Chapter 8: A Short Detour

I had no idea how to drive Caleb’s automobile! It didn't seem that hard when I was watching him drive, but now that I was in the driver’s seat I didn't see how he made it go forward. I remembered he played with the lever behind the steering wheel to get it moving, but nothing else beyond how to steer. That was obvious from the ones I had seen in my day. I tried to pull the lever down, but it was stuck in place and refused to budge no matter how hard I pulled.

Caleb lay across the back seat hugging his case of imitation blood with his fangs sunk right into one of the cans and eyes closed. Roughly five empty cans lay on the floor while the man lay in a food sleep.

I thought better than trying to drive without any skill and sent Dinner a message asking for help in how to drive, because Caleb was useless. Dinner explained it over a few messages with pictures of different controls.

Their vehicle was odd, because they had three pedals, not two! I pointed that out and Dinner said two pedals would make it easier.

Easier for… whom? Because I was used to seeing old self-propelled wagons with four pedals, a hand throttle and two levers! Dinner instructed me how to send photos so they could draw on the pictures and I tried my best. I really did, but it was bad enough that Dinner told me to wait where I was.

Sending a photograph instantly between people was the strangest thing I'd seen so far. Back in my day, we'd mail them to someone else and that'd take weeks! Dinner didn't want to use the phone’s calling function for some odd reason. Likely because the saloon was too noisy.

I was an old lady. I didn't need Dinner to show me how to operate the vehicle in person and could figure it out on my own, but… I likewise refused to make the half-elf upset, and so I waited a long few minutes until the darkly clothed person came into view with a hearty wave.

Their walk was fairly unsteady thanks to the alcohol in their system, but they looked like they were trying to not show it. And failed at it. By Dinner attempting to not wobble, that only made their wobble worse! They eventually caught up to me.

I opened the door for them as they said, “A Chalmers two-fifty Executive, huh?”

I assumed Dinner was referencing the pickup, so I nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

“Your vampire pal must be loaded then. Chalmers aren't cheap like Stephensons. Same company. Chalmers is the luxury brand while Stephenson is the basic brand most companies use for work vehicles.”

“How do I drive these cars? There are fewer controls!”

Dinner pointed at the blinker indicator stalk, the automatic lights, gear selector, and everything else important. I listened to their instructions on how to work the controls, which seemed far easier than I was expecting. Just put it in drive, turn the wheel and press the throttle. No matching gears to the engine speed.

I went as slow as I could when I pulled out onto the road, keeping an eye on where I was, hoping I didn't damage anything. The pickup shook as a faint crunch echoed throughout the cabin. I cringed, and so did Dinner. They stepped around the pickup’s nose, pointing a clear gesture on where to turn the wheel.

With the half-elf’s help, I pulled out of the parking stall, glancing out one of the mirrors to see if I was clear of the other wagons. Once the vehicle was situated in the travel lane, Dinner checked over the damage to the pickup’s bed, then the car I hit. Dinner shrugged, throwing a hand down the road.

A notification popped up saying my car driving skill reached level one, which I would say was an overstatement, because I could barely keep the thing in its lane and was stopping over the lines or well behind them at every red light. It was worse than a horse! Jumpy, barely responding to my inputs and slowing down was near instant! A far cry from anything I had seen a few days ago.

The pickup wandered along its lane, hardly staying within the lines as I followed them away from the saloon. The city felt like a canyon of buildings and I was an explorer on an unruly horse. With a wide open road ahead, and traffic around me, I had to keep an eye out to ensure I didn't hit anything else.

Caleb had all the info for where we needed to go and what we needed to do, and I still needed to show him how to hunt a mortal.

I drove on into the night looking for a suitable place for Caleb to hunt in: a proper saloon, a park, maybe even a shady part of town, but it was clear that I hadn't kept up with the times. I got on the highway and followed it north, looking for a ferry to San Francisco from Encinar’s docks.

Couldn't find it at the docks and neither did anyone know anything about a ferry to San Francisco because the bay was mostly drained. They did know of a bridge though. Which was one hell of a bridge to span the old bay and reach San Francisco from Encinar. You could see it from the docks, too, thanks to them illuminating it in a warm-white color. The thought of driving all the way to San Francisco did cross my mind, but they mentioned it cost money, so I headed south past Encinar toward Ami and San Jose.

After what felt like hours of driving, I pulled over on an exit somewhere between Ami and South Encinar to send my sire a message: Greenhorn did not agree with the booze. I think I should get an iron for my clothes, too.

