Page 4 of Thirst

I use a couple of lamps once the room is secured, but I mostly revel in the darkness, keeping the room dimly lit as I remove my clothes until I'm only in boxer briefs. I climb into bed and think about how the day went down. I fed, and the rush of it still lingers, but it’s slowly dying off. Soon, I’ll fall asleep and wake up when the sun ducks beneath the horizon again, but I already know tomorrow will be the same as today. No one can prepare you for living longer than anyone is supposed to. As much as I didn't ask for it, I love my immortality, but it has its annoying parts. The only rush I feel is when I feed, and every other waking moment is teeming with boredom. So I’ll sleep, only looking forward to the next taste of blood because it’s really all I have.

This is the curse of the vampire.

Four

Iwake up as the sun sets, but don't leave my room until it has completely gone down. No need to experience discomfort at this point of my life, although I remember doing exactly that when I was first turned in the year 1900. Back then, I would risk being torched by the sun if it meant I got to feed, even burning myself nearly to death on a few occasions.

Anything for the thirst.

With nothing on my agenda, I spend the start of my evening doing the usual of having a light drink and watching TV. Although I just fed last night, I can feel the familiar sizzle in my stomach starting to churn again. I think about going outside and hitting up a bar or two until I find someone, but decide that I can wait a bit. No need to risk overexposing myself. So I end up staying in my room and taking my time getting dressed. As I finish putting on my clothes—black slacks with a long-sleeved black top covered in red swirling designs—and just as I'm about to step out into the hall, I hear my elevator chime. As I reach the doors, they open up to Shawn standing inside with a concerned expression.

I frown. “You good?”

He raises an eyebrow. “He's here.”

“Who?”

“Von. Blackjack tables.”

Heat blooms to life in my veins. “Mm. I’ll be down in a second.”

“Cool.”

Shawn lets the doors close as he goes back down to the casino, while I take a deep breath to steady myself. I do my best to not let my anger get the best of me. I'm a killer. A monster. A demon walking the earth with the ability to mutilate. No, not just an ability to mutilate. A desire to mutilate. I want to bite people and drink their blood. I want to hurt people, and while part of that comes from the psychosis of my maker, I've seen enough to make anyone violent. No Black person born in the 1800s and living into the 2020s would be nonviolent. However, it’s in my best interest to keep my vampiristic tendencies under control. There aren't many of us here, so staying hidden keeps us safe, as much as that fact bothers my ego. Humans outnumber vampires by more than I could possibly count. Being found out when there are only fifty or so of us in the city would surely lead to a torturous death. Humans can barely stand each other, let alone a rich, handsome, Black vampire. So I stay low key. However, sometimes the right kind of person comes along and makes keeping it together feel like its own form of torture.

No one tries my patience like Von. I don't know anything about him except his name and that he comes to the casino every now and then and acts like an asshole. Once, he pushed one of the servers down as they brought him his drink. He threw a glass at one of the bartenders and was escorted out on another occasion. Even when he's not being violent, he’s verbally abusive to the other guests. I thought about banning him myself, but something about Von ignites a flame inside of me and I don't want to ban him.

I want to kill him.

I take the elevator down, wondering what the scene will be when I reach the casino floor. The doors open and I step into calmness—nothing out of the ordinary. I make my way past the sea of slot machines, bypass a bar, and hit the main walkway until I come to the tables—poker, roulette, and blackjack, all side by side. The blackjack area is sectioned off with thick red ropes, and seated at one of the seven tables is a very large brother with fresh cornrows and light brown skin. He's a little over six-foot, and has to at least weigh two-forty. He's an intimidating figure, and I watch him as I approach another table and stand next to it.

Von’s dealer pulls cards from the shuffler and divvies them out to the full table, and each player places bets and views their cards. When the player at the end of the table asks to hit, Von rolls his light brown eyes, already annoyed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asks the much smaller man next to him. “Do you even know how to play this game? Or are you just over here bullshittin’ to ruin it for me? You tryin’ to make me lose money?”

“What? No. I don't even know you, man,” the player replies, but I see the intimidation in his gaze. He doesn't want any problems with the guy who is at least twice his size.

“You don't hit right there,” Von says, his voice rising. “Of course an ace was gonna come out. You do that again and we’re gonna have problems. Got it?”

“Just let me play the game, please,” the scared man responds.

I watch another hand play out, and the house wins again. Von is furious even though his loss was his own fault. But he's clearly the kind of person who needs someone to blame, and he has already chosen his scapegoat.

“You know what? I think we need to step outside,” he says. “Either that, or you need to move to another table. Your choice.”

“What’s your problem?” the man asks, trying his best to look unaffected, but I can hear how hard his heart is pounding. If I bit him now, I could taste the sweetness of his fear.

“You're my problem. I can't stand having to play next to rookies who don't know when to hit. You clearly don't know shit about blackjack, so go find a table full of imbeciles to fit in with before I slap you. I'm not playin’ man.”

Shawn comes to stand next to me just as security reaches the table. Von sees the two men dressed in all-black just like Shawn, and immediately stands up, ready to defend himself.

“Oh, here y’all go. Look, I'm good. Just make this fool move and I’ll stop. He's messin’ up my game.”

The bigger of the two security guards speaks first. “Look, sir, you're being disruptive. Either quiet down or leave.”

Von’s glare is intense as he stares at the security guard. “Quiet down? Man, who do you think you're talkin’ to? You're half my size, boy. You better get somebody bigger before you talk that shit to me. You ain’t man enough to make me leave.”

Shawn takes a small step forward, but I stop him. “Nah. I got it.”