[DFM]

I leave the beach through the access tunnel. Monsters. None of the monsters I've seen are vampires. Even LaCroix is just a well mannered jerk. I pause in the tunnel, running a cold hand across the stone. I'm hungry, my chest still hurts, I look like a giant wet rat and probably smell like one too. I could take another shower, but it's my clothes that smell and there's nowhere in Santa Monica that's open this late that isn't a greasy spoon or a nightclub. I'll have to deal with the clothes until I get settled somewhere. Hopefully it won't be too long.

My chest... I don't know what to do about that. The wound is still there, but it stopped bleeding awhile ago. Probably ran out of blood. I don't think it's serious. I hope it's not serious. It hurts almost as bad as if the knife were still there. I should ask... someone...

Therese?

No... she doesn't seem like she has the patience to lecture a no-name bum on Vampirism 101 or... 91, which is probably what I need. Forget it. If I haven't dropped dead from it yet, I'm probably not going to.

As for the hunger... well, I need blood, I think. I don't need to eat any more. I shouldn't, anyway. Pretty sure I'm dead.

Weird, to think about it like that.



Dead.


Deceased. Defunct. Departed. Pushing up daisies.




When I reach Santa Monica proper, the only other person in sight is walking away, so I stick to the side of the road. No need to hide to avoid suspicion. Of course at this point I could throw a bag over my head and hobble everywhere and no one would even look at me.

I wonder if that ugly guy who staked David ever thought of that?

I stop at the Gallery Noir and press my face against the glass. It's dark, but I can make out a few of the paintings. Looks like a special display. New artist unveiling, maybe. After a few moments I open my mouth and breathe on the glass.

Nothing.



I take a turn down the alley on a roundabout path to the diner. Still hungry. Really hungry. I should try to just buy a burger and see if that's an easy way out. Because I'm still not convinced this whole blood thing isn't one big joke. Like telling the new kid he's supposed to drive fruit crates full of hand grenades through a Serbian mine field.

Or that there's vodka in the water cooler, I don't know what the fuck normal people do.



There's a door at the very end of the alley that must lead to the back sections of the hospital. There's a sign on the front advertising the blood bank downstairs. It's just too goddamn perfect.



There's probably a net on the other side that falls from the ceiling so Buffy can turn me into one of those ash-bombs while I'm flailing around, helpless. I can die shouting 'I am not a monster!'



There's a ramp that descends down to the lowest level. The air's alien and sterile. And it's got a chill about it I don't quite like. I walk down the ramp and around a corner until I come to the ATM machine.



He looks at me through the chicken wire glass and... there's something... off about him. The stare in his eyes isn't quite right, his head movements seem just slightly... out of sync. And when he talks his voice starts crawling up my spine.



"You next up for the needle? Hmm? Your donation could save a life, you know."

He tilts his head and puts a finger to his cheek, like he's just remembered an appointment he forgot.

"Oh... but isn't it a little late for altruism? I don't think you're here to give blood at all."

He puts his hands on the sill and leans forward, glass fogging over as his voice lowers.

"I don't buy it, Betty. I think..." His head tilts just slightly to the side. "You're here to take blood. Isn't that right?"

I take a step away from the glass without thinking, feet digging into the tile floor, ready to run.

"...Are you offering?"



He leans back, smiling.

"Right... down to business. None of this... I don't drink blood bullshit. Very refreshing. Very refreshing. I respect that." The smile widens just a little. "What'll it be?"

"Well..." I try and maintain a professional composure. "...Is there a house special?"

"Hmm..."



He rolls his eyes.

"Yes. Yes we do. Very fine product, intended for a more refined pallet. Hmm..." He stares at me for a moment, and I think he sniffs the air. "Despite your... appearance, I can smell the green in your blood. Or the blue, if you prefer. The stench of aristocracy isn't something you can just... wash away. I'd practically give the blood to someone like you. One hundred dollars. Cash up front."

"I'm not exactly bursting at the seems with dough here, no matter what old money fart balloon apparently wandered my way. If you want me to bu-"



"Do you want to starve, hmm? Have you seen a vampire in the dying throws a blood frenzy? Tsk tsk. Not pretty. Not nice at all. They'll tear their own arms off, hoping they can squeeze just a drop from the shredded, rotted stumps. They can't, of course, and as soon as they realize it they'll start ripping at the flesh with their teeth, still trying to-"

"Okay!" I start opening the purse. "Jesus Christ, okay."