Her reply was swift: The usual place is still around in Encinar. I will let them know you’re coming, They take gold, too. Better hope you have some because I cannot afford to spare any at the moment.

I looked up from the phone to the highway beyond. If the general store was still around then that should be downtown, so I followed my instincts and drove on.

We headed back into the city, exiting for downtown right as the System told me I was level six in Driving Skill. The pickup made its way along a few side streets I vaguely recognized. Luckily the names were still close enough to the same ones I remembered. Everything had changed quite a bit in just a week with larger buildings being built in place of smaller ones. Some lots had been combined while the old blacksmith had become a metal scrapyard to ‘recycle’ old things.

We passed by a bus station that used to be the train station, and finally found the general store around the time I received a message that said I was level seven in Driving Skill, but still needed a class to gain any perks.

The general store had become a ‘military surplus’ store with a gun store attached to it. Bright signs painted over barred windows greeted me with all the fanfare of discounts and sales, while only one sign advertised guns.

I nudged Caleb’s shoulder to wake him up, quickly explaining what we were doing.

He blinked at me. “Why do you need a gun…?” his groggy post-frenzy voice croaked.

“Because mine were stolen from me while I was in torpor.”

The man sat up and rubbed his fangs, tapping each one in turn. “I haven't felt like this since I drank the potion. What happened?”

“You went into a blood craze and spent most of your money on canned blood.”

Which was an instinct I had no idea was possible. If I didn't have some control over my hunger I would have grabbed Dinner and drained them dry followed by every mortal in the club until I came across a vampire and stole their soul. Which might’ve been Caleb’s fate had he been there in the dining area.

I gave Caleb his key back and headed inside the store. Immediately, it felt like I walked into a tailoring shop inside a barn. Clothes upon clothes hung on racks waiting for peasants to buy the premade items. Above us they showed off strange contraptions and even a full on cannon sitting over everything way in the back, and armor plating that could have come from a ship.

My jaw dropped at the brazen display of weaponry and even tents floating in the air.

Caleb mentioned something to me about his truck’s fuel gauge, but I walked further into the building, looking at a rack of all black clothing. Then one with the same drab green the retainer wore. Even sand colors and multi-coloured patterns that drew my eye for the sheer chaos they gave. Heavy fabrics that felt like they’d survive on the trail well enough. One or two had the remnants of regiment patches sewn into them. They were designed to be unisex. I hoped that they wouldn't make my shoulders look too wide, because then they’d be trash.

I didn’t need the reminder of how wide I was up top and how narrow I was at the hips. It was ugly even before the void stole my reflection after my embrace. My sire claims the void steals her bloodline’s reflections to remind every vampire from our first progenitor to me that we are insignificant ants to a great moon in the sky. However, my sire thinks that’s a load of manure. Me? Well, I have communed with Mother Moon in my evening prayers. And She is very much actively listening.

I pulled one multi-colored green, brown, and black coat off the rack and held it up, turning it around and then inside out. I checked the stitching through a visual inspection and a tug test, finding it likely wouldn't come apart soon. I draped the coat over my arm and searched for a matching hat, since I forgot mine back at the saloon, but didn't see any in a style I liked. Luckily I still had my glasses. Those were always on my nose and never came off, except when I put on the motorcycle helmets or slept.

“Really?” Caleb queried as I wandered toward the boots looking for some in my size. Which wasn’t too difficult to find, because they are the same size as the average man’s.

The rubber soled boots were light tan or black, or dark brown and they covered my ankles which was perfect. I grabbed a pair of tan boots that fit with thick socks, an extra pair of socks and gloves before heading over to the gun section.

All manner of weapons were on display behind the counter, which made me frown. From single shot to lever-actions, and bolt-actions, including modern weapons that were a hideous black color.

The armed men behind the counter came over with one taking my clothing, and the other waving at me. “Anything catch your eye?”

I pointed at a wooden breech loader that called to me with a name. “Is that a Pattern Seventy?” I asked.

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The man turned around and pulled it down, pushing the lever forward to show it was empty. He explained the small history of the rifle where it was used at one of the training camps in the colonies during the First World War to how an elf purchased it afterward.

“First… world war?” I asked.

The clerk nodded in reply. “Yeah. You know, the one that broke the Earth?”

“No.” I shook my head.

