Vampires Don't Wait Tables

"No." She turns away.

"Okay, well, I'm just going to find a hot dog stand or something and buy a bottle of water. I'll be right back."

"Yeah," she says flatly.

I leave her there, huddled under the umbrella, and get my water.

She's gone when I come back. I look around in disbelief. Did I get lost? No, here's the hole where she buried herself in the sand.

For a moment, I'm relieved. She's taken the decision out of my hands. I can go home now and try to put this all behind me.

Then I pull out my phone. I text her. "Where did you go? I'm under the boardwalk where I left you. I got you a bottle of water."

Does she even drink water? She can, obviously, but does she need it? I have no idea.

My phone buzzes a minute later. "Are you serious?"

Another message follows immediately. "Wait there. I'll come back."

I sit there and drink my water and wait for her. She shows up a few minutes later, limping heavily, and stops a few feet away. I can't even see her face. She's inscrutable in her head-to-toe clothing.

"You're an idiot," I tell her. "Did you really think I was trying to run away? You know where I live. I didn't even know if you could still walk."

Her voice cracks when she speaks. "I can walk."

"Yeah. I see that." I'm snapping at an immortal serial killer. I need to get a grip on myself but I can't. I want to laugh and cry and scream at the same time. It averages out to a sort of sulky numbness. Nothing feels real. "Do you want the water?"

She shakes her head. "I don't need water."

"Why are you constantly drinking tea, then?"

"It keeps my body warm. Otherwise I cool off to room temperature."

"Oh." It made sense. Everything made sense. "Is that why you live in a storage unit, even though you have a literal pot of gold? You don't eat or drink or really do anything that needs money."

"Yeah. They're worth more to me as mementos than cash. At my age, it becomes easy to forget entire decades. Sometimes looking at the coins jogs my memory."

I imagine her going through her jar of coins and saying, "Ah, yes, the Qin dynasty. Fun times." A hysterical laugh starts to bubble up.

I force my mind onto more practical thoughts. "So, where were you off to? I'm guessing you can't go to the hospital."

"I don't need a doctor. I just need to go home."

"Home is the storage unit?"

She nods.

Do I really want to do this?

I can't turn my back on her now.

"It's safe for us if you come home with me, right?" I ask. "Nobody's going to come looking?"

She shakes her head slowly.

"I can't tell if you're saying no, it's not safe, or no, nobody's going to come."

"It's safe." Her voice is tiny and broken.

I take her by the hand and lead her home. Luckily, people are used to her showing up in her full coverage clothing by now, and it hides all her injuries. I get her up to the attic without much trouble. I settle her in the hammock with a cup of tea.

I have two chairs up here now. I take one for myself. Then I ask the next big question. "Are you hungry?"

She shakes her head. "I don't need food either. I only eat for show."

"I think you know that's not what I'm asking."

She tucks her feet up into the hammock and pulls the quilt around herself. From inside its folds she asks, wearily, "What do you take me for, Jemmy? You and your family are off-limits. You don't have to worry."

"Also not what I'm asking."

"What are you asking, then?"

Where to start? "How much do you need?"

"Not much, if I'm conserving my strength. A pint or two a week."

"Have you been conserving your strength?"

She doesn't answer.

"Hong! I'm trying to help you. Can you even heal if you don't eat?"

She doesn't respond to that either.

"So what was your plan, after you got back to your storage unit?"

Her words come back to me in a flash. Pick up a cute guy, suck his blood. How long has she been toying with me like that? Answering all my questions with the literal truth and laughing up her sleeve at me?

Later. I can be mad at her later. I've got Long in my ear again. Cook first!

"Was the plan to pick somebody up in a bar?" I ask. "Because, well, guys are pigs, but nobody is going to go home with you the way you're looking."

"I'd have found a homeless guy. Nobody's going to care if a couple of homeless guys start talking about getting ambushed by a vampire. Everyone assumes they're crazy."

Something in me relaxes at that implicit confirmation. "Is that the difference between you and the vampires down on Coney Island? Not that they weren't getting rid of the bodies but that they were killing people. You don't."

"I suppose that's not an inaccurate way to think about it," she says. Then, immediately, "No, I'm sorry. I owe you that much. The important part is that they were attracting attention. I'm not some kind of hero. I wouldn't have done anything if they'd been neater about it."

