Kiss of Osiris

Chapter Three

They holed up at Al's place. He left the door unlocked and said she could leave if she wanted and that he wouldn't track her down and kill her in her sleep. She didn't believe him but appreciated the gesture. God my only acquaintance is a vampyrus! How bizarre is that? Life is a funny thing sometimes... She laughed like a madwoman at that. Maybe she was starting to go a little bonkers. That night probably caused it.

 Al lived like royalty. He had a huge marble mansion, complete with a garden area and a sprawling pool that was almost like a lake. He calmly explained how he killed off a gang of drug traffickers and criminals and gifted himself with the place. Well, this is quite the improvement. From slums to living the high life, in mansions and splendor! Al managed to find some women's clothing in one of the rooms the drug lord's mistress lived in. She shed her ratty clothing and begrudgingly wore a simple white frilly dress. Awkward at first, it was starting to grow on her. Well, if he was going to kill her she might as well enjoy the ride. Living in a gorgeous mansion, free expensive clothes, hey, she had already managed far better than some of the chief officers in the Guild.

She also found out why Al needed an assistant. Some of the old vampyrus legends were true to a degree. Al was super tired and lethargic during the day, especially in sunlight. He would sunburn superbad and peel like an onion. He also drank copious amounts of water. She was amazed at how much he needed. From the few days before the dig she spent with she learned a lot. She wondered if she could sneak into his study in his heat-daze and stake him. She wondered if she would be successful or not. 

How strong was he during the day? She wasn't sure and didn't want to take a chance. She didn't trust him, and would just bide her time until she saw how everything turned out. He fancied himself a hero, but he sure did kill a lot of people it seemed like. It seemed like being a vampyrus wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. For one thing, they weren't truly immortal but would eventually die after a while. When that was she wasn't sure. She didn't think even Al knew. He didn't seem to know a lot of others like himself. Probably after several hundred years, maybe millennia, maybe two. Still, to her, that seemed like a long-ass time. There might even be ways to extend it. 

She found a local library with books about vampyric lore and compared it to her reluctant friend. There was a little truth to the rice grain thing. They were really obsessive-compulsive and could be distracted by menial tasks like counting rice or obsession with numbers. Pure salt was corrosive to them and could be used like mace or pepper spray on them. Perhaps if ingested in large amounts it would poison them. Of course, during the day they were very vulnerable, and while they wouldn't burst into flame they were less lethal during the day and that was probably the best time to take them on. They seemed to be weak against silver and for some reason gold.

They did not seem to sleep in coffins. Al would find a nice couch or sofa he liked and conk out in it. By god did he snore. He slept a lot during the day. She wanted to smother him with a pillow when he snored, or maybe stake him in the heart. She wasn't sure if staking him in the heart would kill him. Certainly wouldn't be good for him. She saw him take multiple shots at point blank range but he seemed okay afterward. She wondered what a machine gun or shotgun would do. Maybe wouldn't kill him outright but it might hurt him real bad.

A stick of dynamite would blow him to smithereens pretty good she bet. If she had a sword she could probably lop off limbs and decapitate him. She wouldn't want to try that during the night though. During the day he would get horrid abdominal cramps, headaches and arthritic-like symptoms. He also had insomnia, and day-terrors when he tried sleeping sometimes. He really did not like dairy but had an obsession with carrots for some reason. And chocolate. She was bemused to find out he was fond of scotch and would drink profusely. 

Crosses and holy water seemed to do nada. Although maybe if the cross was pure silver or gold you could jam it in his eye or shank him with it if you caught him unawares. He really was an archaeologist, or at least he fancied himself as one. An amateur one at least. Although he seemed to have taken a number of classes on it, as he seemed to have the money for it. The mansion was full of random old things, and archeological crap everywhere she turned. An odd obsession for a vampyrus. He would count and clean them obsessively.

He taught her to fight some. And shoot a gun. She became proficient in firearms. Probably selfish. He was vulnerable during the day, so he probably wanted his assistant to be able to help out if things got hairy for him. She wondered if he considered whether she would use these skills against him. She figured he probably weighed that and thought it was worth the risk. He probably thought he could take her still. Evee would have to reevaluate his strength levels then. She maybe wouldn't be a threat to him yet. If it came to that. Evee wasn't exactly chomping at the bit to find out.

 Al couldn't turn to mist, bat, wolf or shapeshift. He didn't have mindpowers she thought, but if he did and was good at using them maybe he brainwashed her to come with him. That was a disturbing thought. She stored it in her mind to consider for later. He didn't really seem preoccupied with romance and she wasn't entirely sure he liked women. Humans. She wasn't still sure if he thought of humans that way, even though apparently he had been one once. Maybe if a vampyric female came waltzing around, flaunting her butt, Al would get all hot and bothered.

Evee tittered. There was a funny thought. And scary. What would she be like? As monstrous as Al was, he seemed pretty easy to figure out after a while. He was predictable, and while not safe, she did have a bit of familiarity with him, like the ol' wolfhound that you know will probably attack you if you show weakness but could be placated by steak meat and keeping your wits about you.

He didn't suck peoples blood with fangs but seemed to drain them of lifeforce or something. She had only seen it twice, that night, but that was the ticket. He would have long claws shoot out (from slits in the fingertips? Between his knuckles? From his nails?) and use them to impale his victim. On the next part, she was iffy on, and Al would only smile at her when she would ask. God, he was so infuriating! While she detected no romantic (or sexual?) interest from him, he seemed to like to tease her and get her goat. 

One of these days she would lose her cool and stake him with a sharpened broom handle. Let him tease her then. Anyways, once he impaled them the claws either drained them of their blood, lifeforce (soul?), or some sort of energy. Sifting through some of the medical and biological textbooks she suspected the claws were just tools that were somehow used to initiate the drain of psychic and emotional energy. As well as maybe some sort of lifeforce, or chi, and biological stuff since the bodies appear to pale and the hair would turn white. She suspected even Al himself did not understand the process fully. 

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