Vampire's Vengeance

Tom Jurgen’s worst nightmare comes true when a vampire kidnaps him—and then turns him into a vampire too. There’s only one cure, and it may kill him—if the vamp doesn’t kill him first.

Vampire's Vengeance, Part One

My skull ached as I opened my eyes.

I couldn’t sit up. After blinking for a few moments in the darkness, I realized that chains held my wrists and ankles. I was lying on top of a futon rack. Without any actual futon, just hard wooden slats under my shoulders and butt.

What the hell?

            I’d been walking home from the grocery store, carrying two heavy bags of groceries. Coke, beer, bottled water, and ingredients for the chick pea/rice dinner I was planning to make for my girlfriend Rachel. Rounding the corner of our street I put the bags down and wiped my forehead. The sun was down, but the air was muggy. I leaned down to grab my bags again—

            —And then I was here.

“H-hello?” My throat was hoarse. “Hello! Help?”

            After a few minutes I heard a door open. A lightbulb in the ceiling stabbed my eyes.

            “Thomas Jurgen.” The voice was low and raspy. “Finally.”

            “Huh?” I tried to lift my head. “Yeah, present. Who are you? What’s going on?”

            He had pale skin, high cheekbones, and almost no hair. His teeth were yellow when he smiled.

            He had fangs.

            Great. A vampire.

I’ve met some vampires in my line of work. Most private detectives don’t, but I somehow seem to attract the supernatural element.

I pulled at the chains. But they were solid. I wasn’t getting out of here.

            Oh god. “Who . . .” I had trouble breathing. “Who are you?”

            “I’m Arrikin.” He leaned down over me. “You killed a friend of mine. Parthenol.” Her lips lifted in a smirk. “You probably don’t even remember her, do you?”

            “Who?” The names meant nothing to me. Vamps take new names once they’re completely gone over. “What are you talking about?”

            He slapped my face hard enough to twist my neck. “We hunted together. We shared the same coffin. It was during the reign of Asmodeus.”

Asmodeus? He was dead. The Vampire Wars had ended years ago. Since then things in Chicago had calmed down. I hadn’t dealt with any vamp cases in more than a year.

But some were still out there. Hunting.

I gulped. “W-what do you want?”

His eyes gleamed red. “I’m not going to kill you.”

            Good. Was that good? “Then why—what—I mean . . .” I gulped. “Could I have a drink of water?”

            Arrikin smirked. “You’re going to drink soon.”

            He pushed my head to one side and ripped my T-shirt down. Oh no. Oh no . . .

            I closed my eyes. His breath smelled like swamp water. I pulled at the chains as hard as I could, and fought to twist my body away. But it was no use. I bit my lip, sweating all over, and felt Arrikin’s fangs on my throat . . .

I woke up in darkness again.

            Licking my lips, I tasted something wet and coppery. I was thirstier than before.

            I sat up. The chains were gone. I tried to stand up, but my legs shook too hard. I hit the concrete floor and groaned, too weak to move.

            I rubbed my hand over my face, desperately thirsty, trying to lap up whatever moisture I could find, even if it was my own sweat. Or tears. My throat felt raw as sandpaper. I clenched my fists and pounded the floor. More. I needed more.

            I licked my fingers and tasted—blood.

Worse, it tasted good.

            Oh hell.

            When a vampire drains a human, the person dies. But when a vampire feeds on a human, then shares some of its blood with its victim—the human becomes a vampire.

            Arrikin’s revenge was turning me into a vampire.

            I tried to think. But my mind was mush. All I wanted was more blood. Any blood. My head ached worse than before. I pressed my hand against my chest. I could feel a heartbeat—a weak one. How long would it last before I got fresh blood?

            I rolled over and looked at the futon rack. Made of wood. Maybe I could rip a slat out, and maybe it would have a sharp edge. Maybe I could drive it into my chest. Maybe . . .

            But I was too weak. Too hungry for blood.

            Too scared.

            I closed my eyes and patted my pockets, but Arrikin had taken my phone. Of course. I licked my lips again, aching for blood.

