Saturday night in Baltimore. A period of well-deserved rest for the hard-working members of the little city’s police department. While throngs of tourists mobbed the Inner Harbor and the hip crowd descended upon the eateries of Fell’s Point, Niles Gule ventured in a different direction, into the working-class neighborhood of Monument, north and east of the city’s center. Here the homes consisted of small bungalows tucked close together on narrow streets. The rumble of traffic on 83 became a vague reverberation in the distance. Streetlights hugged the corners, leaving the lots drowsing in shadows.
Niles had no reason to fear the walk through that quiet neighborhood because he was a vampire well-armed to protect himself. Should he face a human, he could merely brandish his long canines to scare them away. If a fellow vampire decided to try his hand at overturning the Lord of Baltimore, Niles carried a silver hunting knife strapped to his hip. His strides came long and easily, propelling him along the sidewalk at a leisurely pace.
He turned at the sight of the neat red brick bungalow belonging to one of his co-workers, Walter Cooksey. Lights blazed from all the windows and the front door stood open with just the glass storm door protecting those within from those without. Through that transom, Niles could make out the shifting mass of men preparing for a night of fun away from their womenfolk.
Although Niles could have merely sauntered inside, his Victorian Era manners demanded he knock politely on the glass. From the bustle within tottered the little man himself. Chubby and balding, Cooksey hustled to answer his door.
His eyes grew wide at the sight of the vampire on his doorstep. His mouth gapped loosely.
Niles gently opened the door wider and slipped inside.
“Good to see you, Walter,” he greeted in his rich voice, lightly accented with a Boston burr.
Cooksey squeaked something inaudible.
When Niles turned a questioning glance at his little host, Cooksey gulped. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
Niles frowned. “I can’t imagine why not. It’s poker night. All the guys are here.”
Cooksey swallowed, almost choking. “Yes, but…”
Niles leaned down and close with a vague smile on his cold, pale lips. “I promise I’ll keep my inner lizard inwards, Walter. No alien games.” He proffered an ugly brown, hockey puck sized piece of industrial resin with spirals of metal embedded within it. “Here’s some orgone to protect yourself from me.”
Cooksey’s pale blue eyes flew wide. He stuttered something but Niles had already turned away.
A large dark shadow approached with a beer outstretched. “Good to see you, Ghoul!” greeted Cooksey’s partner on the force, the giant Pollack Jonas Williams. He shoved the beer into the vampire’s hand. “Always a pleasure to pick the pocket of a rich man.”
Niles accepted the beer with a nod of his head. “You’re a rich man, too, Jonas. Maybe I’ll be picking your pocket tonight.”
Williams guffawed and slammed Niles on the shoulder, nearly knocking the tall, slender vampire to the carpet. With his arm, he steered Niles into the living room where Cooksey had set up the game table. The two detectives, Krewelski and Jackson, had already taken their accustomed seats. Niles spotted Figueroa, a beat cop, in the kitchen piling a plate full of food from Cooksey’s spread.
“Where’s Daquan tonight?” Niles asked. Normally Figueroa came to the game with his life partner.
“He’s coaching a basketball game,” Williams replied. “The Wildcats are playing in Dundalk.” He shoved Niles towards a corner at a distance from the table. He lowered his voice. “You gather any intel on why Cooks is acting so funny?”
Niles darted a glance around to the room to locate their host, but Cooksey had returned to his kitchen to rescue home baked barbeque chicken wings from the oven.
Williams’ query did not come as a surprise. Little Cooksey had grown reserved around his co-workers, even his partner. To discover why Cooks refused to come within yards of Niles and barely spoke to his own partner anymore, Niles had broken into Cook’s cellphone and internet browsing in hopes of discovering something to explain his sudden change in behavior. Niles had been shocked to learn Cooksey had fallen down a rabbit hole of a conspiracy theory promulgated by some Ohio woman online. Sherry Shriner controlled a tiny media empire of websites and YouTube channels where she expounded on the idea that human society had been invaded by alien lizard people. Just about anyone famous was really a reptilian, she claimed, including the British royal family, the Rothschilds, and even Taylor Swift. Cooksey had taken the bait and started to believe the woman’s nonsense. Not only did he see an alien under every bush, but he knew firsthand Niles was a vampire, descended from aliens who’d arrived on Earth during the Dark Ages. He’d posted to Shriner’s website all he knew about Niles. Shriner, of course, had eaten it up.
