Count Matthew
“So,” Matthew managed to say, “now what.”
Nick took a sip of his coffee, “Well, I am basically going to create for you the life of a vampire. Between now and about an hour from now, Jake is going to give you a crash course on how a vampire does his stuff. The rest is up to you.”
Jake merely nodded, “What Shakespeare here just said. “
Jake then grinned at Nick, “I suppose that was one of your newer sonnets? Or maybe it was out of Angelou, ‘I Know Why the Caged Reaper Sings?’”
“Fuck you.”
Jake merely laughed and then looked over at Matthew. “That is basically the gist of it. You are going to learn what most vampires take years to figure out. You have an hour.”
“Sounds like fun.”
Matthew looked over at Nick, “If you would care to make the change happen Mr. Frost.”
Nick scowled then gave a grin back, “Hold your fangs. One new vampire coming up.”
Matthew felt the familiar wave come over him. He gripped the table then looked over at the other two. He was going to say something but was immediately overtaken by the sudden explosion of noises around him. Screeching of chairs the clatter of machinery, the hiss of some pot in the back.
“Why is it so loud in here!” he practically screamed. The other patrons looked over at him in concern and annoyance.
Jake made a motion for him to lower his voice. “A vampire’s senses are heightened. To best look for prey and for survival. Concentrate on one or two sounds and the rest will become background noise.”
Matthew looked over covering his ears but gave a quick nod. He looked at the cup of coffee in front of him, the hiss of the steam from the coffee sounded like a roaring locomotive and stared at it. Soon the sound levels started to subside.
“Better?”
Matthew nodded, taking a long breath. His head had started to stop pounding just when his nose was inundated with smells from all around him. He scrunched his eyes closed tightly, trying to block the smells that were starting to make him very nauseous.
“Smell?”
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.