Conclave (Hypernaturals 3)

William

When we walked into the lobby of the Resort, it contained only one person other than the reception staff at the far end, behind their polished wood counter. The most unusual person I have ever seen. Short and stocky. Wide shoulders, ruddy skin, flaming coarse red hair, red bushy beard. 

He scowled at the suit of armor in the lobby and wiggled experimentally the wooden spear that one of the metal gauntlets wrapped around. He stopped, put his hands on his hips, and attempted to cause the armor to melt with his dark regard. The armor is made of sterner stuff than that and resisted his gaze.

As we came near him I caught his scent and I knew he is a Vampire. The first male Vampire I have ever seen. He turned as we walked up and gestured at the offending armor. "Whot a piece of shit. Can you believe it?"

Helen looked at the armor cooly. "It was here when I bought the place." She is not a fan of it either. It is butt ugly. Historical accuracy verged on zero. The only reason it is still here is that it would leave damage on the stone floor to remove it. The hot tub build came first.

The red man looked Helen over. I saw a hunger for her in his expression. Helen is a cute blonde and then some, discounting her hard-assery. "More's the pity. Lovely lobby. Nice establishment. Attractive owner. Lousy piece of shit armor.

I couldn't place his accent. It seemed to be from all over the British Isles, and other places besides. All I could be sure of is that it's the English language. As if he lived many places, absorbed a fraction of the local accent, and then moved on, and made no attempt to school his speech.

Helen is from England, but when her accent appears, it is the current British posh and nothing else. No Cockney or whatever else sneaks in. Her French is perfect to my ear as well. Helen told me once that other languages become easier as the Vampire's brain adds complexity, and hers seems to allow for perfect accents on command.

The Vampires eyes are tiny and watery blue. I may not blame him for the way he looked at Helen, but I reacted to him almost against my will. I instantly did not like him. That is rare for me. Most people I get along with, or at least require that they do more than look at my girlfriend with hunger before I take a disliking to them. Not that I think of Helen as my girlfriend. I am crystal clear on her being Rachel's girlfriend in fact. She is however also mine in a way I can not describe but that I am sure has to do with our secret bundle of joy.

Out of the blue, I suddenly understood why male Vampires are killed more often than not. They are repulsive and coarse and unlikable in the extreme.

Except I am wrong about that: a quick glance sideways told me I am strangely alone in my negative reaction to this little red Vampire. Helen smiled, as did Jessica and Rachel as if what he said is the height of cleverness rather than merely insulting. Curiosity about this person now mixed into my dislike in equal amounts.

I took in his scent, but mostly what I smelled is a male Vampire. At least now I know how to scent one. They smell different from female Vampires and my olfactory sense automatically categorized the way he smelled versus any of the fanged variety women I know. A separation appeared in the computer in charge of the sniffer. Vampire scent sorted into the male or female sub-scents. I had a firm talking to my olfactory sense after being in Morgan's cabin and NOT recognizing her scent instantly. Seems it is more on the ball now.

This male Vamp has some other things going on in the olfactory area too. Undertones of musk and leather and for all I know, beaver pelts. Something else rustic. One tone is slightly acrid, but not like day-old sweat. Something... else.

Given the disparate reactions, I wondered if male Vampires are like male cats and have pre-programmed territoriality. I felt the need to put myself between this little red man and 'my' women. It is weird.