Octavia had gotten a flat of her own, a bed, and a few changes of clothes. Considering the circumstances, things could have been worse. She could have been the only survivor of a massacre and living on the streets.
It was afternoon on New Year’s Eve. Not that the holiday ever meant very much to Octavia. If anything, it was far and away overshadowed by today being her one week anniversary as a vampire. But who was counting?
Her. Octavia was meticulous by nature, and one did not easily forget what had happened only seven days ago.
There was no chair in the flat. Octavia sat on the edge of her bed. The lights were off, but darkness just wasn’t a problem anymore. There might have been a metaphor in there about her soul, but she instead turned her thoughts to the new cello in her hands. It was a fine instrument and a good replacement for the one she had lost in the fire. The problem was her.
She had no trouble tuning it. There was no issue with the bow or strings. It just didn’t feel right. It didn’t sound like it should.
Some of that could have been due to the setting. Octavia had never played here before and the room was far from acoustically ideal. Her ears were more sensitive now and maybe that threw off her perception.
But she couldn’t shake a creeping sensation that playing cello was somehow frivolous. It had been her life’s passion up to that point. Did she suddenly abandon it in favor of stamping out evil in the world?
Mr. Fancypants had said he would help her find her parents’ killers. She’d agreed to do whatever she had to do in order to make that happen, effectively signing up to join his little crusade.
The damnable thing was, it wasn’t nearly so serious and personal to him. He’d even told her he treated it like a game.
Octavia put the cello down. Perhaps another time, when she was feeling up to it. If someone had to take this seriously, then it had to be her, and she would have to put it before music.
There was a knock on the door. Fancypants had asked Octavia to be expecting a visitor. She got up and went to the front room, carefully checking through the peephole.
Outside was a woman in casual clothes who sported bright blue hair and a matching pair of blue sunglasses. She smiled and waved, apparently aware that Octavia was standing just on the other side of the door.
It would have been impolite not to open up. Octavia unlocked the door, squinting in the sunlight.
“Hey,” said her visitor, sticking out a hand. “Fancy sent me.”
She looked like she could have been a university student on holiday. Her speech was definitely not local. Perhaps an American, Octavia thought.
Octavia shook politely. “Would you like to come in?”
The woman looked past her into the barren flat. “If it’s all right with you, we could go somewhere. Fancy had a job for us.”
“Oh really?” Butterflies suddenly fluttered in Octavia’s chest. Was this the beginning?
“Yeah, I’ll tell you on the way.”
Octavia hesitated, but she couldn’t really say no. She retrieved her purse and sunglasses.
They went outside, towards a car at the curb.
“So you’re the new vampire. Octavia, right?”
Octavia looked around hurriedly for eavesdroppers. “Yes,” she confirmed, in a much quieter tone. “And you are?”
“I’m a werewolf. I’m two hundred four years old, I think. I go by Vinyl Scratch, though I’ve been thinking about changing that up recently. It’s getting a couple decades out of date. These days I’m more into dubstep.”
“Are...are you joking?” said Octavia. “Two hundred years of experience and you listen to that!?”
“No, I don’t. I make it.” Vinyl grinned.
Octavia realized that she’d skipped the important part of that conversation. Vinyl was a werewolf. Well, not that it really mattered. Octavia was a vampire. Pip was a zombie. How incredibly disorienting for this to be a common topic of conversation.
“So you’re a...musician,” Octavia said.
Vinyl laughed. “I could practically hear the air quotes on that.”
“Forgive me if I have somewhat different standards. I play the cello.”
“That’s cool, I guess, but it went out of style when they invented brass. Brass went out with amplifiers. And computers killed those. I’m just planning for the future.”
They got into the car. Octavia buckled up. She noticed that Vinyl didn’t.
“So the job,” said Vinyl. “Fancy wanted you to start out with something simple. There’s this guy named Pretzel Puller. He works at the mall. His shift ends soon, so we’ll follow him and find a good opportunity to kill him.”
“What did he do?” Octavia asked.
Vinyl looked at her. “I don’t know. Why?”
“That was was what I told Mr. Fancypants. I wanted to know what these people did to deserve what they get.”
Vinyl shrugged. “Call him, I guess.”