According to the clerk and Caleb, the war was fought from 1765 to 1839 and saw the world go from primitive single-shot muskets to automatic spell-slinging guns. Complete with walking artillery platforms that were the same type of machine Dinner piloted. The world was destroyed in 1825 through what most speculate to be some form of multi-dimensional spell going awry. t seemed odd that I didn't recall weaponry advancing that much, but then again. I wasn't anywhere near major civilizations for the latter half of the 18th century.

Especially with Prussia fielding armed airships that made sailing in their territory annoying. California had less headaches and was chosen by me as a suitable place to head to. My sire wanted to go to the Oregon territories and beyond.

While they spoke, I gingerly took the battered breechloader from the clerk, inspecting the two hundred year old rifle. As I pushed the lever forward to open the breech with a satisfying click, there was something about the shape of the weapon that struck a chord deep within the recesses of my mind, it felt not just familiar, but like I owned the weapon in the past. It was strange because I couldn't recall owning the rifle! Only the vague notion that I did. It left behind an overwhelming feeling that someone was staring at me from the dark.

I glanced back once again, but no one was moving through the store aside from Caleb and I, and we were both at the counter. It felt like something was out there among the racks just waiting to pop out with a rifle of their own.

If I had a living heart, it would have been beating with the rhythm of a marching drum, complete with the fife and regiment following behind. A strange pressure pushed its way to the center of my forehead and hung out as my fingers drummed against the stock, matching the beat in my head.

The clerk behind the counter dryly explained, “An elf converted it to fire spells just after the Collide.” He pointed to an extra box on the side of the breech called a spell expansion chamber along with tubes that ran the length of the barrel. I didn't know their purpose even after he explained how they worked. Magic guns were beyond me unless I sat down with one and took it apart.

“Are you okay?” Caleb asked.

I set the weapon on the counter and shook my head. “I’m fine. Do you have any revolvers?” The pressure ceased, as did the humming in my head once the weapon was out of my hands. I rubbed them together to beat back the cold creeping across them.

The man behind the counter put the rifle back on the wall. He walked over to another case as he said, “We have a few.”

The man set an ugly ugly silver revolver on the counter, which I promptly ignored. I pointed down to a revolver with a wooden grip and a long barrel. There was a hinge in the center to break open the revolver’s frame for reloading. It was identical to ones I could buy in a general store only a few days ago.

“That one,” I said, tapping my finger against the glass.

“The top break?”

“Yes. Do you have any Stinger seventy-eight revolvers?”

The man shook his head. “Not many people buy black powder guns anymore.”

“Oh… I had a nice one that I kept even after brass cartridges came out, and a Stinger Carbine. Do you have any of those?”

He shook his head.

I held my hands out to roughly how big the rifle was. “It put the lead wherever I wanted. I could hunker down and hit my foes before they had a chance to see me. The short length likewise helped when swinging it about on ships and clubbing merchants who were a bit close with their coin.”

“You a vampire then?” one of the workers asked as everyone stared at me like a relic that should be in a museum.

I nodded. It felt strange to openly admit my undeath status to mortals like it was a common interaction. My inner demon demanded I keep quiet, but the words flowed out despite its protest. “Y-yes. I was a bit of a swashbuckler in my youth. I’ve… been asleep for some time.”

“Well, in that case, let’s bring you up to speed.” He showed me a decently sized black and silver hunting revolver with a ported barrel. It even came with strange orange and green dot sights. “This is a Model 162 .44 magnum. We do carry it in 500 magnum, too.”

The biggest difference between the top-break and the hunting revolver was how it was loaded, aside from cartridge size, but not by much. The 500 sized cartridges were huge! Perfect for stunning a vampire with, but only five shots compared to six of the .44 magnum. I used their orange dummy rounds and a speed loader to get a feel for both and ended up picking out the side-loader 162 in 500 magnum.

It just looked pretty modern and snazzy, and the rubber grip felt nice in my hand compared to the wooden grip of the top break. There was even a neat little red dot scope on top!

He showed me a repeating pistol that was far faster to load; slide out the magazine and slide in the new one, but it made a mess by ejecting the cartridges when fired. Maybe another day when I didn't care about keeping the cartridges and staying unnoticed.

One thing that was different to the pistols was that they looked like any old lead slinging gun, so I asked, “Why don't these shoot spells?”

“Spell gun production was banned in the year one-hundred. Every spell-slinger you see is either an old conversion or production model from before the ban.”

“And the spell ammo?”

“Thank the dragons in power for making that your problem to figure out.” The man slapped down a form.

I filled it out and showed him my classless System License. He added everything together including a few boxes of ammo totalling roughly six thousand gold, and put the clothes in a bag.