Now Niles was persona non grata in Cooksey’s house.
“I found out a lot,” Niles replied. He proceeded to tell Williams about the bizarre website.
Williams scratched his thinning salt-and-pepper hair. “Wow. That’s a problem.” He gazed at the vampire with an accusing glare. “How do we convince Cooks the world isn’t being taken over by reptilian aliens when he actually works with one?”
Niles narrowed his eyes and brandished a fang. “I am not a reptilian.”
“Coulda fooled me.”
Niles hissed. Williams, never afraid of the vampire, hissed back.
“This isn’t solving our problem,” Niles muttered.
“I’m open it ideas,” Williams retorted.
Niles considered his host who trundled into the room bearing his platter of chicken wings oozing with sauce. He set the platter on a side table within reach of the game and slapped a big pile of paper napkins beside it. He shot Williams and Niles a hasty, frightened look before scuttling back to his kitchen.
“Maybe I should simply prove to him that I’m not out to eat him,” Niles commented.
Williams grunted. “Good luck with that!” His pale gray eyes narrowed. “You’d eat all of us if you thought you could get away with it.”
Niles scowled. “No, I would not! I’ve sworn off consuming humans. Haven’t bitten one in four years. I’m on the wagon.”
Williams humphed with a heave of his big shoulders.
Niles chose to leave the problem unsolved for the moment. He took his regular seat at the table, settled his beer in front of him and nodded greetings to the two detectives.
“Looking fine, Mr. Gule,” Krewelski joshed as his greeting. “You know you don’t have to wear a tie to poker night.”
Niles glanced down at his Jerry Garcia tie with its bold multicolor print and his Italian suit. He always dressed the same regardless of what he was doing. He noted that Krewelski wore a noxiously green, red, and purple aloha shirt and khakis. Jackson, a large black man who enjoyed his creature comforts, sported sweatpants, and a Raven’s sweatshirt. Williams wore jeans and a flannel shirt, while Figueroa had turned out in jeans and a t shirt. Cooksey wore a frazzled dress shirt over chinos, both protected by a chef’s apron.
Williams groaned as he sank into his chair. He slapped the vampire on the shoulder. “He’s always dolled up, Krew. It’s our job to rid him of his excess cash and force him into less expensive attire.”
Figueroa, shuffling the deck of cards with skilled fingers, grinned. “We can do that.”
Williams stretched for the chicken wings. He plugged Niles with an elbow and jerked his chin towards the chicken.
“It’s cooked,” Niles muttered darkly.
“Pretend to be human for Cooks’ sake,” the big man replied. “Suck it up for the team.”
With a curl of his lip, Niles nevertheless understood what Williams was implying. Maybe if Cooksey saw him eating ordinary food with the guys, he’d end this silly obsession of Niles being a reptilian. Plucking several gooey wings off the platter with fastidious talons, Niles dropped the offensive objects onto a small plastic plate and placed that in front of him on the table.
Williams, grinning, shoved one dripping wing into his mouth, slathering barbeque sauce across his cheeks.
Niles drew a heavy sigh.
Jackson looked up. “Where’s Cooks?” He leaned back in his chair. “Yo! Cooks! We’re dealing!”
Silence came from the kitchen.
Williams rolled his eyes. “He’s hiding in the bathroom. Guess he’s afraid of sitting at a poker table with a ghoul.”
Niles shot his frenemy a furious look.
With another grunt, Williams rose to his towering six-feet-seven and stomped to the door that led to Cooksey’s small powder room. He thumped on the door with a meaty fist.
“Come on, Cooks! Pinch that loaf. Time for the game to start.”
Niles shook his head and pretended to eat a chicken wing.
Cautiously, the powder room door opened, and Cooksey came out. He glared at his partner.
“I wasn’t…. there was no loaf, Jonas.”
Williams shrugged. He steered his little buddy to the table. “No worries. Let’s get to playing.”
Cooksey sat down at the table. The strain left his face when he realized his giant partner sat between him and Niles. After a few minutes of white-faced terror and shaking hands, he finally settled into the game.
“Texas Hold Em,” Jackson declared, his black fingers flicking cards around the table.
The game began. Niles didn’t consider himself much of a poker player. He couldn’t calculate the odds like Krewelski the math wizard. Nor could he read human expressions with Williams’ skill. Between the two of them, Krewelski and Williams began racking up big stacks of chips.
