Chapter 9
Park Place wasn't the expensive Monopoly real estate I was expecting. Instead it was a neighborhood slightly more upscale than slums, and with the same broken windows and broken down buildings I'd seen on my escape from the factories. You know, the lovely place where I'd almost been raped. Vincent stopped our land-speed record in front of a particularly dilapidated apartment building. He set me down and strode up the stoop, leaving me to follow after him.
The foyer was an artistic representation of wreck and ruin. The wood floor boards were broken and scattered everywhere, there were cobwebs in places I didn't know cobwebs could hang, and the rats looked like they'd formed a biker's gang to poop and pee on every inch of walk space. It was just lovely.
I was still numb from my recent blood transfuction, but not numb enough to be blind nor lacking in sarcasm. "Um, not to be ungrateful or anything, but isn't there a-I don't know, a less diseased place to live?" I asked him.
He didn't reply as he strode up the flight of stairs that looked made of splinters rather than boards. I carefully hurried after him, afraid my foot would fall through a step and he'd abandon me to fend off the rats alone and unarmed. We climbed the Stairs of Doom until we hit the fifth floor out of seven. I didn't think this place was very lucky as Vincent led me down the hall past broken and missing doors. He stopped at the single sturdy-looking door, opened it, and stepped into the apartment. I peeked my head in.
It was a hell of a lot better than the rest of the apartment building, but that was like comparing a trailer park before and after a tornado went through. The floors were new vinyl that hadn't been cleaned since installation, the walls were painted to hide the water stains, and the filthy windows would have looked out on an alley if you could see out of them. Even in the middle of the day this place wouldn't get much sunlight. "Cozy," I quipped as I slipped inside.
The bare pieces of furniture consisted of a couch that saw better days a few decades ago, a long, rectangular box in front of it with cup stains on the lid, and a few broken wooden chairs. The kitchen on the right was bare of everything except cobwebs and the two rooms to the left were the bedroom and bath. The bath was the epitome of bachelor pad filth with stains of questionable age and origin, and the bedroom had a bed covered with dusty sheets.
Vincent strode across the room to the windows opposite the entrance and brushed aside what I guessed was a curtain and not torn cloths. He piqued my curiosity when he glanced outside, and I sidled up next to him. "Any werewolves out there?" I half joked.
"We weren't followed," he assured me. He let down the rags-formerly-known-as-curtains and turned his attention to the box. He brushed past me and over to the stained wood. "I will rest for the day. Don't leave the apartment."
I followed him and watched as he pushed aside the lid to reveal the inside. No padding, no pillow, not even a teddy bear with fangs. "What if the place catches fire?" I asked him.
"Haul me to the basement. It's fireproof," he replied as he slid into the box.
"But I don't know where the basement is, and you told me not to leave the apartment," I pointed out.
Vincent paused in an upright position and his lips pursed tightly together. "Don't leave the apartment building," he appended. Then he lay down and shut the lid over himself.
That gave me more roaming room, but I had a problem in the apartment. Actually, the problem was with the apartment itself. I wasn't the cleanest person on earth, or even in my old apartment, but this place wasn't habitable to anyone except a bachelor and the undead. It looked like I would be cleaning my apartment this weekend after all, it just happened to be in a different neighborhood with a different roommate.
I rummaged through the bedroom closet and one out in the living room, and managed to scrounge up a vacuum that was a few years old and looked like it'd never been used. I also commandeered the rags-formerly-known-as-curtain and turned them into dust rags. The tap had clean-looking water, and there was some dish soap beneath the sink. Armed with all the weapons of war, I waged battle on the messiness.
Everything went fine until I turned on the vacuum. I jumped and my head tapped the ceiling when the lid to the coffin flung open and Vincent sat up.
"What the hell are you doing?" he growled at me.
I hugged the vacuum neck against my chest in the hopes it would keep the dirty vampire at bay. "I thought vampires were supposed to sleep like the dead during the day," I replied.
"If that were true my species would have been vanquished long ago," he pointed out.
