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Gillermo should have been in therapy. He knew he should have been. But it was impossible.
It’s not that he was against therapy as a concept. Half the people he knew outside of the household were in therapy or on medication of some kind, and almost everyone was very accepting. His cousin Miguel would have his opinions, of course, but everyone else viewed therapy as a normal part of life, like going to the dentist. It was New York, after all. But Guillermo just didn’t see how it could work.
He could imagine his first session with a therapist:
“So, Mr. de la Cruz. What would you like to talk about today?”
“Well, doctor, my vampire boyfriend tried to rape me last week, and I’m having some trouble getting over it.”
“Your what boyfriend?”
“Vampire. I’ve forgiven him, for the most part. He didn’t mean to hurt me. He was just freaked out that my housemates were forcing him to tell me he loves me.”
“Um…”
“And also, I technically said ‘yes’. Technically.”
“Umm…okay. So, I’d like to circle back to some of that in a bit, but let’s zero in on the central issue. You say your boyfriend tried to rape you? It sounds like you are still together with this person, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“I see,” she would say, making a note. “And how are you sleeping since this incident?”
“Well, actually, that’s the main reason I’m here. I have had a few nightmares.”
“Can you tell me about those?”
And then Guillermo would tell the therapist about the nightmares that were waking him each evening since it happened. The ones where Nandor ambushed him, overpowered him, and in the dream, he can’t get away, can’t breathe, can’t fight, can’t scream. The one where Nandor catches him, bites him, and drains him in a dark alley. Or the worst one of all, the one where he was finally able to escape Nandor’s grasping claws, only to spin around and stake him through the heart. He woke from that one a sobbing mess, his pillow soaked with tears, and cried for another ten minutes after waking.
He'd tell her how, after one of these terrible dreams, he would knock on Nandor’s coffin to wake him. How he would climb into the coffin with Nandor, how Nandor would try to comfort him, how awful Nandor felt about the whole incident. He would tell her how Nandor was trying to make it up to Guillermo by subbing in their roleplay games. And how sure he was that everything would go back to normal, if he could only stop the nightmares.
And then the therapist would have him shipped off to Bellevue. So, therapy was out.
The truth was they were both struggling with the aftermath of Nandor’s impulsive action. Guillermo had taken to wearing his crucifix around the house again like he used to, and he almost always had at least one other non-lethal weapon on him, either a flask of holy water or a vial of garlic powder. He didn’t carry a stake in the house – he was a little afraid he might use it.
And Nandor had noticed these new habits; of course he had. He put up a good front most of the time, pretending nothing was different, but Guillermo knew him too well. He could feel Nandor hesitating to touch him as freely and familiarly as he had done before. He was less spontaneous about initiating anything intimate, usually waiting for Guillermo to make the first move.
Guillermo would catch him sometimes, looking at him with such sadness and remorse in his eyes. Guillermo had mixed feelings about Nandor’s remorse. Part of him was still very angry. But sometimes he’d see Nandor’s sad eyes and want nothing more than to grab him and kiss the sadness away.
The process of creating the contract had helped alleviate some of the feelings – if not all of the anger, then at least the hurt and confusion. As they had been debating what should go into it, the entire household had eventually trickled into the library in ones and twos until they were all there, all talking at once, offering suggestions and opinions on what the contract should say. Laszlo had eventually offered to write it out for them, and the resulting document, signed and witnessed as it was by Guillermo’s whole chosen family, and that family’s sincerity and surprisingly genuine helpfulness during the drafting process, had made him feel seen and accepted as one of them in a way he rarely had.
It said in the contract that they had “professed their love” or whatever, but Nandor still had never actually said it out loud. He still seemed to regard the words as cursed, at least if they crossed his own lips. The ironic thing about it all, the really stupid thing that irked Guillermo every time he thought about it, was that Guillermo had never needed Nandor to say it. It was enough for him that Nandor wanted to be with him, and he would have been perfectly content to never hear the words “I love you” spoken out loud. If not for Laszlo and Nadja’s well-intentioned meddling, this ridiculous and frustrating tragedy would never have happened. On the other hand, now he knew how Nandor felt about him, and it was written down and signed in black ink and ivory-colored parchment. He knew how seriously Nandor took contracts and protocols. That, too, went a long way toward healing his heart.
