Five
Maron
I was pretty sure I was experiencing some kind of existential crisis. A few days ago a letter had arrived in the mail, addressed to me directly from Portia Kadish. I spent an hour staring at it, feeling way too nervous to open it. When I finally did, I realized she'd already gotten to work. She thanked me for my detailed letter and explained she'd already found five men, all with strong chances of being a suitable match for me. She did go on to disclose that only one of these men would be my soulmate so it would be in my best interest to take each date as seriously as I could.
So I did my best. I dressed carefully each time I had to go out. The first time I wore a navy blue dress with heels that accentuated my thin, lightly muscled calves. I took extra care with my makeup and brushed my long, red hair until it shone. He noticed absolutely none of it, but did show a disturbing inclination toward soup of all forms. When he finished slurping down his tomato basil, he gave me a cursory up and down glance and declared me "presentable". If I didn't have such a strong aversion to meat, I'm pretty sure I would have unhinged my jaw and swallowed him whole. However, I tried to heed Portia's words and gave it my best college try. Things were starting to look up when he announced he was struggling with an addiction to human flesh. When I questioned him about it, he merely shrugged and mentioned he was seeing a therapist three times a week over it.
At that point, I told him three times a week seemed a little excessive. This was when his eyes did this weird ass dilation thing and his nostrils flared like he was scenting me.
I gently reminded him I was not a human and that I would be leaving now. He acted like he was mortally offended and pronounced that since he'd spent fifty bucks on my meal, he was entitled to get to at least third base.
Even though I was raised an Archer and had been constantly taught that losing my temper was no way to get things done, I still picked up the silver gravy boat, tilted it and dumped it right onto his flesh-eating head. "Lose my number," I hissed to him as the last of the congealing brown goo had slid out of the container. I inclined my head to my waiter who gave me a wide grin, so I slipped a fifty in his hand on my way past.
"You're welcome back here any time, ma'am."
I gave him a nod and sailed out the door.
The second date wasn't too much better, although there were no gravy boats involved that time. Everything started off pretty well. I could tell by the smell of him he was a human, though he did smell a little off to me, but I couldn't tell what was causing it. He sort of reminded me of Rick Moranis from Ghostbusters. A little on the short and compact side, he had wild brown hair and a nose just a smidge too large for his face. But his smile was nice, and he held the door for me like a gentleman. He asked me questions about myself and didn't flinch or wince when I explained who I was. Though he did wonder out loud why I'd date a human. At that I had to laugh and told him since Portia was the one who had set us up, I would date whoever she chose.
He visibly paled at that and adjusted his collar. Her name struck fear into a lot of people. Good to know the humans weren't immune to it. The night began to skid off the rails a little bit after he had three margaritas. My magic number was way higher than that, but I had a vamp metabolism so alcohol didn't affect me the same way.
During a rambling soliloquy, fueled by nervous drinking behavior, he confessed to being a scientist. I thought it was cool, at first, because science, right? But as he kept talking and kept shoving margaritas down his gullet, I became less sure. He admitted to experimenting on paranormals. When I questioned why in the world he would do that, he waved off my concerns with a hand and insisted he had signed consent agreements with all of them.
At that point, I pushed away the rest of my meal and listened to him ramble. At first not a lot of it made sense and I lamented the fact that he wasn't a terrible looking guy and he treated our waiter all right, but he did appear, sadly, to be an alcoholic. Plus, what kind of guy got drunk on margaritas on the first date? He couldn't choose something a little more manly, like whiskey on the rocks or something?
But a few minutes later, his ramblings got a little more intense. I sat forward and really did my best to listen to his slurring accomplishments.
"And it was only after I combined those two DNA strands that something amazing happened," he said.
My heart sank a little. I wasn't a religious person, no vampires really were, but even I believed screwing with nature was only going to end up in trouble. "Oh?" I asked mildly. "What was it?"
He sat back in his seat and crossed his ankle over his knee which jarred our table and sent wine splashing onto the pristine tablecloth. "I created something new," he said, a self-satisfied smile appearing crookedly on his face.
"New?" I asked politely, though my stomach lurched in fear.
"Well," he said with a shrug, "itwasnew. Turned out it didn't live for more than a couple of minutes." He lifted his eyes heavenward, a fanatical gleam shining in them. "But while it did live, it tore a hole in the wall of my lab with..." He paused and stared at me expectantly.
"With?" I asked politely.
"Laser beams," he said matter-of-factly.
"Laser beams," I echoed.
"Yup. From its eyes."
"Laser beam eyes."
"Uh huh." He pulled out his cellphone and I watched as he fumbled it a couple of times before he unlocked it and began to scroll through his pictures. "Here," he slurred and shoved the phone in my face.
There was a massive round hole in the back of a room. Shattered glass littered the floor.
"But it died?" I asked.
He nodded. "Unfortunately," he said, his voice morose, as if he'd lost a child rather than a patchwork monster.
"Terrible," I said in a commiserating voice. I made eye contact with our waiter and he nodded discreetly. There was no way I was paying for this dinner.
A diabolical laugh came from my date, startling me. I jumped in my seat.
