That’s our bar.
Mine and Sammi’s, actually. She lent me the last hundred quid it took to secure the loan on this building, and to this day I consider her part-owner as well as my employee. Truth be told, she doesn’t really need the salary from us, but she’s an alternative kid at heart, and I think spending a solid proportionof her free time surrounded by black leather and fangs speaks to her rebel soul. If I’m beingreallyhonest, we don’tneedher, either, but she’s performed miracles with our accounts and public image, and I kind of like having her around. She’s like a sister to me.
Not to mention that, on a personal level, she’s saved my arse more times than I can count. And, judging by the look on her face, she’s about to do it again.
‘Mr Bramwell,’ she says as I walk in, before sinking a hell of a shot into the middle pocket. Quinn groans from his seat on a keg at the other side of the table. Yes, we have a pool table in the storeroom, and yes, it does kind of get in the way, but we use it so much that we put up with a little inconvenience. It came with the bar but doesn’t fit our aesthetic, so it lives in here instead. Who knows, maybe one day we’ll have it redone in red and matte black.
‘Sammi,’ I say, returning her greeting. ‘Nice shot.’
She flashes me a grin and rounds the table, taking her time over a long shot, which sails into the bottom right pocket.
‘Let me just finish destroying Quinn,’ she says, fighting a smile, ‘and then we’ll talk.’
I laugh. She only has one ball left on the table. ‘Shouldn’t take long.’
‘I’m gonna throw you all out of my bar in a minute,’ Quinn huffs, and I shoot him a look.
He winces as he looks up, realising a moment too late that he’s actually the only person in the room who doesn’t own a share of this place.‘Yourbar,’ he corrects, and Sammi snorts a laugh.
‘That’s right,’ I mutter, grinning despite myself. ‘Drink, Sam?’
‘Black coffee would be good.’
‘No problem.’
I head to the bar and grab a mug for each of us, flicking the coffee machine into action and smiling as I hear Quinn grumbling from the storeroom. It’s been a hell of a morning so far, and this small oasis of normality is actually making me feel much better. I felt like an ancient being first thing, slowly unfurling to my full height after being scrunched up on that tiny sofa. I might heal with supernatural speed, but I’m not immune to feeling pain in the moment. I try not to think about the comfort level of Wladek’s camping mattress.
After all, a bed is a bed.
I also try not to think about the woman I’ll be sharing a space with. Beyond the fact that it was nice as hell for her tooffer to share, anyway. That’s as far as my thoughts need to go. I’ll have to find a way to thank her. APG-ratedway to thank her, that is.
Once the drinks are ready, I carry both mugs back to Sammi, who takes hers with a grateful smile and nods towards the door along one wall. I follow her out into the alley, which feels relatively warm in the midday sun, even this late in October.
I fish my sunglasses out of the neck of my T-shirt and put them on. My non-feeding state allows me to go out in the sun without burning to a crisp– particularly with the super high factor SPF Wladek hooked me up with– but my eyes get sore quickly if it’s too bright, so shades are a necessity on sunny days. Plus, they make me look cool, and honestly, I’m here for it.
Sammi flops down onto the stack of crates and blows steam off her coffee while I stand opposite her, strangely anxious. If Sammi wants to talk to me alone, it’s rarely good news.
‘The bat incident has come back to haunt us,’ she says, before I can think too much about it, and I’m grateful. She’s a straight talker if she’s anything.
I can’t help but cringe at her words, though. Someone uploaded a video of me on stage during one of our open mic nights a few years ago. It had been a hell of a shift, and Idowned one of Wladek’s special ‘energy pouches’ to help me get through the song. I haven’t asked him what’s in them, and I’m afraid to. He has hundreds of years more experience at this than me, though, so I should trust him. He swore that there was no human blood in them, and though his weird over-stressing of the wordhumangrossed me out a little, I made my peace with it, especially considering how much they help me when I’m feeling drained.
Only the version of the video that went viral has been edited to look like the pouch I bit into had wings. So obviously then a rumour went around that I pulled an Ozzy and bit the head off a live bat. The internet was incandescentwith rage, and it sparked a whole flurry of visits from Environmental Health and the RSPCA. It took a while, but we finally managed to convince them that I wasn’t some depraved animal abuser, just a knackered old goth who can’t make it through a full day at work without a shot of ‘glucose’.
I remember, before my change, being under the impression that vampires couldn’t be captured on camera.If onlythat were true. It’d have saved me a lot of headaches over the years.
‘I thought we’d buried it,’ I say, gulping down my drink too quickly again. ‘I explained the truth on my socials. I even showed them the report from the RSPCA.’
‘I thought so too,’ she says. ‘But there’s a rogue animal rights group which just popped up claiming that you paid them off.’
I groan. ‘It was years ago. And that video was clearly edited.’
‘Yeah, we know that, and I’m betting that most rational people do too. But you know what social media is like. One crazy post and you’re Viral Bat Guy for the rest of your life. Remember, everyone’s got a motive.’
I cringe. If only the internet knew the truth: that I’m scared to death of bats. I never loved them, but there was a whole transition period just after my change when I wouldoccasionally summon the damn things by accident and then have to frantically chase them out of my cottage armed with only a tea towel and a considerable amount of swearing. I have been deeply, fully scarred by those experiences.
Go on, I know you want to laugh. A vampire with a bat phobia, eh? You couldn’t write it.
It was ironic, the amount of time and effort we spent trying to go viral, to pull in new customers, to put Bitten on the map. When it finally happened it was as much a curse as it was a blessing. We’re definitely on the bloody map now.