocked his door and flipped on the lights.
She headed for the bed and sat on the edge. "Nice place", she lied. Sure, it was bigger than hers but not as neat. Nor as nicely furnished. But she'd bet he also wasn't looking at eviction in a month.
He grunted in acknowledge as he took four blood packs out of the frig and placed them in the microwave oven. One minute later: "Ninety-nine degrees, just like the doctor ordered." He grinned as he offered two packs to her. There was that lovely giggle again. He could get used to that.
"This is wonderful! How did you . . . ?"
"I bribe a Red Cross nurse to give me half their just-expired blood packs that normally would be destroyed or donated to research facilities. He's got money issues, I got blood issues. We scratch each other's back."
She nodded and drained her two packs almost before he'd finished one. He took one sip out of his second pack, looked slyly at her, then gave her the last of his human supply. She accepted gratefully.
"You're so nice! I didn't expect anything like this."
"I like to surprise people." She smiled in return and started to unbutton her blouse. "Not yet. You need to rest first."
"I do?"
"Yeah . . . it's been a long time since you've had a real meal. I can tell. Why don't you get some rest while I go hunt?"
"Okay . . . it's your dime, so to speak." She took off her shoes and curled up on the bed. He turned out the light as he left. He came back and put the purchased beef blood in the frig. She woke up, yawned and stretched like a cat.
"Back already? No luck with the hunt?" She half expected to see him bringing in somebody bound and gagged and slung over his shoulder.
"No. . . . I'll try again tomorrow," he lied. He hadn't hunted since Nevada. He wasn't sure he wanted to get back into that routine . . . not with a new dream percolating in his head. But he looked at her and he wasn't thinking about hunting.
The recuperative powers of a belly full of human blood on a malnourished vampire were astounding to see, even for the owner of the Gem of Amara. In just three hours, Holly looked as good as she did when she was last seen as an attractive woman with a pulse.
They grabbed each other, and didn't stop until well after sunrise. Naturally she spent the day, they slept together, with another wild sex session in the early afternoon before sleeping again until sunset.
"My goodness! I didn't expect anything like this when I saw you the other night." He leered and tickled her. She laughed and beat him with a pillow. For the first night in a long time, she wasn't standing on a grimy street corner waiting for some horny, disgusting human to pick her up.
Finally, they talked.
It turned out Holly was only old enough to be his baby-sitter in "life years". She was born 22 years before him but she had been a vampire for the last 14, so her human age was only 8 years more than his. She couldn't believe he was really only 19; he acted like somebody who had been a vampire a lot longer.
She was a little disappointed when they had beef blood that night but once she discovered the almost magical powers of teriyaki and Worcestershire sauce, she was satisfied.
"I . . . haven't been a vampire for long and I don't know a lot about us . . . beyond the basic stuff. Got any pointers?"
"I'd suggest not drawing attention to yourself, but you seem to be on top of that one. Except maybe that Red Cross nurse. Does he know why you want the blood?"
"I told him I work for a private research lab that doesn't have the proper permits. That's all he needs to know."
"Okay. Maybe if you told me what you were looking for, I could give you a better answer."
"You ever hear anything about . . . tougher vampires? You know, like maybe they don't burn in daylight?"
She smiled indulgently. "Ohh, you want fairytales. No, wait. There's one fairytale and there's the cure."
"Cure!? Tell me everything."
"The name is a bad joke. To be honest, the 'cure' is suicidal. First you have to find a slog demon. There's some in NYC and I heard there's a few in Los Angeles. Not that many in North America . . . they're more popular in Europe, I've been told.
"See, these slog demons are organ collectors . . . rare organ collectors. They creep me out . . . they're like ghouls. Anyway, they're almost always some sort of doctor, because of the collection thing.
"They're crazy for vampire hearts. You go to Doctor Sloggie, and he removes your heart, puts some magic dust in the empty space, and for the next six hours you're 'cured'. Nothing can kill you. The doctor keeps your heart as his fee. Brrrrrrr!" She actually shivered.
"And at the end of the six hours, you die?"
"Yes. That's the suicidal part. A vampire has to be totally desperate to want to be unkillable for only the last six hours of his existence."
"Hmm. . . . Tell me about the fairytale."
She giggled. "The Unholy Grail. Some one-of-a-kind magic charm that makes a vampire unkillable. No catch involved that I heard about. A real pipedream."
"What does it look like?"
