Kitty's Greatest Hits

YOU’RE ON THE AIR

Jake leaned his elbows on the counter by the cash register and stared out over vacant aisles. His shoulders were bunched, his back slouched. This was way bad for his posture. Like he cared.

The store had been empty for hours. Half an hour ago somebody had pulled up to the gas pumps outside and paid by credit card. Really, they didn’t need him here minding things. Put a vending machine outside for the stoners and the store would make a profit.

Then again, it was just as well they hired him for the graveyard shift. What else would he do for money?

Graveyard shift. That was funny.

He didn’t do much these days. Slept during daylight hours, got up, grabbed a bite, came to work. Went home and was asleep again by dawn. He hadn’t seen the sun in … he couldn’t remember how long it had been. He only had these glaring white fluorescent bulbs. They hummed like insects.

The radio, a beat-up model sitting on the shelf behind him, crammed between cartons of cigarettes, scratched a folk rock song, which faded, and a voice cut in.

“Good evening, and welcome to The Midnight Hour. This is Kitty Norville, your ever-cheerful hostess.”

Oh, score. It was Friday. He’d forgotten. He turned up the volume. This was his favorite show.

“Tonight it’s all vampires, and all calls. I want to hear from you…”

Jake couldn’t understand why anyone would want to become a vampire. And yet, they called into Kitty’s show all the time. Wannabes. They had no clue.

“I’m ageless,” said the underage caller breathlessly. “Ageless as the grave.”

“Okay, this is not the kinderbat poetry hour,” Kitty said, which made Jake laugh, which was the reason he listened to the show. “You’ll want—oh, I don’t know—public access television for that.”

“Whoa, what a wicked cool idea,” the kid said.

If that ever happened, Jake would find the kid and beat the crap out of him himself. Thankfully, Kitty switched calls. “Please, someone with sense call me so we can discuss Byron or something. Next caller, hello.”

“I knew him, you know.”

Jake perked up. That cool assurance in a voice usually meant a vampire. A real one.

“Knew who?”

“Lord Byron, of course.”

“Really,” Kitty drawled, clearly disbelieving. “You know, there are about as many vampires who say they knew Byron as there are reincarnation freaks who say they were Cleopatra in a past life. Which would mean Byron had, like, hundreds of obnoxious simpering twits trailing after him wherever he went. When he really only had Keats and Shelley.”

The guy huffed. “How very droll.”

“I’m sorry, you just hit one of my buttons, you know?”

“You’ve never considered that perhaps one of those vampires who say they knew Byron might be right?”

The call went on for a few more moments, and Jake’s attention faded. He was thinking about what he wanted to say to this guy. More than anything he wanted to talk to another vampire—a powerful one, a reasonable one. Someone who could explain to him what was supposed to be so great about being a vampire. There had to be more to it than beating up winos who didn’t even notice the parasites on their necks, all for a pint of stolen blood.

He’d changed—he could feel this humming in his muscles, like he ought to be stronger. Like if he tilted his head a little bit he ought to be able to see into other dimensions. So maybe he did have powers, but what was he supposed to do with them when he spent all his time hiding? He never talked to anyone anymore except to say, Here’s your change.

There had to be a way to dig out of this hole he was in.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Destiny,” the vampire said.

What the hell did that even mean, Jake thought.

“Right, the big question. Like, why are we here, what’s the point to life, that sort of thing?”

“I’m curious to hear what you think about it.”

“That’s my line.” Kitty sounded put out.

“Are you going to tell me?”

She sighed, a hiss over the radio. “All right. I’ll bite. Here’s what I think, with the caveat that I may be wrong: I think we’re here to make the world a better place than we found it. I think we don’t always deserve the cards that we’re dealt, good or bad. But we are judged by how we play the cards we’re dealt. Those of us with a bum deal that make it harder to do good—we just have to work a little more is all. There’s no destiny. There’s just muddling through without doing too much damage.”

Jake admired Kitty: She was so down-to-earth and practical and yet inspiring, all at the same time. All she really wanted was for people to stop feeling sorry for themselves, get off their asses, and make their lives better. She made it sound like anyone could do it.

It was almost enough to inspire him get off his ass and make his life better.

“Hmm, that’s very nice,” the vampire said, and the condescension in his voice made Jake fume, gritting the back of his teeth in frustration. Easy for him to be arrogant.

On a whim, he picked up the phone and dialed. Kitty was always telling her listeners to do something—here he was, doing something.

“All right. I know you’re just trying to bait me. Why don’t you come out and say what you want to say.”

The caller’s attitude got even worse.

“You talk about us, vampires and lycanthropes, like we’re afflicted. Like we have a handicap. And I suppose if your goal is to pass as human, to blend in with society, then it is a handicap. But have you ever thought that we are the chosen ones? Fate marked us, and we became what we are. We are superior, marked by destiny, and one day we will rule the world…”

Jake gripped the edge of the counter until the plastic cracked. He let go, startled. Cheap crap. And the guy on the radio was still talking. This was the glorified stereotype, the reason why some people actually wanted to be vampires. This was all those stories of elegant men and women, hundreds of years old, stalking the night like predators—such a sexy picture that made. Made it sound like you’d actually get something good out of the transformation.