I hand him close to the last of my money, and he slides a red package through the slot. I pick it up, holding it in my hands. This better not be a repeat of...

"It's, ah... not cold, is it?"

He looks only moderately annoyed.

"Do you make a habit of insulting every establishment you enter? My blood is never cold and it's always fresh."

I stare at him silently, fanged mouth hanging open near the crimson bag.

"From donors."



I look down at the package for a second more before I sink my teeth into the plastic.



The first thing I notice is the heat. The blood's rushing through me, passing everything. It's alive and it's on fire and it makes my whole body feel warm again. And the taste, my god the taste, it isn't like the copper I remember, it's like drinking sex.



I think I stumble against the wall, but I can't tell. It's euphoric. It's the best thing I've ever felt, living or dead. I don't feel dead, anymore. I'm alive again but better somehow. My eyes are bulging out of my head by the time the taste fades away from my tongue and it's a few moments before I can stop myself from sucking on the empty bag.

I drop it in the trashcan nearby and look around. I feel great. I feel better than I've ever felt. The run from Ocean House was nothing compared to this. I feel like an army. Like Mike Tyson or Bruce Lee. I could punch God in his fucking face for everything he's ever done to me. Overcome with sheer power I let out a viking battle cry and punch the wall behind me. The cement caves and a tiny cloud of dust puffs out, bits of debris flaking to the floor.



"Would you stop that?"

I pull my fist from the miniature hole it made. I didn't know I could do that.

Goddamn do I feel good.



I head towards the door that leads into the alley. Fuck yes. I will find this fucking girl. I will find her and there will be bad guys holding her hostage or for ransom or for some gang bang and I will beat the fuck out of them. They'll shoot me and I will grab their bullets out of the air and smash them back into their faces. I will pull their spines from their ass and use it like a whip. I will whip them with their own spines until I don't know which pile of bloody mush is which I AM THE GOD. DAMN. FURY.



It takes the ten minute walk from the hospital to the all night diner for me to calm down enough to act like someone who isn't a retard.



Not a five start locale, even by greasy spoon standards. It looks small enough that they probably don't have many employees, so if Lily and... the Surfer came here at night, there's a good chance the woman behind the register saw them.



"What'll it be, uh... honey?"

"I'm looking for someone, actually. You ever see any, ah... pale... girls in here? Late at night, maybe acting kind of strange?"



"Is that a trick question?"

"No, it's just... you know, pale girls, ah..." Jesus Christ, I guess I wasn't over the retard phase of blood drinking yet. "Like... weird... pale girls."

"Oh, like the Fitzsimmons albino? Yeah, she hasn't been in here in ages."

Damn it.

"No, look... okay, did you see a couple earlier, a few months ago-" Holy shit am I really asking her about a couple that might have been in here a few months ago? "-a surfer guy, and a... a pretty girl?" Oh god I sound like the most retarded person on the planet.

"Hmm... let me think. Oh, yeah! About four dozen a week."

Oh fuck the rules.

"Did you hear anyone mention thin blood?"



"Thin blood? Sounds familiar... is that one of those tropical diseases? Hmm... I know I've heard that before."

"Maybe from a kind of strange, pale-looking pretty girl?"

"Oh. Oh, yeah. That girl. Nice girl. First decent human being I've seen in here for years, not like all the junkies and crazies I normally see. Yeah, I remember her. Yeah... weird. She left a tip but she didn't order a thing."

Yes. Yes.

"Yeah, she looked so hungry, too. But she just sat there all night with a full glass of water in front her, talkin' about this and that. She seemed lonely, a little scared, so I let her stay in the booth until we closed. She left some stuff here. You seem to know her, why don't you give it back to her if you run into her?"

Smile.

"Thank you, I'd be happy to."







Armed with her photo and her car keys, I leave the diner and head to the nearby parking garage, the only real parking place I know of that's nearby.



Alright, let's see... if I were a young girl, what would I drive?









Yes.



The key opens the locked door with something between a thud and a click. I slip into the passenger's seat and snoop around. Registration, proof of insurance, a few CD's from bands that I'd never heard of and a long flat can of half empty soda. Nothing that'd help me find out where she went or what happened to her. I think for a moment before whatever's left of the blood drunk retardation fizzles into my head.