“Is this safe to talk about this?” Octavia asked, taking out her phone. “Doesn’t the government monitor for these kinds of things?”
“If I worried about things, I would’ve worried myself to death already.”
Octavia dialed and Fancypants answered.
“Sir, I’m with Ms. Scratch. I had a question for you. I was wondering about...ah, this fellow,” she said. “What did he do?”
“A triple murder over some owed money,” Fancypants replied.
“It could have been a crime of passion,” Octavia speculated.
“Well, he also stormed out of anger management classes two weeks ago and borrowed some more money from a different loan shark.”
“You consider things he might do in addition to what he’s done?”
“No, I’m afraid that’s your job,” said Fancypants. “I would appreciate if you took care of this. However, you remember you aren’t under any contract.”
Octavia considered it. “Thank you. That answers my questions.”
He bid her goodbye and they hung up as Vinyl turned into the shopping center parking lot. She glanced over. “While you were talking, I noticed your teeth look weird.”
Octavia stared at her. “I’m a vampire.”
They got out of the car and headed for the building. “No, I mean, you didn’t file them down right.”
“I didn’t exactly have a mirror,” Octavia grumbled. She’d learned how to selectively control her body’s healing. This allowed her to file down her canines so they didn’t look like obvious fangs. She could feel with her tongue that she may have gone overboard - her canines were even flatter than usual.
“Here, let me take care of it,” said Vinyl, pulling her into a restroom. She checked to make sure they were alone and then made a fist. “Close your eyes and open your mouth.”
“What? No!” Octavia took a step back, covering her mouth with her hands.
“Come on, teeth grow from the roots. It’s way easier to just knock ‘em out and grow replacements than trying to keep growing them enough to file back into the right shape.”
“I think I’d rather do that.”
“Do you have a file on you?”
Octavia’s shoulders slumped. “Can’t we...buy one? Surely there’s a store here that sells them.”
Vinyl cocked an eyebrow over her blue sunglasses. “Really?”
Octavia let out a sigh and braced herself. “Just get it over with.” She tipped her head back and closed her eyes.
Vinyl didn’t hesitate and nearly knocked Octavia right off her feet. She stumbled back, coughing blood and teeth into her hands. The punch had knocked out five. It hurt even more just to look at them.
“Got a little straggler there,” said Vinyl. She forcibly reached into Octavia’s mouth and yanked it out, Octavia’s right canine. She added it to the small, bloody pile in Octavia’s hands.
“Okay, I’ll tell you when to stop,” said Vinyl. Disgusted though she was, Octavia did her best to carefully discern which tooth was which and began to feel them refilling the sockets in her gums. She saved the canines for last and Vinyl coached her to stop at the appropriate length.
Octavia threw the handful of teeth in the garbage can, but thought better. “Wait, is that a biohazard?”
“After it dries, it isn’t. You’re fine.”
Octavia wasn’t completely fine with it, considering what her blood could do to a person, but took Vinyl’s word for it. She turned to the sink to wash. She couldn’t see herself in the mirror, but Vinyl pointed out the blood all over her lips and chin.
After cleaning up and washing her hands with soap, Octavia felt back to normal. Well, no, back to vampire-normal. It wasn’t as if things would ever be actually normal again.
That put her in a sufficiently bad mood to feel a little better about stalking Pretzel Puller.
He worked at one of the little snack stands that dotted shopping centers. Considering his employment, Octavia wasn’t sure about his ability to pay back a loan. She and Vinyl walked by, getting a look at him. As she watched, he ate something out of the display and wiped his fingers on his apron.
“Is he not a vampire?” Octavia asked.
“I think he’s just a vanilla human,” said Vinyl.
“Why would Mr. Fancypants send us after a human? Isn’t this a matter for the police, then?”
“You can justify it however you want.” Vinyl shrugged. “At the very least, killing him sure saves taxpayer money.”
“Are you a taxpayer?” Octavia asked.
“Well, ‘Vinyl Scratch’ is. Like I said, I have to update my ID eventually. I wasn’t born here.”
“Don’t tell me, that makes you the American werewolf in London?”
Vinyl laughed. “No, actually, I just learned to talk American. I ended up watching a lot of TV from the states last century. I’m actually a gen-u-ine Transylvanian werewolf.”
