The Vampire Maurice by Johnny B. Truant

Author:Johnny B. Truant [Truant, Johnny B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sterling & Stone
Published: 2019-01-09T22:00:00+00:00

26

Lavender And Honey

“So what did you do?” Annabel asked the vampire.

Maurice got up, went to Annabel’s desk, and sat behind it. She was about to ask why when he turned in her chair and opened the mini fridge against the wall. He straightened with one of the several bottles of chablis she kept for when the day got too tough, or when her terrible husband threatened to be particularly terrible — a little lubrication for the ride home. More than once, she’d skipped driving and taken an Uber. He never noticed her semi-drunkenness, but it made the evenings more tolerable.

“How did you know I had wine?” she asked.

“Doesn’t everyone?”

She wasn’t sure whether he was joking, whether he actually believed everyone had wine at all times, whether he’d read her mind, or whether he’d somehow smelled it from across the room. It seemed not to matter. She did feel like a drink right now — now more than ever. The vampire had a way of spinning his tale that didn’t quite lull her into sleep, but certainly lulled her into a trance — a downright immersive one. A skill akin to glamouring, she supposed.

He opened her drawer and found the corkscrew. Glasses were on the back counter, near a still-full pitcher of water. He pulled the cork and poured for both of them, then returned to the couch and handed Annabel one of the glasses. She sniffed the wine inside — something she didn’t usually do before gulping down its sweet intoxication. The mood and dim beyond the windows seemed to call for extra senses. The wine’s bouquet was floral, perhaps lavender, and kissed with honey.

“We did the only thing we could,” Maurice said. “We ran. We hid.”

“You didn’t fight?” She tried to keep judgment out of her voice, but the spell of his story had dulled her objectivity. Seemed to Annabel, Maurice had a simple problem: Thus far in his story, he came across as someone who’s self-effacement makes him self-important. He was so insistent on staying uninvolved that the whole world was forced to revolve around his apathy. Be a man, she wanted to say. Be a man, and for once stop trying so hard to pity yourself.

He seemed to take the mood of her question and gave her a look. A hard, borderline angry look. When he spoke next, it really was as if he’d read her mind.

“I suppose it sounds simple,” he said. “The vampire mafia was the problem, so I should have just decided to fight the vampire mafia. Easy, right? Except that you’re forgetting one thing: It’s the fucking mafia.”

“They were coming after you anyway. You couldn’t escape.”

“You’re right. Turns out, we couldn’t. But at that point, we hadn’t even tried. We were still in the same apartment, living with the same family. We hadn’t so much as ducked. The mafia wasn’t my business. I hadn’t bothered anyone. I’d just been trying to live my life. They came to us. They sent a barrel of

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