The guy didn’t say anything about what happened when you got your throat ripped out in the back alley of a convenience store. Jake never saw what did it—a piece of shadow broke away from the night and swallowed him, and he remembered thinking this was it, he was done, and he’d always meant to go back to college and finish that last semester, and now he never would and what a waste it all was. He’d woken up freezing cold, in a dark room, and had assumed it was hell, and you didn’t just go to hell for being bad—you went there for being nothing. But no, it wasn’t hell, not like that. The thing that attacked him transformed him, saved him, because he thought it would be funny, and then abandoned him.

Oh, please let his call get through so he could rant at this guy.

The phone rang. Three rings, four rings. She wouldn’t even pick up the phone. But at least it wasn’t busy …

After five rings, someone answered. “You’ve reached The Midnight Hour.”

Then it happened so fast. He talked to a guy, a screener, gave his name, what he wanted to talk about, “That guy who said he knew Byron made me so mad,” was what he thought he said. The screener told him to turn his radio off—and the show, Kitty’s voice, piped through the phone.

Oh my God, oh my God—

“Well, thank you for the public service announcement.” Her voice dripped with her trademark sarcasm. “I’m cutting you off now, you’ve had a little too much ego tonight. Next call—ooh, I think I might have a debate for us here. Hello, Jake? You’re on the air. What do you have for me?”

If he still had a heartbeat, it would be racing. As it was, he was afraid he was going to swallow his tongue. He had to remember to breathe so he’d have air to speak. He sucked in like a bellows and almost choked.

“Um, Kitty? Oh, wow. I mean—” Stupid! He was an idiot. Get it together. “Hi.”

“Hi. So you have a response to our esteemed vampire caller.”

Remember how angry he was. He had to get this off his chest. “Oh, do I ever. That guy is so full of … crap. I mean, I really want to know where I can get in on some of this vampire world domination action. ’Cause I’m a vampire and I’m stuck working the night shift at a Speedy Mart. I’m not top of any food chain.” His blood—borrowed blood, weak blood—ran hot, burning to the tips of his ears. He probably looked almost human right now.

“You’re not part of a Family?”

He almost laughed. “If it weren’t for your show I wouldn’t even know about Families.” He wouldn’t know what he was missing. He would just think that he’d been dealt the shittiest hand imaginable: working the night shift at Speedy Mart for all eternity.

He felt calmer, getting it out. He’d kept this a secret. This was the first time he’d said out loud, I’m a vampire.

Kitty said, “I know this is personal, but I take it that you were made a vampire under violent circumstances, against your will.”

“Got that right. And if destiny had anything to do with it, I’d sure like to know why.”

“I wish I had an answer for you, Jake. You got one of the bad cards. But since you and I both know there’s no destiny involved, you have a choice on what to do about it.” Her voice was friendly, comforting. He wasn’t going to get reamed for being whiny. You have a choice. But what could he do?

“I really just wanted to tell the other side of the story. My side. That guy wasn’t speaking for all vampires. Thanks for listening.”

“That’s what I’m here for. I’m going to move on to the next call now, okay? Good luck to you, Jake.”

And the line clicked off. Just like that, it was over. Good luck. Was luck anything like destiny?

The bell on the door rang, and two women came into the store. They were college-aged, dressed in sweats, their hair up in ponytails. They giggled and looked a little dazed. They were probably on a road trip, driving all night, and stopped for sodas and snacks to keep them awake. Sure enough, one headed for the refrigerator section and the other to the chips aisle.

He tried to say hello to them as they walked past, but they didn’t hear him. Or they ignored him. Either way, he felt like an idiot.

He could hear their heartbeats from across the store, and sense the warm trail their bodies left in the air as they moved. Fresh blood. Beautiful. He tried not to stare.

He wasn’t going to attack them for blood or anything. He appreciated the company too much for that. Maybe they’d smile at him when he rang them up. Maybe he could think of something clever to say—without sounding creepy. Have an actual conversation. So, where are you girls headed? No, that was creepy. Stalkerish. Nice night we’re having …

He leaned on the counter and tried to look friendly.

That was another thing: Vampires were supposed to be so seductive, having this uncanny ability to lure anyone they wanted into their clutches. But he looked at these girls and clammed up, got all nervous and sweaty-palmed, like any other geeky kid. He wouldn’t be seducing anyone.

Maybe he was too new a vampire. He’d only been at this a few months. Maybe he just needed to practice. Smile. Work on the smile. And saying hi—warmly, but not too eagerly. The girls were still in the back of the store, giggling over something. He tried to see them in the convex security mirrors, but no luck.

Man, this sucked. How much of a loser was he when becoming a vampire didn’t even make him cool?

He tapped a hand on the counter, adding another crack, and told himself to stop fidgeting.