And Guillermo really had forgiven Nandor. He had always forgiven him, for big things, like copying Freddie, and for small things like casual insults, or his irritation at Nandor’s behavior when creating his safe word. Guillermo had first suggested “No te matas”, which in English meant “don’t get involved” or “leave it alone”. It was part of a lyric from a popular Spanish song, the rest of the lyrics being especially appropriate for the purpose. But Nandor had assumed Guillermo was trying to say, “no tomatoes” and pronouncing it incorrectly. He had pedantically corrected his pronunciation and explained that a single word would be clearer and faster to say, therefore better for a safe word. Guillermo had found the thought of explaining a silly party song to the vampire too daunting. So, he had let it go, and his safe word had become “tomatoes”. But he had stubbornly decided he would never use it, as a small rebellion. And then he had to use it, and it had saved him.
Saved him from what, even Nandor didn’t seem to know. He insisted that it had been an impulse, and he hadn’t thought that far ahead, and Guillermo absolutely believed that. It was very Nandor, to do something reckless on impulse. They had talked about it, and talked around it, until they were both sick of the topic and until Guillermo was fairly sure something like that would never happen again, and yet still he wore his crucifix, and still he had the nightmares.
During waking hours, his desire for Nandor had not diminished in the slightest, and Nandor seemed to feel the same, but that, too, was different. The sex games had become a little more intense, and they were less careful about privacy than they had been before. Nandor had never cared about that, and many of Guillermo’s remaining inhibitions had been erased by the events of those few days; Laszlo and Nadja’s voyeurism, Nandor’s aggressive act right in the foyer, and the drafting of the contract with the participation of the whole household made modesty seem pointless. So that now, on any given night, they could be found in any room of the house, in various stages of undress, making out, groping each other, or fucking like it was their job. They had become nearly as wanton as Laszlo and Nadja.
They took breaks to go hunting, of course. They both had to eat, after all. One night, as Guillermo walked alone and Nandor watched from a distance, a mugger had tried to make Guillermo his next victim. Nandor had swooped down and made short work of him, and afterwards Guillermo had taken Nandor from behind against an alley wall in sight of the corpse. Nandor’s beard had still been dripping with blood. It had left a red streak on the wall that blended nicely with the graffiti. So yeah, some things had changed.
One early evening they were sparring in the cavernous basement room that housed the cage. Guillermo had become very interested in defensive techniques recently (for some reason) and Nandor had agreed to teach him some things. Nandor was saying, “We will start off with some basic staff fighting techniques.” He held up a hand to ward off any objections. “I know you already know how to use a staff, but your skills are instinctive, untrained.”
Nandor stood calmly and steadily, facing Guillermo, holding two six-foot long wooden sticks loosely in one hand. He was barefoot and shirtless, wearing his embroidered shalvarak pants. Guillermo balanced precariously on his toes, being careful not to fall between the bars. He gripped the staff Nandor handed to him tightly as if it would save him if he fell.
“Explain again please,” said Guillermo anxiously as he wobbled and almost slipped, “why we have to do this on top of the cage?”
Nandor sighed. “Because, Guillermo, you need to learn actual techniques, and you will learn nothing if you just go with your instincts. Fighting with a staff on the ground is too easy for you.” He spun the staff in one hand, then took a wide stance, one foot forward, weight on his back foot. He grasped the staff in a middle grip, hands about shoulder-width apart. He held it at an angle in front of him, right hand palm-up and the left palm-down. “Doing it up here will keep you off balance and force you to concentrate and listen to what I’m teaching you. Now, what I am going to show you is called Fiore’s Block. It is a very old defensive technique.” He paused, shrugged. “Maybe not as old as me, but very old just the same.” He waved the bottom end of his staff at Guillermo’s feet. “Find your balance and take an open stance, like I’m doing, do you see?”
