Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

Mr. DeVito

I n the days following the mess of a meeting at Tres Leches, Reuben checked his phone constantly for any sort of reply to his last message. However, nearly a week went by in complete radio silence.

And despite sending the syringe to the local crime lab for study, the police were no closer to figuring out who had sent it to Reuben. The sight of it lingered in the back of his mind, taunting him with its message. We found you. We found you. We found you.

He may not have known who sent it or how they found him, but their message was clear: just keeping the vampire out of politics wasn’t enough for them. Instead of allowing himself to sulk, he used work as a distraction. He gave his speeches wonderfully without skipping a beat, his smile was extra broad, and he treated everyone extra kindly.

But his numbers were not changing. While they had fluctuated slightly after the press release, things stabilized in the following days. All he could think to do was throw himself harder into the various public service opportunities HOME provided.

Today’s mission was a supernatural soup kitchen in the poorest part of town, where he was handing out coolers with a week’s supply of blood in them. The building had once been a factory of some sort, but now stood empty aside from the two offices and large foyer used by HOME once a week.

Mr. DeVito had worked this particular location many times, and he saw many of the same faces as previous days. These people couldn’t get a break! His heart contracted and his eyes stung when he stared into each familiar set of eyes. Their clothes were worn and their cheeks were gaunt, while dry tongues licked cracked lips over and over. He hoped that with each helping hand he extended that he could make their life a little better.

Many of their eyes were blood red with hunger and the vampires were anxious to get their share. Mr. DeVito watched anxiously as a few started to shove in line. He knew they would have to shut down for the day if things got out of hand, so when a small fight broke out, he didn’t hesitate to throw himself between the quarreling vampires. “Please stop! There is plenty to go around!”

But the vampires didn’t listen. The taller of the two, a dark-skinned man who appeared to have been turned in his forties, wrapped his large hands around the neck of the smaller vampire, another man with almond skin, bright green eyes, and the body of a twenty year old. The smaller man kicked wildly, landing a few solid blows to the other man’s legs.

As he had a steady food supply, Mr. DeVito could have overpowered them. Instead, he held the two at arms length away from him and talked to them like bickering children. “Behave yourselves! You know they will close the kitchen for the day if you don’t stop! There is plenty for everyone!” he pleaded, but the two men seemingly couldn’t hear him.

As the vampires flailed about, Mr. DeVito felt a sudden sting on his neck as one of their hands clawed at his throat. He flinched, but didn’t let go. All he wanted was to keep the situation under control. He continued holding the pair apart until he felt hands on his shoulders as other staff started to step in and put an end to the chaos. His fingers released the two men’s shirts as the perpetrators were pulled apart by two hulking werewolves.

“Mr. DeVito! Let us handle this, please!”

Mr. DeVito was pulled away by security while the other two vampires were being dealt with. He backed up as requested, and in moments found himself pulled into a private office in the back of the soup kitchen. Away from the chaos of the event, Mr. DeVito sat quietly on the couch with his head pressed firmly into his hands.

He’d failed. Utterly failed. A burning mixture of anger, frustration, depression, and defeat weighed down on him and made him feel as if gravity was working extra hard to drag him to the floor.

Soon a PR representative, Evan, rushed into the office to give him a firm lecture about being a positive influence. “You know how terrible that spat is going to look on the news,” the overworked werewolf sighed as Mr. DeVito’s neck was patched up with a small piece of gauze and some medical tape. The wound was nothing more than a scratch, but the vampire hadn’t eaten his breakfast blood bag this morning. His healing would be delayed until he was able to eat. “These types of events are supposed to boost your reputation, not ruin it!”

Despite the mess, Mr. DeVito felt like he had done nothing wrong. There was a problem and he wasn’t going to let the fight escalate to ruin everyone else’s week. “I couldn’t let them go at each other, Evan. It’s not entirely their fault. They were starving and desperate! All I wanted to do was ensure everyone got their supplies.”

Evan sighed and shook his head. “But now all everyone is going to see is you in the middle of a fight, Vito. You should probably call Ms. Melburne and then go home.”

The thought of calling Stella to tell her about his newest failure felt like a slap to the face. But he knew she would find out one way or another, and the best scenario for him would be heading her off at the pass with the truth instead of letting the media feed her their version.

And feed their version they did. Within an hour, every news station in the state was reporting on the fight. HOME had been trying to bring a small beacon of hope to the otherwise terrible situation the supernaturals were in, but all they managed to do was bring judgment down on their heads.

And more unfortunately, a picture spread like wildfire of Mr. DeVito holding up two grown men as if they were toddlers.

* * *

Reuben

“T his has to stop happening.” Stella pushed the newspaper across her desk and stared at Reuben. He sat slumped in the chair across from his boss, the weariness obvious in every cell of his body. He couldn’t even muster up the energy to put on his Mr. DeVito facade. “Photos like this aren’t going to lower the number of people actively fighting to keep you out of office.”

Reuben didn’t even react. His eyes remained downcast, stubbornly unfocused. Stella tapped her desk with irritation and he glanced up for a moment, but no more than that.

“Reuben,” she began again in a softer tone, “there have been four more syringes delivered since we had your mail rerouted. The police have been keeping up a presence as best they can in your neighborhood, but you really need to consider our offer of a bodyguard.”

He finally looked up, the fear evident in his eyes. Yet he still shook his head. “Stella, you know I can’t accept. HOME already spends too much money on me. What program would we have to cut to pay for a bodyguard? Who would go hungry or homeless or jobless so I could be watched over?”

