The Beast in Man (Vampires in Berlin: Book One)

The Beast in Man Part 8

"What the hell are you talking about? Vampires, indeed," Flake asked, eyes blinking rapidly in disbelief behind the shelter of his glasses. "You do realize that vampires don't exist, don't you?"

"How d'you explain these, then, Flake?" Paul asked, before he opened his mouth to reveal his slowly growing fangs, already sharper than they had been the evening before. "I've been asleep most of the day. I haven't had the time to nip out and get myself some fancy dental work, you know."

"Jesus, Paul, show us again," Schneider said, leaning in with rapt fascination as he stared at Paul's mouth.

Paul grinned widely, and showed off his fangs.

"Jesus fucking Christ, he's got fangs," Schneider said, as he stood abruptly, chair spilling to the floor behind him.

"They could still be fake," Flake groused. "Halloween props."

"Fuck," Schneider said, in disappointment, as he bent down again to pick up his fallen chair.

He slumped back down upon the seat, arms crossed over his chest, face caught in a grumpy frown of disappointed disgust. Paul sighed as Till got up to rummage around in the fridge.

"What are you doing?" Paul asked, as Till's chuckles vibrated eerily through the cold wastes of the fridge.

"How d'you feel about garlic, Paul?" Till asked, as he tossed a small, bulbous object in Paul's direction.

On instinct, Paul reached up and grabbed the garlic before it could hit him squarely in the forehead and dropped it upon the floor with a startled cry of pain. His palms had burned where the flesh had come into contact with the garlic, blisters already forming against the too pale skin.

"Wow, that's one hell of an allergy you got yourself there, Paul," Till said, laughter arcing between Schneider and himself.

Neither Olli nor Flake laughed; instead, they sat and watched proceedings with grim expressions carved across their faces.

"It's not funny; that fucking burned, Till," Paul yelled.

"I still don't believe it, you know," Till said, before he turned away.

"How the hell d'you explain these, then?" Paul asked, as he revealed the fang marks upon his neck, only partially faded from the night before.

"They're like those mosquito bites on Richard," Schneider said, earlier disappointment disappearing beneath a fresh outbreak of fascination. "Did you go out in the woods, as well?"

"No, I did not; we're not supposed to leave the cabins, are we?" Paul said, with a disgruntled frown. "Okay. You need further proof. Come with me to the bathroom."

"Not bloody likely," Flake muttered, with a dark frown.

"We're only standing at the mirror," Paul told him on the way past.

Flake grunted and uncoiled from his chair. Paul was already at the door, and barely waited for the others to join him before he led the way into the bathroom.

"And how do you explain that?" Paul asked, as he pointed at the mirror.

His lack of a reflection in comparison to the others clearly baffled them, and they spent many a long minute pulling faces behind Paul's back, just to see what it would look like through the ghost of Paul's reflection. Paul sighed his way through it all and affectionately called them all children.

"I'm gonna wake up Richard," Schneider announced, suddenly.

"What for?" Paul asked in alarm, but he could not stop Flake from leaving the room, despite the fact the bathroom was only small.