Authors: Liz Newman
"
We should go to the Laotian Shopping Center off Broadway Avenue and eat at Little Tyung Koy restaurant."
"What?"
"They have this soup off the menu made with raw snake’s blood. These drunk gamblers told me about it once so I went there just to check it out and they really do serve a soup of raw snake’s blood. Costs over twenty dollars for a little cup but since you're a vampire you might like it."
"I'm only a half-vampire.
Aoleon didn't give me enough venom to make me a full."
He made a sniffing noise that sounded like half of a laugh, half of a harrumph.
"She did the same to me. Said I was too handsome to become a full zombie. But it shall happen, in time. So, you want to meet the King of the Dead?"
* * *
We huddled by the five-dollar slot machines as jazz music played over the loudspeakers with great fanfare. The gamblers looked up from their tables and slots at the glittering procession with circus performers and feathered dancers in sequined bikinis fit for a Carnivale celebration in Rio de Janeiro. Women with garishly painted lips smiled and shook their hips, with one breaking character when she met my eyes. I assumed she faltered at the sight of my beauty. I smiled back for I could be gracious now that I had no one to be jealous of.
Chinese acrobats performed tricks as they strutted by, their sinewy bodies slithering over one another as they climbed up
on each other into a tower so high it nearly touched the crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceilings. As the last float approached, a jolly man who was chubby but sized only a few inches higher than a dwarf, shortened extremities and all, called out to the crowd and threw beaded necklaces and dollar chips.
"Welcome," he bellowed, "to the
Paradise Bayou Casino. Where every day is a celebration!" The crowd clapped exuberantly before turning back to their games.
Patrick and I followed the last float, ducking in afterward past a security guard who nodded at Patrick. "My sister," he said to the guard.
"Well, she got all the looks in the family, didn't she? My name is…"
My hand ducked around and pulled Patrick by the nape of his neck toward me, kissing him ardently on the lips.
"We're that kind of family," I said. The casino guard shrugged and looked away.
"You need to stop that," Patrick said, even as his eyes lit up.
"Why?" We turned a corner down a deserted passage.
"Because that's why you're still alive.
Or half-dead." He smiled wryly.
"Listen to you. Dice Clay over here." I planted a playful punch on his arm.
"You're strong," he winced.
"Don't zombies possess supernatural strengths?"
"Some do. My strengths seem to show up in talents. And I'm not aware of exactly what they are yet. Every day is a surprise. Kiss me."
Backing him up against the wall, I pressed my lips against his. He dissolved into mist and appeared farther down the hall. "Impressive," I said. "Nonetheless, a wicked reminder of last night."
"You're all the better now for it. This way." He beckoned me forward.
We ducked down a brightly lit hallway where office workers buzzed about with arms full of papers and cups of coffee.
A metal cart with shelves and locks rolled by us, pushed by two men in white-collared shirts and black pants.
"The afternoon till," Patrick said.
"Looks heavy. My guess is the casino earned back all of those dollar chips plus a few thousand more. Not bad for a dive off the Strip. This leads to the theater." He turned down a darkly lit hallway and pushed open a heavy door. We entered the theatre, walking down deserted rows of red velvet seats to a small alcove on the side of the stage. "They haven't had a headliner in years since Foghat. Just a bunch of impersonators, D-List comedian, or aging bands. The King of the Dead sets up shop here as the entertainment coordinator."
I giggled.
"No wonder why they haven't had a good act in years." Patrick glanced at me questioningly. "King of the Dead, right? As in dead boring?" Patrick chuckled softly and lightly rapped on a door. No answer. "He doesn't like to be disturbed. I'm going to piss him off supremely."
"Yeah, well, I'm pretty pissed that you tried to feed me to the lions.
Someday when I become a full vampire, I might have to visit you and your friends."
"My blood will make you sick.
And I don't have any real friends. Just a bunch of zombies." Patrick smirked. He pushed open the door and the King of the Dead sat behind a desk, snoring softly. His skin looked soft, shiny, and pliable like that of a baby. When he opened his mouth to let out a rumble that jiggled his whole body, I detected the scent of fresh strawberries. His office was decorated with all different types of mirrors, some extending from the floor to the ceiling, some framed with steel, and others with wood and gold.
"I should have known," Patrick said. "
Cupid, wake up. Cupid? I have an important visitor to see you."
Cu
pid's body shook as he chortled awake. "Visitor. Wha…?"
"She's a half
-blood," Patrick said.
Cupid blinked the sleep out of his eyes and surveyed me.
"Give me a minute." He blinked and tapped his fingers against his cheek. "Just a minute. You brought me a half. So I assume you're in love? Either that or you're still harboring some terrible grudge against me which I thought we'd already straightened out."
Patrick shrugged.
"Eden kissed me before she became flesh bait."
"All on her own? Or did you pay her?" Cupid asked.
"Not exactly. I tried to save her life once I realized I'd made a mistake." Patrick blinked with remorse.
Cupid clapped his hands and held them together as
his cheeks jiggled. He still wore the feathered headdress belonging to his Mardi Gras King costume, and tufts of his red hair poked out underneath the band. "Oh, glory. Love lives again in Las Vegas! I never thought I'd see the day. You two!" He pointed at us as he rose from his chair and reached up to kiss my hand. "Lady... darling...what's your name?"
"
Eden."
"
Eden! Eeeee-Den! Such a lovely name for a lovely girl. Come sit down. Please sit down." He motioned to the chairs in front of his desk. I took a seat while Patrick remained standing behind me. "You, my darling. You shall save us all."
"By
killing Aoleon?" I asked.
"Killing?
No, darling. Not killing. By loving dear Patrick."
"I'm not following you."
