Ouch! Da fuck!? Talk about a hangover! What the fuck happened yesterday? I can’t remember much of anything. Dancing flies? A sidecar in Manhattan? What the hell was that? Hey, brain, do you think this is a good time to do the riddle thing?
The sun stings. Of course, the one time the fucker shows up between the clouds this month had to be this morning.
A metro station entrance. I rush into it. My stomach doesn’t like the escalator’s motion. Not. At. All. I try to hold it, but nope. As I get to the platform, my stomach empties its contents on the floor. It looks a bit like a stew with funny colors. I feel sorry for the few witnesses of this unflattering scene. I may have spoiled their morning. I turn around and run in the corridors until I return to the surface and breathe some fresh air. At least, I didn’t ruin anyone’s shoes. Well, except mine.
I wander around for a few minutes. I know the neighborhood like the back of my hand, but it feels foreign this morning. And my memories of the previous night still refuse to return.
Shops have yet to open. Some cardboard is moving in front of an entrance. I stop. No, it’s not me who is losing my balance, the box really is moving. It starts to rise. It jumps up and stands straight in front of me.
He is tall. He has long black hair in a ponytail. A little pointy goatee. Crazy eyes. Very pale skin. And… And blood on his lips?
When he sees me, he lets out a little scream. He probably thinks that’s threatening, but it almost sounds like a newborn’s wail. He keeps his mouth open for a few seconds, showing some vaguely prominent canines. They’re… Stained with something red, too.
He is not happy. Not at all.
“It’s all your fault!”
“Ah… So I was with you last night? That may explain this strange hangover. You didn’t try to suck me, did you?”
“Shut up! This is all because of you! You tricked me into drinking this poison that you humans love so much! Look at the state you put me in!”
“What are you talking about? It’s not the first time you’ve had a drink!”
“Rahhhh!”
I shrug.
“What happened last night? Was there a problem? I’m sorry, but my memory is a little hazy at the moment.”
“The Prince of Darkness tried to contact me! I couldn’t answer because of you! The psychic link was too weak because of the alcohol you made me drink! I lost contact and a lot of vital energy. Dawn was coming. It was too late to go home or to one of my ghouls. I had no choice! And then, I had to find shelter here to protect myself from the sun.”
Oh… I now see that he is holding a dead rat in his hand, also stained with blood. It may not be the right time to point out that we’re way past sunrise and he still hasn’t turned to dust.
“And what exactly did the Prince of Darkness want from you?”
“You AND me! He’s expecting both of us at HQ in two days!”
“Oh? That ‘Prince of Darkness’! I see… – Mikael looks at me a little puzzled – Well, we shouldn’t waste any time then. You’ve got three hours to pack your bags and meet me in front of the Gare du Nord. Bring aspirin if you have some, I think I’m out.”
If only he could also come to his senses, at least for the duration of the trip, I wouldn’t mind. One day, someone should sit down with Mikael and explain to him that vampires do not exist. Not me, though. The last time I tried, It was me and not them who had to babysit him for weeks. He’s even less fun when he’s completely depressed and almost suicidal.
Draco… and Mikael
to be continued…
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Inspiration: FD
Photo: JW
Author(s)
Frenchman, exiled on the other side of the planet, DavidB writes. It's not always very good, but who cares, the goal is to write. Sometimes, he also does other things.
MetaStructure is one of his longest-running projects. It was started in the early 2000s. Stopped many times. Started over a few times. Let's hope this time is the right one.
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