"Good point, but I'm not going to stop vacuuming just because you're a light sleeper," I argued. "Besides, it's not like it's going to kill you to lose some sleep."
"Decreased energy helps our enemies," he countered.
"If you and Tim hadn't built up so many enemies then you wouldn't need all that energy," I argued.
"It was unavoidable."
"It was bad diplomacy."
Vincent growled through gritted teeth, lay down, and slammed the box lid back down. I resumed my vacuuming, but was again rudely interrupted when he tossed aside the lid and stood. "Do you mean to vex me the entire day?" he wondered.
"It'll take that long to get this place cleaned up," I quipped.
Vincent stepped out of his bed and tried to grab the vacuum from my hands. He ended up dragging me along with it. "Give that to me," he ordered.
"Over your dead body," I returned. Vincent raised the vacuum over his head, but I clung onto the neck and went up with it. I dangled in the air and my face was even with his. "How about we call a truce?" I suggested.
"No."
"There's that bad diplomacy habit again. You need to learn to give a little."
"I gave you my energy."
"That was unwilling. I'm talking about a deal."
"My demand is the vacuum."
"No deal."
"Then we are at an impasse."
"No, we are at a dingy apartment building in a slightly less dingy apartment. I'm trying to remedy that, but you're not helping."
"It doesn't need remedying."
"I thought you'd say something like that."
"Let go of the vacuum."
"How about I not vacuum until sunset? Deal?"
Vincent's eyes narrowed and he perused my face with a careful glance. "On what do you swear?"
"An American flag?" I offered. The thin lines of his lips grew thinner, and I rolled my eyes. "Fine, fine, I swear on-um, on my life?" I paused and furrowed my face. "Which I guess is kind of your life since we're bonded. This is kind of like marriage, but without the fun honeymoon. Or maybe this is the fun honeymoon-"
"I will accept that." He set the vacuum down on the floor and me with it.
"All right, I guess I'll just set this back in the closet and you can get back to sleep," I replied. I expected him to climb back into his box, but after I put the vacuum in the closet and turned around I found he still stood there. "Need a bedtime story?" I wondered.
"Have you felt different?" he asked me.
"Sure, every time I walk into a black or Asian neighborhood," I replied.
If he could have killed me he would have done it right then. "Within the last hour," he ammended his statement.
"Nope. Kind of tired, but nothing weird." I expected him to ask some more questions. That was my first mistake. Vincent slipped over to his bed and sat back in the box. "Wait a sec, why were you wanting to know?" I asked him. My second mistake was again thinking he was going to reply. He lay down and shut the lid over himself. I scowled and stomped over to the coffee table bed. I tried to dramatically tear off the lid, but all I got for my trouble were some dramatically deep cuts from the unfinished, splinter-filled wood. The throbbing in my fingers wouldn't deter me, so I knocked on the lid. "Why were you asking me that question?" I called to him. No answer. I knocked again and still nothing happened, but I noticed the box had a nice ring to it.
That gave me an idea. I wasn't very musically inclined, but I knew the Lone Ranger theme song. It played well on the lid with my fingers as the drum sticks until it was flung aside and I came face-to-face with a very irritated Vincent. "Go away," he demanded.
"Not until you tell me why you were asking that question," I insisted.
"Merely to find out if you had come into your abilities," he replied.
"What abilities?"
"The vampiric ones given through the ring."
"Oh, right. Do those just pop out of nowhere or do they come on gradually?"
"Yes."
"I hate you."
"I don't care."
"Is there a manual for these abilities when they do pop up?"
"No."
"Not even an Idiot's Guide?"
"As much as that would suit you, no."
"You're an ass."
"I don't care."
"And not very talkative."
"I don't care."
I threw up my hands. "Come on! There's got to be some way you can help me with these abilities! Can you even tell me what I'm going to get?"
"Flight."
My eyes widened and my mouth split open in a excited smile. "Seriously?"
"No."