            I looked around. The room was small and empty except for the futon rack. A shaded window near the ceiling told me I was in a basement. Could I climb up and break it to get outside? Was it daytime? I wasn’t sure I could even crawl to the door. But I tried.

            Halfway across the floor I collapsed, gasping for breath. I rolled onto my back and tried to gather some strength. I might have passed out again.

The door opened. Arrikin. Not alone this time.

            He was dragging a young blond woman. Her hands and mouth were wrapped with gray duct tape, but her feet were free. No shoes. Her eyes were dark blue—and terrified. She wore a white blouse and jeans, and she slumped when the vampire shoved her to the floor.

            “She’s for you.” Arrikin chuckled. “Feed.”

            I stared at the woman. I could smell her sweat. A trail of blood ran down her lower lip, and I could practically taste it from here. I could hear her pounding heart.

            Arrikin leaned at the door, watching.

            “You don’t have fangs yet.” He showed his. “They’ll come in a few days. So you’ll have to rip her throat out with the teeth you have to get her blood. If you don’t, you’ll die of thirst. Welcome to the night.”

            He looked down at the woman. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

            He left, slamming the door behind him.

            The woman squirmed, staring up at me, desperate tears leaking from her eyes. She shook her head. No . . . no . . . no . . .

I stared at her throat. A vein pulsed near her shoulder.

I bit my lip.

Could I do this? I scooted forward on my knees. The woman lifted a bare foot. Kicked at my face. It hurt.

            I grabbed her ankle. My hands shook. Then I reared up, pushing her leg to the ground, and reached for her head.

            She twisted her face back and forth, trying to pull away. Her body struggled beneath me.

Then I pulled the duct tape off her face.

            “I don’t want to hurt you.” My voice was hoarse. “I’m Tom. Who are you?”

            She coughed. “A-Angelica. What the hell is going on?”

            “He’s a vampire. I’m a . . . a vampire.” I hated saying it out loud. But it was true. I used to be a reporter. True facts are important—no matter how much they hurt.

I stuck the tape on the floor and pulled on her shoulder. “Let me get this off of you.”

            I unwrapped the duct tape from her wrists, managing not to twist it up too much. She punched my chest as she sat up and scuttled away, giving me the finger. “Get away from me, you asshole! Get away—”

            “All right!” I held up my hands. “I get it. We need to get out of here. Before . . .” Before I got too hungry. “Before he comes back.”

            She looked at the door. “Vampire?”

            “Y-yeah. They’re . . . real.” I tried to catch my breath. “Not too many of them, but—”

            “I have two girlfriends who were attacked.” Angelica scrambled to her feet. “One of them almost died from blood loss.”

            “Okay.” At least I didn’t have to waste time arguing about vamps. I sank down onto the floor. “Is it night outside?”

            “What?” She seemed confused. “Yeah. It was . . . maybe four in the morning? I was out late—”

            So I’d been here at least 24 hours. Rachel would be going crazy. “All right.” I took a deep breath. “Here’s what we need to do.”

Twenty minutes later I banged on the door with weak fists. “Hey, vamp!” Like my pounding, my voice wasn’t very strong. “Okay, I’m done! Get this body out of here!”

            Angelica lay on the floor, blood dripping from her ear. Hardly breathing. I pounded the door again, and then sat next to her on my knees, wiping my lips feverishly. 

            The door opened. Arrikin smiled. “Have you fed? The first time is the most important.”

            “I know.” I slid back on my butt. “You can have her now. I’m—I didn’t take everything. I still don’t want to do this.”

            He chuckled. “You don’t have a choice anymore. You’re doomed to hell, Tom Jurgen. From now on all you’ll want is blood. Any blood, from wherever you can take it. Until some human asshole decides to ram a stake into your heart. That’s how you’ll live and die. Just like Parthenol.”

            I tried to spit at him, but I didn’t have any moisture in my mouth. “Fuck you, vamp.”

            Arrikin laughed.

            Then Angelica sat up.

            She was stronger than me. She’d been able to break off some of the slats from the futon frame. Then we managed to use the duct tape to tie two pieces together into a cross.

