Fat Vampire Value Meal (Books 1-4 in the series) (15 page)

“Nothing to use against them,” said Maurice.
 

“I’m going to die, aren’t I?” said Reginald.
 

“Probably,” said Maurice. “You’ll get your chance to defend yourself, but…” He shook his head.
 

“I’ve seen the videos on that vampire YouTube. I’m most looking forward to the rock wall, the hurdles, and the rope ladder.”
 

“I’m sorry, Reginald,” said Maurice with a shake of his head. “I should have let you die.”
 

Reginald, who had used his short time as a vampire to meet Claire and Nikki, wasn’t sure he agreed.

“It’s okay,” said Reginald. “Thanks for trying. Any advice?”
 

“Just be yourself,” said Maurice. “There’s nothing else you can do.”

Some time later, Reginald was taken from his cell and led through a door that had previously been invisible on the featureless walls. Two members of the Guard escorted him down a long hall and into a wide open chamber. The floor of the chamber was hard-packed clay. Around the sunken chamber floor were rows and rows of benches filled with spectators. To one side was an ornate wooden chair that looked like a throne, and in the throne sat a man with stark black eyebrows and salt-and-pepper hair. He looked like he might be in his sixties if he were human.
 

Reginald’s escorts uncuffed him and shoved him into the center of the floor, then disappeared. Gaining his footing and looking up, Reginald could see Maurice, seated between two hulking men in Guard uniform.
 

“My my,” said the man in the throne. “You
are
a big boy.”
 

Reginald said nothing.

“Reginald Baskin,” said the man. “I am Logan, Deacon of this Council, and it is my duty today to assess you.”
 

Reginald raised a hand. “‘Sup.”

“You are here to be tried,” said Logan. “Do you understand what is expected of you?”
 

Interesting how it had become a “trial” in everyone’s mind, Reginald thought, when it had begun as a “meeting.” At least they were all on the same page.

“Not even a little bit,” said Reginald. That was a lie, of course, but he wasn’t planning to make this easy.
 

Logan took a deep breath and stood up, then began speaking theatrically, as if reading a script.

“The Vampire Nation requires secrecy and stealth in order to continue to exist,” he said. “Because of that, we have, in recent centuries, begun to establish certain standards. Most people, when they wish to become vampires, train for months to achieve the perfectly honed body they will need to be as strong, fast, and lithe as possible, because the body they are turned with will be the body they have forever. It is important that the standards we set for those bodies and skills are high. We have survived for as long as we have because humans refuse to believe we exist, and because we have trained ourselves to be like shadows. The minute we become clumsy and expose ourselves or give humans reason to believe that we are real, the sooner we hasten our own demise. Do you understand?”

Reginald nodded. He wished they’d just get on with it.
 

“Not all vampires are created equal, Mr. Baskin,” said Logan. “And if a vampire is too slow or too weak, he risks exposing all of us. And if such a vampire is a risk, he must be removed from the population.”

“Duly noted,” said Reginald.
 

“The purpose of the tests you are about to undergo is to determine if you meet the standards we have set, or if you are a risk to all of us.”

“Awesome.”
 

“I hope you won’t take this personally. This isn’t about you. This is about the very survival of our kind.”
 

“Boom goes the dynamite,” said Reginald.
 

Reginald found himself starting to daydream. In a movie, this would be the point where he’d find strength he didn’t know he had, rush the man in the throne, and rip off his head. Then he’d take over Deaconship of the Council and pardon himself, claim a harem, and spend eternity screwing beautiful women.
 

The only problem, of course, was that Reginald was still too fat and too sluggish to do anything. And even if he’d had the ability to attack anyone, there were no weapons.
 

“Then let’s begin,” said Logan, sitting back down.

The tests that followed were a cross between an agility course and something out of
Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome.
While the assembly watched and a man next to Logan took notes, Reginald was asked to run a series of obstacles as fast as possible, to climb under complex metal structures (fail) and leap over others (double fail). The crowd watched as he tried to cross above a pool of water on a rope ladder, but Reginald immediately rolled over so that he was below the ladder, and then fell into the water. Then he got back up and tried again with the same result. Logan insisted he try a third time, and this time he was halfway across and hopeful he could actually make it when the ropes broke and he crashed into a rock near the edge of the pool, breaking his nose.

