The Early Worm Gets the Bird

The light drained from the sky like blood from a bus driver’s face when he sees a group of rowdy kids waiting at the stop.

Quinn Dittman grimaced. It was time to wake up Leofwine again. Back in the old days, this hadn’t been part of his job responsibilities. But with changing times come changing roles. ‘Better pop the kettle on,’ he muttered to the darkening valley below.

The shadow of the mountains spread, reaching with bony fingers across the buildings. In places, here and there, lights popped on inside houses and offices. But it was still too early for the streetlamps; they’d come on shortly.

It hadn’t always been this way. It was the fault of those damn kids. Why didn’t they go out drinking at night like the older generations before them had? Bloody health kicks and awareness of damaging effects. Now, he had to rouse Herr Essertg in time to grab breakfast, or he wouldn’t eat at all.

Or he’d find something tasty a little closer to home.

Quinn turned and entered the castle, leaving the cooling evening behind. He headed for the kitchen, which Leofwine had had installed following Quinn’s arrival.

The kitchen had all the mod cons. Leofwine Essertg had requested everything top-of-the-line. Despite his wealth, he hadn’t paid a single thing. The contractor had offered to do it for free, much to the contractor’s own confusion later on.

Quinn took the kettle and filled it up at the sink, watching through the window as the sun’s pink shades faded away. He put it on its base and flicked the switch.

The sound of boiling water filled the room.

To get up this early, Leofwine needed caffeine. The biggest problem was that he couldn’t drink coffee or eat coffee beans. It made him ill. So, the only solution was for Quinn to imbibe the liquid gold and act as a filter for his master. Coffee goes into Quinn, blood goes into Leofwine, carrying that precious, precious caffeine.

The kettle finished boiling, clicking off.

Quinn grabbed a mug with a smiling bat: ‘Life SUCKS without coffee!’ He spooned some instant coffee into the mug a few times; Leofwine didn’t care about quality, only caffeine. He added a dash of milk – it was more for him than for his master, because it made the beverage more bearable.

The smell of warm coffee wafted through the kitchen, soft and cosy.

Quinn gritted his teeth. Almost time. It was never a fun experience, but it was necessary. He didn’t want to risk his master waking up once all the “restaurants” had closed. Leofwine would see what nomnoms he had at home, in that case. Quinn wanted to become a vampire, not a vampire’s breakfast. Sometimes, you had to bleed for what you wanted. At the sink, he pulled up his sleeve, revealing scars like a tattoo made using a mathematical compass. He squeezed a dollop of soap into his palm and lathered up his forearm.

The flowery aroma danced over the coffee notes. The warm water trickled over Quinn’s skin.

You never offered a vampire your neck, not even if he was your master-slash-friend. They’d start to drink and would be unable to stop. It was like giving a golden retriever puppy a bite of a slice of steak and expecting it to stop after the first nibble. No, the wrist was a much more sensible choice; you could pull away with less struggle. His master hadn’t requested a clean wrist, but Quinn was a go-getter who took initiative. He wanted to go far. And he’d prefer to do so by flying. Quinn killed the tap and dried himself off with a tea towel. Then, he downed the drink in three desperate gulps; coffee played havoc with his gut, but not drinking it would play havoc with his neck. With a deep breath, he went down the stairs to Leofwine’s coffinroom.

He’d once woken up Leo by singing The Fifth Dimension’s ‘Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In’. Leo had almost had his throat torn out for it. Seeing as most morning-related songs referenced the sun, Quinn had penned his own. He rapped his knuckles on the coffin lid, singing his little ditty. ‘Who’s a snoozy vampire? It’s a brand new night! I know you’re very ti-red but let’s go and grab a bite! Wakey Mister Vampire, I don’t wish to be so rude. I hate to draw your ire but it’s time to get some food!’

There came a thud and a grumble. ‘Go ‘way. ‘Leepin’.’

Sweating, Quinn continued while lifting the coffin lid. ‘Hello Master Leo, it’s your good friend Quinn. He is here to serve you, please don’t munch on him!’

The vampire hissed and retreated into the shadows of his coffin. In the inky darkness there, Leo transformed into a rat. ‘Is no vampire here. Just I, simple rat. Please do not make me up get. I am cute. I bite you.’

Quinn sighed. ‘Come on, master, I know it’s you. Yesterday you were a bug. The night before a black hound. Time to get up and hunt,’ he said with a smile.

Leofwine melted back into his natural form, all pale skin, black hair, and pointy teeth. He gave Quinn a sour look. ‘I hate you. I hate waking up. I hate existing.’

Quinn raised his eyebrows. ‘You’ve never sounded more human, master.’

Leo sat up, hands outstretched before him. He then growled, running a hand with inch-long nails across his pale face. ‘I feel like something dug up with shovel. Like worm of the earth.’

‘But, said Quinn, smiling, ‘the kids are out in full force this early evening. Get ’em while they’re fresh!’

Leofwine bared his fangs. ‘Away with your happiness! Is too early for happiness. Happiness is not wake yet. Why can’t they just line up outside coffin? That is the problem with kids these days. No respect for elders.’

Quinn gritted his teeth. ‘Here, master,’ he said, offering his bare arm. ‘Have a suck on this. It’ll make you feel better.’

At the sight of the flesh offered before him in this drowsy state, Leofwine Essertg clamped down. His cold, dry hands clasped Quinn’s hand and elbow, and he buried his face into the inner wrist, nuzzling like a puppy.

Pain, sharp and fierce, bit into Quinn’s nerve endings, and he sucked in a breath, fighting against the urge to cry out.

After a minute, faintness started to creep over him, darkening the corners of his vision.

If he let him, Leo would squeeze every last drop out of him right here and now, forgetting the years of servitude he’d put in. It sometimes made him feel like he didn’t matter at all. He pulled his arm back. ‘Okay, master. That’s enough.’

Leo growled, clutching Quinn’s arm like a kitten clawing ahold of a slice of ham.

For goodness’ sake. Every damn time. It was time for the safe word. Words. ‘Fine. Our Father, who art in Heav—’

Leo let go. ‘Stop, stop! You make point. Pah! Ungrateful familiar. I give you new kitchen. I give you new vacuum with three tube attachments and multi power setting. And you repay me this?’

By refusing to become a meal. But Quinn didn’t say this. He stemmed the blood with a handkerchief and looked into Leo’s widening pupils. ‘Starting to feel better, master?’

Leofwine nodded, looking more alive. Unalive. ‘Yes, yes. You are good boy, Quinn. Looks after his master. You are right. Time for meal. But I spare you. Too old. Jaded by world. Taste like sad.’

Vampire humour was something else. ‘Thanks, master.’

‘Now,’ Leo said, springing out of his coffin and straightening his cape, ‘breakfast. The living are waiting, strutting about like idiot chickens unaware of the farmer’s axe.’

Quinn gave a weak smile. The predator’s mind was a cold, calculating thing. What was it like to look through those eyes? Did he view humans the way humans viewed delicious flightless birds? He’d find out soon enough if Leo kept his promise. To get what you wanted, you had to give a little. In Quinn’s case, that was time and blood.

Leofwine Essertg took the form of a bat and fluttered up the stairs from the coffin room. He flapped like a small plane with a tailwind, using a nitrous injection. ‘Mahlzeit!’ he squeaked as he flew away.

Quinn smiled. Another job well done. Caffeine: what would the world do without it? The issue now was getting any sleep with a bellyful of coffee.

He needed to be wide awake tomorrow to survive another day as a vampire’s familiar.