It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it didn’t have to be. The cross was good enough to scare Arrikin and send him crashing back against the wall next to the door.

            “Run!” I told Angelica as I pushed myself to my feet. “Go!”

            Arrikin snarled. “Nice trick, Jurgen. But you won’t—”

            I lurched at him, reaching for my back pocket. For a shard of wood from the futon frame.

            I knew I didn’t have the strength to drive it into his chest. So I didn’t even aim there.

            Instead I shot it right into his eye.

            “AHHH!” Arrikin roared, clutching his face. Even vampires can feel pain.

            I stumbled for the door. Angelica was halfway up a flight of stairs, but she paused to reach a hand down for me. “Come on!”

            “Go!” I fell and started climbing on my hands and knees. “Just go!”

            Angelica dropped her hand. “Fine. You asshole.” She started back up the steps.

            She sounded like Rachel. Which made me want to get back to Rachel any way I could. So I bit my lip—tasting my own blood—and managed to get my feet steady and follow her up the steps while Arrikin stormed in the basement.

            On the main floor we looked around for a door outside. “Here!” Angelica waved an arm.

            It was a short hallway. Angelica ran and fumbled with the knob of a thick door. 

            Next to the door a small table held a wicker basket full of keys—and an assortment of phones. I snatched one up as Angelica pushed the door open.

            We staggered down a set of stone steps to a quiet street. Angelica held me up. I looked back and forth. Maybe a cab—

            But no taxi would pick us up. My clothes smeared with blood, and her blouse was ripped. She had to hold it closed as we ran down the sidewalk.

In less than a block I couldn’t run anymore. I leaned against a mailbox, trying to breathe.

            The sun was coming up over Lake Michigan. But Arrikin was still too close.

            I tried the phone. It was locked. “Damn it.”

            “Wait a minute.” She grabbed the phone from my fingers. “This is mine. I think. Just let me . . .”

            The password worked. She yelped in glee. “I’m going to call the police.”

            “Wait.” I shook my head. “I mean . . . let me make a call first. Please.”

            Angelica stared at me. “Who?”

            “My girlfriend.” This was going to be complicated. “I can’t—I’m a vampire now. I need help. Just let me do this, and I’ll leave you alone. Please.”

            She glared. “Fine.” She dropped the phone in my lap. “I’ll get home on my own.”

            “Wait . . .” I staggered to my feet. “When you get somewhere safe, call the CPD. Ask for Detective Anita Sharpe. Tell her everything—and tell her my name’s Tom Jurgen. She’ll knew what you’re talking about.”

            She sank down, exhausted. “What the hell is going on?”

            “I’ll just . . .” I tapped out Rachel’s number. “Tell you later. I’m sorry. But thanks.”

            Angelica rose up and staggered down the street as the sun peeked over the buildings.

            “Hello?” Rachel’s voice. “Hello?”

            “Rach—Rachel.” I closed my eyes. “It’s me. Tom.”

            “Where the hell are you?” Her angry shout was the best thing I could hear now. “Do you know what I’ve been thinking? What the hell’s going on? Wait, just tell me where you are. So I can come there and punch you.”

            “I’m at . . .” I checked the street signs. “Somewhere near Belmont and Broadway. I need help.”

            “Of course you do. I’ll be right there.”

            “Wait . . .” I closed my eyes. “You need to know something.”

            “What? That you’re an idiot? I know that already, just let me—”

            “I’m a vampire.” The sun was coming up, and I started to cry.

Vampire's Vengeance, Part Two

“What the hell happened?” Rachel shot the locks on our door. “You don’t come home, you don’t call, and now—”

            “Stay away from me!” I lifted my hands. “Just—don’t come too close.”

            She stared at me. “Oh, shit, Tom.” She lifted a hand. I backed away before she could touch me.

            Rachel’s psychic. A little. But it didn’t take a lot of psychic power to find something wrong with me

“I told you.” I sank down on the couch. “Arrikin—that’s his name—he turned me into . . .  I’m a . . . a vamp.”

            I stared at her. Her hazelnut eyes, her red hair . . . her skin. Her throat. “I’m so damn thirsty.”

