Fangs, Stakes, and the Landlord's Letter - Stefan Leiva
The vampire infestation in Armand is getting worse by the second, and every night is more exhausting than the last. I can’t even relax in my own home when I am nearly certain one of those beasts has slithered its way into here. Marc, you don’t know if Dorian is really a vampire. Overworking is starting to affect your perception of reality. While I am 90% sure Dorian is a vampire, that 10% of doubt keeps me from acting. I need one more piece of evidence, then I can plunge a stake into the little monster.
The house in the morning after work is a gracious sight. Dorian must be asleep, in that suspicious cocoon that’s more coffin than bed. At the door, I can’t find my keys. Utterly irritating. After fumbling through my coat and failing to find anything other than my taser, I peer through the window. Perhaps Dorian is asleep in the living room. When I look in, my body tightens at the sight of Dorian, holding his dog’s head, eyes glowing red, fangs bared, ready to take a bite.
100%
With newfound adrenaline, I draw back and slam into the door, easily breaking the old hinges and lock. The door flies open, and I stomp inside, glaring at my fraud roommate.
“You!” I growl, pointing an accusatory finger. “I knew it!” Alarmed, Dorian launches from the couch and dashes to the back door. “Oh no, you don’t!”
I’m fatigued from the night’s work, but I’m never too tired to eradicate abominations. Balto barks at me, and before the behemoth can tackle me, I shock him unconscious with my taser. Afterwards, I sprint towards Dorian and clutch his sweatshirt’s hood. He gags from the sudden force onto his neck, even more when I grab him in a chokehold.
“Let… go… you… meathead!” Dorian croaks out before harshly slamming a fist onto my crotch. The pain cuts deep, causing me to loosen my grip, and Dorian escapes. Before he can get far, I leap forward and our bodies crash onto the floor.
He’s stronger than his small body appears. Luckily, years of training have granted me the strength to keep up with any vampire, especially a weaker one like Dorian. He desperately crawls forward, eventually shaking me off. When I lose him, I grab his ankle and pull myself onto Dorian, pinning him to the ground, close to the door.
“Unhand me, Marc!” Dorian commands, foolish to think I would listen to him, “If you want to keep your pathetic little life.” He punches my pectoral, forcing me off him and taking control by forcing my wrists to the floor.
“Ha! That’s rich coming from a man on death’s door!” I bare my teeth as I try to overtake Dorian. I take hold of his thin wrists and twist his arms viciously. His grip loosens as he yelps. My strong hand clamps down on Dorian’s shoulder and slams him onto the floor. “I knew you were one of them. A disgusting monstrosity.” My fist meets his jaw, surely weakening him into submission. “The coffin bed, your need for an invitation inside, your aversion to my silver jewelry, the garlic 'allergy', obsessive counting, no reflection, the sick mind control! It was all so obvious!”
Before another punch can land, Dorian quickly catches my fist and bites ferociously into my arm, his sharp fangs puncturing my skin. I scream in pain, and my weakened defenses are unable to stop Dorian from hurling me downwards with his hands clasped around my throat. The depleting oxygen causes me to shake as Dorian throttles me.
“You’re one to talk,” Dorian spits at me. “This place is littered with weapons. Your hiding spots are laughable. Seriously, how many stakes do you brutes need?” It’s harder to breathe, but I endure and try to fight back. “Your so-called ‘job’? Imbecilic! You can’t be a bartender for a bar that closed five years ago.”
I ram my fist on the table leg nearby, and it breaks easily. Crucially, within the leg is a stake. I snatch it with both hands and aim for the heart, but Dorian keeps me down. The stake is a few inches away as Dorian’s red eyes attempt to hypnotize me. Avoid his gaze and aim for the heart. On three. One… two…
The footsteps approaching break my focus, and the same happens to Dorian, who releases my throat. I shove him off and rise to my feet, calmly walking towards the door. Dorian’s an afterthought now; keeping my cover is imperative. At the door arrives the landlord’s daughter.
“Letter from the landlord,” she hands me an envelope. Before I can ask anything, she leaves for a red car, no doubt her mother avoiding tenants as usual.
“What does it say?” Dorian asks, now standing next to me. I do not acknowledge him as I open the letter and read. A few sentences in, I reel back in disbelief.
“Rent is $300 higher now…”
“You can’t be serious…!” Dorian swipes the letter from my hand and reads it. We both look down, the news weighing heavily on our shoulders and bank accounts. “As much as I should kill you, I can’t solely pay rent in this house. This is the only affordable home that allows a big dog like Balto.”
“... I can’t pay it by myself either. I need a roommate, but no one wants to live in the middle of nowhere. You’re the only one who answered the ad.” The truth tastes like bile in my mouth. If I moved out of this district, I’d be removed from my assignment: killing the head vampire behind the infestation. It’s practically my life’s work.
“Listen,” Dorian starts, “I’ll keep you alive if you continue living here and paying rent. If you’re smart, you’ll do the same.” I abhor the idea of making deals with a blood-sucking parasite… but if I want to complete the mission, I have to set aside my reservations. Just this once.
“Deal.”
Stefan Leiva is a second year graduate student in the MFA Program for Creative Writing. He is a queer fiction writer who has dabbled in creative non-fiction. His stories center around queer youth and their experiences with identity, relationships and adolescence. He aims to work as a creative writing professor in the time he isn't writing every novel that comes to mind.