“It’s an investment, Reuben. I have no doubt that every penny that HOME spends on you will be repaid in full when you get elected. But if one of those syringe-wielding maniacs hits their mark, everything we have worked for is gone. You’ve done enough work today. Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”

He nodded and exited the building, ignoring everyone he passed on his way out. And as he pulled into his garage and the door closed securely behind him, a panic attack was already playing with the edges of his vision. His throat burned with hunger as he stumbled into the house. He barely made it to the couch before his knees gave out and he was lost to his nightmare of memories.

When he woke, he found himself kneeling by the couch with his head and arms resting on the seat cushion. The silence of late night filled his still home and rested heavier on him than the darkness, which his predator eyes could cut right through. He pulled himself up from the floor and went straight to the kitchen, barely noticing the polyfil covering the floor from a shredded pillow. His scratchy throat threatened another traumatic episode, which was the last thing he wanted right now.

Thirty seconds later his fangs punctured the soft, warm plastic of a microwaved blood bag and he sighed as the iron-laden liquid rolled down his throat. It soothed his ills, including healing the small scratch on his neck. He threw the empty packaging in the biohazard bin and returned to the couch, tugging at the tie he hadn’t managed to remove before the nightmares took over.

All he wanted to do was talk to Amber.

Reuben pulled the phone out of his pocket and powered on the screen, hoping against hope that he would find a message from the only person who made him feel accepted. Well…the only person who had made him feel accepted. Of course he found nothing there except a notification that another meeting had been added to his schedule for tomorrow by Stella.

A new wave of depression lapped at his chest. How was he going to explain to his boss that he’d managed to screw everything up? His poll numbers were still dropping, the soup kitchen was a disaster, and Amber was still not talking to him. At this point, Reuben was starting to think they might as well give up on the election and figure out another way to get supernatural voices heard.

Yet if they did, he couldn’t help feeling that there would still be a hole in his life. “I have to figure out a way to get Amber back,” he murmured, leaning back against the arm of the couch and closing his eyes wearily.

“Even if it’s just to be friends.”

* * *

Amber

A mber couldn’t concentrate and kept causing Spyro to jump off cliffs. She knew she should be working on her novel, but the last five days had only resulted in a series of depressing scenes that she couldn’t bring herself to reread, much less send to Gabriella. She thought video games might help, but was proven wrong.

Every day she regretted not calling Reuben, but the more time that passed, the harder it felt. And he hadn’t called her recently either. So maybe he didn’t want her to call him anyway?

Today was particularly bad. But instead of letting herself freak out, she changed tactics and started cleaning. She turned on the television for some company and set about gathering up the dirty socks and abandoned t-shirts which spread across the floor like fallen autumn leaves.

Hours passed by as laundry was done, floors were scrubbed, shelves were straightened, and dust was removed. The droning sound of the TV melded into the hum of the vacuum cleaner, all meaning being lost until Amber glanced up and saw a familiar face on the screen. She immediately turned off the vacuum and dropped to the couch, eyes focused intently on the headline scrolling along the bottom of the screen.

“ FIGHT brEAKS OUT AT MONSTER MEAL. ARE WE SAFE WITH THESE CREATURES ROAMING THE STREETS?”

“We are on the outskirts at a HOME-sponsored supernatural soup kitchen. A fight broke out in line as the food was being handed out, resulting in minor injuries to three vampires. If they can’t get along with each other, then how are humans supposed to feel safe with them roaming the streets freely? This report is brought to you by Channel 5 news.”

The more she watched, the more fury trickled into her heart. CREATURES? A few months ago, such a headline would barely have registered a second glance. But after getting to know Reuben...Amber tossed the remote at the TV screen and kicked the leg of the couch. These vampires were people, too! People trapped in a body they were unable to escape. Cursed with a disease they were powerless to heal and forever bound to carry.

She powered off the television as Reuben was hauled away from the fight, the crimson line on his neck all too visible. In an attempt to get the blatant hate speech out of her head, the author continued to fight dirt and grime as if they were the reporters besmirching her sort-of-boyfriend’s name.

However, her attempts were thwarted by the sound of her phone ringing from its place on the couch. Amber snatched it up in case Reuben was calling, only to frown when Jade’s name lit up the screen. “Hello?”

“Amber, are you dating Reuben DEVITO?? The freaking HOME rep who was in the middle of that fight today? I thought he looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him until I saw him on TV. What the HELL? Aren’t you afraid he’s going to use you as a walking restaurant the moment you aren’t looking?”

The more Jade shouted, the angrier Amber grew. She considered hanging up on her sister without saying anything, but instead she allowed her rage to find a target. “You’re as bad as the rest of them, aren’t you? Reuben has been nothing but polite, gentle, and sweet from the moment I met him! I thought that you of all people would be more accepting than that! Or do I need to remind you of Jeremy’s monthly exploits?”

“My husband takes his werewolf medication and is no more dangerous than you are! There’s no medication for vampirism, Amber! There’s a difference between harmlessly shapeshifting once a month and being a predator.” Jade’s voice rose in pitch every few syllables until she was practically screaming into the phone.

Amber hung up without a further word and tossed the phone at the back of the couch, where it bounced off the cushion and came to rest on the seat. In her blind fury, she stripped off her clothing and headed for the shower. A good, long soak under scalding hot water was exactly what she needed after this afternoon. As such, she turned it up as high as she could handle and stood with the stream beating down on her head and shoulders until it melted away all the anger.

By the end, she was calm enough to pick up her phone and shoot Jade a text. She was a bit surprised to find her sister hadn’t sent her any while she boiled herself alive, but set it aside for the time being.

Amber

Sorry I lost my temper. Just please don’t tell the whole family about Reuben, okay? It’s still something I’m processing and I don’t need to get everyone’s opinions heaped on me right now.