Octavia frowned. “I thought vampires came from Transylvania.”
“Yeah, pop culture really does a number on these things.” Vinyl shuddered. “Like Twilight.”
“Oh God,” Octavia blurted, raising her hands to her face. “People are going to think that’s how vampires actually are.”
Vinyl patted her back sympathetically.
They waited around until Pretzel Puller left work at six. He had his own car and the two of them followed him.
“So how do you want to do this?” Vinyl asked. “Oh right, I was supposed to get you a gun.”
“A gun?” said Octavia. “How am I supposed to get licenses for that?”
Vinyl cracked up. “You’re about to kill your first person and you’re worried about proper paperwork for a pistol? Man, Tavi, you are an absolute riot!”
“My name is Octavia.”
“You don’t get to choose your own nickname.”
“I choose not to have a nickname.”
“Too bad, we’re friends now.”
Octavia turned to look at her. “We are?”
Vinyl nodded. “Yeah, totally. Two-woman wolfpack.”
Octavia still wasn’t sure she was onboard with the friendship idea, but Vinyl had the damnable ability to keep the dialogue moving, forcing her to address the most ridiculous part of the conversation. “Do we have to be a wolfpack?”
“If you’d prefer, we can be whatever they call a group of bats.”
Vinyl reached across Octavia and popped the glove box. There was a small silver and black handgun inside.
“I don’t know how to use it,” said Octavia, keeping her hands back.
“It’s pretty easy, just point and shoot. We’ll have to get some actual practice in later.”
“It seems so...inelegant.”
“I mean, you can rip him apart with your bare hands if you want. Or, I think I have a machete in the back.”
As with many things that evening, Octavia gritted her teeth and got on with it. The gun fit well enough inside her purse.
They saw Pretzel Puller stop outside a block of apartment buildings and unlock his exterior door.
“There you go,” said Vinyl, pulling to the curb. “The easiest way would probably be just knock on his door and shoot him when he answers.”
“What if someone sees?”
“It’s dark.”
“What if…” Octavia tried to think of another argument.
Instead, Vinyl supplied one. “What if you don’t?”
Octavia paused. A murderer would go on living.
She got out of the car.
Walking up to the door, she put her hand on the gun. It still felt strange in her hand. Just point and shoot?
She knocked. There came the sound of feet moving on the floor. “Who is it?” asked a cautious voice.
“Mr. Puller, I’d like to have a word,” she said.
“Who are you?”
Octavia hesitated for what seemed far too long before replying, “Vinyl Scratch.”
“Am I supposed to know you?”
This was not what was supposed to happen at all. Octavia quickly began to think of backup plans. Could she shoot him through the door? Would the bullets do that?
“No, you don’t know me, but I have something you want,” she tried.
“What is it?”
“I can’t just tell you out here in the street,” she protested.
He paused, but then unlocked the door and opened it. Octavia raised the pistol.
She should have expected him to move. What person wouldn’t when faced with a gun? Her finger was on the trigger, but she hesitated, unsure of the shot as he jumped back, trying for the cover of the doorframe.
What she didn’t expect was for him to pull a gun of his own. In hindsight, it made sense that a murderer would have a gun. But that came too late to stop her from being on the business end of it.
He fired twice, nearly point blank into Octavia’s torso. She’d reflexively jerked away, but her legs collapsed and she went to the ground right there on the stoop, half inside the door.
All she felt was shock. A second passed and Octavia realized all the breath had been knocked from her lungs. Her back was folded in a place it shouldn’t, and her legs didn’t respond to commands. She feebly raised her arms, trying to move.
Pretzel Puller poked his head around the door. Seeing she was down, he lowered his gun and took a step closer.
“Who the fuck-” he began.
Octavia grabbed him by the front of the shirt and yanked him towards her. It may have been instinct, it may have been coincidence, but her mouth was already open and tore into his neck as she pulled him down.
He got half a scream off, and then stopped struggling.
Even as she drank his blood, Octavia had time to realize the situation. Vampires were made from bites, if the subject didn’t die. She used both hands to bend his neck, fingers and teeth digging until her fangs scraped vertebrae. That was probably dead enough.
Fresh blood tasted different. Could it have been the oxygen content? Or was there some drug in his system? Octavia pushed the limp body off her and looked down. Her entire front was covered in blood, and some of it was hers.