Guillermo carefully reached one foot back so each foot was resting on a flat steel bar about 15 inches apart. He twirled his own staff a few times as well, not wanting to give Nandor the psychological advantage. He bounced a bit on his toes until he found his balance. “Ready,” he said.
“Okay, good. Now,” Nandor beckoned with his fingers while still holding the staff, “try to hit me.”
With a shout, Guillermo swung his staff sideways from his dominant side, hard, aiming for Nandor’s head. Nandor moved fluidly, driving the staff forward, and planting the bottom tip on one of the bars in front of his feet. He slid his left hand up to meet his right. With his left hand still gripping the staff, he swung the tip to the left to meet Guillermo’s staff with a resounding crack. Guillermo attempted to counter by swinging the other end of his staff toward Nandor’s other side. With his right hand, Nandor reached out and grabbed Guillermo’s staff, easily pulling it out of his hands, disarming him. Guillermo stood empty-handed, frowning. “How did you do that?”
Nandor tossed Guillermo his staff. “Again,” was all he said. Guillermo stepped forward, but this time he speared the end of the staff toward Nandor at his own head height, attempting to jab him in the throat. Nandor again planted the staff on a bar at his feet, stepping to one side behind his staff to avoid the jab. He tilted the top of the staff to the right. Guillermo’s staff banged against Nandor’s with enough force that it knocked one of Guillermo’s hands free. This time, instead of disarming Guillermo, Nandor produced a dagger from somewhere. He spun around, using his planted staff as a wall between himself and Guillermo’s weapon. He slid between Guillermo and his staff and brought the knife up to Guillermo’s throat. Guillermo scrambled backwards quickly and took a deep breath. He rebalanced himself, placing each trainer-clad foot on one of the places where the bars crossed. He gritted his teeth. “You’re doing it too fast!”
“Nonsense. You can do this, Guillermo, it’s easy.” He hid the dagger away again. “Notice how the staff always has two points of contact: either my two hands,” he demonstrated holding the staff at an angle, “or one hand and the floor, or in this case, the bar.” He tapped the cell bar at his feet lightly with the tip of the staff. “I’ll come at you this time, and you try to block.”
Guillermo was ready and nodded his head grimly at Nandor. Nandor lunged, slowly and deliberately. Guillermo attempted to plant the tip of his staff on a bar, but he missed. He lost his balance, dropping the staff. As he fell forward into Nandor’s arms, his staff slipped between the bars and landed on the floor of the cell with a clatter. He looked up at Nandor’s grinning face. Nandor said, “Want to have sex up here on top of the cell?”
Guillermo was weighing the pros and cons of that suggestion when his phone rang. “Shit,” he said, struggling out of Nandor’s arms. His phone was on the floor wrapped in his cardigan. He scrambled quickly down the side of the cage and hurried to grab his phone. He looked at it briefly, then answered. Nandor, still holding his staff, floated down to stand beside him as he said, “Hola, Ma.”
“Tell Sylvia ‘Hi’ from me,” whispered Nandor. Guillermo waved him off.
“What’s happening, Mama?” Guillermo asked in Spanish.
“Memo, I didn’t want to bother you with this because there’s nothing you can do about it and I don’t want you to worry. But you did make me promise to call you. So, I’m calling.”
Guillermo was instantly on high alert. His stomach did a little flip. He had completely forgotten the conversation with his mother a week ago at her apartment, but now he remembered it, and he remembered the topic. Holy shit. “Are they there? Right now, in the building?” He gathered his bundle of clothes in one hand and ran up the stairs to the door.
“Heeey! Where are you going, Guillermo?” called Nandor.
Still running, Guillermo pressed the phone to his chest and yelled back, “Come with me! Hurry!” He returned the phone to his ear as he barreled up the basement stairs, Nandor right behind him.
His mother was explaining what was happening in Guillermo’s old neighborhood. Guillermo listened as he ran down the hall to Nandor’s room.
“Okay, Mami, thanks for letting me know. Stay in the apartment, don’t let anyone in…Yes, of course you are a citizen, but they don’t care! Just stay inside, okay? Please.”
Guillermo hung up just as they arrived in Nandor’s room. He turned to Nandor who was following him closely. “Nandor, I’m going down to the lair to dress and get some weapons. Would you please gather the others? I need everyone.”
