Once Bitten, No Longer Shy - Julie Steimle (dark books to read .txt) 📗

back at her. Rolling his eyes, Bobo went to her, leading her to a stool. He whispered in her ear, “It’s ok. He’s harmless.”

“He looks like a vampire!” she hissed back.

Chuckling, Bobo nodded. “Yeah, he does.”

Troy realized they were trying not to be overheard, but he could hear them loud and clear. Good vampire hearing.

“Doesn’t that freak you out?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Bobo chuckled, “I know ‘im. I know his past. And I know why he looks like that.”

She exhaled tensely.

“Look, I told you. I’m superman.” He then kissed her. “Not even a vampire could hurt me.”

Troy smiled to himself, as that was true.

“And I’d never let one hurt you.”

Damn. Bobo was a smooth romantic. She leaned into him for protection, smiling.

Troy set out his ingredients for food and said to them, “Do either of you want an omelet?”

She blinked at him while Bobo gestured to the food she had brought.

 

Despite how friendly they were in their affection, Bobo’s girlfriend did not spend the night. She had merely been stopping by. But during her brief visit, Troy had learned a great deal about her. She was like her friend Audry in that she was pro-environment. She also used to march in Black Lives Matter parades before she met Bobo who had convinced her there were less violent ways to protest injustice. Meeting him had somehow squelched her anger at the ‘white race’. And why? Because of his friendship with Matthew Calamori and Joshua Johnson, two cops who were never condescending and who she later learned had pretty difficult lives of their own. And she was blown away by Bobo’s friendship with the wealthy Rick Deacon who treated every friend with personal fondness.

“So you know H. Richard Deacon?” She kept her distance as she gazed at Troy, right before she headed out.

Troy nodded wearily. “We all went to the same school. What did you think of him when you met him?”

She shrugged. “He’s a really stressed out rich guy who really liked Audry.”

Really stressed out rich guy…. Troy paused, watching her go. He wondered how much Rick had spent time with this Audry, let alone her friends. She must have met Rick after his friend was killed in Germany.

 

Bobo played jazz and other mellow music before he went to bed that night. It was strange. Not that Art had not played music, but that he had kept his music to himself. It had always echoed from his room like he was afraid to intrude on Troy’s space. Bobo had no such reservations. He had moved in and occupied the space, so much that now that it was filled with him—which was the direct opposite of Art who hardly took up space at all and had left no trace when he had gone.

When Troy went to his room, sipping his evening hot mug of creamy milk and oats with valerian root, Sting’s song “Moon over Bourbon Street” was playing, filling the apartment like a personal serenade to him.

“…I’ve no choice but to follow that call, the bright lights, the people, and the moon and all…. I pray every day to be strong. For I know what I do must be wrong…. Oh, you’ll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet, while there’s a moon over Bourbon Street….”

Its words swept over him as he slipped into bed and sank into sleep, wondering if vampires and New Orleans really were connected. He had heard Anne Rice lived there. And maybe that was the real reason why Bobo had no fear of him. Maybe he had met vampires there… and survived.

“…It was many years ago, that I became what I am. I was trapped in this life like an innocent lamb. Now I can never show my face at noon. And you’ll only see me walking by the light of the moon…”

Heaving a sigh, Troy wondered how this new phase of life was going to be. And as he nodded off, the words seeped into his dreams. “… I’ve a face of a sinner but the hands of a priest. Oh, you’ll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet, while there’s a moon over Bourbon Street….”

He started to dream right away—him walking down a muggy jazz-filled street in a dark suit, stalking outside a house that was from one of Bobo’s colorful paintings. There Nicole peeked out her head but could not see him. And as the song continued playing, he wondered if maybe he truly was going down the path all vampires took, seduced by his very cursed nature into it.

“…How could I be this way when I pray to God above? I must love what I destroy and destroy the thing I love. Oh, you’ll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet, while there’s a moon over Bourbon Street….”

The music ended and Bobo put on something more peaceful. It sounded like hand pan from India, which was weird.

 

The next morning, the apartment felt as if Bobo had always lived there. The place smelled of him and moved to his rhythm. Music was always playing, and the kitchen smelled of his spices and food. Bobo had a Cajun taste. He made up a plate of grillades and grits, which consisted of something that looked like ground up rice but was actually pieces of white hominy corn, boiled and served with butter alongside savory chopped meat with Creole spices. He did indoor calisthenics in the living room while Troy was in the lab, and he soon left to work after a shower.

At around noon Bobo returned with friends. Troy was in the kitchen making lunch when they arrived.

“That’s Jeremy Deets. This is Tobey Babbit, and this is Brooke Himmerman and her friend Paula.” Bobo pointed to each one of them as they waved with gaping stares at him as if Troy were a thing in the zoo. “This is Farrah and William. And we are waiting on Jandra and uh, Scandon Pratt. They’re bringing the food.”

“For what?” Troy asked as his eyes took in the variety of college kids from NYU in his apartment while putting together the sandwich he had been assembling. It was a panini—garlic free but with lots of olive oil, sundried tomatoes, and basil. Oh, and cheese.

