Undead Alive



Adrian makes use of his l33t thieving skills.

I stole tampons from the public loos at McDonald's' again today.

It's disgusting, I know. Makes me feel bloody awful, too, but ... sometimes you just have to do what you have to do. At least no-one was there – I think I might have died again if some girl had come in and caught me, only from embarrassment, this time. At least if she hadn't killed me first. Which she would have, on account of all girls on the continent being crazy-arse feminists. Not that I could've blamed any girl who did; you go to the loo to do ... whatever it is that girls do, like fixing their make up or pissing or ... or changing tampons, and then there's this guy, this scrawny freckled redhead, standing with his head in one of those sanitary boxes and sniffing around in it ... yeah, I think I'd beat me up to.

... This is all starting to sound like I'm some kind of pervert. Which I'm not. Honestly. I'm a vampire, which is probably worse. For one thing, the few people who'll even consider believing in your existence are also the freaks who expect you to be some sort of Dracula – the sequel, wearing only black and charming women with your debonair man-charmingness. (As if.)

And the guy who lives next door is incapable of making food without using an obscene amount of garlic, which means that the entire floor reeks of the stuff.


I've made it out of McDonald's without being busted, which is a good thing. In what I hope isn't a skulking manner, I make my way down the street, trying to look like I haven't just stolen half a dozen tampons. It's harder than it sounds, really. My left trouser pocket – which is where I shoved them earlier – feels like it's burning against my leg, and I'm half expecting someone to go, "oi! What's that in you've got there?!".

That's when I'll jump out in the traffic, I think. Otherwise I'll probably get arrested for being a dirty man-pig or something.


Only I make it to my flat without incident, like always. I lock myself in, attempting to pointedly ignore the stench of garlic. Ignoring it doesn't help much, though, as it's making me hack up half a lung anyway. Living in this place makes me feel like I'm a heavy smoker with lung problems sometimes. I think to myself that I'm probably the most pathetic vampire ever, and put the kettle on.

Lily comes home ten minutes later, slamming the door so hard the walls shake. I send a silent prayer to whatever deity's up there for her not to be in a bad mood.

"Adrian, you home?" she cries, and her voice is like caramel with shrapnel in it.

"Yeah," I say, as she enters the kitchen. She's wearing her latest assortment of mismatched clothing – as usual, it's like she's hired a colour-blind hippie as a stylist. I try not to look at her clothes for too long, though, because I'm pretty sure that it'd make me go blind.

"Jesus, Adrian, that's disgusting," my flatmate announces when she sees what's in my coffee mug.

"Want some?" I offer, grinning, and hold the mug out toward her. Lily wrinkles her nose in disgust.

"Euw. Not in this life, thanks."

"Was just being polite."

"Yeah, well. Some of us don't appreciate getting a cupful of period in our faces, you know," Lily says, as she opens the fridge to raid it.

"Says you," I mutter.

"Oh, come on." Lily finds what she's been looking for – raw chicken bits – and closes the fridge, before brandishing the bag of chicken fillets in my general direction and announcing, "this is completely different."

"I hope you get salmonella and die," I tell her darkly.

"Cheers," she says.

"Horribly. With ... lots of choking and gargling and pain."

"No blood?"

"'S not as if I'd drink yours," I say, because the thought is kind of disgusting, (worse than having to steal used tampons, even,) "and it'd soil your precious carpet."

"Is my blood somehow not good enough for you, tampon thief?" Lily manages to come off as both amused and insulted at the same time, but there are times when I think that this is her default setting, so I'm not impressed.

"Shuttup," I say, and add, somewhat maliciously, "it'd probably taste like dog, anyway." Lily doesn't take kindly to the remark, and so she reaches out and punches me in the shoulder so hard that I spill some of my ... tea.

"Ow! Fuck!" I exclaim. Lily does her "evil overlord" laugh, and I glare at her as I lick the hot fluid from my fingers. My shoulder is probably broken, too. Lily sees the look on my face, but it only makes her more amused.