"But you don't kill people," I press.

"No, I don't. I only take a pint or so. Most of us are on a catch-and-release model, by now. It attracts less attention."

"It attracts less attention?"

"They wake up the next morning with no memory of the night before. All they know is they met a cute girl last night, and now they're dead tired and they've got fresh puncture marks on their arms." A wry smile flickers across her face. "It turns out there are a lot of people who take that kind of thing in stride."

"So it's safe, is what you're saying."

She shrugs. "Safer than a lot of things they probably do."

"Does it hurt?"

"A pinch at first. No worse than getting blood drawn."

"So...?" I offer her my arm.

She pushes it away. "No. I told you, you and your family are off-limits."

"And some homeless guy isn't? At least I'm volunteering for this."

"Oh, Jemmy, you're such a good person, and you try so hard to think of me as if I'm a good person too." She laughs softly, sadly, bitterly. "You want to know why you're off-limits? It's not about morality. It's because it makes me feel better to draw certain lines and tell myself I won't cross them. That's all there is to it. It's fun to lie to myself sometimes."

She stares into the distance, reviewing the events of an unfathomably long life. "The truth is, there's only one thing I won't do, and that's end it. That's the only line I have never, ever crossed."

I keep trying a little longer to offer her my blood, but my heart's not in it anymore. There's something unsettling about her quiet despair. I don't dare ask what she has done to make herself so confident she will eventually betray every principle she claims to hold.

Instead, we sit and drink tea and talk about happier things. I speak of our hopes for my cousins and nephews, and she responds with lighthearted stories of everyday life in ages past, of mischievous children and young lovers and proud parents. There's something timeless about them. Substitute an exploitative boss for the rapacious tax collector, and any of these stories could have happened today.

Sometimes in the background of her stories I can make out the fuzzy outline of famous events, but she always glosses over those. I get the feeling she has learned to stay away from anything that would make it into a history book.

Eventually, my eyelids start to droop. Now freed of any need to feign human frailty, she insists I take my hammock back. She tucks me in and brushes a kiss across my forehead.

I hear the ladder squeak as she lowers it and lets herself out. I shiver and try not to think about what she's going to do. It's a long time before I can fall asleep.

When sleep finally comes, I dream of a navigation buoy off Coney Island. A light bobs above the water, lifted high by a metal latticework tower. A short ladder is affixed to the side, and on that ladder are a man and a woman. Their limbs bend at unnatural angles and far too many times.

The woman turns to look at me. Her mouth works silently, but I recognize the pop of her lips as she forms the "P." "Please," she's saying. "Please."

I wake up screaming, thrashing in the hammock as the sheets snarl around my straight, intact limbs. I am alone. Gradually, my heart stops pounding, my breath comes more easily, and I lie back down. I toss and turn the rest of the night. I'm not even sure I want to go back to sleep.

Hong comes back before dawn. "Couldn't sleep?" she asks.

"No, I did. But I'm up now." I show her my phone, as if I'd meant to wake up early and scroll a bit. She's never spent the night. She's always had work. Maybe she'll think this is normal.

She doesn't. She kneels down next to my hammock.

In the glow from my phone, I can see that her black eye is fading to yellow and green already. The swelling on her jaw is almost gone.

She's moving more easily too, I realize. Last night, she made the wooden floor creak as she trod heavily upon them. Now she crossed the same boards with light, silent steps.

"Bad dreams?" she asks.

"No," I lie.

"Jemmy, I can hear your heart and your breath. I can smell your sweat. And I can see your face as plain as day." She pauses, then asks, "Do you want to talk about it?"

I swallow. She's a living lie detector.

Well, she's a walking lie detector.

"Why did you do it like that? On the buoy? You said it would take them days to die."

"Ah." She settles herself on the floor, leaning against my hip through the hammock.

Hesitantly, I reach out of the hammock and she takes my hand. Her hand is freezing. I guess she didn't need to pass for human for whatever she's been doing tonight. I try not to think about that.

"There aren't a lot of ways to kill us," she says at last. "Exposure is the most reliable. We really do burn underneath the sun."

"So the wooden stake through the heart is just fiction?"

"A stake? I have no idea." Her lips twitch. She has a guess, and it amuses her.