            She circled the couch. “Just wait here. Don’t move.” She went into our bedroom.

            I was too weak to move anywhere. I tried to reach for the remote, but my hands shook too much for me to grasp anything. So instead I just rocked back and forth on the couch, trying to breathe.

            “Sit back.” Rachel grabbed an arm. “Hands back here . . . that’s good. Okay.” A lock clicked around my wrists. “Relax.”

            I lurched up. “Wait—why do you have handcuffs?”

            “It’s a long story.” She sat next to me. But not too close. “What happened to your phone?”

            “He took it. Arrikin. Angelica found hers . . .” It was in my pocket. I leaned forward. “I need something to drink. Anything. Please.”

            “Hang on.” She rushed into the kitchen and came back with a bottle of water. “Here.” She unscrewed the cap and poured it into my mouth.

            I swallowed, almost choking. It wasn’t blood, but it helped. “Okay. Thanks.”

            Rachel pulled out her phone. “I’m calling Sharpe.”

            “Yeah, fine.” I started to shiver. “Do that.”

            Detective Anita Sharpe wasn’t exactly a friend, but we’d worked together during the Vampire Wars. And afterward. She’d almost volunteered to become a vamp herself, but instead I’d become some kind of vampire ambassador in her place.

            It had been a long, horrible struggle.

            I put a hand on my chest. Still beating. Weakly. I wondered if I could stake myself.

            I couldn’t become a vampire. But I wasn’t sure I was ready to die.

            The sun was starting to filter through the shades on the windows. I hunched down.

            “Anita? Rachel, Tom’s girlfriend. Yeah, I know it’s early, but . . . sorry.” She switched on her the speaker. “Here’s the thing. I need to get Tom to a blood center for vamps.”

            “Huh.” Sharpe didn’t even sound that surprised. “They’re closed during daylight hours—”

            I groaned.

            “Jurgen?” She lifted her voice. “Why the hell do you need to go to an HBDC?”

            HBDC stood for Hemovore Blood Distribution Center. The city had set them up as part of the truce ending the Vampire Wars. A way for vamps to get blood without attacking people. It wasn’t perfect, and it hadn’t stopped every attack, but it had cut killings way down.

            I leaned forward. “There’s a vamp. Arrikin. He—he kidnapped me. Apparently I killed his girlfriend during the war, or something. Anyway, he . . . I’m . . .” I hung my head.

            I felt weak. Ashamed. Useless. Tom Jurgen, not-very-fearless private eye, sometime vampire hunter—and now I was one of them.

            But mostly I felt hungry for blood. I tried not to gaze at Rachel’s throat.

            “Wow.” Sharpe whistled. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do. Try not to kill anybody, all right?”

            I closed my eyes. “Yeah. I’ll try.”

I dozed on the couch. Rachel tried to feed me vegetable soup until I threw up in a conveniently-placed trashcan. Then she put on Buffy the Vampire Slayer just to taunt me and went into our shared office, locking the door behind her. But she came out every 15 minutes or so to make sure I hadn’t chewed through my shoulder to get free and change the channel.

            Two hours later Sharpe knocked at the door. Rachel peered through the peephole, checking her phone, and then slowly opened up. “Thanks. I was about to smother Tom with a blanket. Does that work on vampires?”

            Sharpe glared. Solidly built, African American, she was a good cop. But she held the brown paper bag in her hand like a crystal egg. “Here. You don’t want to know how I explained it to Hughes.”

            Commander Hughes was in charge of the Vampire Squad, such as it was these days. A small group of cops who’d fought in the wars. He didn’t like me. Pretty much cops don’t like me. Sharpe barely tolerates me.

            I missed Dudovich. We hadn’t been friends, exactly. For a couple of years she refused to believe anything I told her about the supernatural dangers around Chicago. But in the end she started to trust me, especially after seeing vamps up close and personal

Then the vampire king Asmodeus had killed her.

            I lurched up as Rachel unscrewed the bottle. “Okay . . . okay . . .”

            “Stay calm, cowboy.” Rachel knelt on the floor and held the bottle against my lips.