Caleb looked stunned at the price, so I turned to face him and cocked my head.

“What?” I asked.

The fledgling shook himself out of his daze and motioned toward the wall of guns behind the clerks. “That’s overpriced… you can get one of the rare rifles for that much.”

I turned toward the man behind the counter. “Is it?”

He shook his head. “No. The pistol is four thousand gold or sixteen hundred credits. It’s an uncommon variant produced in limited quantities. Comes with a double-locked cylinder, polished internals for smooth action, and a factory mated scope guaranteed to hit a dime at forty yards.”

“So it's a common variant then.” Caleb’s voice was strange as he spoke and folded his arms across his chest. “I could see a rare or unique revolver being four thousand gold, but not a common one. I am a level twenty-two Merchant and I can smell a scam when I see one! That pistol should be a hundred gold tops.”

The clerks did not look at all happy about his words. One glared while the other one waved in my direction. “Old vampire pricing.”

“That's preposterous!” Caleb echoed my thoughts. “If anything she should get a small discount.”

“A discount?!” The clerk laughed. “For what?”

“The mayor!” Caleb motioned in my direction while I watched quietly to see how he acted. The only thing stopping me from letting my anger go and force the blood sacks to kneel and give me the guns. Was the fact that my sire had called ahead and told them I was coming. They shouldn't be trying to fleece me for all my gold. I am quite sure my sire would be disappointed with her contracts if she ever finds out.

“It’s a Green-level uncommon variant. The price is a hundred and ten gold.” Then the clerk hit me with a line I wasn’t expecting, “Oh, and there’s a ten day waiting period.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I blinked at the man, glancing at Caleb before looking at the man again. “Why?!”

“Regulations.” The clerk shrugged in the calmest manner I had seen. “Although, you can skip the timer for a thousand gold.”

Again, it would’ve been simple to force him to give it up, but I didn’t want to ruin my sire’s night a second time in a row.

“That part he’s not lying about.” Caleb nodded in my direction. “Guns have a ten day waiting period, or it’ll cost you a thousand gold to skip the timer.”

I agreed to spend the gold and we went through the transaction on a device sitting on the counter, which, of course, required me to hold my phone against the machine to pay through it. After that, I had to wear gloves and enter a pin. He asked for a tip, too! Something about good service. I folded my arms across my chest and stared at the man until he threw in a chest holster.

Once everything was paid for, the holster equipped, and heavy ammo in my dress pockets, Caleb and I walked back outside to where I parked his pickup.

As I took a deep breath to fill my ancient lungs with the cool night air, Caleb looked at me with curiosity in his ruby eyes. The kind of look a man who had things to ask held before he uttered the most foolhardy question you could think of. He placed his hands together in a praying motion, bowing a bit as he flashed a fang-filled smile.

“The club owner said he wants the rebels staked and brought to trial by the council. Won’t a stake to the heart kill them?”

I shook my head. “Who told you that nonsense?”

“My doctors…”

Odd, but if vampires were normalized I could see them developing different weaknesses unless… “They may be lying to you, but take the experience of an elder vampire with the weight of a feather. Your frenzy was different enough to mine that their recommendation may be true for you.”

“Really? What's it like for you?”

“For me? I’ve been staked enough times to tell you that it is never pleasant to lose all motor functions and slam into the ground, knowing that your attacker can do whatever they want as you helplessly slip into torpor.”

“When was the first time you were staked?”

“Just after the pirate empire of Nassau and the kingdom of Britain began fighting. My sire and I sailed our fourteen gun sloop into Baton Rouge one night when I was still a fledgling, having come from Falmouth a couple weeks before. Our mortal crew was offloading the cargo, my sire was handling paperwork, and left me to acquire us both a meal. I didn’t know who was who in the city and ended up on the wrong side of a vampire’s gaze thanks to stepping on their toes.

“They chased me through the alleys past onlooking mortals. We couldn’t use our vampire powers in the public eye, but that didn’t mean we were beneath fighting with mortal weapons. I carried a pair of flintlocks and a cutlass most of the time I was aboard the ship and off, unless the city had a weapon restriction.

“I knew a pistol shot would draw the guards and all it’d do was stun a vampire, so I kept darting from one building to the other under the cover of a rainstorm. They finally cut me off with one vampire drawing steel and pointing it at me. I slowed to a stop, reaching for my own blade as I said, ‘I didn’t mean to intrude on your domain, Jean. We can go our separate ways, yes?’

