The car idled by the roadside in front of a row of houses, its headlights slicing into the dark, its interior light on.
Diomed Karmegan’s fangs extended in anticipation. Cars had different rules than homes. Nobody would need to invite him in. He would get to feed and work towards restoring his family name in one fell swoop. Win-win. Diomed grinned and flapped down, landing on the car boot. He peered in through the rear windshield.
Two people sat in the front seats, a boy in the driver’s and a girl in the passenger’s. The boy had his arm around the back of the girl’s headrest. He was saying something about having had a ‘great time tonight’. The girl, meanwhile, was giving him a wide smile. Her eyes kept darting towards the passenger-side door.
Diomed’s eyebrows shot up. That smile was too broad – she didn’t feel the same way about their date. She wanted an escape. Oh well, it didn’t matter now. One of them wouldn’t survive the night. And the other would tell their tale of gore and terror. And the Karmegan name would be one step towards dusting itself off and reclaiming glory. These pesky humans had gone about their business carefree for much too long. If Grandpa Nizhalgal were alive, his heart would have imploded all over again, stake or no stake. Diomed plunged his bat claws into the glass.
The glass spiderwebbed from the point of impact. The boy and girl both spun around, shock on his face, fear on hers. ‘Hey, what—’ began the boy.
He paid no attention to the edges of the glass cutting him as he forced his body, in bat form, into the hole. He’d soon regenerate once he’d fed. Diomed struggled through the widening gap. He screeched his best battle cry, a thousand nails drawn across a blackboard.
The boy’s lower jaw dropped to his collarbone in surprise. He let out a panicked squeak. He groped for his seatbelt. She froze in place, eyes wide and white, fingernails digging into the sides of her seat. Her fear paralysis is what saved her. The boy found his buckle, hit it, and the belt slithered away. One stumbling second later, he was out the door, screaming into the night.
Diomed allowed the boy three more heartbeats. He pulled away from the bloody wound in the windshield and took to the night sky like a bullet from hell’s revolver. Diomed aimed at the boy’s back as he fled, abandoning his unenthusiastic companion. He reverted to human form and struck the boy between the shoulders. He knocked him over and pinned him down.
The boy whimpered and wriggled. ‘N-No! NO!’
But Diomed listened to no pleas. The Karmegans who’d come before him had offered no quarter to their prey, and neither would he. He was the last in line, the last of a dying breed. And he had a legacy to fulfil. He buried his teeth into the boy’s neck, hot blood jettisoning into his mouth and across the concrete.
The boy kicked, but in the end, his lifeblood drained, and all the fight died from his body. He sighed and went slack, the shine in his eyes – rimmed with tears – fading into a whisper.
Diomed squeezed the fragile frame for all it was worth. Every nick and scratch across his body sealed itself shut with sticky sucking noises. Once done, he discarded the shrivelled corpse to the gutter, like an empty toothpaste tube. He wiped his hand across his mouth and sighed. ‘Ahhh.’
The clearing of a throat punctured the night, a short distance away.
Diomed twirled around, his cape – for appearances mattered – fluttering in the night air. He raised his hands, claws at the ready, and hissed through his crimson-stained teeth. But the attack stance crumbled once he’d taken in the scene.
The girl stood behind him, her right hand cupping her left elbow. With her Converse-clad foot, she toed and tapped at the ground. She chewed the inside of one cheek, and her eyes remained averted to the ground. She glanced up at him, then back to the bloodied pavement again. She cleared her throat again, brow furrowed.
He frowned. What was this girl doing? She wasn’t running away, screaming bloody murder. She wasn’t squealing about undead creatures falling out of the night, coming to drain their veins. She only stood there, looking a little uncomfortable. As though she were alone at a house party, not staring death incarnate in the face. Now that he thought about it, she looked like— Oh no, not again.
The girl pulled strength from some unknown reserve and raised her gaze to meet his. She smiled and took a step towards him, braver than a thousand men who’d died at this vampire’s hands. ‘Thank you for saving me!’
Diomed paused. Was he saving her? He thought about this. He had been having trouble with his hunts lately. There were the robbers he – by accident – foiled, much to the happiness of the business owner. There was that nerdy kid he intended to eat but ended up protecting from a pack of bullies. And now this, rescuing a damsel in distress. Diomed was rubbish at this whole ‘reign of terror’ thing. Word was going around that the last remaining Karmegan had gone soft. And was that such a bad thing? There may be another way to revest his family name. What if the way to have the Karmegans honoured once more wasn’t through fear after all? The wisest route might be to become a well-respected community member instead. ‘You— You do know I’m a vampire, right?’
‘I sure do!’
Right. Okay. ‘And… you’re all right with this?’
The girl nodded. ‘I know I’m not the first. I heard about the others. People are saying you’re a good guy. You’re challenging the harmful misconceptions about your endangered species. You’re like, a superhero! You’re our silent guardian, our watchful protector.’
‘Well, I don’t know about tha—’
‘Our vampire bat–man.’
Thursday, May 16, 2024
Written for the May 2024 #BlogBattle: ‘Revest’
joshuainsole.com 
It’s tough being a vampire in the modern world, Joshua. I feel Diomed may fare better in a Gothic village with a ghostly dark castle haunted by an ancient Nosferatu. That said, comedic humour bleeds through, and being the Last In Line reminded me of an old Dio song of the same title.
Don’t suppose the girl has some direct lineage to Van Helsing by any chance?
Hope all’s well with you and hopefully see you on the next one.
Thanks, Gary! I’m fully embracing my blend of comedy and horror now. When I take myself too seriously, I don’t like the work I produce.
Dio was one of the greats, wasn’t he? When I was a kid, he, Bruce of Maiden, and Rob from Priest were my holy trinity of metal vocalists.
Yes, all’s well here. I’m still trying to find a good balance for everything, but I’m doing miles better than last year and always finding time to carve out writing sessions.
Hope you’re doing well too, Gary! I’ve seen that you posted the new word. Can’t wait to dive into it and see what thoughts that conjures up!
Wise choice. I find distraction helps when the brain fires up wrong too.
You can roll off those bands of yore. Ever tried Catherine Wheel? Judy Staring at the Sun. That’s Bruce’s brother. Bought by mistake after one too many lunch time beers in uni. Now have all their albums.
For my other tastes, track the discussion with Roger on my last post. Found some superb bands lately amidst the old favourites.
Good to hear too. I’m also in a better place too. Although my WIP is drifting a bit in terms of too big I think. DS is now with my proof reader too.
Silhouette if I remember right. I think I’ve prepped that already!
This is a clever piece of writing, as the reader is going to be thrown off course by a few succinct uses of conventions.
Here’s the vampire who pounces of one victim – the boy. The question then comes to the reader ‘Ha-ah. What about the girl then?’ Only she doesn’t turn out to be a vampire hunter, werewolf or actually another vampire. And we’re left hanging on an answer to that question while she stands there quite calm really, sizing up the situation.
The surprise ending is a delight. She’s an ordinary girl thanking him from saving her. That was the other sharp piece of development. The lad who is the victim; we only hear of his true potential threat to her then.
And Diomed is left having to put up with the fact that despite his best efforts he is turning out to be urban hero.
Very enjoyable.
Thank you, Roger! I’m so glad my silly twists on the genre are fun to read. I have a great time writing them, so it’s good to hear that you have a good time reading them, too!
Keep up the good work! Your posts are always entertaining reads.