Chapter 4.38 – Happy Birthday

Caleb stepped out of the shower where he’d spent the previous hour gently washing away the remnants of Friday. Or was it Monday? Caleb didn’t know. All Caleb knew was that one of his seven girls had borne the brunt of him and that he’d made a mess. And Caleb hated mess. He always had. So little in his unlife was organised and neat that he felt compelled to maintain order in his physical surroundings as best he could.

And so he’d washed, and washed, and washed until he was confident that every inch of him was spotless. Now he just needed some clean clothing.

His favourite suit had been dirtied and crumpled during his rapid encounter with the blonde he couldn’t remember the name of. Maybe it was Tuesday? It didn’t really matter. His mind wasn’t on the half-naked woman in the basement, his mind was on Faith.

She’d turned him down.

He was surprised – he didn’t think she ever turned anyone down. She’d certainly never turned him down.

Until now. And on his birthday, too.

He groaned inwardly as he realised that he’d torn a cuff on his suit. He would need to get his suit repaired and cleaned – he wondered if there was dry cleaners anywhere within thirty miles. They were pretty remote in the manor. Maybe Kitty would fix it, if he asked her nicely.

He was about to go and find her, when he noticed a neat pile of clothing on the bed and a little note.

‘Happy Birthday, Caleb’ it said. ‘Please meet me in the piano room at ten o’clock this morning – Kitty.’

He picked up the jacket from the pile and held it against himself. Fine velvet. He liked velvet. It smelled crisp and new. And it was silk-lined, too. He quickly dressed, looked down at his new outfit and grinned.

This was pretty exciting! Lilith used to acknowledge his birthdays with a small present – a book, cuff links, once even a can of tuna for Bob but nothing as fine as this suit.

He wondered what else Kitty had in store for him and his heart, and other parts, rose. Maybe, just maybe, she’d let him run his hands all over that silk, just once…

He was snapped out of his trance by the clock striking ten times and he hot-footed it down the stairs. He didn’t want to keep Kitty waiting – as beautiful and tempting as she was, he knew that she could wipe the floor with him if he upset her and he had no intention of doing that.

He knocked on the door of the piano room before he entered.

At first he didn’t think she was there; she wasn’t at the piano, chess board or on the sofa and then he saw her, kneeling on the rug with what looked like a plate of biscuits.

Caleb’s heart, and other parts, fell. She had made him biscuits and she looked so pleased about it and… holy hell, he was going to have to endure them, wasn’t he?

He took a seat beside her, searing from the heat of the fire, and took a biscuit from the plate. It was heart shaped, and had a squishy jam heart in the centre. It looked lovely but Caleb knew that every bite would taste like ash. Could he fit one in in one mouthful?

He watched Kitty, who delicately took a nibble, her eyes rolling back into her head in ecstasy, and he was confused. Surely they’d just taste like ash to Kitty, too?

She laughed a little and placed a biscuit on to a dish for him. “These are special biscuits,” she whispered. “Do try one.”

With trepidation, Caleb lifted the confection to his lips and took a tentative lick and suddenly all his tastebuds caught fire. It was so vibrant in its flavour that it was painful. He had no idea what he was tasting – for his entire existence, everything had either tasted of blood or ash, and this was certainly neither.

“Vanilla,” Kitty sighed. “Strawberries, sugar, butter and a little something to bypass the blessing.” She chuckled and took another nibble, letting her mouth clear completely before she finished. “It is an illusion, but a pleasant one, would you agree?”

Caleb nodded, still trying to force down his biscuit. Oh, this was worse than ash, it burned so badly his eyes were threatening to water. But he nibbled away, making satisfied noises so as not to displease Kitty. She had made a lot of effort after all, buying him a new suit and baking him special biscuits. By the end of it, he did have to admit that there was a certain interest to the flavours he was experiencing. He just never wanted to experience them again.

“Thank you,” Caleb said, mostly sincerely. “For baking for me, and for the fine suit.”

“You are most welcome! You do look fine in it.”

Caleb looked down through his one good eye at his new suit. It did look crisp and sharp and it was perfectly tailored to him. He wondered how Kitty managed to always get his measurements correct – maybe she’d taken a tape measure to him when he wasn’t looking.

“I’ve put my other suit into the hamper in my bathroom – it’ll need repairing… is that ’something you could do?”

“Why does it need repairing?”

He squirmed a bit. This wasn’t the first time that he was admitting to Kitty that he’d broken one of his dolls, but this was the first time that he’d ripped a suit in doing so.

His silence must have gone on a bit too long, because Kitty sighed heavily and rose to her feet. “Do excuse me while I go and see to her. You take a seat over here,” she cooed, patting the smaller sofa. Caleb did as he was told and awaited her return.

A few minutes passed, then a few more. Still no sign of Kitty.

Caleb’s mind began to wander back to Faith. She was cold, she was breathless, she had no pulse, no blood or sweat to get on him. He didn’t have to worry about biting her too hard. He liked it when she bit him back. Really liked it.

Sex with Faith was the best sex he’d ever had.

He felt sick to his stomach, and it wasn’t just the biscuit repeating on him. It was the thought that Faith might not want him anymore.

He could hazard a guess as to why.

Seth always ruined everything.

“Caleb!” Kitty repeated, making the birthday boy jump.

He turned to her, briefly caught up in her beauty and lost in his thoughts, he almost made a pass at her. Instead, he caught his wayward brain before it made a huge mistake and asked instead, “Is she all right?”

Kitty furrowed her brow slightly. “No, Caleb – I am afraid that I cannot fix this one. I shall have to find you another.”

“Oh.”