“Green Club meeting,” Bobo said, grinning.

Troy stared at him. “What?”

Laughing, Bobo directed the others to the kitchen counter and also the refrigerator to help themselves to drinks. “Green Club. I joined it when Audry Bruchenhaus was still around.”

Troy rolled his eyes. He was getting sick of hearing about this Audry. And he still had not burned that shirt.

“Are you going to be here this afternoon?” Bobo asked as his club-mates gathered around but kept their distance from Troy.

Shaking his head, gazing at those who were staring back at him, Troy replied, “No. I’ve got to go to the library and the post office. The book I ordered on Latin terms has come in, and I think the bestiary Silvia recommended has also arrived.”

Some of them drew in breaths. There was a pair of gals, a blonde alongside a black lady like a salt and pepper shaker set, who exchanged looks. They were dressed like a couple of models from United Colors of Benneton.

“Silvia?” Brooke, the blonde, echoed, her face paling. “You don’t mean Silvia Lewis, do you?”

Surprised she knew Silvia, Troy nodded as he said, “The one and the same. How do you know her?”

Exchanging another look with her friend, Brook said, “She used to be part of Green Club,” sounding offended that she had to hear Silvia’s name again. “But how do you know her?”

“She married my best friend,” Troy murmured, thinking: Green Club? Silvia? That didn’t sound right. Why would a former witch join something like Green Club? What he knew about real witches had nothing to do with loving nature.

Sighing, Troy glanced once to Bobo who chuckled. But all their eyes widened on him. It was as if he had said Silvia had become a nun.

“Someone married her?” one of the guys exclaimed.

This time Troy rolled his eyes. “She is a beautiful woman.”

“Did you know she’s a practicing witch?” Paula asked, almost begging.

Lifting his eyebrows, shocked they knew, Troy gazed back at her. Most people would have just seen her as weird or creepy. Did Silvia tell everybody what she was? He could have sworn she was broadcasting to all that she was hair stylist. She dressed the part of s stylist.

“That’s a just rumor,” another in the group snapped. “She only looks that way.”

“She said so herself,” Brooke protested.

Troy exchanged another look with Bobo then went to get a plate. Apparently Silvia had said something. How odd? They watched him, perhaps looking for something witchy about him. He presumed they too saw him as Goth. He would be that pale and his hair was that dark. With all the stares on him, Troy finally said, “Are you getting a long enough look?”

Bobo busted up. He then nodded to the others and said, “Come on. Let’s get out the stuff for the food. Plates are up there and silverware is in this drawer. We’ve got a meeting to start.”

The group awkwardly followed Bobo’s directions, trying not to get nervous. As Troy sat and ate his sandwich, they shifted the conversation to their current club business—a future booth they were going run at the approaching Earth Day celebration.

“Earth Day is coming up?” Troy asked almost without meaning to.

They hushed, though Bobo said, “Yeah. Did you lose track of time being stuck here?”

Shrugging, Troy said, “I’m no longer on the school calendar, so yes.”

“What school did you go to?” one of the guys asked, the one called Jeremy.

Looking to him with a nod, Troy replied, “New York Medical College in Valhalla.”

They stared.

“You’re a med student?” Brooke murmured.

Troy closed one eye and said, “More like a student of Pathology and Pharmacology.”

Bobo grinned. It was his public answer.

“I’m studying in particular ancient medical conditions and remedies.” Troy then picked up his sandwich and headed toward his room, shaking his head. He had to get his wallet, and he was sick of the stares.

When they thought he was out of earshot, he overheard one hiss to another, “What medical condition does he have?”

Bobo did not reply, probably thinking of a fair response. He couldn’t actually say vampirism after all.

“He is so white!” that gal Paula said as if his lack of color offended her.

“It’s part of his condition,” Bobo replied quickly, reproving her.

“You said it was kind of like albinism, but he wasn’t always like that,” A guy said. “Is it vitiligo?”

“He also sounds strange,” a girl said. “Did you hear it in his voice?”

“I think his voice sounds sexy,” another woman said.

Bobo moaned. “Don’t you tell him that.”

“I’m here!”

The door closed. He could hear Jandra and someone else walk in. Two new heartbeats had joined the crowd. All of them were human hearts though. Their beats were tempting him. Troy had realized that he did not want to spend too much time among large crowds of humans, as it was like walking down the meat aisle in the store. Luckily Troy could also smell the lattes they had brought in, masking the aroma of their pulsing blood.

When he went out of the room with a wave to Jandra who awkwardly waved back, eyes followed him. Several watched how he pulled up his hoodie, and he heard their hearts pound suspiciously as he went out the door. Someone whispered, “That guy really does look like a vampire, though, doesn’t he?”

He went quickly to the street, wondering when Bobo was going to work, or if his work was actually an on-call sort of thing. It had started to occur to him that maybe Bobo had gone back to school at NYU. Rick would have supported him if he had.

When Troy returned from his library trip, as well as a trip to the store to get a few things, he found the apartment had been vacated.