Her stomach made an unpleasant gurgle and regurgitated two bullets out of the wounds in her abdomen. She realized she was in pain, but it began to fade away. Octavia slowly got up, still shaky as the nerves in her spine rebuilt themselves. She picked up her gun off the floor and as an afterthought also the two deformed bullets lying in the pool of blood.
Vinyl had the car running and waiting as Octavia stumbled back. The whole encounter had taken less than thirty seconds, and even in a rough neighborhood that was long enough for someone to call the police.
Octavia took stock as they drove away. The snack had undoubtedly helped, but she was still feeling shock more than anything else.
But first, accountability. “I’m sorry I’m getting blood in your car.”
“It’s all good,” said Vinyl. “It happens often enough that I got those waterproof seat covers that they sell.”
She glanced in the mirrors. “We’re clear. Pretzel was living beyond his means, but good thing that didn’t include his apartment. Cops in this neighborhood are as rare as Italian vampires.”
“Why are Italian vampires rare?” Octavia managed.
“It was a joke about garlic.”
“Oh, right.”
They arrived back at Octavia’s place. By then, she was more than able to tend to herself, though Vinyl followed her in.
“Are you going to be all right?” Vinyl asked.
“I believe so.”
“I’ll just wait here until you finish showering, if that’s cool.”
Octavia didn’t see the point, but a shower was more important at the moment than an argument. It took only a few minutes to clean up, and her mind cleared as well.
She thought about the evening so far. There it was, the first step towards her intended revenge. Perhaps not a direct one, and she didn’t know how long the journey would take, but progress was progress. Hopefully it wouldn’t keep costing her outfits. Her clothes tonight were a total writeoff.
She stepped out of the shower, hearing the front door close. “Hey, I changed out the seat cover,” called Vinyl. “It’s New Year’s. We should go out again.”
“I’d rather stay home. I’ve neglected my cello practice.” Octavia began to get dressed.
“Or we could do that. I’ll listen to you play.”
Octavia shook her head. “I really just want to be alone right now.”
“I’m not an expert or anything, but...I don’t think you do. You really want to have all those thoughts about what you did tonight catching up to you?”
“What does it matter to you?”
Vinyl shrugged. “I’m just trying to be a good friend.”
“I never asked you to be my friend.”
“Well then, do me a favor. Wolves are social creatures. I don’t do well alone.”
“You aren’t a wolf, you’re a person.”
“Thanks, Tavi, that means a lot.”
Octavia shook her head and sighed. “I really hope you can understand that things have been very difficult for me this last week. I’ve lost everything and everyone, and also I’m a movie monster. Just a short while ago, I killed someone and drank their blood. All I want to do is stay in and have a bloody cuppa.” She spread her arms. “But I’m a vampire! God, I miss tea.”
"So why not have a, uh, bloody cuppa?"
“What?”
“Vampires can have things besides blood as long as blood is still the majority ingredient.”
Octavia eyed her. “All right, fine, let’s go out.”
The two of them walked along Victoria Embankment where the Thames bent north. The London Eye ferris wheel was just across the water, fully lit up in the night. Big Ben was distantly visible.
Tourists were everywhere tonight. Not only were they within walking distance of most major attractions in London, but the fireworks would be starting soon.
Octavia walked beside Vinyl, a warm cup of blood tea in her hands. One could not buy blood tea. She had to supply the blood herself, but that was a minor inconvenience.
All in all, she decided, the day had definitely turned around.
Vinyl paused at a vendor booth that was selling knicknacks for the holidays. She grabbed up a pair of sunglasses that looked exactly like her old ones but pink.
“What do you think?” she asked Octavia, modeling them.
“They look obnoxious.”
“Probably.” Vinyl bought them.
They walked on. Now that Octavia had her tea, her thoughts turned back to the cello. Could she really get that bit of normality back?
“I might want to call it an early night,” she said. “I meant what I said earlier about neglecting my playing.”
“Sure, I’m down for however you want to hang out.”
Octavia looked at her. “You really are trying very hard to be my friend.”
Vinyl grinned, genuine emotion visible even behind the pink sunglasses. She glanced up. “Hey, look, the fireworks are starting.”