Page 6 of Only Fangs

Blood.

I’m called into the tiny cupboard my boss, Clive, likes to call his office. There’s just enough room for a small desk and a chair on either side.

“Take a seat,” he instructs, giving the whole set up far more gravity than it deserves. “I think you know what this is about.” He sounds serious, steepling his fingers in front of him like a bad villain in a B-class movie.

I debate my reaction. I can play dumb, pretend I have no idea why he’s called me in to this room like a recalcitrant child. I can apologise, say it’ll never happen again and beg for him to go easy on me. Or I can…

“Danely stole my lunch.” I put the weight of my anger into my words. Because that is the truth of what just happened. Danely stole my shake and suffered the consequences of being a thieving little shit.

“There. Was. Blood. In. A. Bottle. In. My. Fridge.” My boss clips each word so completely each one sounds like the end of a sentence. “Blood,” he reiterates.

I don’t reply. I can hardly deny that was what was in the bottle. The evidence is sprayed all over the floor and some of the walls. “Danely shouldn’t have stolen it.”

“Blood, Brody.”

I want to tell him that I don’t actually think it was blood blood. I can only assume Matt is behind this and he wouldn’t waste the good stuff on a prank. Real blood, like Sanguis or Hema or whatever other posh brand all the really fancy vampires are drinking is seriously expensive and so Matt generally makes do with the synthetic knock off stuff he says tastes like piss.

I’m so busy thinking that I miss what Clive says next. “Pardon?” I ask, leaning forward slightly so he’ll repeat himself.

“I said that we can’t have these kind of antics here at The Code Circle.”

“I agree. Lunch theft needs to be dealt with seriously,” I reply, but I know that isn’t what he meant.

He huffs out a sigh. “I think it would be best for everyone if you found another job.”

“You know that being a vampire is about to be made a protected characteristic?”

“I’m well aware of the pending legislation, but it isn’t enshrined yet. And besides, you,” he jabs a finger towards me, “are not a vampire.”

“But you’re firing me because my friend and housemate is.” I don’t phrase it as a question and stand as I reach the end of the sentence.

Clive recoils slightly in his seat as I tower over him. But then he clears his throat and stands to meet me face on. “I’m not firing you because your friend is a vampire. I’m firing you because you pulled a stupid prank and now I have vomit all over my favourite Nikes. Blood red vomit. Over my favourite white Nikes.”

I guess he does kind of have a point.

Matt’s in the kitchen when I drag my despondent ass through the door just after six pm.

“Bad day?” he asks, and then makes a face when he sees my expression.

“Kind of,” I reply.

“Well,” he steers me towards the breakfast bar. Or what we call the breakfast bar anyway. It’s more of a cheap piece of plywood tacked on the side of one of the kitchen units, with two mismatched bar stools shoved underneath. When we first moved in last year we thought we were so fancy. “Come and tell Uncle Matty all about it.”

“I took the wrong chocolate milk to the office,” I tell him.

“Oh?” There is no one in the world who knows me as well as Matt does and his whole demeanour immediately changes as he watches me. “Did he? Danely?” His hand rushing to his mouth makes him look like a gossiping teenager.

“Yep.” I nod slowly.

“He didn’t.”

“He did.”

“Oh shit!” There is glee in his eyes, he’s been desperate for Danely to get his comeuppance for being a creepy little bastard for months.

“But then I got fired.”

“No.” His face crumples. “But it was meant to be a joke.”