Let's Go For A Pint (Vampire/Humor)

4.5 And Then We Got High

Drug references warning, that is all. 

And finally, we arrived. Sure it was a stone's throw away as the saying goes, if I threw the stone. The subway ride there was awkward with the four of us crowding around a floating, origami ram. It drew attention from a nosy kid, but pissed off James and he practically swore at him. Poor kid should never bother a witch in the middle of tracking.

Ramsay led us to a bungalow in the Suburbs. After the origami dropped, James scratched his chin. "This place, this house, it's familiar." He picked up the paper ram and shoved it into a pocket. Ramsay, somehow, returned to whatever inter-dimensional plane it occupied.

"You've dealt drugs to them, haven't you?" Carmen stated, not too surprised.

"I may hae dealt to people in this neighbourhood. That doesnae mean I've dealt it to them," James explained. "Also my drugs are perfectly legal."

"I'm certain what we had last episode you mixed in some weed," Carmen argued.

James was about to say something. You know that facial expression with an open mouth and only a single sound comes out? Yep, that was his face. He closed his mouth and cleared his throat. "Like I said, perfectly legal. They're for medicinal purposes."

Before any of us approached the front door, one of the vampires came out holding a trash bag. He spotted us and immediately Max, Carmen, and I took on defensive positions. Max, for a reason other than it was cool, whooped. James was unfazed though.

"Yo, Jimi, I didn't expect you to come over," the vampire said as he opened a trash bin. Unlike James' ex, he didn't have the hopping step usually found among Eastern Asian vampires. His complexion, however, was pale as if he hadn't been eating. Yet he appeared healthy; not a single wrinkle on him.

"I'm nae here to sell." James pushed up his glasses and continued, "I'm here for something else."

"If this concerns Ariel owing you money, he'll have it by the end of the week." The vampire inserted the bag into the bin then closed it.

"Gerald, I'm nae here to collect either. We're here because at least one of ye attacked a friend of a friend ..." James paused to count then continued, "of a friend."

Gerald examined us individually and stared especially at Carmen and Max. I wasn't sure if he was eyeing them for meals or their odd stances. Max was ready to break out in an industrial dance and Carmen was ready to strike a yoga pose, which left me to protect them.

"I'm not sharing," I hissed.

"I'll make sure to inform the others." Gerald stroked his neck and turned his attention to James. "Anyway, I'll inform them you're here. Come step inside, all of you."

After Gerald led the way, Carmen slapped James hard in the face. "You're a bad liar."

"It's not my fault ye bring these things up." James rubbed the side of his face then waddled to the bungalow. He stopped at the door, turned around, and asked us, "Ye coming in or nae?"

Max was the first to follow him, then me. Carmen entered last as she closed the door behind us. Already present were Gerald and his three housemates. One of them had a half burnt blunt in his hand. Like Gerald they all had that healthy, pale complexion, or at least what counted as pale for them. Two-thirds of Gerald's housemates appeared to be Middle Eastern.

"Sasha, put the blunt out," The brown-haired one said to the blond one. "We got female guests."

"No way, Ariel," Sasha said with a thick, Slavic accent.

"At least pass it to Homayun," The third and shorter, dark-haired housemate said with his hand out. "Homayun hasn't had a hit in five minutes." I can't explain why he spoke in the third person, but how often do you encounter people like him?