Reginald failed to lift heavy weights, failed to smash a series of bricks, and failed to catch a ball dropped across the room. (The ball hit the ground, still fifty feet away, as Reginald took his fourth step and then tripped.) He failed to bend bars and climb walls. At one point, a Guard challenged him to the classic “if you can snatch this coin from my hand” cliche from kung fu films, which he failed miserably.
 

The final straw for Reginald was a jump test, which reminded him of his high school gym class. Back then, the coach used a tall pole with a series of multicolored flags on it that you were supposed to swat aside to determine your best jump height. Logan didn’t require such equipment for his version.

“Even the youngest and weakest of us could jump straight up and touch this ceiling,” said Logan, pointing up. Reginald looked up and saw a domed ceiling fifty feet above him. “Let’s see if you can do it.” He made a little wave and added, “If you please.”
 

Reginald crouched, funneled all of his energy into his legs, and leapt. It was actually quite gratifying. He didn’t touch the roof, but he’d never jumped so high in his life. Like his vision on that first night, spotting a billboard from a great distance, the feeling was exhilarating.
 

The man standing beside Logan made a note on a metal clipboard and said, “Approximately nine inches.”
 

“I can do better,” said Reginald.
 

“Go ahead.”
 

This time, Reginald leaped even higher. He put so much into the takeoff, in fact, that when he landed, he canted sideways and fell onto a hurdle from a previous stunt. The hurdle bent neatly in half.

“Nine inches,” said Logan’s assistant.

Reginald had had enough. He stood up, brushed himself off, and addressed Logan.
 

“I think that’ll do. Clearly I’m not going to pass any of these ridiculous tests, so why don’t you just kill me and get it over with? Is it really necessary to keep humiliating me?”

Movement caught the corner of his eye. It was Maurice, slowly nodding.
Yes
,
it is.

“Every test you take is one more chance to prove yourself,” said Logan. “Are you through trying to prove yourself?”

The jumpsuit Reginald had been given to wear was plastered to his skin with sweat. His heart was beating out of his ribcage. He hadn’t had a full chest of breath since the tests had begun.
 

“Yes,” said Reginald.
 

“You realize that if you give up, your fate will be decided,” said the man.
 

Reginald, who was sure his fate had been decided long ago, said, “I need to sit down.” Then he flopped to the ground, panting.
 

“Are you sure you don’t want to wrestle The Thing?” said Logan. A door slid open across the arena. A very large, very muscular, very hairy man was standing in the recess it revealed, dressed in straps of black leather. He seemed to shine, as if he’d been greased.

“Very sure,” said Reginald.
 

The door closed. The Thing looked disappointed.
 

“Then it’s time to pronounce sentence,” said Logan.

“Fine,” said Reginald, still trying to catch his breath.
 

“Obviously, you’ve failed,” said Logan.

“Obviously.”
 

“Worse than anyone has ever failed,” he added.

“I’m A-Number One.”
 

“Which means you’ll need to be killed. Nothing personal, you understand.”
 

Two panting breaths. “Bring it.”
 

“You and your whole bloodline, of course.”

“Of course.” He stopped. “Wait… what?”

“Bring in his progeny,” said Logan.
 

But that didn’t make sense, because Reginald had never had any kids. He’d never been married or even really in a relationship, unless you counted…

Shit
.

A large door across from him opened to reveal a smaller room off of the main arena. There, in the center, Reginald saw a woman tied to a post with silver chains.
 

It was Nikki.
 

C
AUGHT

MAURICE MADE A LOUD NOISE of exasperation when he saw Nikki chained to the post, then put both of his palms to his face. Reginald didn’t know if he should watch Maurice or Nikki as the spectacle unfolded, because both appeared to be equally pained.
 