The bell rang again, making him flinch. He straightened from the counter and looked. A man walked in, and the hairs on Jake’s neck tingled, all his muscles tensing. The guy wore a heavy coat with the hood pulled over his head—in the heat of summer. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets. The right one had a bulge larger than just the guy’s hand. Jake didn’t need hyperaware senses to know what that meant.

He came straight to the cash register.

The girls in the back were quiet for the moment. If they stayed like that for just a few more minutes, Jake could clear the register and get the robber out of here before they got hurt.

The man moved in front of the register, standing with his back to the security camera that was trained on the door. He put the gun on the counter, kept his hand on it, finger on the trigger.

“Gimme all your cash.” He wore sunglasses and kept his eyes downcast.

Jake already had the register open and scooped the cash into a plastic grocery bag. He stole a glance to the mirror in the corner—the girls were moving, coming up the aisle toward the register. They didn’t see what was happening.

He finished and quickly slid the bag to the guy. A smart thief would have grabbed it and run, happy to get away with whatever he could. The cameras wouldn’t have gotten a good look at him, and corporate headquarters wasn’t going to sweat a hundred bucks when no one got hurt.

But no. He had to stand there and look in the bag. “Is that all?”

“That’s all they let me have, man.”

“—trust me, it’s not going to kill you to drink regular Coke just this once—”

The girls stopped at the end of the aisle, just a few feet from the counter and the man with the gun. The first one, the blonde, looked up, eyes wide, and put her hand on the brown-haired one’s arm. Equally startled, the thief looked at them.

Reflexively, the robber’s hand clenched on his weapon. He brought the gun up, swung it around.

For Jake, time slowed. He knew the guy was going to shoot. It was as if Jake could hear the nerves firing along his arm. That humming in his muscles moved to his skin. His brain wasn’t in control; his panicked adrenal gland was. The bullet would hit the blond girl. Also controlled by instinct, she had moved in front of her friend, putting herself in the line of fire to protect her.

Jesus, Jake was a freakin’ vampire. He ought to be able to handle this.

He jumped over the counter.

At least, he tried, imagining that he could plant his hands and make an elegant leap, swinging his legs and flying toward the gunman feetfirst, knocking him out and saving the day. But he was suddenly a lot more powerful than he thought he should have been, and his whole body turned into a flailing projectile, tumbling toward the assailant. He was flying. Never mind that he couldn’t stop. Could he look like any more of a dork …

It happened so fast the guy didn’t even look at him. One moment Jake was behind the counter, the next he was crashing into him, knocking him into a display of neon-blue washer fluid.

“What the fu—?” the guy said.

The gun went off—two, three times. Jake felt an impact, and the girls screamed.

That humming strength buzzed through him again, and he was on his feet, looking at his stomach where he was sure he’d been shot. His hand even snagged on a bullet hole in his shirt; but there wasn’t any blood, and even the sensation of impact faded to nothing. Because he was a freaking vampire.

He put his hands on his hips, stared down at the guy, and laughed.

The guy screamed, a guttural sound of denial. Still on his ass, he scuttled away from Jake, slipped, and a half-dozen bottles of washer fluid fell on him. His sunglasses came off and skittered on the floor tiles.

Jake was on him in a second, his hands gripping the guy’s collar, pinning him to the floor. With a sense of amazement, he parted his lips, baring his teeth. His fangs.

I could break his neck. Drink him ’til he’s dry.

The guy started crying. His lips were moving, but his words were unintelligible. He tried to bring his hands up, to ward Jake away, but he could only bat weakly at him.

Pathetic. And Jake had thought himself a loser.

He called back to the girls, “There’s some duct tape behind the counter. Could one of you bring it here? And call 911.”

If he’d been alone, he might have done more to the guy. But this was good enough. This made him a hero. A vampire superhero.

The blond girl approached, offering him the roll of duct tape. “That was incredible, what you did. I thought for sure he’d shot you. You must know some kind of funky martial arts.” Her friend was on the phone, her voice shaking and hands trembling.

Jake taped together the guy’s wrists, then his ankles. Not that he seemed inclined to run off. That look Jake had given him must have come straight out of a nightmare.

Jake stood, crossing his arms to cover the bullet hole in his T-shirt. “It was mostly instinct.” He looked bashfully at his shoe. He didn’t forget to smile.

The smile she gave back was warm and beckoning. The other girl hung up the phone and hurried around the counter to hold her friend’s arm. They both looked up at Jake with the same earnest admiration.

He’d seen girls look at rock stars that way. And they were looking like that at him.

He’d just beat up an armed robber. He could do anything.

“Hey, you two look really shaken up. You should sit down, at least until the cops get here.” He slipped between them, put his arms around their shoulders, and guided them to the plastic chairs sitting against the wall by the coffeemaker near the counter. They clung to him, leaning against his body. They were so warm. And fresh. He breathed deeply, taking in the scent of them. He sat on the middle chair; they perched on either side of him and didn’t let go. Score.

“I don’t think I can keep driving tonight,” said the brown-haired one.

“That’s okay,” Jake said. “Stay here as long as you need to.” At least until dawn.

Now, how to play the cards he’d been dealt tonight?