"I met Tony today," she says, when she's finally – finally! – stopped laughing.

"'S that so," I say, because I really couldn't care less at the moment.

"I told him you were free on Friday, so he's expecting to see you then."

"What?" Oh fucking hell no. It's not that I've got anything against Tony, per se, it's just that ... well. He's a zombie. I know what you're thinking. Flesh-eating, terror-inducing mindless corpse, yeah? Only Tony isn't like that. He's a special case – he's like a door-to-door salesman on speed. A door-to-door salesman on speed who actually likes his job. It's like he's become a zombie by sheer force of will. You can never get a word in edgewise around him (unless you're Lily) and every time I meet him I end up with an empty wallet and at least one thing I never knew I needed. (Lily and I have a closet dedicated to Things We Never Knew We Needed in our flat. I don't even dare to open it any more.) And this is after he died. Which is why I'm moaning into my coffee mug right now. "What'd I ever do to you?"

"Nothing, babe," Lily says, "I just like to torture you." She grins and takes a huge bite out of one of her raw chicken chunks. I bet she's imagining the last, pitiful sounds that chicken made. I bet she likes it.

"Bloody sadist," I mutter.

"I'd blame my little lady problem, but then I'd be lying," she says through the food in her mouth, swallows, and smiles. There are bits of chicken stuck between her teeth. I wince.

"'Little lady problem,'" I deadpan. I'm not sure if she's referring to her period or to her ... other period, but I think I'm better off not knowing.

"Appropriate, isn't it?" Lily eats the last of the chicken in her hand, and stuffs the bag with the remaining bits in the fridge. "And Tony says no later than seven. If you don't go, I'm hiding your keys again."

"Fine," I grunt, glaring at her. "Now go away and let me mope in peace."

"Vampires don't mope," Lily tells me. I grit my teeth.

"No? 'Cause I'm moping right now."

"That's because you're pitiful, Adrian. Real vampires angst."

"Shuttup." Because I'm not going to dignify that with a response.

"Hah," Lily says, and she's beaming in triumph, "first person to say 'shut up' without a proper follow up automatically loses the argument."

"According to whom?"

"It's Alice's law, actually." Alice, incidentally, is Lily's last name.

"Really." Somehow I'm not surprised.

"Really," Lily says. She glances at the kitchen clock (which is constantly forty minutes late) and lets out a small yelp. "Look, as much as I love your company, I'm running late to a meeting, so..."

"Just go. 'S not as if anyone'll miss you."

"Berk." Lily hits me over the head in what she must think is a playful fashion. This results in my head slamming into the table top, and I suppose I'm lucky that my neck doesn't break. I do spill some more of my tea, but it's lukewarm by now, so it doesn't really matter.

"Ow," I say, wiping my hands on my trouser leg and wincing. Lily laughs and fishes her keys out of her pocket.

"See you later, wimp," she says, and leaves. The door slams shut after her, and I stare gloomily at the wall. There's no escape; I'm going to Tony's on Friday. And Lily gets out of it, because of course the moon is full then. Damn lycan. I get up, pour the rest of my tea-stuff into the sink, (it's cold by now, anyway,) and make a mental note to buy aspirin. Preferably loads. I wonder if I could accidentally overdose so that I won't have to meet with Tony. It wouldn't work, of course – I'd end up puking my guts out, at worst, and Lily would steal my keys again if I used it as an excuse.

And Tony knows where I live.

Even the thought is enough to make me want to cry. I suppose it's a good thing that today's Monday – it gives me some time to come up with an escape plan.

I just hope that four days is long enough.

A/N: So that's the first (prolly short-looking) chapter of this thing. I couldn't resist, cause vamps who cry blood/are emo/have sex all the time make me want to throw something. (Preferably abforementioned vamp.) So yeah. Also I'm looking for known fantasy beings that I use, so if you can think of one, feel free to mention it.