Modern Monsters

The Vampire Clinic: Viggo

Female Main Character (had uterine cancer) x Male Monster

I took a night shift job because I thought it would be easier. I'm up late anyway, and I might as well make some money for it. After a few years of not really doing anything, getting out to work, even at a convenience store, is pretty exciting.

I didn't expect things to be so lively at night, though. I figured I would see the usual night lurkers like drunks, teens, exhausted types, creepers, and the like. What I discovered was a twilight crowd I hadn't expected. I knew about the Vampire Clinic in town, but I hadn't put two and two together. Apparently, the clinic has midnight operational hours for special clients only, tending to their specific needs. Since the convenience store is one of the few places open, and probably the cleanest one open, we're quite popular.

I come across all sorts during my shift - not just vampires from the clinic, but their clients. It's sometimes strange to witness the parade of creatures who come into the store at night - all the different faces and shapes, all the unusual requests. Apparently, the owner of the store keeps twenty-four-seven hours because of the business the clinic drums up.

Mr. Kiljansson is a vampire as well, but he isn't someone I see regularly. He sort of magically appears every now and then with someone pretty on his arm. Occasionally, he turns up in the back room looking over security footage or checking the books. The few times I talk with him, he seems rather floaty, like he's always sort of on a cloud. I'm not sure that's the right way to put it. He just doesn't ever seem to be touching the ground.

One evening as I come into work, I start my shift by taking care of the trash and stocking the fridge. When I walk into the fridge, I see Mr. Kiljansson lying on the floor.

"Uh..." I hesitate, holding a crate of sports drink that starts to dig into my hands. "I can come back if you're busy." I'm not really sure how to respond to seeing the owner of the place lying face down in the middle of the fridge.

"Just step over me," he grumbles. "Everyone does."

I'm not sure if I should walk away. Hell, I've barely said two words to Mr. Kiljansson at this point. "Are you... okay, sir?" I set the crate aside and kneel. "This floor isn't the best to be lying on." I gather up his long white hair, which is splayed all over the floor.

"I don't care anymore," he sighs. "I have no will to go on."

I really have no idea what to do. This is way above my pay grade. "Sir, please get up. Whatever has happened is no reason to be on this gross floor. You can be dramatic in the office, if you like."

He lifts his head. His bright red eyes, surrounded by white eyelashes like a million feathers, glare at me. "Who are you, now?"

"Keira, sir." My voice cracks. "Keira Layhorn."

Braced up on one elbow, I can see he's wearing a ragged t-shirt, which is probably dirty from the floor. "Oh, right." He sighs and rolls onto his back. "Please, leave me be."

"OK, then." I step out of the fridge and towards the front. My co-worker for the night is an exhausted-looking goth who prefers to be called Nine, but his name tag says 'Chandler'. "How long has he been in there?" I ask him.

Nine rolls his eyes. "I can't say. He was here when I got here. All I know is that his brother is coming to get him after he gets off work. Happens maybe twice a year."

I furrow my brow. "Twice a year?"

Nine shrugs. "Gets attached to someone, gets broken up with, you know the drill. And he's a romantic." He makes a grand gesture, flourishing his fingers out along the side of his face while he widens his eyes.