Stranger in a Nightclub: A Midnight Snack

The stranger from the nightclub says his name is Valentine. He says he knows an even better party somewhere in the middle of the city, and won't you and your friend give him the pleasure of your company?

By now you know he's a vampire, because who else talks like that? He looks like a vampire is supposed to look, too. And you know you're putting not only yourself but Jennie in danger when you say, “Sure!”

But Jennie's game, and it's Halloween in July. So why not? And besides... you're hungry. Maybe you'll get a good snack out of this. A cheeky little nibble.

Valentine leads you and Jennie into a car, shaped suspiciously like a hearse (because, duh), with heavily tinted windows and a hood ornament shaped like a bat (because, again, duh). Inside the car, with all that plush red velvet interior, he tells his driver, “To the Batcave, Jeeves.” His voice is silky smooth, and his fingers, you notice, are unnaturally long, the nails shiny and pointed like talons, or claws. He hands you and Jennie a glass of champagne each.

“To new friends,” he says. “And to adventure.”

You turn to the window and watch the city zoom past you. The lights, the people... the fact that your host didn't have a reflection in the window. Okay, yeah. Definitely a vampire.

Sweet.

Jennie isn't clued in. She's sipping champagne, happily chatting away with Valentine. It takes about ten, fifteen minutes to get to where you're going: a warehouse in the middle of the meatpacking district.

Because, again again, duh.

Neither you nor Jennie can say anything, can move, before the door flies open and three large vampires grab both of you by the shoulders, and cart you away.

Lamely, you try to fight. But Valentine waves his hand in front of your face and puts you to sleep before you can even lift a finger.

Darkness.

You come to, chained to a chair in the warehouse. Jennie is still asleep, in another chair beside you. And you see Valentine, sitting in front of you with a little smirk on his face.

“Good morning, sunshine. You're not supposed to be up.” He sounds fascinated, but still unsurprised.

You scan your body. Painless. Okay. Jennie, too, looks mostly unharmed. So you take a moment to banter with the vampire in front of you. All around, you can sense vampires—vampires by the dozens. You've stumbled into a whole nest of them, it feels like. Their eyes watch you.

Sweet.

“Like your meals delivered, huh?” you ask him. Your mouth feels a little like it's full of cotton. The vampire had you in a good, deep trance. He's powerful. He's going to be delicious.

You lick, smack your lips together. “Me too.”

“You don't seem very scared.” He's still smirking as he walks toward you. “You're one of the brave ones, yes? The ones that think they're Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Cheeky and mouthy. I like that.”

“Not Buffy,” you say. You're smiling up at him, too. You smile wider... and wider... and wider.

His expression turns from smirky smugness to absolute fear as your tentacles rip out of your human costume, tearing apart the shackles that surround you like... like pieces of thread. Or noodles. It's that easy.

Because when you're a chthonic, Lovecraftian tentacle monster whose favorite snack is vampires, it is just. That. Easy.

A thick tentacle, made of the dark matter of the Universe itself, grasps Valentine by the waist. You pop him into your mouth like a chicken nugget. The vampires scream in horror.

It doesn't take long for you to finish off the vampire nest. There was a baker's dozen of vampires, each of them tastier than the last.

After you gobble up the last one—a Nosferatu-looking fellow who made a big ruckus—you put your human costume back on. And your bat-wing glasses, too. You undo the shackles around Jennie, and gently shake her awake. “Hey, wake up. Party's over.”

She blinks. Gapes up at you. “Woah. What happened?”

“I think we partied a little too hard,” you say, suppressing a burp. “It's cool. Bus is coming soon. Time to go home!” You sound cheerful. You're always cheerful after a good meal.

Confused, sleepy, and convinced that she just “partied a little too hard,” Jennie follows you out to the bus stop.

You're smiling to yourself, already planning your next meal.