"Don't tell me you believe in that thing! . . . Okay, it's some kind of jewelry. A ring, a bracelet, I don't know. It's called the Jewel of Omar . . . I think. So there's a jewel involved."
[The Jewel of Omar. Emerald set in gold.] "Interesting. . . . How did you hear about it?"
"My sire. The same guy who told me about the so-called cure."
"So how did you get turned?"
"You're lucky I like you, Mr. Nosey. Most guys only want to talk about themselves."
"I'm not that interesting."
"'He lied.'" She smiled. "Okay, okay. . . . I was a callgirl, a great one. Then one day, one of my customers went demon-face after we had sex and he vamped me. Turns out he was a pimp who wanted me to work for him. To drive the point home, he killed my human pimp.
"That was in Chicago. We left town. For more than a decade, I was a callgirl in New Orleans, strictly for rich demons. Then one day my pimp didn't come home. My last customer told me there was a sweep of demon hunters through town and they caught him. He had all the client connections and I couldn't make it as a freelancer. So I came here . . . I was born here.
"A callgirl for humans has to be warm-blooded. The customers are pretty insistent on things like that. That's when I became a streetwalker. That low-life clientele isn't as choosy, if you let them get kinky. I haven't had human blood since New Orleans, when my pimp brought home prey from his hunts. Not until last night."
"Happy I could share. So you never hunted?"
"No. I didn't have to, before. Now I can't afford to. Streetwalkers get hassled enough; the last thing I need is some police investigation into a missing person or a dead body that I'm actually guilty for."
"I take it you haven't had a real good run at streetwalking. Why not quit?"
"And do what? I've been a hooker since I was 18. I'm very good at it, better than most callgirls and better than any other streetwalker. I used to work in one of the Nevadan brothels, all nice and legal. Then I got stupid and went home to Chicago; wound up working for a pimp with little more class than the gorillas that pimp most street whores. I'm glad I got vamped for that reason alone.
"But until you fed me, I was in a steady downward spiral. Guess I'm not real great at taking care of myself." She looked down at her lap, then up into his eyes. "I can be your full-time girl . . . if you want."
"I want." Allan had made a point of visiting one of the Nevadan brothels before he flew East because he didn't want virginity to be a part of his new life. He wondered if it was the same one Holly worked in but he decided against asking her. She was going to be his first girlfriend.
She grinned hugely. "Okay!"
"C'mere, pretty lady." They cuddled and kissed. Then, just when she thought they were going to screw again, "Tell me where to find a slog demon in New York."
She was horrified. "NO! Why??"
"Relax, baby, I just want to talk to him. Maybe I'll bring him back for dinner since he upsets you so much."
"Yuck! They may look human but I can't imagine they actually taste human. They're called *slog* demons for a reason, lover."
"Just kidding. But I really want to know more about this cure . . . why it's only temporary."
"It sounds dangerous. He's not just gonna tell you a trade secret."
"I can be very persuasive."
"Allan, please! Can't this wait for a while? You're not getting any older and I don't like thinking about what could happen if you go messing in slog demon business. Can't we just be together for a while?"
He relented. "Sure, baby. I didn't mean to scare you. . . . Hard to believe we're the only two here in Baltimore, huh?"
"Yeah . . . most East Coast vamps are either in New York City or Miami."
"Miami for a vampire? Now that's living dangerously." They laughed.
****************
A month later, Allan found himself in New York City. Holly didn't know any more about the slog demon than she'd already told him, but she did give him the name of a demon bar her last pimp told her about. He got friendly with some of the other customers as well as with the bartenders, buying rounds and tipping generously.
"I'm looking for a slog demon."
"The best one in Manhattan works at the Cabrini Medical Center. Name's Kellerson."
"Thanks."
TBC
****************
He hadn't met a vampire since leaving Sunnydale. Which was good before, but now he went in search of them. There had to be vamps on the East Coast; they couldn't all have migrated to Southern California. Could they?
He hung out at night in a rough neighborhood. That's where he met Holly. He saw what she was before she saw what he was. She was going to ignore him until he smiled at her.
"Hi, stud," she said with a practiced smile. She looked old enough to be his mother, but there was still an attractiveness to her. She was clean and petite and thin. But no mistaking her for anything other than a hooker . . . unless you also had vampire radar.
[Almost too thin; anorexic? Something else. . . .] "Hi, yourself." He smiled back. He waited for the moment of recognition in her eyes and he winked at her surprise when he saw it. [Not age lines in her face . . . just worn out, the lady is.] He could smell the animal blood in her. She hadn't had human in a long time.