The side chamber in which Nikki was restrained was maybe fifteen yards across, clay-floored like the arena, and appeared to be round. It was as if there were a silo attached to the main room and that a shared wall had just been removed. Nikki was sitting on the ground at the foot of a metal pole, bound to it by silver chains that allowed her to move in a small circle, like a dog tied to a tree.
 

She appeared to be crying. Reginald yelled her name, but either she didn’t hear him or was too terrified to respond.

“Nicole Jane Pilson,” said the man next to Logan, reading off of a piece of paper on what appeared to be a stainless steel clipboard. “Aged twenty-eight human years when turned. Vampire age of one day. Hereby sentenced to death, as tainted blood, in conjunction with the sentencing of Reginald Baskin.”
 

Nikki screamed. The last time Reginald had seen her, she’d looked so confident and strong, and now she seemed weak and broken. Was this how vampires welcomed new members to their ranks? She was only a day old. It was repugnant that the crowd would afford her so little dignity — especially considering she’d completed her training and was going to be turned within a month anyway — simply due to her association with Reginald.
 

“Nicole Pilson,” Logan shouted across the arena, “you are sentenced to die by sunlight exposure as the offspring of Reginald Baskin. Do you understand?”

“No I fucking
do not!
” she yelled. Reginald’s vampire sight was good enough to make out every tear on her cheek. She was both angry and terrified, but even under the circumstances, the anger was the dominant of the two. Yes, she would grow to be a formidable vampire — if she were given a chance.

“Reginald!” Nikki yelled. “I tried; I’m sorry!”
 

Reginald caught her eyes, nodded dejectedly, and said nothing.
 

“You’re not going to tell her that you’re the one who’s sorry?” said Logan.

Reginald turned his gaze on Logan. He could feel fury building inside of himself like pressure inside of a tea kettle. In his mind, every vampire in the arena was exploding in fire as he found untapped reserves of strength and stormed through the crowd. Heads flew. Blood spattered. Limbs were twisted and torqued until tendons snapped.
 

Logan shrugged, as if in disbelief at Reginald’s lack of chivalry.
 

Reginald thought:
You dirty motherfucking son of a bitch.
 

“Nothing at all?” said Logan. The crowd tittered. “After we’ve gone to all this trouble to surprise you? That’s a shame.”
 

“She’s a thousand times the vampire I am,” said Reginald. “Test her. You’ll see.”
 

“We do these things like pruning a tree. You’re where we’re cutting the branch. Her abilities don’t matter. She’s tainted.”
 

“Wasteful,” Reginald spat. “Spiteful. Such noble traits for so ‘evolved’ a race.”
 

Logan chuckled. But then there was movement a bit farther down the bench as Charles rose to his feet.
 

“Deacon?” said Charles.

Logan looked at the Guards, who had risen to face Charles, and patted the air. Then to Charles: “Yes?”
 

“I know of another loose end in this man’s case,” said Charles.

Reginald looked at Charles, who smirked back at him.

“What loose end?” said Logan.
 

“A girl.”
 

“What girl?” said Logan.

“A human girl. One that Mr. Baskin has made into a pet.”
 

“A pet?”
 

“He’s been going to visit a young girl. Not to feed. Just to sit with her, and talk to her for hours about being a vampire.”
 

Reginald felt that pressure building inside.
 

You dirty motherfucking son of a bitch.
 

Logan’s eyes found Reginald’s.
 

“He hasn’t glamoured her. He hasn’t fed. He’s just… exposed himself?”

“Yes, Deacon.”

To Reginald: “The question before this Council was supposed to be whether or not you threaten to expose us accidentally, simply by existing. Have you really been so idiotic as to talk about vampirism openly?”
 

“She’s just a kid. She doesn’t have anybody, and I…”
 

Logan held up his hand. “Reginald Baskin, for both your wanton creation —“ He gestured at Nikki. “— and your breach of our secrecy to a human, I hereby change your sentence from death by sunlight to evisceration followed by death by sunlight.” Then slapped his throne, probably because he didn’t have a gavel.