Nandor didn’t ask any questions. He just nodded and headed down the hall, still shirtless in his sparring clothes. “Bring up my good sword!” he shouted to Guillermo, then to everyone else, “Everyone! House meeting!”
At the bottom of the elevator shaft, Guillermo dressed quickly. During the last week he had moved out of the potting shed and brought his things down to the Lair, since he slept there most nights anyway. When he was dressed, he slotted his throwing knives, his fighting knives, and his stabbing knives into their places in his chest and thigh rigs. He tucked a couple more into his boots. Lastly, he grabbed Nandor’s “good sword”, which was just his favorite heavy longsword, in its scabbard. As an afterthought he grabbed a couple of extra knives for Nandor.
When he reached the ground floor, Nandor was dressed and waiting for him. Guillermo handed him the sword which he buckled around his waist. He held out the extra knives, but Nandor waved him off. “I have some knives already, thank you. When are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
Guillermo didn’t pause long; he immediately headed down the hall. “Is everyone gathered?”
“Yes,” Nandor followed him. “They are in the Fancy Room.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you all at once.” He had the beginnings of a plan, but it needed fleshing out. If it worked, all his vampire housemates would eat well for months.
“Can you at least tell me where we are going, Guillermo?”
“The Bronx!”
-----
Guillermo walked carefully down the middle of the icy street near his mother’s apartment building, alone. There was no traffic, but snowed-in cars lined the sides of the road. The block was dotted with groups of men in tactical camo gear, wearing masks and carrying huge guns. As he walked, some of the men turned toward him, watching him approach. Strangely, he didn’t feel any fear. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was just his life. They were bad men, but they were just men. Guillermo had spent half his life surrounded by people who were far more dangerous than these men could ever hope to be, and he had held his own. Their big guns, it seemed to Guillermo, were nothing more than compensation.
In addition to the men with bullet-proof vests and guns, there were several knots of civilians scattered about. They all had their cellphones out, waiting for something to record. Some of the civilians were arguing or shouting insults. The main bulk of the protesting was happening the next street over. Guillermo could hear chanting and singing.
A couple of the men in camo and masks broke off from their group and approached Guillermo. He stopped walking and waited. A nearby civilian held up his phone in a shaking hand and pointed it at them. The men stopped in front of Guillermo, standing very close to him, their guns pointed at the ground. One of them said, “Sir, do you have business in this neighborhood? Do you live here?”
Guillermo said, “Que? No hablo Ingles.”
The men looked at each other. One said, “No English.” The other raised his voice and spoke slowly to Guillermo. “Sir, are you a citizen of this country? I need to see some identification.”
Guillermo switched to English but affected a Mexican accent. Channeling his cousin Miguel, he lifted his chin, glared at the men and growled, “Nah, pendejos. I don’t gotta show you shit.” At this show of defiance, one of the men took a step toward Guillermo and attempted to grab his arm. Guillermo stepped back, easily evading him. They started to shout conflicting orders at him, one telling him to put his hands up, another yelling that he should lie down on the ground. Guillermo didn’t move. Just as the men were bringing their weapons up to point them at him, a fourth man joined their huddle.
