Lonely Vampire

Chapter 2-3

What a pompous ass.

Tino watched from the roof of one of the buildings backing on the alley as Armand walked to the street. He was almost tempted to stay in the area, just to see what the other vampire would do. Then he decided it wasn’t worth taking a chance by truly alienating Armand. Like me, he’s an Old one. That much is obvious. Otherwise he wouldn’t have known I was around either time. It’s a large city. I know there are more than enough safe places to feed when necessary.

He waited until Armand was out of sight before making his way to where he’d parked his car in a guarded lot. He could have flown, coming and going from home, but he was addicted to driving. Or more, he was addicted to his car—a ‘64 Lamborghini 350 GT. He had bought it new, one of only 120 made, and had driven it ever since.

On the way home, he contemplated what he could do to stay busy night after night. Open another club, like the one in Philly? It had worked well for him, there. But did he want to do it again? It had given him an explanation for how he could live as he did, as well as a ready source of sustenance. But in the end, he had become bored with the whole scene. I’m not a kid anymore. I haven’t been in too long.

He’d done many things over his long life. Unsurprisingly, many of them revolved around bars, taverns, and nightclubs. He’d even driven cabs, or earlier on hansoms and coaches. True, he could always explain his life style by saying he was independently wealthy, but that didn’t solve the boredom problem.

Perhaps…He smiled, remembering one career choice that had definitely been—interesting. He’d taken it up soon after leaving Italy in the early sixteen hundreds. On his way north, through France, he’d had been accosted by a highwayman. He’d dined well that night on the man’s blood, and again on another one who had also made the bad choice of trying to rob him, soon after he arrived in England.

He settled in Gravesend, finding the name of the town amusing, considering what he was. Then, unwilling to, once again, find work in a tavern, he decided to try his hand at being a highwayman along the London-Dover road. It gave him the excitement he yearned for, and added to his coffers as well, as he was quite good at convincing his victims to part with their money—either by force, or compulsion.

I can hardly become a highwayman nowadays. But Denver is home to a great many very wealthy people. Separating them from their worldly goods could be fun.

The one problem he knew he would face would be entering the homes he intended to rob. As a vampire, that wouldn’t be possible unless he’d been invited in the first time. And I can hardly knock on the door and say ‘Ask me in. I’m here to rob you’. He chuckled at that idea. Compelling a homeowner wouldn’t work, either. The invitation had to be freely given. That meant he had to get to know his potential victims outside their homes. And what better way than at galas or fundraisers they attended.

Constantino Verona is about to become the newest figure on the Denver social scene. Once I buy the proper clothes.