            It tasted like—well, I’ve never swallowed blood before. The taste didn’t matter. For a moment I felt alive again.

            I wanted to guzzle the whole bottle. But Rachel pulled it away, spilling a few drops over my chin and T-shirt. “Don’t be a hog, Tom. This has to last.”

            “Goddamn it!” I howled in rage. “You goddamn slut! I will eat you! I will rip your arms and legs off and then I’ll—”

            Then Sharpe had her handgun out, pointed straight at my face.

A bullet in the head might not kill a vamp, but it would hurt.

            “You apologize to this woman right now, Jurgen.” Her voice was low and even and full of menace. “She doesn’t deserve that. And you don’t deserve her.”

            Oh shit. I closed my eyes. “Sorry. I’m sorry, Rachel.” I tried not to cry. “Go ahead and shoot me, detective. You’ll be doing me a favor.”

            Rachel punched my arm. “Shut up. Jerk.”

            Sharpe holstered her weapon. “Does anyone want to explain to me what the hell is going on?”

            I told her the whole story, everything I could remember. From lugging groceries to staggering out onto the street with Angelica and calling Rachel.

            Sharpe took notes on a tablet. “Did you get her last name?”

            “Uh . . .” I tried to think. “No. Just Angelica.”

            She smirked. “Some detective you are.”

             “I told her to call you. By name.” I leaned over. I wanted more blood. “Wait . . . I’ve got her phone.”

            Rachel fished Angelica’s phone from my pocket and tossed it over.

            Sharpe looked it over. “Well, we’ll check it out. Good thing it’s daylight.” She shoved the phone in her pocket. “Okay. I’m leaving now. Sorry about pulling my gun on you.”

            I managed a shrug. “Thanks for not shooting me.”

            Rachel locked up after she left. “You feeling any better?”

            I nodded. “You might want to get a stake.”

            She pounded a foot on the floor. “Goddamn it, I am not going to stake you! No matter what you call me!”

            “You might have to.” I didn’t want it, but I didn’t want to live like this. Or be a danger to Rachel. “But I was thinking about Arrikin. He knows where we live.”

            “Oh. Right.” She picked up the bottle of blood. “This is going into the refrigerator. Maybe you can have some later. If you’re good.”

            I nodded. “Yeah.”

I managed to sleep for a few hours in the afternoon. When I woke up, near twilight, Rachel was locking the door again. “Hi. I’m back. Sleep any?”

            I tried to sit up, but she’d tied my legs with two yards of duct tape. “Where’ve you been? Are you okay?”

            “Getting you a new phone.” She dumped a plastic bag on the coffee table. “Here’s the box, here’s the owners’ agreement, your new earphones, and the latest iPhone 357, or whatever model they’re on. Good thing you backed up everything on the cloud. And I know your password.”

            I sank back. “Can I sit up? Please?”

            She used a Swiss Army knife to cut my legs free, and then unlocked my handcuffs. “Stay there. I’ll let you have a little blood if you promise to behave.”

            My arms were numb, and my legs barely moved. But I was feeling better. Maybe from the blood, or maybe just because the sun was going down. I rubbed my wrists and stomped my feet on the floor.

            Rachel came back with the bottle. “Here you go. Take it easy.”

            It looked like a bottle of whiskey to an alcoholic. I was afraid to touch it. But I took a swallow and then set it down. “Thanks.”

            She moved it away and closed it up. “What are we going to do now?”

            I licked my lips for the last taste of blood. “I don’t know. This is obviously going to put a strain on our relationship.”

            Rachel laughed. “You think?”

            I tried not to stare at the bottle. “I’m sorry about . . . what I said. It was the vamp in me. Not me.”

            She sat on the couch. Not too close. “I know. If I thought . . . anyway, we’ve been through too much. Demons, demon dogs, giant mutant ninja chickens . . .” She laughed. “That one was crazy.”

            “Yeah.” I reached for my phone. “Is the sun down yet?”

            She nudged my arm. “Don’t you have an app for that?”

            Actually I did. And the sun had officially set three minutes ago.

            “Okay.” I searched through my contacts. They were all there. And right on top—

            “I have to make some calls.”