"Wow! I haven't seen another one of us in a long time. . . . Are you looking for pleasure tonight?"
"Yeah . . . and maybe to talk with somebody who doesn't ring my dinnerbell."
She giggled in a charmingly girlish manner. "Sure. I can't do it for free, though."
He got close and whispered in her ear, "No prob. Fresh human at my place. That good enough?"
Her big eyes got even bigger. "Okay!"
She didn't quite believe a young guy like Allan wanted her. Sure, he was no Hollywood stud but still his wardrobe and confidence indicated he could afford a better class of hooker. But he was a vampire and he wanted to talk as well as screw. Birds of a feather and all.
"Have a seat," after he unlocked his door and flipped on the lights.
She headed for the bed and sat on the edge. "Nice place", she lied. Sure, it was bigger than hers but not as neat. Nor as nicely furnished. But she'd bet he also wasn't looking at eviction in a month.
He grunted in acknowledge as he took four blood packs out of the frig and placed them in the microwave oven. One minute later: "Ninety-nine degrees, just like the doctor ordered." He grinned as he offered two packs to her. There was that lovely giggle again. He could get used to that.
"This is wonderful! How did you . . . ?"
"I bribe a Red Cross nurse to give me half their just-expired blood packs that normally would be destroyed or donated to research facilities. He's got money issues, I got blood issues. We scratch each other's back."
She nodded and drained her two packs almost before he'd finished one. He took one sip out of his second pack, looked slyly at her, then gave her the last of his human supply. She accepted gratefully.
"You're so nice! I didn't expect anything like this."
"I like to surprise people." She smiled in return and started to unbutton her blouse. "Not yet. You need to rest first."
"I do?"
"Yeah . . . it's been a long time since you've had a real meal. I can tell. Why don't you get some rest while I go hunt?"
"Okay . . . it's your dime, so to speak." She took off her shoes and curled up on the bed. He turned out the light as he left. He came back and put the purchased beef blood in the frig. She woke up, yawned and stretched like a cat.
"Back already? No luck with the hunt?" She half expected to see him bringing in somebody bound and gagged and slung over his shoulder.
"No. . . . I'll try again tomorrow," he lied. He hadn't hunted since Nevada. He wasn't sure he wanted to get back into that routine . . . not with a new dream percolating in his head. But he looked at her and he wasn't thinking about hunting.
The recuperative powers of a belly full of human blood on a malnourished vampire were astounding to see, even for the owner of the Gem of Amara. In just three hours, Holly looked as good as she did when she was last seen as an attractive woman with a pulse.
They grabbed each other, and didn't stop until well after sunrise. Naturally she spent the day, they slept together, with another wild sex session in the early afternoon before sleeping again until sunset.
"My goodness! I didn't expect anything like this when I saw you the other night." He leered and tickled her. She laughed and beat him with a pillow. For the first night in a long time, she wasn't standing on a grimy street corner waiting for some horny, disgusting human to pick her up.
Finally, they talked.
It turned out Holly was only old enough to be his baby-sitter in "life years". She was born 22 years before him but she had been a vampire for the last 14, so her human age was only 8 years more than his. She couldn't believe he was really only 19; he acted like somebody who had been a vampire a lot longer.
She was a little disappointed when they had beef blood that night but once she discovered the almost magical powers of teriyaki and Worcestershire sauce, she was satisfied.
"I . . . haven't been a vampire for long and I don't know a lot about us . . . beyond the basic stuff. Got any pointers?"
"I'd suggest not drawing attention to yourself, but you seem to be on top of that one. Except maybe that Red Cross nurse. Does he know why you want the blood?"
"I told him I work for a private research lab that doesn't have the proper permits. That's all he needs to know."
"Okay. Maybe if you told me what you were looking for, I could give you a better answer."
"You ever hear anything about . . . tougher vampires? You know, like maybe they don't burn in daylight?"
She smiled indulgently. "Ohh, you want fairytales. No, wait. There's one fairytale and there's the cure."
"Cure!? Tell me everything."
"The name is a bad joke. To be honest, the 'cure' is suicidal. First you have to find a slog demon. There's some in NYC and I heard there's a few in Los Angeles. Not that many in North America . . . they're more popular in Europe, I've been told.
"See, these slog demons are organ collectors . . . rare organ collectors. They creep me out . . . they're like ghouls. Anyway, they're almost always some sort of doctor, because of the collection thing.
