The Smart and the Dumb

Tonight, I have and will play security. It's a minor problem, but once again explains a bit about our world.

Once you have established yourself in a territory, it's important to become familiar with humans that are well known. The reason for this is that we are not permitted to feed on famous faces. They are high-risk targets, especially with all the paparazzi that follow such people. The last thing we need is a photo of a vampyre attempting to seduce an actor or actress on the front page of a tabloid, asking, "Who is new mystery beau?"

No entertainers, no politicians, and no high-end business owners. A savvy vampire can find plenty of sustenance by hanging around colleges, malls, or, if you live in my region, the Hollywood Strip.

Enter our little problem child, Bobby Summers. Embraced only a few years ago, Bobby was shown the ropes. Our rule about the famous was made clear to him. In a moment of forgetfulness and desperation, he fed on a young actress while she was out partying. It was believed at the time that she drank too much, and she stumbled out of the club looking like a glorious disaster that the press devoured with their cameras.

Bobby, realizing what he'd gotten away with, found himself a hobby: making high-risk feeds.

Vampyres are very much like regular people psychologically. We are not mindless aberrations that shamble through the night without goals or desires. Thus, we can be intelligent or foolish, just like mortals. Bobby has become addicted to the mental rush of pulling off these daring feeds, and it only came to our attention a few nights ago.

While reading one of the tabloids, an observant mortal agent noticed yet another young starlet was photographed while stumbling out of a club. The tabloid was kind enough to circle a mark on her neck. They assumed it was some random partner on the dance floor that gave her a hickey. "What daring, romantic vampire gave her this?" they asked. Our agent's question was closer to the mark; "What idiot is breaking the rules?" Based on this one article, he did some research and discovered that the same set of celebrities, visiting the same set of clubs within the same area of Hollywood have become media trash because they have all been seen exiting a club while three sheets to the wind. One of the regulars is the same young woman that was labeled a victim of vampyrism.

Oh, if they only knew how accurate they were!

After last night's post, a number of our kind went to all of the clubs where these victims have been noted as having left in bad shape. Our mission was to observe only. Find out who's doing this, and we'll handle it tonight. We went in pairs, and I teamed with Eddie for the club we were to watch. As a treat, I allowed him to take a few sips off one of my girls so he would have enough energy for the night. (He used quite a bit of colorful language while declaring how lucky I am.)

Many of these nightspots have a requirement that the patrons drink so much. Eddie and I used an old trick that pleases bartenders around the world to no end. We lay $300 on the bar, each, and tell the bartender to use the funds in one of two ways. He can pocket it as one of the better tips he's received, or buy some of the lovely ladies a drink in the hopes of scoring a bit of carnal action. In this way, we avoid the drinks we can't have, and some mortal is left feeling pleased.

Eddie and I saw nothing during our stakeout. It was another team that spotted and identified Bobby. His game is fairly simple. He heads to the dance floor, demonstrates impressive agility and speed for spectacular dance moves, and gains the attention of his target with his talents. He then waits for the occasional slow song, when the club dims its lights the most to "set the mood," and then moves in to feed.

I received a call on my cell phone around 1:00 AM with the above report. Bobby's methods showed he was being careful, and no less daring than many of us. But there is a domino effect to what he's been doing. Some of us are heavily invested in these celebrities, and more specifically, the production companies that use them. Bad press makes the famous faces more of a joke than anything else, and so production suffers. Our money suffers. Aside from blood, a vampyre lives on his or her finances to live above the common fold. It's quite possible that Bobby had no idea what he was doing with his little game, but it's become apparent that there would be no stopping him. He'd been doing it too long.

His car was "tagged." A magnetic tracking device was tossed at his car, where it adhered and would allow us to know where he'd be the next night...Tonight. So, after rising this evening and having a quick feed off one of the girls, I met up with Eddie and the vampyres that had spotted Bobby doing his thing.

Since he remains fairly new in our world, his lair is one of modest means. Any money he's investing is going to the clubs he's been visiting. It can be expensive to rub elbows with the rich and famous. He stood no chance against four of us, one of whom has slept for 50 years for empowerment. While the other two held Bobby in place, Eddie and I inserted a stake in his heart. As I post, Bobby is lying on one of my couches, frozen and frighteningly aware of his situation. The paralysis of being staked doesn't turn off one's senses; it simply makes movement impossible.

Because we know he would never stop after receiving something as flimsy as a warning, Molly Murphy has approved final sunrise.

I've mentioned this several times, and I'm sure some of you have guessed at its meaning, but remain curious as to how it's done. For Bobby, it will be simple. You see, sometimes we have a true desire for vengeance, and we will take an axe to the knees and elbows of a vampyre deserving the most painful of experiences. Those severed limbs are placed 100 yards away from such a criminal, in clear view, allowing for the psychological suffering that if he had not been such a buffoon, he would be intact and not lying on a beach, awaiting the agonizing purity of sunlight.

Bobby is a lowly fool, and his death will be merciful. We will leave the stake in place, which will keep him paralyzed for the end. The pain will be reduced, so he will not be screaming to the empty beach of his suffering. An hour before sunrise, Eddie and I will leave him in a lonely spot, difficult to get to by mortals. The sun will rise, and Bobby will be reduced to ashes. Then the tides will come and wash away his remains.

One less of the dumb vampyres to worry about.