“Jean shook his head while the second man slowed his run to a saunter. Both were ready for a fight I’d give them. ‘You’re fast for your age,’ Jean said, laughing between his words. He was one of those ruling class vampires from France. The kind who looked down at you for nothing other than being born of a lower house. Quite ugly in my eyes, but so are you.”

“I’m not ugly!”

“You're not my type. I waited for the opportune moment to draw my cutlass and replied, ‘I hear that a lot.’

“ ‘Hands up,’ the other man said from behind me, his own blade sliding out with the familiar ring of steel. At the time, I wondered if any of the open windows held sleeping people, or if the buildings were empty, because if people saw us then I’d have to kill them, too. Beyond the alley were few mortals in their nightly routines. Some wandered from one place to another, while others, like guards, were more dedicated in their routes.

“They had me cornered. A rare thing, because I knew my way around most of the islands, having been sailing with my sire for the better part of two decades as a mortal, but Baton Rouge? Not in the slightest. I could no more tell you the capitol building from the inn! It was a small place, but with enough shady types, we could unload and leave by dawn, letting the mortals captain the ship out to sea while we slept in our coffins.

“ ‘Don’t make this harder than it already has been,’ Jean said. He kept his weapon pointed threateningly at me, using his other hand to beckon me closer. ‘We all know how deadly these weapons are.”

“How are swords deadly to a vampire?” Caleb asked, tilting his head.

I mimicked a slicing motion across my neck. “Losing your head was a very real everyday possibility back then. Fights between vampires can be brutally efficient and generally ended with your second death or so maimed you would have to spend a week healing. Fights were avoided if you can help it. It is why they did not outright attack me. Because a woman in her elder years who was embraced? Likely could take them both on in a fight, and I had no idea if they were expert swordsmen or not.

“I was but a fledgling of only a year old. And what remained of my mortal instincts screamed at my beast that fighting two swordsmen in an alley was loco. I let go of the blade and held my hands up defensively. ‘You make a point,’ I replied.

“The man bowed and I half-expected his damp powered wig to fall off. He sheathed the sword right as a guard came over and demanded to know what we were doing.

“I closed the gap to Jean in a flash, sliding my arm through the other vampire’s as if we were lovers. Then smiled up at him. ‘Just going for a walk with our servant, right, dear?’ I asked.

“ ‘Yes. Everything is fine.’ Jean waved for the guard to leave, but it looked highly suspicious even to me. Three armed people in an alley with me wearing a brace of pistols. Even a blind mortal knew something was up and their curiosity could kill them.

“The mortal guard eyed me closely, as if he knew I was in danger. It was in his eyes that he had seen us talking and wasn't going to back down easily. There’d be one less mortal in Baton Rouge.

“I stepped away from Jean and held the mortal’s gaze like my sire taught me, moving blood to my voice box. ‘You saw a couple out for a stroll with their servant’ I told the man sternly.

“He repeated my words and I walked him through the cordial encounter until I ordered him to leave us be. Once the mortal disappeared down the street, I heard one of the vampires say, ‘Thank you, but I am afraid we are still going to blindfold you.’

“I should have tried my voice on the vampires, but I didn't believe it would do anything. I was too new to understand the extent of my voice. The other vampire held the stake high. That's when I knew they still had nefarious intentions, despite me saving their backsides. I tried to run then, but Jean held my shoulders with enough force to crack mortal bone, just before the wooden stake plunged into my chest and broke a rib on the way to my heart.”

Caleb cringed at that, shivering visibly and shaking his head. “That sounds… What happened next?”

“I woke up three and a half months later aboard our ship. After drinking my fill, my sire told me they strung me up in their hall down in New Orleans as a lesson to fledglings on proper etiquette. They intended to keep me there for two decades. My sire ran favors and got them more rum to smooth over a deal for my release.”

“So you’ve always had problems in social groups.”

“I am ashamed to admit that I am not always at my best. For example, if we pulled into Charleston or New York I could have found us a meal no problem. I had contacts in those cities I could speak with.”

“Hey… did you still want to do the interview?”

I sighed heavily and closed my eyes. The idea sounded terrible in practice, because a few of my enemies could still be around. Especially whomever sealed my coffin.

“Meet me at my house tomorrow. Bring your friends and a meal.”

He blinked. “Where are you going? We still need to bring in the vampires.”

“Do you know where they are?”

“Yes.”

I threw my hands to the side. “Then we need to investigate! Use those skills you have and roll the dice as it were.”

“You're not far off.” Caleb glanced down the trashy street and took a deep breath. “I think I know the place.”