“’Oh’ indeed.” Kitty let out a wistful sigh and took a seat next to Caleb. “My boy,” she cooed. “What has gotten into you to make you do this?”

Caleb’s guard went up. Back when he lived with Lilith, she would ask him similar questions if he accidentally hurt a girl, but no matter which answer he gave, he’d get whacked with her spoon of doom and threatened with castration.

“Be truthful with me, Caleb.” Kitty warned.

Caleb tried to feel remorse so that he could give a measured and sincere answer, but instead he blurted, “Faith wouldn’t give me a birthday present.”

“It is not a gift if you feel obliged to give it.”

Caleb could see that Kitty was smiling, but he couldn’t place his finger on what was wrong with it. He huffed.

She shook her head; her curls falling into her eyes. “Oh! How times do change!”

“Pardon?”

“In my day, vampires respected each other. We may not have liked one another…” she faded out. “Seth would always present me with a birthday gift; a hand-picked bouquet of flowers one year, a handwritten poem the next. Oh, he was such a darling sweetheart!”

“…Seth was?”

“Yes.”

“What went wrong? He’d forget my birthday and he used to gift Lilith spare bits from the humans he’d slaughtered.”

“Yes, well, time can change us, too.”

“Are you sure? He’s been pretty horrible for all the centuries I’ve known him—”

“—I have hope that my humble offspring resides inside that dark, cold exterior and shall one day be all mine once again,” Kitty finished, bluntly.

Caleb nodded, wondering if Kitty knew the history between Faith and Seth and that Seth definitely still had feelings for Faith. Even an idiot could see that, as he was proving.

Kitty seemed to realise her harshness and once again softened her tone. “Faith should have allowed you a gift, especially as you are her sire.”

“I’m not her sire; April is.”

“No, no, dear boy. You are. April turned Faith with your blood. Faith should revere you, respect you.”

“She should?”

“Yes,” Kitty said smoothly, and finger-pressed a crease from her dress. “See to it that you command that respect, Caleb.”

“She teases me relentlessly.”

“Because you let her mistake you for a fool. Act like her sire, command her respect. Faith is rebellious, she is rough around the edges, like Seth was and is once more becoming. No doubt her influence… But even the roughest edges can be smoothed with the correct tools.”

“How do I smooth Faith’s edges?”

“That I cannot say, I do not know her as you do, but I am certain that you will figure something out, bright boy that you are.”

Caleb beamed. He knew he wasn’t the shiniest button on the cardigan but still, having someone around who praised him a bit was really nice. He was starting to really grow fond of Kitty; she was really very kind.

Kitty patted his knee. “Happy Birthday, Caleb. Please, finish the biscuits. Now, I must retire. Tonight I shall find you a replacement girl, but for now I must rest.”

“Sweet catatonia,” Caleb mumbled, but Kitty had already left him alone.

With nothing but the horrible cookies. And his thoughts, sparing as they were.

Command respect. From Faith. How on sweet Earth was he going to manage that?

Morag grabbed a glass of juice from the fridge and paced the floor of her apartment while she waited for a very important email from a very important friend.

Nia Willett, once a science student with a vendetta against a guy Morag couldn’t remember the name of, now a forensic scientist who owed Morag a few favours.

They didn’t talk about why.

Morag didn’t talk about a lot, really. She talked a lot, but not a lot about a lot. People often thought she was a bit detached from reality.

Like the time she used to work at SacFondles, a chain burger restaurant.

People look down on those kinds of jobs, but money and free food? Getting to scare kids by describing what was in their meat patties?

Uncovering that the restaurant chain’s mascot, Bonkle SacFondle was embezzling money out of the company to support his secret clown cult?

Okay, maybe that last one wasn’t as true as she had once thought it was but… actually, she didn’t want to talk about it. It wasn’t true. She got fired.

That was the last real job she’d had. Being in the GliTS didn’t pay anything, but expenses were covered, she had some meagre savings, and her roommate, Placeholder, didn’t mind her staying for free.

They used to date and it was all fine…

…If they didn’t talk about it.

She’d live with any of her exes though if it meant she could remain in the GliTS. Morag had always been interested in conspiracies and the occult from when she was a little girl.

One time, she had been convinced that her neighbour was a witch. Rather than be scared like the other kids, Morag was really curious. She was once caught spying on her neighbour as she cast spells in her living room.

Turned out that the lady was… well, not a witch, but she promised she wouldn’t talk about that.

Another draw to the GliTS was that they were always exploring. They didn’t really have the authority to explore some of the places they went, but they went regardless, always on the search for the truth.

Morag had always been one for trespass— uh — exploring.

But the less said about that, the better.

Where was this email at? Nia said she’d send it before ten.

Morag handled the plasma fruit, tossing it lightly and catching it a few times. She was surprised that it hadn’t started to rot or dissolve yet. She was supposed to be keeping it in the fridge while her fellow GliTS decided what to do with it, but then Placeholder tried to bake it into a pie, so she switched to keeping it in her pocket.

And she licked it periodically.

But let’s not talk about that.

Ping!

Finally!

Morag skidded to her laptop to open up the email that she had been waiting for.

Subject: Get longer, harder erec—

No, not that one. Delete.

Subject: Remains?

This was it! Morag foamed with excitement as she opened the email and skimmed her eyes over the text and images attached.

Morag,

Hope you’re well.

We’ve identified that the sample does indeed belong to Miss. Rose Smalley.

And we’ve found a living next of kin, a father, Broof Hogwash.

I hope this answers a few questions.

All the best,

Nia.

< Previous Chapter | Index | Next Chapter >