"They're crazy for vampire hearts. You go to Doctor Sloggie, and he removes your heart, puts some magic dust in the empty space, and for the next six hours you're 'cured'. Nothing can kill you. The doctor keeps your heart as his fee. Brrrrrrr!" She actually shivered.
"And at the end of the six hours, you die?"
"Yes. That's the suicidal part. A vampire has to be totally desperate to want to be unkillable for only the last six hours of his existence."
"Hmm. . . . Tell me about the fairytale."
She giggled. "The Unholy Grail. Some one-of-a-kind magic charm that makes a vampire unkillable. No catch involved that I heard about. A real pipedream."
"What does it look like?"
"Don't tell me you believe in that thing! . . . Okay, it's some kind of jewelry. A ring, a bracelet, I don't know. It's called the Jewel of Omar . . . I think. So there's a jewel involved."
[The Jewel of Omar. Emerald set in gold.] "Interesting. . . . How did you hear about it?"
"My sire. The same guy who told me about the so-called cure."
"So how did you get turned?"
"You're lucky I like you, Mr. Nosey. Most guys only want to talk about themselves."
"I'm not that interesting."
"'He lied.'" She smiled. "Okay, okay. . . . I was a callgirl, a great one. Then one day, one of my customers went demon-face after we had sex and he vamped me. Turns out he was a pimp who wanted me to work for him. To drive the point home, he killed my human pimp.
"That was in Chicago. We left town. For more than a decade, I was a callgirl in New Orleans, strictly for rich demons. Then one day my pimp didn't come home. My last customer told me there was a sweep of demon hunters through town and they caught him. He had all the client connections and I couldn't make it as a freelancer. So I came here . . . I was born here.
"A callgirl for humans has to be warm-blooded. The customers are pretty insistent on things like that. That's when I became a streetwalker. That low-life clientele isn't as choosy, if you let them get kinky. I haven't had human blood since New Orleans, when my pimp brought home prey from his hunts. Not until last night."
"Happy I could share. So you never hunted?"
"No. I didn't have to, before. Now I can't afford to. Streetwalkers get hassled enough; the last thing I need is some police investigation into a missing person or a dead body that I'm actually guilty for."
"I take it you haven't had a real good run at streetwalking. Why not quit?"
"And do what? I've been a hooker since I was 18. I'm very good at it, better than most callgirls and better than any other streetwalker. I used to work in one of the Nevadan brothels, all nice and legal. Then I got stupid and went home to Chicago; wound up working for a pimp with little more class than the gorillas that pimp most street whores. I'm glad I got vamped for that reason alone.
"But until you fed me, I was in a steady downward spiral. Guess I'm not real great at taking care of myself." She looked down at her lap, then up into his eyes. "I can be your full-time girl . . . if you want."
"I want." Allan had made a point of visiting one of the Nevadan brothels before he flew East because he didn't want virginity to be a part of his new life. He wondered if it was the same one Holly worked in but he decided against asking her. She was going to be his first girlfriend.
She grinned hugely. "Okay!"
"C'mere, pretty lady." They cuddled and kissed. Then, just when she thought they were going to screw again, "Tell me where to find a slog demon in New York."
She was horrified. "NO! Why??"
"Relax, baby, I just want to talk to him. Maybe I'll bring him back for dinner since he upsets you so much."
"Yuck! They may look human but I can't imagine they actually taste human. They're called *slog* demons for a reason, lover."
"Just kidding. But I really want to know more about this cure . . . why it's only temporary."
"It sounds dangerous. He's not just gonna tell you a trade secret."
"I can be very persuasive."
"Allan, please! Can't this wait for a while? You're not getting any older and I don't like thinking about what could happen if you go messing in slog demon business. Can't we just be together for a while?"
He relented. "Sure, baby. I didn't mean to scare you. . . . Hard to believe we're the only two here in Baltimore, huh?"
"Yeah . . . most East Coast vamps are either in New York City or Miami."
"Miami for a vampire? Now that's living dangerously." They laughed.
****************
A month later, Allan found himself in New York City. Holly didn't know any more about the slog demon than she'd already told him, but she did give him the name of a demon bar her last pimp told her about. He got friendly with some of the other customers as well as with the bartenders, buying rounds and tipping generously.
"I'm looking for a slog demon."
"The best one in Manhattan works at the Cabrini Medical Center. Name's Kellerson."
"Thanks."
TBC