A stiletto heel through a vampireās heartā¦
Who ever said you had to sacrifice fabulous for functional?
Eventually Iād find her, the one who stole my abilities.
Now I was stuck like thisā¦
As a water elemental, everything about me before was fluidā¦
My shape, my genderā¦
Hell, I didnāt even have a gender beforeā¦
Whatever form was most appealing to my human preyā¦ thatās the shape Iād take.
Luring my prey to my watery lair through sex appeal and alluring songā¦
I didnāt even know that vampires were realā¦
How was I supposed to know that Iād chosen a vampire as an entree?
When I was bit that damned bloodsucker stole my shape-shifting abilityā¦
I was scared shiftless.
I'm out for more than vengeance. I want my life back. But even if I catch her, even if I kill the vampire who ruined my lifeā¦ can I even take my abilities back? Or, am I destined to stay like thisā¦forever.
A stiletto heel through a vampireās heartā¦
Who ever said you had to sacrifice fabulous for functional?
Eventually Iād find her, the one who stole my abilities.
Now I was stuck like thisā¦
As a water elemental, everything about me before was fluidā¦
My shape, my genderā¦
Hell, I didnāt even have a gender beforeā¦
Whatever form was most appealing to my human preyā¦ thatās the shape Iād take.
Luring my prey to my watery lair through sex appeal and alluring songā¦
I didnāt even know that vampires were realā¦
How was I supposed to know that Iād chosen a vampire as an entree?
When I was bit that damned bloodsucker stole my shape-shifting abilityā¦
I was scared shiftless.
I'm out for more than vengeance. I want my life back. But even if I catch her, even if I kill the vampire who ruined my lifeā¦ can I even take my abilities back? Or, am I destined to stay like thisā¦forever.
I could smell the vampire from the opposite side of the roomā¦
No one else knew he was there. But as they say, the show must go on.Ā
I clung to my microphone, belting out the last note of Whitney Houstonās āI Will Always Love You.ā It was a crowd favorite, and I had the voice for it. Most humans couldnāt say that.
If angels really sang, as one critic who saw one of my performances wrote in the local LGBTQ+ publication, Iād be a member of their choir.Ā
Not that I was an angel. We didnāt sing praises to God. We only serenaded our meals.
At least, thatās what I used to do. Before I was bitten.
Thatās how we hunted humans: shifting into whatever form they found most alluring, wooing them with song. Then dragging them down to our watery lairā¦ for dinner.Ā
How was I supposed to know, on that fateful night, that a vampire had made her way onto my menu? Even more, how could I be expected to realize that if I was bitten by one, Iād lose my abilities? That Iād be stuck like thisā¦Ā
By day and by night I was Nickyātotal diva.Ā
By late-night I became Nyxāevery vampireās worst nightmare.Ā
Iād tried to keep those worlds separate. Until this bloodsucker, whoever he was, dared to stalk Nickyās audience.Ā
Heād crossed a line.Ā
For most folks, Leotards and Lace was just another hole-in-the-wall gay club. Hell, I wasnāt even gay. And I wasnāt one of the drag queens normally featured on stage.Ā
Big misconceptionāif youāre trans and you sing, that doesnāt make you a drag queen.Ā
Gina had finished her set, to the hoots and hollers of a semi-rowdy crowd, just before I took the stage.Ā
I didnāt elicit the same response from the audience.
When I sang, the crowds were hushed. They listened intently. The cheers came all at onceāafter Iād finished my number. Some of the crowd came for the queens. Others came to hear me.Ā
The club owners didnāt care. Everyone paid the same cover charge.Ā
And now that I was on stage, Ginaās fans migrated to the back of the room where she made an appearance to fraternize with her fans.Ā
The vampire was talking to herā¦
It wasnāt the first time Iād seen a vamp on the prowl. He bought her a drink, he flirted with her, locking eyes with her, capturing her with his vampiric allureā¦ irresistible to most humans.
But I was a professional. I had a song to song. And another one after that.Ā
I finished the Whitney number, and the crowd erupted in cheers. I gripped my microphone tightly, brushing one of my long sliver-white strands of hair out of my face and tucking it behind my ear.
I was slated for a second song. It was my signature numberāmy version of Roberta Fleckās rendition of āThe First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.ā Haunting, but oddly seductive. Based on experience, half the crowd would be making out with each other before I vocalized the last note.
Sure, the Whitney song was a classic ādivaā number. It highlighted my status as a powerhouse singer. But this oneā¦ it was enchanting. It had gained me something of a cult following. It was why the majority of the crowd had come.
The house band started to play, but my attentions were fixed on the back of the room as the vampire took Gina by the hand and led her out the door.
I dropped my microphone and took off through the crowd. My second number wasnāt going to happen. Not tonight.