"Okay, so you have to let them burn to death under the sun. But why not just tie them to the buoy?"

"With what? There's nothing I can get in a hardware store that would have held them."

The realization is sickening. "You had to break their arms and legs so they couldn't move effectively any more."

She smiles, relieved that I understand. "It wasn't for fun, Jemmy. Is that what you were worried about?"

It makes sense. I can see how it makes sense. She's not gratuitously cruel. She just lives in a world where sometimes horrific violence is the smart thing to do.

Do I live in that world now? Have I, all along? I can't think about that. I need to stop thinking about that. I ask, "How did you know someone wouldn't rescue them? There are a lot of boats out there."

"There's also a lot of space. It's pretty unlikely anyone would have come close enough to see them."

"Or to hear them? Sound can carry. Maybe one of them knew how to whistle."

"Do you really want to know?" she asks.

I didn't when I first asked the question. It had been as much for distraction as curiosity. But now I do, if only so I can be haunted by a single nightmare instead of every gruesome possibility my unconscious mind can imagine. I nod.

"I broke their jaws and tore out their throats."

I flinch. It's a whole body maneuver that sets the hammock swinging. She grabs it to steady me. My skin crawls at her touch.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I should go."

"No." I force myself to reach out and grab her hand. "It's okay. Um, do you want some tea?"

Her face tightens. "Would you like me to take a bath?" she offers.

I look at her in confusion. Does she think I'm trying to get her into bed? I offer her tea all the time.

"It'll take a lot of tea to warm up my hands," she explains. "A bath would be more effective."

"No, no, I just...would you like to have some tea with me?" I ask. "For, um, fun."

She relaxes. "That sounds lovely."

I call in sick again. With covid around, they don't question it. I tell my family the same thing, so they don't wonder why I'm skipping work and hiding in the attic. Hong and I talk and cuddle all day, except when I put on a mask and go make us food. I make her food too. She seems to appreciate the gesture.

Mid-afternoon, I ask her the question that's been on my mind all day. "Hong, how worried should I be about"---I can't quite bring myself to say it---"someone like you randomly grabbing me off the bus?"

"How worried are you about a mugger randomly grabbing you off the bus?" she asks rhetorically.

"Muggers are afraid of getting caught." But even as I say that I remember why she killed that couple. They were attracting attention. "I guess you are too."

"We are," Hong confirms. "A city bus is probably the safest place you'll ever be. Don't ever start driving to work."

"What's wrong with driving?"

"You're much more likely to die in a car crash than a vampire attack."

I roll my eyes. It seemed she was done being serious. "Okay, Hong. I'll keep that in mind."

That night, I dream of the buoy again.

Their throats are grisly red ruins. She has torn out their vocal cords. The ragged, gory edges char and smoke under the searing noon sun. Even where their skin remains intact, it is reddening and blistering. Soon it will peel and then slough off.

They struggle feebly, but manage only to grind the jagged ends of their broken bones against each other. Their inhumanly powerful muscles aren't arranged correctly to move these new joints.

I wake up screaming again. I'm tangled in the quilts. I kick my legs free but my arms are trapped. And then a pale, bloodless face pops up over the side of my hammock. Arms like steel bands wrap around me.

"Shh," she says. "I'm here."

I thrash in her arms. The hammock creaks and flaps. I barely have the presence of mind to lower my voice. "Let go of me!" I hiss.

She recoils as if struck. Then she jumps back. No, she steps back. She takes one step off the rug and then another that somehow stretches across the entire length of the attic. It must be twenty or thirty feet to the far wall. She crosses it in a single bound.

She lands at an angle, leaning so far forward I'm amazed she doesn't fall flat on her face. But her momentum carries her upright. It's the only sign she's done anything more forceful than stepping over a puddle.

That, and the way her clothes and her hair fly backward. Her braid slaps against the wall. The crack! rings out like a gunshot.

I stare at Hong in astonishment. If she meant to distract me, it's worked.

"I'm sorry," she says. It's quiet enough for her voice to reach me clearly. "I shouldn't have grabbed you like that. I can go, if you want. It's still dark. I can---"

"No. No, it's okay." I finally free one hand. I reach out for her. "Please, come back."

She walks back and takes my hand, sinking to her knees by my side.

