Vampire a Go-Go by Victor Gischler

Author:Victor Gischler [Gischler, Victor]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-06-22T06:35:54.947000+00:00

He awoke to the night.

Allen sat up in bed, clueless where he was until patchy images clanged and tumbled through his brain. The windows had been thrown open, the curtains fluttering on a gentle breeze.

“Cassandra.” He looked, but she wasn’t there.

More memories, as they lay together in the darkness, her hot breath on his ear as she whispered his instructions. Somehow her words penetrated his fogged brain. He knew what he had to do to serve her.

He was way too naked. He saw his clothes on the floor and stood, winced at the slight pain in his thigh. He stood with legs apart, bent over to examine himself. Two dark punctures along his thigh about six inches from his scrotum.

He scratched his head, rubbed his eyes. Where am I?

He dressed himself. Every muscle ached. He grunted as he put on his shoes.

Back into the living room, and he saw The Professor’s dead body still where it had fallen. Oh, yeah. He’s dead. That fact no longer seemed very urgent.

Something cut through the haze of his programming, some prick of curiosity. Yes, he had his mission. He should get on with it, but he looked around the apartment, wondered. Where was the large wooden crate?

He headed for the second bedroom and walked into it. Completely dark. He felt along the wall for the light switch, found it, and flipped it on.

The room was barren of furnishings. There was only the crate in the dead center. The lid had been pried off and sat to one side. Allen approached, looked inside.

He saw an open casket with silk lining and a pillow for the comfort of the deceased. Between the crate and the casket, moist dark earth had been packed in tight, completely surrounding the outside of the casket. Allen’s hand went to his throat. He stood there a moment, putting two and two together.

He ran out of the bedroom, darted into the bathroom, flipped on the light switch. He stood in front of the mirror, lifting his chin, feeling along his throat. Only smooth skin. He let his hand wander down to rub his thigh and considered the marks there.

He pictured the chunk that had been bitten out of Professor Evergreen’s throat. He shivered. The man staring back at him in the mirror looked like a pale, shadow-eyed wraith. Some deranged derelict.

Allen left the bathroom, stumbled from the apartment, downstairs and into the street. The night was cool. Distantly he heard voices, somewhere a dog barking. He realized he was walking. Somehow his feet knew the right direction. South and west.

Strahov Monastery. The words had been put into his brain. So many words and images jumbling together, instructions and books and names and places all mixed up with a picture of himself, arms wrapped around Mrs. Evergreen—Cassandra!—her legs around him, heels digging into his ass, so many grunts and moans and just so much relentless thrusting.

He walked through the night, all of this information like a buzz in his brain growing louder and louder.

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