Real Vampires Have Curves by Gerry Bartlett

raised his eyes to mine. “What’s your name?”
    â€œRaymond Whitelaw.”
    â€œRaymond, tell me what the vampire looked like.”
    Ray touched his throat. “Vampire. Yes. Tall.”
    â€œMan or woman?”
    â€œMan. Strong.”
    A tall man. Swell, that only fit about twenty vamps in the Austin area that I knew of.
    â€œHair color?”
    â€œLight. Pretty hair. Like snow.”
    Now we were getting somewhere. A white haired vamp. I’d known a few and they were certainly easy to spot. But I hadn’t met one here in Austin.
    â€œYou remember anything else about him, Raymond?” I kept my voice steady and calm. Ray just kept holding his empty bottle. “Think hard.”
    â€œHe prayed.” Ray shook his head. “Weird. Called God and Jesus. Vampires like Satan. I like Satan.”
    I felt rage boil up in me and it was all I could do not to rip Ray’s throat out and toss him into a dumpster somewhere. Vamps do have a primitive side, I admit it. And when we’re riled . . . Don’t make a vamp mad, that’s what I’m saying.
    I paced the store until I’d cooled down enough to speak. Satan worshiper. Excuse me, but just because I live forever and can drink blood doesn’t mean I’m a raving demon from hell. I was raised in a very religious household. Scary religious. And you don’t just get over that. When I fell for an actor, my folks considered me a lost cause. After years of soul searching, I’m pretty sure I answer to a higher power, not a lower one.
    I took Ray’s water bottle and held his hand. He’d unbuttoned his coat and I could see a student ID clipped to his belt. What was he studying? Dumbass 101?
    â€œRaymond, you’re going to go home now. You’re not going to remember anything about this night. But you are going to remember that vampires are good and kind. Vampires are God-fearing creatures, not demons from hell. Do you hear me, Raymond?”
    Ray nodded.
    â€œAnd, Raymond,” I couldn’t resist, more my parents’ child than I’d ever admitted to them. “You will love God, not Satan. Satan is bad. God loves you. And,” okay, I had my own agenda, “He hates black lipstick.”
    Ray nodded. “God loves me. Hates black lipstick.” He rubbed his mouth on his black coat sleeve. He looked a fool with black smears on his face and I couldn’t care less.
    â€œYes. Good man.” I pulled him to his feet and led him to the door. I looked through the glass and saw Damian standing there. I threw the dead bolts and opened the door.
    â€œWho’s this?” My suave sophisticated seducer looked ready to tear the man’s head off. So Damian had his own primitive streak. Good to know.
    â€œTell you in a minute.” I led Raymond to the curb. “Where’s your car, Raymond?”
    â€œDon’t have one. Rode the bus.”
    I glanced at my watch. “Oh, hell, the buses aren’t going to be running this time of night. Will you take him home, Damian?” The vamp-mobile was sitting at the curb, the motor still running.
    â€œI’ll take him home if you’ll come with us.”
    I looked up and down the street. No potential customers on the sidewalk, though the coffee bar next door had a few customers taking advantage of the Wi-Fi connections.
    My first night and I had to close. Well, maybe I didn’t have to. But I was tired, my feet ached and Damian had ridden to my rescue without question. If he wanted my company, I wasn’t going to argue. Damian loaded Ray into the backseat. I locked up, stuck my keys in my pocket and settled in while Ray told Damian his address.
    â€œHe’s still in a daze. I had to put him under.”
    â€œI can see that. What happened?”
    I told him as he drove through the nearly deserted streets. Ten minutes later, we pulled up in front of a ratty looking rooming house for students. Damian dragged Ray