I didnāt have my weapons on me. I usually had a stake, a crossbow, chains, several cloves of garlicā¦ Iād make do. I had my methods.Ā
Most people were surprised how quickly I could run in heels. Truthfully, my kindāelementals, that isācan move incredibly fast even if weāve temporarily (or in my case, semi-permanently) assumed a human form. I didnāt notice much of a drop-off in my speed in heels. Hell, I was so used to them that I might have even been faster in heels than in running shoes.Ā
I pushed my way through the audience to the back of the room. I ignored the man who grabbed my ass as I made my way past all the bodies; I didnāt have time to exchange gropes for slaps.
I pressed forward, shoving people aside as I reached the back of the room. I wasnāt about to let Gina, or any of my queens, get taken by a vampire.
I looked outside.
Leotards and Lace wasnāt in the worst neighborhood. Not the best, either. It was in Kansas Cityās historic West Bottoms district. It was fairly safe during the day. At night, it was a bit of a different story. A lot of red-brick buildings, mostly abandoned. Most of them originally erected in the early twentieth century for manufacturing, now converted into loft apartments, artist studios, and eclectic shops and other attractions.Ā
With all the tall buildings and alleys, a scream, even if someone was bold enough to investigate it, would be hard to track down from a distance.Ā
And since vampires also moved fastāalmost as fast as meāI had to find Gina before the vamp bit her. Vamps donāt tend to waste a lot of time once they have their victims alone.
I sniffed the air.Ā
I could smell the undead. Most people couldnāt; humans have a notoriously bad sense of smell. Most vampires didnāt realize they had an odor. A skunk doesnāt know its own scent. But other supernaturalsāelementals, like me, and probably werewolvesācould smell a vampire from a hundred yards away.Ā
They were that rank.
It was a distinct, pungent odor. A bit like iron.Ā Ā
And I knew these alleys better than the vampire. If he lived nearby, or frequented this area, Iād know it.Ā
A lot of vampires hunt outside of their regular stomping grounds. It was still wiser, from a vampās perspective, to hunt in a variety of different neighborhoods. Less chance of getting caught.Ā
Vamps are like any criminals, and hunters are sort of like detectives. Theyāre creatures of habit who tend to repeat their behaviors. And we look for patterns.Ā
This was common knowledge for the older and wiser vampires. While they were more likely to get stuck in a routineāthe old-dog-new-tricks sort of thingāthose whoād been around a century or two had so many different habits in their stalk-and-feed routines that they were harder to track. Not to mention, older vamps didnāt have to feed as regularly.Ā
This vampire was, I wagered, either older or an out-of-towner. And he was about to meet his match.
I followed his scent down an ally not far from the bar. And I saw him. He had my friend, Gina, pressed against a wall. He was whispering into her ear.
The bite was comingā¦
āHey, asshole!ā I shouted.
The vampire turned, eyes glowing red.
āWhat you been smoking?ā I asked. āI mean, Iāve seen bloodshot eyes beforeā¦ā I looked past his shoulder and nodded at Gina.Ā
She took off running in the opposite direction, grabbing her phone from her brassiere.Ā
I had to do this fastāstake this vamp and drag his body off before the police showed up. So far, Iād evaded any problems from the police. But since they probably didnāt even realize vampires were real, I doubted theyād respond well if they caught me staking one and dragging his body through an alley.Ā
Gina turned the corner, almost twisting her ankle. She wasnāt quite as graceful in heels as I was. When she wasnāt in drag, after all, she was Geraldo. A rather handsome Hispanic gay man.Ā
And he had a totally different personalityāGeraldo was a quiet artist. Introverted. Sexy in his own way. But I wasnāt his type, being a trans woman, so Iād never pursued him.Ā Ā
Only as Gina did she wear heels. Gina was a rambunctious, glamorous queen. But Gina only lived on stage, and for brief moments after her shows. She didnāt have as much practice in heels as I did.
Youād rarely catch me in flats; my butt looked better in heels. What can I say?Ā
The vampire snarled. He was pissed. It was like some random stranger had walked by and taken food off his plate.
I knew heād be angry. Angry vampires can be difficult. When they rage out, they get an extra dose of strength.Ā
But this wasnāt about strengthāit was about speed and agility. Thatās where I had the advantage, because angry vampires also tend to act recklessly.Ā
His jaw dropped, flashing his fangs in a futile attempt to terrify me, and he charged my position.
Sure, he moved fast. Not as fast as me.Ā
I didnāt have my stake on hand, but I had my heels. I quickly grabbed my shoe from my right foot and kicked off the other.Ā
Everything happened so quickly, it was all a blur.Ā
I widened my stance, bracing for the collision. As the vamp dove at me, undoubtedly hoping to tackle me and feed from me, I thrust my stiletto heel into his heart.Ā
Wide-eyed and jaw-dropped, the vampire looked at me in shock. The bloodsuckerās skin turned gray before he collapsed at my feet.Ā
āPerfect,ā I said to myself, looking over the vampire. Most vampires tried to stay up with current styles. They almost always wore black. Not because they were āgoth,ā but because black allowed them to blend into the shadows.Ā
But older vampires, whoād walked the earth for more than a century, tended to default to older styles. I suppose they found keeping up with trends wearisome. And by the look of this one, the way he was dressed, I was certain he hadnāt been turned any time in the last hundred years.