This new man was dressed almost like the others, down to the mask and camo pants; the only difference was that he had a bandana around his bald head instead of a wool beanie. Like the others, he was carrying a very large gun, and every pocket of his cargo vest was filled with knives, grenades, mace, pepper spray, and at least one heavy wooden baton. “Hey there, homies,” said the newcomer loudly. “What have we caught? Little Mexican rabbit in our trap, eh? What should we do with him, chums?” The two armed men stopped shouting and looked at the third with expressions of surprise. He drew his baton from its holster and poked Guillermo with it. “Looks to me,” he said authoritatively, “like this one is gonna be trouble. Maybe we should restrain him.” He reached into a vest pocket for a set of handcuffs and promptly dropped them. “Whoopsie! Butterfingers, that’s me! Heh heh!” As he bent over to pick up his handcuffs he dropped his gun, bumped one of the men with his head, and farted on the other one. Guillermo took another step back as the two men swayed on their feet and crumpled to the ground all at once. Colin Robinson looked around at the man with the phone, who was still recording. His eyes were glowing blue. He said loudly, “Drunk, I guess! These guys sure know how to party!” He glared back at Guillermo, then winked. Guillermo, unaffected by the draining, turned and walked in the other direction, as the energy vampire picked up his dropped items and wandered over to join another group of three armed men. As he approached them, Guillermo heard him say, “Heil, Freunde! What say we pull out a pocket Constitoosh and see what we can get away with today!“
Spotting another little clutch of armed men a few yards further down the street, Guillermo shouted “Hey assholes!” When they turned and looked, he yelled, “Chupa mis bolas!”, flipped them off with both hands, then slipped through a gap in some chain link into a fog-filled alley. The mist caressed his calves as he ran down the alley, stopped four or five yards in, and turned. “Get ready,” he hissed. “They’re coming.”
It was after midnight. The chants of protesters could be heard from the other end of the alley, on the next block. A modest amount of light filtered in from streetlights and a sliver of moon that was about to slide behind a building. Guillermo couldn’t see in the dark, but he was used to dim light and his eyes adjusted quickly. He flung the sides of his coat behind him to make his various weapons more accessible, and he waited.
He didn’t wait long. Seconds after he entered the alley, a helmeted head peeked around the corner. Seeing only Guillermo, standing there alone, he beckoned behind him and stepped carefully through the gap in the chain link. Two more men pushed the gap wider and entered behind the first. They spread out across the alleyway, blocking Guillermo’s exit. They pointed their guns at him. They were all dressed the same, in masks, helmets, and bulletproof vests with cargo vests over them. This was the most dangerous part of Guillermo’s plan.
The first man, who appeared to be the leader, held one calming hand out toward Guillermo. He said, “Easy. Don’t give us any trouble, little man. You’re under arrest.” He motioned to his companions. They each took a step closer. The mist at their feet swirled and eddied around their boots. “Just comply, and you won’t be hurt.”
Another said, “Mexico is nice and warm this time of year, amigo.” The third laughed and, without warning, started to run toward Guillermo.
Between Guillermo and the approaching men, a caped figure coalesced, rising tall, broad shouldered and menacing out of the mist. He drew a sword, swinging it around a few times. The running man halted just shy of running into Nandor. The men, correctly perceiving the vampire as the greater threat, turned their guns away from Guillermo and toward Nandor. They began to shoot. Nandor looked down at his chest. “Heeey!” he shouted over the sound of gunfire. “Guillermo! They are shooting holes in my new hunting clothes!”
Guillermo was backing carefully away so as not to get shot, but the men only had eyes for Nandor. “What are you?” shouted one of them. Nandor had heard prey shout similar panicked questions hundreds of times in dozens of languages, and he ignored it. Almost faster than the human eye could see, Nandor spun and whipped his sword around, his hair flying around him like a dark halo. He beheaded one of the men, then grabbed the second by the head and broke his neck. The third screamed and tried to run, but Nandor caught him up in his arms and ripped his throat out with his fangs, draining him in a matter of seconds. He dropped his meal on the brick floor in front of him. He eyed the corpses for a few seconds to make sure they were completely dead, then he looked up at Guillermo.
Guillermo was staring open-mouthed at the blood-covered vampire. He hurried to him, stepping onto the body of the man at Nandor’s feet. Standing there, the height difference between them was nearly eliminated. He grabbed the front of Nandor’s tunic with gloved hands and pulled him into a quick, fierce, and feral kiss. He broke away almost immediately and growled, “You are so fucking hot.” He reached down and squeezed Nandor’s balls affectionately. “I wanna go down on you right now, kneeling on the floor of this filthy alleyway.” He smashed his lips against Nandor’s bloody mouth again.