Niles forced himself to eat chicken wings without coughing them up. He made sure Cooksey saw him do so.
As the wings disappeared, Cooksey visibly relaxed.
Five card stud blended into Midnight Baseball. Williams cleaned everyone’s clocks with during a round of seven card draw. Niles caught a break in five card draw, pulling a straight to win a nice pot. But in general, he steadily lost.
Sometime around midnight, the group was startled by a knock on the door.
“Were you expecting a late arrival?” Jackson asked Cooksey.
Their host shook his head.
Since he was closest to the door, Niles opted to answer it. Meanwhile, Williams, ever hungry, decided to order pizza for delivery, earning himself a hurt look from Cooksey.
“I got an urge,” Williams complained. He hit send on his pizza app.
Reaching the door, Niles flinched when he recognized the small, wizened figure standing on Cooksey’s front porch. The individual stood a mere five feet tall, although he might have reached six feet if his back didn’t curve in a steady arch towards the ground. His drift of long, silver hair shimmered against the backdrop of unremitting black he always wore.
Marrenstan. What the hell?
His brow puckered, Niles opened the storm door but didn’t stand aside to allow the tiny vampire to enter. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.
Marrenstan grinned, his ghostly skin pulled tight over the harsh bones of his face. “One of your human friends said your group was short a player.”
Niles reared back. “You are not joining the guys on poker night!” He rapidly shook his head. “I’m already having problems with Cooksey thinking I’m a reptile. I don’t know what he’d think of you.”
Marrenstan’s happy face fell. Worry knotted his brow. He jittered his fangs on his lower teeth. “But I was invited.”
“Who invited you?” Niles demanded.
The heavy thump of feet on the hardwood floor ushered Williams to the door. He flung it open against Niles’ protest and waved the tiny vampire inside.
“I did.” He thumped Marrenstan on the back, nearly collapsing the rickety pile of bones to the floor. “We needed to replace Daquan and I thought Cooksey could see how harmless a vampire can be. Hell, this old thing couldn’t take on my grandmother.”
Niles opened his mouth to protest but he was too late. An eager Marrenstan had already sprinted with surprising alacrity into the game room. He greeted the group with a wave of a white hand and the explanation that he was Niles’ uncle.
“Is he your uncle?” Williams asked, closing the storm door, and heading back to the game.
“No. We aren’t related at all.”
“Then why does he hang all over you like an old tarp?”
Niles spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m an alpha and Marrenstan is too old to fend for himself. He’s adhered himself to me. Thinks he’s a member of my flight.”
“Is he?” Williams asked.
Niles growled low in his throat but didn’t answer.
The guys didn’t seem to care that Marrenstan was a thousand-year-old vampire. The moment he plopped his bag of fifth century Roman coins on the table, they were all smiles.
Krewelski leaned towards Niles as the vampire sat down. “Does he know how to play?” he whispered.
“Not a clue,” replied Niles.
Krewelski rubbed his hands together with glee.
And so the game continued. Niles forced himself to nibble on the chicken wings, loathing the cooked flavor. Meanwhile, Marrenstan partook of Cooksey’s wine collection and soon the two smallest members of the game were deep into varieties and vintages.
Williams plugged Niles with his elbow. “I think those two are becoming friends.”
“Will miracles never cease?” sighed Niles.
He threw in his hand, too distracted to calculate his chances of winning with it.
The doorbell rang. Marrenstan popped out of his chair before Niles could rise.
“I’ll get it,” he offered. He chattered his fangs and with his hands commanded Niles to remain seated.
Niles understood the little vampire’s eagerness. Marrenstan was determined to remain a member of Niles’ flight. That meant he served his master whenever he could, including opening the door.
Niles heard words exchanged from the outer room. Then came a tremendous thump.
Startled, everyone raced to the front door to see what had happened.
Little Marrenstan stood above the prone body of a youth in a red and gold uniform. In his hands the lad still clutched a flat cardboard box.
“What happened?” Niles demanded, eyeing the fallen lad.
“I don’t know,” Marrenstan complained. “I said I was happy dinner had arrived.” He grinned, revealing yellowed old fangs. “And how lucky we were.”
“Lucky?” Williams asked, patting the delivery boy’s face to wake him up.
“Yes!” Marrenstan hopped up and down in excitement. “It came with a side order of pizza!”
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