"Patrick is a
ZOM-Bie." The word popped from his mouth as he waved his hand in the air and leaned his chin on his elbow. "The first zombie I knew here in Vegas, when I came here to live. I hung up my bow and gave up on love." He gestured to a wall where a silver bow and arrow gleamed from the middle where they were mounted.
"True love doesn't exist here. It can't. Too many distractions. Yes, occasionally couples do come who are in love, to honeymoon or get married at chapels or what not. How my heart sings at the sight of them. But then they go back to where they came from and
poof!
They're gone. Or they settle here and become alcoholics or gamblers or religious nuts and all love flies out the window of their humble little abode. Patrick and drifters like him are mostly nightwalkers. Walking dead. Whatever you'd like to call it. So many of the underlings in Vegas are. You'd be surprised. Mechanical men performing menial tasks, with their only concerns being physical ailments such as skin problems, addictions, et cetera. They come to me after she bites them so I can guide them. Teach them how to live. Train them to not turn into raving animals. At least the ones that haven't been infused with a great deal of venom. Of course, there have been the transformations gone wrong where some zombies become serial killers or grave robbers or things of that sort." Cupid wrinkled his nose with disgust. "But they have nothing to do with me. Patrick is the exception thus far, as he has yet to be stricken with maladies."
"An agent for the feds
said I must kill Aoleon if I want to live or die a quick, painless death," I said.
"Oh no.
Oh no no no," Cupid said. "Aoleon must stay in existence if the zombies are to live. You kill the mother of the creatures of the night, and you kill the mother."
"I've seen vampire movies.
All of those old horror flicks with Bela Lugosi. You have to kill the first vampire."
"Of her kind.
And she is the first. The first to change men into zombies. That's all she can change men into. But without her powers, I am afraid my interests, and your lover boy Patrick's here, will crumble. You see, we head up the casino workers' union."
"So?"
"So," Patrick said, "the zombies... the ones who are severely afflicted, need someone to help them keep their jobs. To do the thinking for them. And that's us."
"Umm...okay," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'll just go and let them tear me apart now. Hey, if you hear the voices speak on my behalf, you can probably find me from the neck up on Aoleon's fireplace mantel. Give them my best, would you?" I placed my fists on my hips and sneered at Patrick and Cupid.
Bastards.
"What's with the mirrors?"
Cupid glanced around as if he'd never seen the room before, dwelling upon his reflection as he looked over his shoulder. With his turned face hovering over a lump of dimpled fat in his neck, he really did look like an overgrown baby. "The mirrors, my dear, are why they have never found me before. The mirrors confuse them. Scare them. As they will one day scare you. All of you desire to be beautiful again, but soon you will be unable to stand the sight of yourself. Life is full of little ironies, isn't it?"
Patrick ran a finger smoothly over his lips as his brows furrowed. "There must be a way to set us free. To save you while keeping the union intact. Cupid, you need to give Eden the bow so she can kill Aoleon. She must live. More zombies can be made. Aoleon has injected Eden with her venom. The zombies Aoleon has created will die of their maladies if they are too far gone, or they will change back into men. Men who had no idea what happened to them in the first place. They will still support the union. Perhaps, as a full vampire, Eden can change more men into zombies when we need them with the venom that the feds will give her from Aoleon's body. So Eden kills Aoleon, appeasing the feds."
"I can't do that," I said.
"Why?"
"When I was in the alley, I heard the voices tell me not to kill...someone. I couldn't hear who, but I heard them say it would be my undoing. I think. I let her change me because I should burn in the seventh hell for my human sins. The only way to redeem myself is to pay for my sins by living. And it will take me hundreds of years to repay my debt."
"Oh, I do hate religious discussions. Eden wouldn't be able to turn men into zombies anyway," Cupid sighed. "Unless she kills you, Patrick. Her true love. Those are the rules."
"What rules?" Patrick said.
"The rules of the game," Cupid shrugged. "I'm just a player here, like you."
"Who made the rules?" I scowled.
"Whoever allowed you to go from being one aberration to another." Cupid said as he tapped his fingers on his chubby cheek.
"Then we'll find a way to break them," Patrick said. "Give her the bow, Cupid. Or Aoleon will let Eden grow into an old hag before our very eyes. And you and I will see her suffer for the next hundred years or so until she dies."
"No," Cupid said, his tone petulant.
"You have to give her the bow."
"I do not have to do anything."
"You must because, despite your doubts, you still believe in the life force that I've held fast to for years," Patrick said. "That which mends all things that are destroyed." Cupid harrumphed. "I care for this woman. She is the only woman in years who showed she cared for me. Who hears the voices."
"Simpleton feelings, same as…"
"Cupid," Patrick cajoled. "I know you cannot resist the idea of love. I love her. She loves me, too. And she and I are in this together." He wrapped his hand around mine, the inside of his palm feeling soft and warm. "Give her the bow."
Cupid's fist came down on the top of his desk. He hoisted his stocky little body from the chair as it squeaked in relief of his weight. Taking the bow down from its mount and delicately removing the silver arrow, Cupid ran his hand down the smooth metal that gleamed in the soft light.
"You're right, Patrick. I cannot resist." He placed the arrow in the bow, cradling the flexible band of the bow between the divots in the tail of the arrow and running his hand down the edge lovingly. He turned toward me and smiled widely, pulling the band of the bow back and sending an arrow flying in the direction of my heart.
"No!" Patrick shouted.
In a haze, I heard Patrick swearing as Cupid responded to him in a nonchalant tone. A swarm of emotions coursed through me as I lay on my back on the floor, the warmth of my blood seeping out and wetting my hair. "Only vampires bleed like that," Cupid shrugged. "A human wouldn't have felt a thing." The amber light on his phone lit up. "Excuse me a moment," Cupid said as he lumbered to the desk and picked up the phone.