I don't know what made me snap. Actually, that's a lie. Vincent made me do it. It was all his fault my hand shot out and smacked him across the face. He didn't see it coming, and to be honest neither did I, but there was the red mark on his pale cheek. There was also the angry glint in his eyes, and I nervously backed up with my hands out in front of me to defend against the indefensible. "I'm so, so sorry about that. I don't usually hit people, but I guess you're not a person," I defended myself. Vincent slowly climbed out of his box and stalked toward me. I stumbled back into the wall beside the apartment door. "Y-you can't kill me, remember? The ring binding us and all that."
Vincent reached me and his hand whipped out. He grabbed my throat and lifted me off the floor. My feet flailed in the air and my hands grasped his to try to pull him off. Didn't work, but at least I tried. He stuck his face close to mine, and one whiff of his breath made me dizzy. "Never strike me in anger," he commanded.
I hated to be ordered about, especially by an undead ass. "Then stop being such an ass and answer my questions!" I snapped back. "It's not like I asked for this! I wish Tim was here so you could bite his head off with your orders, but he's not! We're stuck here together and we may as well at least get along until I figure out a way of getting this damn ring off my finger!" Vincent pursed his lips together, but he let go of me and I dropped to the ground like a bag of potatoes. I stood and rubbed my sore neck while I glared at him. "Does this mean you're going to help me with these abilities I'm supposed to get?" I asked him.
"Yes." I breathed a sigh of relief until it caught in my throat at his next words. "But I am not an easy teacher." He was one teacher I didn't think I could live through.
"I appreciate the offer, but I'm probably only going to need a few pointers," I hurriedly told him. "You know, just tell me how to, um, what am I supposed to be able to do again? And be serious this time."
"Your speed has been improved," he replied.
I furrowed my brow and gave him a disbelieving side-glance. "I said be serious."
"If your speed hadn't improved you would not have been able to hit me," he pointed out.
I raised an eyebrow. "What would you have done if I hadn't been able to hit you?"
"Caught your hand and broken it."
"That's a little extreme."
"But effective."
"You have a twisted way of thinking," I commented. Vincent suddenly turned back to the box and strode toward it. "Hey, wait! You said you'd help me with this stuff! What am I supposed to do with all this speed? How do I control it?" I lunged at him to stop him, and I overestimated my new ability. I flew across the room and would have smacked into him if he hadn't stepped to the side. I sailed by him and landed in a tangled mess of my own limbs on the couch on the other side of the box. The whole world was upside down, or I was, and I watched the upside down Vincent walk up to me. There was an evil grin on his face. "You think this is funny, don't you?" I asked him.
"Hilarious," he replied in a dead-pan voice.
I righted myself and glared at him. "You could have caught me," I scolded him.
"Yes, I could have."
"You don't regret not catching me at all, do you?"
"No."
"I hate you."
"You have already said that."
"Yeah, and you keep reminding me why I hate you."
"Your focus is very poor."
"I'm pretty focused on trying not to kill you right now," I quipped.
"Do you wish for me to train you or not?" he countered.
"I don't know, you're doing such a bang up job already," I replied as I rubbed my twisted limbs.
"You lack focus for training. Tim was much the same way."
My ears and head perked up at his comment. "So he wasn't very good when he started out?"
"He had natural talent that you completely lack," Vincent told me.
My face drooped along with my shoulders. "Thanks," I grumbled.
"Do not mention it."
"I won't, but could we start this training and see how well I actually do? Flying across the room doesn't really count as a start, though smacking you is a great one," I quipped.
"We will start when the sun sets. During the day my powers are weaker than yours, and if you were to create trouble I wouldn't be able to stop you," he replied.
I raised an eyebrow. "What kind of trouble can a little bit of speed get us into?"
He nodded behind me. "Look behind you."
I glanced over my shoulder and saw the dirty windows. My face paled when I realized the only thing that had kept me from practicing my aviation skills had been the couch. "Oh," was my reply.
"With the sun in the sky I couldn't have saved you," he added.
"Um, maybe we will wait until night."