I have spent the early evening hours preparing, not wasting a moment. When I rose at sunset, a man with short dark brown hair with an unfortunate streak of yellow through the top (perhaps a sorcerer’s curse?) was waiting to give me a haircut. It is now cropped short in what Anton calls a “crew cut,” though I argued it should be called a “master cut,” a term he was forced to agree with in the end, because, as Anton rightly pointed out, the shorter cut draws attention to my supremely handsome features. Neli paid him richly for his time, and I used my power of suggestion to make him forget.
Next, a strange brassy woman with orange hair and a gold hoop through her nostrils invited me to her “mobile tanning station,” a large white box on wheels. She sprayed me with a liquid that instantly gave me the look of a man who has the means to spend leisure time outdoors. Joey and Ross have nothing on me. I am now every bit the virile modern man of means. Well, almost.
At present, I am preparing for the final step in my transformation. Neli is driving me to see the tailor whose shop is inside the marketplace. Very odd.
“I am enjoying the speed of this horseless wagon,” I say, exploring the levers on the door that lower and raise the window. There is also a device that plays any sort of music one wishes to hear. The marvels of the modern world.
“The horseless wagon is called a Beemer,” Neli replies, her eyes keenly focused on the well-groomed road.
“It is a definite improvement over traveling by carriage.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying some of the perks modern life has to offer. Maybe keep that in mind when we’re shopping for your clothes.”
“Why? What is it that I will find?”
“I don’t know how to break it to you, but…”
“Well? Out with it, girl.” I snap my fingers.
“Leather pants are no longer in fashion for men.”
“What? This is criminal! How are men supposed to protect their cocks while pillaging or plundering?” That used to be my favorite pastime when I was a young vampire. Obviously, we did not have TVs back then, so one had to have a hobby. Later, as I grew into a more sophisticated and kinder vampire warlord, I enjoyed reading and painting.
“Pillaging is illegal now. You can’t just burn down people’s homes and take things because you feel like it. Plundering is still in, though, but they call it income taxes, and it’s done by the government.”
“This era is no fun.” Perhaps I can improve things by bringing back leather trousers. I have been known to start a fashion trend or two in my day. For example, capes. That was all me. Those other vampires were copycats.
“I’m sure you’ll find other things to entertain you, Boz.”
Yes. Her name is Stella. “And what else may I expect to find at this marketplace?” Perhaps I will buy my sweet little human a trinket. Or a monkey. Or a monkey wearing a trinket.
“The marketplace is called a mall. They have a little of everything, but mostly people go to buy clothes—they have about twenty or thirty shops to choose from.”
“So many tailors in one location?” How extravagant.
“The clothes are already made. You just buy them and take them home to enjoy.”
“Well,” I grumble, “I will insist on trying them on before I make my purchases, as I doubt the tailors of this time are accustomed to dressing a man of my spectacular physique.”
Neli mumbles something about a bloated egomaniac—one of the other drivers must have offended her in some way.
The Beemer comes to a halt next to several other Beemers in a large open stable of sorts. I look around, searching for the stalls and tents of the merchants displaying their wares, but all I see is a large beige structure that reminds me of a box.
“Where is the marketplace?” I ask impatiently. She knows time is of the essence. Tonight I shall see my Stella and take one final sip of her delicious virgin blood before her deflowering. Ah, the delights of seducing a maiden.
“Everything is indoors, inside that building.” She points to the structure. “Are you sure you don’t want me to pick an outfit for you? It’s a little bright in there with all the lights.”
“Nonsense. I am even more attractive by candlelight.”
“It’s not candlelight, Boz. It’s artificial light, like we have inside the house, but brighter, like a thousand mini suns.”
I stare at her in horror. “Do you have a death wish?” She knows my well-being is tied to hers, and artificial or not, so much light cannot be healthy.
“It won’t kill you. I’ve seen other vampires here before, but they protect themselves.”
“If I had known, I would have worn my hooded cape. You have been remiss in your duties.”