"You're warm," I say, stroking her hand in wonder. "Did you take a bath?"

She has. I can see now that her hair is still damp. Her braid leaves a wet spot on her shirt.

"Have you been waiting here all night? I thought you had to go...get something to eat."

"I did."

I check my phone. It's almost six.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

She's asking about my dreams. I shake my head. I don't want to talk about them.

"Do you want to see the dress, then?"

The dress? "The one that asshole bought you? Why would I want to see that?"

"Because I look really good in it, stupid." She gives me a playful shove. It sets the hammock swinging until I grab the table to steady myself.

When I turn back to her, she's an inch away from my face. She stares into my eyes. Her voice is breathy and low. "Maybe you can help me take it off afterward."

Her smile is cat-like, promising nothing but suggesting everything.

Somehow I manage to keep my wits long enough to croak, "Why?"

"Why? So you can see the underwear."

Her presence is overwhelming. My cock is rock hard and she hasn't even touched me yet.

Something is off about this. I can't think what right now, but I know there's something strange going on here.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

She cocks her head, grinning impishly. "Seducing you, silly boy. Is it working?"

"God, yes." I take a deep breath and run my hands through my hair. "Let me sit up."

Hong's smile fades. Obediently, she shuffles back a step on her knees and I struggle into a sitting position with my legs hanging over the edge of the hammock.

"You have the dress here?"

She nods. So she's been planning this.

"Why?" I ask again.

"Look at my little boy, thinking before he acts. There are men twice your age who haven't learned that lesson yet, not when it comes to a pretty girl." She smiles briefly, then grows serious. "Why? Because I may not get the chance later."

She's immortal. That doesn't mean she will live forever. I wince at my own self-absorption. I'm having screaming nightmares from listening to her talk about her last few days. How does she feel, having lived through them?

How close did she come to not living through them?

"I would love to see your dress."

Her face lights up. "Really?"

"A little nervousness can be cute," I quote back at her. "But it's best not to question it when the guy says yes."

Her laughter is thrilling. She slaps my leg playfully, then lifts my quilt. "Okay, back under and no peeking."

"What?"

"A girl in a sexy dress is hot. A girl with her bra on backwards is not."

I don't know why she would put her bra on backwards, but I'm pretty sure any way I got to see her bra would be plenty hot.

"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" She's laughing at me again. It feels good.

"I mean, I get that you want me to hide under the covers while you put the dress on."

"Maybe I'll do my hair too. Put on some makeup."

"Alternatively..." I find the zipper on her puffy vest and draw it down. "We could forget the dress."

Hong's smile widens. "Could we now?"

"I dare say we could." She's wearing a cardigan underneath with five buttons. As I pop them open one by one, she arches her back so I can't help but brush against her chest.

I lean forward. Her open lips meet mine, wet and hungry. I spill out of the hammock, pulling her down on top of me. Her braid flops against my cheek. The floral scent of her shampoo fills my nose.

I want to take it slow. We haven't gone all the way yet, but we've fooled around plenty. I want to unwrap her layer by layer and show her everything I've learned.

She has a different plan. She pulls me out of my underwear and swallows me without any fanfare.

"Oh, God!" I push at her shoulder. I might as well be pushing on a piece of stone. She simply doesn't move. "Hong! I'm going to---"

Something clenches deep within me. I try to hold back but it's futile. My orgasm surges out of me. Waves of ecstasy and shame roll over me as Hong sucks my thrashing, shuddering body dry.

I lasted all of two minutes. My glorious first time, over in two minutes. I didn't even last long enough to get into her. What must Hong think of me?

She seems pretty happy. I peer down the length of my body in confusion. She's sitting up between my legs. She smiles and shows me my own cum white and creamy on her tongue before swallowing. The way she licks her lips afterward would have me rock hard under any other circumstances.

"Now that we've got that out of the way," she purrs, "we can have some fun."

I look down at my flaccid cock. I'm confused and it must show on my face.

"Silly boy. Did you think you were going to fuck me to multiple orgasms on your first try?"

"Well, no, of course not," I lie. "But I thought I'd last more than two minutes."

"Who says you're done?"

I look down at my flaccid cock again.

She winks. "Pro tip. A quickie up front can take the edge off and give you more stamina later. The trick is to make sure the girl understands it doesn't end once you get off."