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6
Irving
Irving scratched his skin as he sat in the lounge of the funeral home, sipping a tall glass of A negative. The sun was glaringly brilliant that morning, shining off the snow and hitting him like countless needle pricks. Shielding his eyes from the blistering rays, he moved to pull the curtains across the windows.
“It’s a pity about the sun today,” Cameron remarked. He waltzed into the lounge, humming a tune as he poured himself a glass of breakfast blood. “I’d prayed for overcast skies, but alas, the sun mocks us.” He settled into a seat at the table next to Irving. Disgruntled, Irving shifted his chair to be farther from his brother. He was irked by Cameron’s meddlesome behavior. Somehow, his brother convinced Sage to give him a second chance and although Cameron remained mum on the specifics, Irving knew whatever the conditions were, he wouldn’t like them. Generally, the less he knew about how Cameron achieved his various plots, the better. “Don’t be like that, brother,” Cameron said, pouting. “You should be happy. Thanks to me, you have a date with Sage at the dinner this evening.”
“I didn’t ask for you to get involved,” Irving grumbled. “If the woman truly wanted to be with me, she would have said so. I was foolish to think she was seriously interested. The whole thing was a giant misunderstanding. I feel pathetic.”
“Don’t,” Cameron insisted, “this is an opportunity for you to be with a human woman. Take it. God knows you’ve been hanging from ceilings in avoidance of all things mortal for too long. Besides, I have a gift for you.”
Irving groaned. “Gods, what is it this time?” Cameron was known for his extravagant presents. Not one to appreciate the material things of the world, Irving gained no enjoyment out of receiving items. In the past, he’d feigned excitement upon receiving a gift from his brother, but now that he was centuries old, he’d grown weary of the charade.
Cameron removed a bottle of sunscreen from a paper bag, placing it proudly in front of Irving, who rolled his eyes in response. “I already have sunscreen,” he declared, pushing away the bottle.
“Yes, but you don’t have sparkly sunscreen,” Cameron retorted. “I’ve found it to be quite the hit with women over the last decade.”
Irving scoffed. “Sage isn’t that kind of woman,” he proclaimed. “She’s different from those sapphire-loving sirens. Take that sparkly fairy shite and shove it up your ass!”
Cameron clucked his tongue in disapproval. “Don’t be cruel, I was only trying to help.”
“I know,” Irving relented. “I apologize for my outburst. I’ll stick to the regular brand of sunscreen, thanks. Sparkles aren’t my style.” He sat in broody silence, draining the last of the blood from his glass before saying, “You did wave the service fee for the Fang Club, didn’t you?”
“Of course,” Cameron replied. “She’s no silk stocking. As you said, she is different from the other members. I have no preference to upper-class folk, but as you’re aware, blood comes at a price. We rely on the money we earn from the Fang Club. Without it, we wouldn’t be able to pay the phlebotomist vampires for the blood we survive on. We either pay with cash or we pay with our souls.”
Irving was more than aware of the moral dilemma that came with being a vampire. He could either kill innocent humans for their blood, or he could fork over the money to a fanged phlebotomist for blood samples that were willingly donated.
Blake was the mastermind when it came to keeping the earnings they made from their matchmaking service a secret. He laundered the money, hiding it among the numbers they made from Irving’s funeral business. Irving was aware what they were could technically be considered criminal activity, but in his mind it was far better than murder.
* * *
When it came time for Irving to meet Sage for their date at the steakhouse, he bathed every ounce of his pale, sensitive skin in sunscreen. He dressed casually, avoiding the color black so as not to appear overly formal or drab. One of the many myths surrounding vampirism was the dark attire. On a sunny day, black was the last color a vampire wanted to wear, as it absorbed sunlight. With overpriced sunglasses, a gift from Cameron, shielding his eyes, Irving chose to drive to Sage’s house. Although he was a magnificently fast runner, and vampires seldom perspired, the combination of extreme heat plus extreme exertion could cause a little unusual dampness. Which of course is entirely unacceptable during the courting phase of any relationship. And although he typically strayed away from overly romantic gestures, Irving couldn’t stray too far away from tradition. He brought two dozen red roses for their first date. Romance is timeless.
Irving pulled into Sage’s driveway just as she was leaving. In the light of the setting sun, she looked ravishing. Her skin was rosy and tanned, just the opposite of his pale complexion, and in his mind a marvel in these late months. He exited the vehicle, feeling the warmth of the sun prickle his skin, even as the cool winter air battled for dominance. She greeted him with a smile. Irving felt as though his stomach was full of insects. He was nervous, and brandished the roses before launching into an explanation. “I want to apologize for the unfortunate mix-up,” Irving began. “I hope my brother wasn’t being too pushy the other night. I want you to know, you don’t have to go along with whatever ridiculous deal he’s concocted if you don’t want to. I’d be happy to simply cancel your husband’s arrangements. I’m sure another funeral home somewhere else would be able to offer a more reasonably priced…”
“It’s okay,” Sage interrupted. “I want to do this, and the roses are gorgeous. I’d say you shouldn’t have but I’m actually really glad you did.”
Her response delighted Irving. “I can’t tell you how overjoyed that makes me,” he said. His happiness came to a crashing halt when he remembered the lock he’d installed on her door.
It’s probably not properly shut,he fretted.The lock was broken. You replaced it with a new one that she’s not used to.The anxious thoughts flooded Irving’s mind. He knew, the only way to stop them would be to double check that the door was secure.
“Please excuse me,” he said. Pushing past her, Irving bounded up her front steps and turned the knob of her door. The door didn’t budge. A person un-plagued by OCD would have left, satisfied that the house was safe. Irving, however, did not stop there. He tried to appear nonchalant as he repeatedly turned the door handle four more times before he felt his nerves relax.
“Is everything okay?” Sage asked, she looked at him in bewilderment as he returned to her side.
“Fine,” Irving replied, perhaps a bit too quickly.
Thankfully, Sage didn’t seem put off by his response. “Shall we go? I’m starving. I could eat a horse.”
Irving raised an eyebrow. “A horse? I wouldn’t think that such a small human as yourself would be able to consume such a large animal.”
Sage erupted into laughter. Irving was completely in the dark as to what she’d found so amusing, but he found he enjoyed the ring of her laugh too much to care.
Irving had completely forgotten about mortal food. It had been ages since he’d eaten it. All he could remember was how revolting it had tasted and how sick he’d felt after eating it. After all, unlike blood, food was already dead. Vampires only needed blood to survive. It was, therefore, pointless, (not to mention unpleasant) to consume anything else.
To appear more human, we’re going to have to learn to tolerate their food.Cameron’s voice emanated in the back of Irving’s skull. He recalled a conversation he’d had with his brothers involving the many ‘tests’ vampires would have to pass during the dating program. Eating mortal food without becoming ill was one of them.
When they arrived at the restaurant, they went back into a large reserved room where the other couples had already gathered, mingling in pairs as they moved between tables of food laid out as well as a bar. A tall Christmas tree stood in one corner, covered in twinkling lights that Irving knew he would be annoyed with before the evening was over. There were also garlands strung around the room and a cluster of what he supposed was meant to be mistletoe hanging from one of the doorways.