Nandor blinked twice. Guillermo could almost hear the gears grinding as the vampire’s brain attempted to shift out of warrior mode and into talking-to-human-I-like-to-have-sex-with mode. It failed. He put one arm around Guillermo’s waist, holding him steady. “Guillermo,” he rumbled, meeting his eyes intently. “That would be highly inappropriate at this juncture. There are people just around the corner who will be extremely motivated to shoot you as soon as they see what we have done, and you are not bullet-proof.” Guillermo, standing on the corpse, wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. Nandor regarded him. “Also, we should talk about this blood lust.” He tilted his head suddenly. “More are coming.”
Guillermo heard them too: alarmed shouting and the sound of running feet – more agents approaching. Guillermo hopped to the ground, took two steps and jumped, pushed off the alley wall with one foot, turned in mid-air, and leaped onto an abandoned refrigerator. From there he jumped onto the top of a dumpster, ran across it, and in seconds he was lying flat on a fire escape platform. He peeked over the edge to watch Nandor work. Three more agents pushed their way into the alley and ran at Nandor, shouting and firing their guns. Nandor evaded and slashed, his eyes fierce and his fangs showing. His sword made bloody messes of two of the men. He grabbed the last one by the throat and lifted him into the air.
Nandor’s back was turned as another armed agent silently entered the alley. He looked around at the carnage surrounding him, and at the ferocious warrior standing in the middle of it holding one of his colleagues high in the air. To his credit, even though he was clearly terrified, he approached Nandor stealthily from behind, bringing up his gun. Acting out of instinct, Guillermo stood, aimed, and let fly all three of his kunai knives in a single smooth motion. The dead man dropped to the ground behind Nandor, who was busy with his captive and didn’t notice. He was holding the man by the throat with his left hand, waving his right hand in his face, and murmuring something to him. He set him back on his feet, and the man dropped his gun, took off his mask, and walked calmly away. Nandor watched his enthralled victim exit the alley as Guillermo climbed down from his perch.
They stood side by side admiring the pile of corpses for a few seconds. “What did you tell him?”
“What we discussed. He’ll show up at the house tomorrow night, convinced that there are undocumented individuals living there.”
“Which is true,” Guillermo said. “I better get back out there, bait some more of them. Are you okay here?”
“Yes. Be careful.”
Guillermo ran to the end of the alley and checked that the coast was clear. He slipped past the chain link and back onto the street. Nandor watched him go, then turned to the chore of cleaning up the corpses. It was familiar’s work, but this was a special situation. He picked up the bodies one or two at a time and threw them into the dumpster. There was a lot of blood; Nandor had killed a couple with a sword thrust through the heart. Kevlar was good at stopping bullets, not so good at stopping bladed weapons wielded by someone with Nandor’s strength and skill. With a booted foot, he rolled one of the bodies over. Three black knife handles stuck out of its chest, in a perfect grouping over the heart. Guillermo’s weapons. They had sliced right into the Kevlar vest. Nandor reached down and plucked out the knives, then looked thoughtfully after Guillermo. He shook his head, picked up Guillermo’s first human murder victim, and threw it in the dumpster with the others.
-----
Later, while Guillermo was checking on his mother, the vampires had taken the full dumpster and dropped it in the harbor near the Statue of Liberty. Then they all headed back to Staten Island. It was almost sunrise. In Colin Robinson’s car were just Guillermo, The Monster, and Colin Robinson. The others had flown home to beat the sun. Colin Robinson was asking his passengers for their “body count”.
“As for me, I counted at least six for sure and got a good drain off ten or so more, but not a permanent drain, if you know what I mean.” He chuckled warmly. “How about you, Monster?” He directed this to the back seat.
“Two big ones, one little one,” said The Monster. “Had to stay in shadows mostly. Scared some, too. They ran,” he said proudly.
“That’s great, buddy! How about you, Gizmo?” He reached out with his right hand and patted Guillermo on the shoulder, just a little bit too hard.
Guillermo sighed. He really didn’t want to talk about this. He wasn’t worried about being drained by Colin Robinson; he had so little energy left after the strenuous activity of the night that there wasn’t much for Colin Robinson to take. It just seemed kind of gauche to count people you’d killed. “Nandor did all the work, really. I just lured them in.” It occurred to him that it was not much different than what he’d been doing his entire career as a familiar: luring humans for Nandor to kill. He sighed again. He was so exhausted. He just wanted to sleep. “As a team, if I had to guess, I’d say maybe a dozen?”