This was what I was looking for.
Most younger vampires didnāt have a clue who Alice wasāthe vampire who stole my abilities. This one, an older vampire, would at the very least know of her. Even if he couldnāt tell me where she was, it was the best shot Iād had in a while to gather actionable intelligence on my target.Ā
Usually Iād stake a vamp, and once it was clear they didnāt have any helpful information, Iād cut out their heart, burn it, and be done with it.
Iād have to take a little more time with this one, just in case he had information I could use. Couldnāt do it here. Didnāt have enough time. Not with the cops likely on the way.
I used to take more time with the vamps I caught. But over many hunts, I gained a sense for which ones might be more or less helpful to me.
A good interrogation took time to prepare. Of course, with my heel firmly lodged in the vampireās heart, I literally had all the time in the world. Once I got him out of the alley.Ā
I had a place. Not my apartment. Another place, for situations like this.Ā
Contrary to popular belief, staking a vampire doesnāt totally kill the creature. Remove the stake and they come back. But itās generally the first step. Hard to cut out a vampireās heart if heās still breathing.Ā
And, technically speaking, heād stay like thisādormant and corpse-likeāindefinitely, so long as my heel remained in his heart.
Not that I intended to take any longer than necessary.
Ā I had to set the scene: bind the vampire to ensure he couldnāt escape, then make sure I was near a window so that when the sun rose I could pull the curtains, if needed, as a way of forcing the vamp to talk.Ā
Hopefully it wouldnāt take that long.
I cracked my knuckles and grabbed the vampire. I tossed him over my shoulder, careful not to dislodge my stiletto from his chest in the process. It mustāve been quite a sceneāa diva, now barefoot, with a body across her shoulders in a firemanās carry.Ā
I might not look like muchābut Iām one strong bitch.Ā
And this vampire was about to find out I could be intimidating as hell when I wanted to be.Ā
Theophilus Monroe had me hooked at sentence one, which--for someone who reads novels for work--is quite a feat. Both the description and first chapter of Scared Shiftless blew me away. I settled in, jaw dropped, commented to my partner how amazing this book was from the get-go, and prepared to enjoy the ride.
It capitalized on one of the most classic points that once made Vampire Novels great with a strong, under-rated, under-appreciated young heroine (transgender) kicking butt and taking names. I mean, staking a vampire with a stiletto heal? That's some level of awesome right there. I just knew that Scared Shiftless was going to modernize and refresh the dwindling Slayer genre, and I was excited...
Until there was no slayage...
Not by dear Nicky, anyway. At least, not in the 'really killing a vampire dead' way. I was devastated! In a world where "slain" vampires return to life unless their hearts are cut out and destroyed (burned, eaten, etc.), we do not see Nicky actually "completely" kill a single vampire in the entire book. Every single one is slain and revived, or slain and then finished off by other people. We hear that "Nix" is a renowned slay-and-kill being, but then we don't get to see it.
The story follows Nicky's (also 'Nix', 'Nixy', and 'Nick' depending on the scene) journey to accept herself while hunting down a vampire named Alice, who stole Nicky's shape-shifting powers years before this story takes place.
Knowing the only way to retrieve her shifting powers is to slay Alice and eat the vampire's heart, Nicky teams up with another long-lived vampire and an order of holier-than-thou vampire slayers to finally connect her with the woman who stole everything from her.
This story is more about Nicky's interpersonal journey and educating readers on the life/struggles of those in the LGBTQ community, though, than hunting vampires. It was at least written in a style reminiscent of Vampire Fiction--Buffy the Vampire Slayer has a collision with Interview with a Vampire here.
I struggled greatly between giving this piece a 2 or a 3 star review. Ultimate I have decided on a 2, as, firstly, the book did not leave me feeling satisfied with the impression I got from the description (the focus was not on vampire slaying action, but on 'who am I and what is my place in the world', AKA speculative fiction).
Secondly, the 'educational' feel of the narrative was very repetitive. Sentences were reused multiple times in the same chapter (or slight variations of the same sentence), and the same points were made over and over again. This left me feeling like the story was disjointed or imbalanced at points. And this happens A LOT, not just a few times (it happens too much to gloss over).
With some polishing on the writing style to remove redundancies and repetition, this would have been a very pleasurable 3-4 star read. Monroe is a unique and hooking voice that truly sucks readers into the plot; the connecting points were just a bit slow for my taste, especially in a Vampire Fantasy.
--Trigger Warnings: Murder, Dismemberment, Assault, Attack, LGBTQ+ prejudice shown from some of the characters, Violence--