Keen's Turn: The Vampire's Appeal

Chapter 8: Illicit Appeals (third quarter)

The leaden sky spilled open overhead as his body toppled backward, headed for the concrete far, far below. Everything started to slow, dragging slower and slower still, until he could hear the crunch of each piece of gravel leaving off contact with the soles of his shoes, each spaced-out beat of his heart, could feel the splash of each raindrop striking his cheeks, and the smooth plastic of the gun clamped in his fingers, as if it could save him now.

A hand was moving toward him, opening with exaggerated torpidity, each finger extending, tensing, curling—an incredible pressure seized his wrist. His arm was yanked against its socket, hurling him bodily sideways, across the roof—he staggered and spun—his back hit the side of a vent with a wobbling reverberation of metal. Jared slid to the ground.

Gasping for breath, he looked up—the vampire stood before him.

For an instant they held each other's eyes, then Keen dove forward. Jared thrust out the Seal, making him blanch, driving him back with a hiss. He tried to stand, but found his shaking legs not yet equal to the task.

"What...what the fuck!"

"You're welcome," Keen replied, his countenance settling back to humanity.

"Why...didja...?"

The vampire stared at him a few seconds more, a sharp look in his eye. Then he flashed a cocky grin. "I don't eat pancakes."

"Fuck you!"

"It wouldn't kill you to show a little gratitude."

"Given y'mean to kill me, you're not getting any gratitude."

Keen took a step forward, biting his lip. Jared leveled the gun at him. The vampire raised a palm, his head tilted in a look of sideways appraisal.

"Hold," he said, his voice suddenly soft. "Before you start shooting me again, I...wanted to say I'm...considering...keeping you around."

Jared wiped the rain from his eyes, his other hand tense on the trigger. "Uh, what, like not killing me?"

"What? No. No, not like that at all."

He tested his legs again, but they wouldn't hold his weight. "Then...what?"

"Oh give it a think," Keen murmured. "You're a smart fellow."

Keeping around...but still killing...?

Jared felt a chill prick down him, tingling under his wet shirt to the base of his spine. "Y'mean...turn me into a vampire?"

"Precisely. Give yourself over to me, and I'll grant you that which most men only dream of."

"No."

The vampire's eyes glinted in the near-dark. "This is not an offer I extend lightly."

"And why the hell do ya? We hate each other."

He raised his brows. "I don't hate you. Oh I've no doubt," he continued, settling himself on the building's edge, "that you have reservations about me, but for my part, this is the most fun I've had in decades."

Jared swallowed. "And so, what, you wanna keep it up?"

The vampire regarded him over steepled fingers. "I think it would be mutually enjoyable. Not to mention mutually safer. Once we get your death out of the way, that is."

"I'm not gonna give you my life."

"Why? You don't seem to be enjoying it."

"Fuck you!"