“Really? For heck’s sake, that’s a good start! Should put the fear of God into ‘em!”
Guillermo shrugged. “It’s a drop in the bucket. They’ve got an army.”
“Chin up! You can’t have expected to eliminate an entire government agency with four vampires and a Monster.” He put his hand on Guillermo’s shoulder again, gently shaking it just one time too many and finishing with a soft squeeze. Colin Robinson was an expert at knowing how much was a little too much. “Boy, I’m just gettin’ nothin’ from you. You doin’ okay?”
Guillermo shrugged listlessly. “Tired.”
Colin Robinson gave up on trying to drain him, but continued to drone on about the budget, personnel, hiring practices and training regimen of the agency in question while Guillermo tuned him out. He looked out the side window and was quiet the rest of the way home.
-----
Guillermo woke up the next night having slept like the dead. He had gone to sleep in his clothes after stripping out of his coat and his weapons. No nightmares had disturbed him, though he suspected that was due more to exhaustion than a suddenly healthy psyche. When he arrived at the top of the elevator shaft, still foggy from sleep, he found that the vampires were all up and in a festive mood. For several hours, since sundown, men had been showing up at the house, singly or in pairs, hypnotized into believing they would have an easy time capturing some “illegals” at the old mansion in Staten Island. Arriving still hypnotized and without their weapons, they had been politely invited in, graciously offered a tour, then led down the stairs to the cage and locked in. The cage was nearly full already, and the housemates were excitedly discussing where they should store the ones that were still expected. Their arrival had been staggered according to a strict plan, to avoid having the neighbors disturbed or frightened by an army of camo-wearing masked men appearing all at once on the lawn.
Guillermo didn’t join the discussion. He cooked himself some food in the kitchen, went to another room, and sat down to eat and watch the news. On the TV, the anchors were discussing events that had happened in one Bronx neighborhood in the early hours of the morning. Dozens of government agents had disappeared without a trace. The speculation was that they had either been outnumbered and taken out by gangs, or that they had, at the urging of the crowds who had been protesting nearby, laid down their arms and quit their jobs, going home to their families in their own cities. The anchors expressed their fervent hope that the latter would turn out to be the case, and that the missing men would turn up safe and sound very soon. “Not likely,” muttered Guillermo. He muted the TV and picked up his phone.
On social media, the news was even more interesting. There were several shaky and dimly lit videos of what appeared to be a huge man-like creature coming up behind an armed agent, placing his hands on either side of his head, and crushing that head in the most bloody and gruesome way imaginable. “Uh oh,” thought Guillermo, frowning at his phone. But as soon as he started going through the comments, he breathed a sigh of relief. The consensus seemed to be that they were all AI slop. In fact, one smug creator painstakingly dissected one of the videos, explaining in exacting detail how you could tell that it was AI.
“Don’t fall for it, folks!” the creator concluded. Guillermo reminded himself for the thousandth time not to underestimate people’s tendency to ignore what was right in front of their noses. It was the main reason the vampires were still alive.
He was still scrolling when Nandor found him. He approached the couch and Guillermo turned to face forward, setting his feet on the floor and putting away his phone. Nandor sat down beside him. He had a worried expression on his face, and his body language said the same. He was sitting with his legs together, holding his hands in front of him, playing with one of his rings. “What is it? What’s wrong?” asked Guillermo, suddenly concerned.
“Nothing is wrong…with me,” the vampire responded. “We all want to thank you for…our outing, your plan. You were right; we will eat well for a while.” He took a breath. “But there is something wrong with you, Guillermo. You are not okay.” Guillermo was about to disagree, but Nandor reached out and put a finger on his lips. “Shh, don’t deny it.”
Guillermo pulled back. “We both know what’s wrong with me. But I’m talked out about it.” He leaned back on the couch and picked up his phone again. “I know you’re sorry; you’ve told me a thousand times. I just need time, that’s all.”
