“Are you a fucktard or what? No, don’t say anything. I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.”

Tom closed his laptop and stood. I could see the same insane glimmer he usually got in his eyes when he’d collected some toy that he was certain was worth a fortune. Most of the time he was full of shit, but that didn’t stop him from becoming obsessive. “Think about it. It’s perfect.”

“No...”

“You have actual super powers.”

“I’m not listening.”

“The night is a second home to you.”

“Not happening.”

“And you already have the motivation.”

I was about to turn and march back into my bedroom, but I stopped and asked, “Wait, what motivation?”

“Everyone in the coven wants to kill your ass.”

“I’m well aware of that, thank you. I’m not sure how saving one little old lady is gonna solve that ... unless you think I should have fed her to them.”

“Well, that might have helped.”

I let out a sigh and turned around again, at which point he quickly added, “But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“I know what you’re talking about. You want me to dress up in a cape and skulk along the rooftops so you can live out some sick masturbatory superhero fantasy vicariously through me. Well, no dice. I’m not one of your fucking action figures.”

“No, but technically you do owe me a replacement for Opti...”

“Can we please stop talking about that?” I gritted my teeth at the memory. That stupid toy, which had somehow gotten infused with magic and become the equivalent of a holy hand grenade. Sure, it had proven helpful against Jeff, but fuck me if my roommate hadn’t whined continually about it ever since.

“Do you know how much that thing was worth?”

I rounded on Tom, blackening my eyes in the process. “Yes I do! I looked it up in fact. Not nearly as much as you fucking make it out to be.”

“Now maybe, but in the future...” One of his eyebrows rose quizzically as he stared at me. “By the way, what are you doing?”

In an attempt to look intimidating and maybe get him to back off, I’d raised my hands and extended my claws ... or tried to. Glancing at them, I saw that rather than wicked talons, my fingernails had maybe grown a quarter of an inch. “Shit.”

“Still haven’t figured that out, have you?”

“There isn’t exactly a manual for these things.”

“Sally?”

“She keeps telling me to stop bothering her and just go fucking practice.”

“I’d say you need more.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” I blinked a few times. “Are my eyes back to normal?”

“Looks like it.”

At least I’d gotten that part down fairly well. If I ever decided to go to a Comic-Con and cosplay as Riddick from Pitch Black I’d be all set.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“See?” Tom asked, a smile on his face. “This is exactly why my plan is so perfect.”

Realizing I wasn’t going to be left alone until he said his piece, I relented. “Okay, fine. Explain why pretending to be some Moon Knight knockoff is gonna help me.”

“For starters, it’s gonna give you some practice. I think your problem is you’re thinking too hard about it and also you really don’t want to hurt me.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m far too awesome. But in the heat of battle when some asshole is coming after you, you’re the only hope the orphans and the hot school teacher charged with their protection have, I have no doubt...”

“Wait, where did the orphans come from?”

“I’m just illustrating a scenario here. Can you please shut the fuck up and let me finish? Good. Anyway, think about it. You’d be a natural. You heal like Wolverine. You have claws like Sabretooth...”

“Sabretooth is a bad guy.”

“Not in Age of Apocalypse.”

“Point taken.”

“And you’re as strong as Captain America. That screams hero potential to me. But, here’s the best part. You’re not going to be out there hunting criminals.”

“I’m not? But you said...”

“Use your brain for a second, Bill. Think of how fucking boring that would be. You got lucky last night and stumbled upon that shit, but imagine how many hours Batman must spend standing atop some spire somewhere, scratching his ass through his bat-suit, and hoping someone gets mugged. The comics make it look like Spider-man can’t take a shit without Carnage climbing up his ass, but in real life interesting stuff doesn’t happen every day ... unless your quest for justice involves helping the cops sort out fender benders.”

I was still stuck on Tom’s definition of lucky, but he did have a point about the rest. A real life superhero would probably end up bored out of his fucking mind without a flashing red phone or bat signal to tell him when shit was going down. “Okay, I get what you’re saying, but then what’s the point of all this if I’m not going to hunt...”

“Vampires.”

“Huh?”

“You’re going to hunt vampires.”

“I’m pretty sure the folks up in Boston would take exception to one of their coven masters deciding to go all Van Helsing on his own troops.” Or then again, maybe not. I still wasn’t certain on the rules about these things.

“That’s fine ... it’s also irrelevant. See, you’re not going to be killing vampires. You’re going to be saving people from them.”

“What’s the difference? More importantly, how does that help me at all?”

Tom gave a pained sigh as he plopped back down onto the couch. “Need I explain everything? You’re a vampire. You know of two other covens of vampires in the area. Hell you’re in charge of one of them, right?”

“True.”

“Let’s forget about the Howard Beach vamps for the moment. They’re tough, they’ve got street cred. Sounds like there’s a better chance of them kicking your ass. However, you said it yourself, your coven is mostly a bunch of supermodels and long-haired pretty boys. Although on that first part, I need to reiterate the fact that you coming home to Ed and me every day makes me seriously doubt your sexual preferences.”

“Get to the point or I’m gonna find a lot more than syrup to mix my blood in with.”

“I’m getting there. You told those frat house vamps to stop hunting people, but haven’t enforced that rule in a way they respect. Is that correct?”

“In a nutshell.”

“So, you know what they look like and you know where they hunt. Concentrate your stakeouts in those places. When you see one leading an unwary victim away, you swoop down…”

“Swoop?”

“Or climb down, or fall on your fucking face. It doesn’t matter. You jump in, kick the shit out of them, and then make your escape. Do it enough times and your reputation ... or your alter ego’s anyway will grow.”

I thought about that for a moment. He did have a point. When I’d first been turned, I was scared shitless. I mean, waking up in a den of monsters was not how I’d intended to end that night. But then I learned a few things. For starters, once the coven found out I was a Freewill, a good chunk of them stopped harassing me. Turns out that most predators are only brave when their prey is weak. Add in an unknown element and they’ll act like kids, afraid to turn off the closet light at night. I was living proof of that ... or had been. Seems I’d gone to that well one too many times and come back with nothing but a bucket of sand. I expressed as much to Tom.

“That’s the beauty of it. You’ll scare the fuck out of those vamps. But then, when you’re hanging out with the coven, you’ll be all brave and shit. You’ll tell those pussies to man the fuck up and show them you’re not afraid of some vigilante vampire hunter. After a while we’ll stage something ... maybe throw Ed in the costume and let you beat the snot out of him in front of witnesses. Before you know it, you’ll be back on top. Your coven will think you’re awesome for stepping up.”

“And I’ll really save some people in the process?”

“Yeah, that too.”

Holy shit. He actually had some good points. I needed to mark this occasion down somewhere. Usually Tom was the type to talk me into stupid shit, like that time in college I chugged a liter of Everclear. But this ... it had potential. “Do you really think it could work?”

“Like a charm, my friend. Hell, maybe you’ll even get a couple of decent headlines written about you.”