I'll either find a jack and a spare or her head. Kind of hoping it's the jack and the spare.



Diary and a tire iron.

I manage to wedge the tire iron into my purse. It's no thirty eight but they seem to work pretty well on undead horrors. I close the trunk and sit down, paging through the diary. If Ed's in this one too, I'm going to blow my stack.

4/30/02 - I met a guy today at The Asylum. He's SO beautiful, oh my god. His name is Rolf and he is from Germany. European men are just so classy compared to boring California boys. He asked to see me tomorrow night. I wonder if he's rich? He looks rich. I'm going to go shopping tomorrow and pick up something that won't make me look like a big, fat ugly pig. Can't wait to see him.

5/21/02 - I think it's getting serious with Rolf. He told me he wanted to give me something very special next week and if it's what I think it is, it's about damn time. I thought Europeans were supposed to be less uptight about this sort of thing.

Rolf, you mother fucker.

3/06/02 - I woke up at 9 PM today. That'd be strange by itself but I don't remember going to sleep last night. In fact... I don't remember anything since last Saturday night when Rolf was over...

6/10/02 - I woke up late again. I haven't eaten anything in four days. I don't know what's wrong with me...

6/11/02 - Rolf came over last night. He said the reason I hadn't eaten anything was because I needed blood. He said it was all I could eat now, that I wouldn't feel hungry any more if I drank some. He had a bag of it from the local blood bank. I tried to refuse, but I... I couldn't. What's happening to me?

7/26/02 - Rolf said he's going to have to leave soon. He said people are trying to force him out of the country. He didn't say anything about taking me with him.

8/22/02 - I had to bail Rolf out of jail today. He was arrested because his visa expired. He looked frightened. I'm afraid he's going to leave.

12/07/02 - I haven't seen or heard from Rolf since the night I bailed him out. I don't know what to do. I thought he cared about me. Why did he do this to me?

4/15/03 - I talked with this guy I met in the Surfside until five this morning. When I told him I had to go, I felt like Cinderella. He seemed like a prince.

4/16/03 - I met that guy from the Surfside again. He's got no idea what I am...

4/24/03 - I brought E, the guy from the Surfside, back to my apartment last night. He said he's going back to Australia in a few days, now that the tournament's coming to an end. I don't want him to leave. I've never felt this way about someone before, not even Rolf.

4/25/03 - E was over again last night. He kissed me last night and I... I couldn't stop myself.


Lily, you mother fucker.

When I explained it all to him, he said he never wanted to see me again. God... what have I done?

5/08/03 - I haven't been able to feed since that night with E. I'm afraid of what will happen. I remember Rolf brought blood from the blood bank. Maybe if I can sneak in, I can grab a few bags and get out before anyone catches me.

That was the last entry.

Oh no.




Vandal.

He must have... oh god, I don't even want to think about what he'd do to somebody if he had half an excuse. If he caught her stealing...



I run out of the parking garage and towards the hospital. Don't be too late, please don't be too late.



Please.



"Need a fix?"

"No. No, what I need is-" I stop halfway through my thought. I shouldn't mention her. If he knows I know... well, that I suspect, he's going to be trouble. He might even kill her if he hasn't already. "-to get into the back room."

"Employees only." He smiles, a little oddly. "Them's the rules of the queen bitch herself."

Queen bitch?

"She's the one who told me I had to come back here!"

"She did, huh?" He leans back, tilting his head up and to his right. He doesn't believe me. He doesn't believe a god damn word. "Queen bitch told me never to let anyone back there. I remember her repeating it over and over in that cold, pretentious voice of hers."

He doesn't like her. He hates her. I can use that.

"Then call her and tell her I need to be let in."







"...Open."



I head through the door and into the dingy employee hallways. I shouldn't be on too much of a timetable as long as Vandal's manning the booth. I don't know what I'm going to do if she's here and she's still alive when I find her. Sprint out the door? Would Vandal come after us? Is he... I mean, is he human? He's got to be human, I saw him breath on the glass.


...Is the queen bitch human?


Queen bitch sounds like more than I can handle.



I take a left turn at random. Hopefully my tactic of sticking my head into every door and causing as much ruckus as possible is going to help.



I open up the door at the end of the hall. It looks like a small examination room. There's a doctor, or at least someone in scrubs, examining a couple of x-rays that are plastered on the wall. He turns around when he hears me open the door.