“Guillermo,” began Nandor gently. “Did you even realize that you killed a human tonight?” Guillermo froze. Slowly he put down his phone. He remembered his instinctive reaction to the man sneaking up behind Nandor. He had thrown his knives, the man had fallen, and…he had never even checked if he was still alive. He had just assumed he was dead, and he had kept moving without giving him a second thought.
Nandor pulled the knives out of his pocket and held them out to Guillermo. He took them, looked at them. There was still blood on their red blades. “What happened to the man I killed,” he asked softly.
“He’s with the others, at the bottom of the harbor.” Nandor slid a little closer to Guillermo on the couch. “I think…that was your first time. Am I wrong about that?” Guillermo shook his head. “I know you have killed many vampires, but killing one of your own kind…it’s different. I know what it is like, to kill a human for the first time.” Nandor faced the TV, but Guillermo didn’t think he was watching it. His eyes were far away. “I don’t remember the second, or the third, or the hundredth. But I remember the first. I was young. It was a battle, and he was the enemy. But… it changed me.” He turned and regarded Guillermo intently. “And it will change you.”
“I don’t feel sorry for them,” said Guillermo defiantly. He frowned up at Nandor’s face. “They had it coming.”
“I’m not going to disagree with you. But it’s not the point.” Nandor reached out and ran the back of his hand down the side of Guillermo’s face. He was looking at him with such fondness that Guillermo let go of his defiance, at least for the moment. He closed his eyes and leaned into the caress. “I have a gift for you,” Nandor said. Guillermo watched him reach into another pocket and pull something out. “Close your eyes and hold out your hand.” Guillermo only hesitated for a second before he did as he was bid. Nandor placed something cool, round, and smooth in his palm. Guillermo opened his eyes.
It was a rock. A smooth black stone flattened and slightly oval and about two inches in diameter. It fit neatly into Guillermo’s palm. “A rock,” he said blankly. He looked quizzically at Nandor.
Nandor reached out with a long finger and tapped the stone where it lay in Guillermo’s hand. “It’s not just a rock, Guillermo. It is a patience stone.” When Guillermo didn’t respond, Nandor continued, “After we dropped off the bodies, I went to the beach. I had to search a long time to find the proper kind of stone. There aren’t many smooth black stones on the beaches of Staten Island.”
“I’m surprised there were any. But what is a… patience stone?”
“It is a legend from my childhood. I remembered it last night. I thought it might help you.” He slid a little closer and put one arm around Guillermo’s shoulder. Guillermo rested his head on Nandor’s chest, still holding the stone in his open hand and looking at it. “You are supposed to talk to it.”
Guillermo scoffed. “Talk to it? Why?”
Guillermo couldn’t see Nandor’s face, but his voice continued smoothly. He seemed unbothered by Guillermo’s tone. “You talk to it, and you tell it all about your worries, burdens, and… trauma.” Here he paused for a long time. Guillermo held still and waited. “Your traumas, as I said, and the stone fills up.” Nandor tapped the stone in Guillermo’s hand again. “Do this six times. Then the stone will be full. When it is full, we will either crush the stone, or we will go together to find a peaceful place for you to leave it.”
Guillermo shook his head against Nandor’s chest. He closed his fingers over the stone. His body heat was beginning to warm it. “I don’t get it. What’s the point?”
Nandor sighed. “The point is to release your burdens. The stone takes them, and when you let the stone go, you also, symbolically, let go of… whatever the stone holds.”
Guillermo gripped the stone harder. More talking, he thought bitterly. But at least a stone couldn’t tell him he was crazy. “Does it work?”
“I don’t know.” Nandor shrugged. “I am skeptical by nature, as you know. And it is not magical; it’s just a stone from the beach. But in recent years many things I thought to be myths turned out to be real. So…maybe.”
Guillermo opened his hand and looked at the small flat stone again. He reflected on the fact that Nandor had searched for this particular black stone, on a beach in the dark, at what must have been nearly dawn. It might have been the most thoughtful thing he had ever done for him. He put the stone in his pocket. He sat up straight and turned and looked at Nandor, who was smiling at him. “Thank you,” he said. What the heck; it couldn’t hurt.