Eight p.m. Gabriel Strickland leaned casually against the lockers at the Chicago Greyhound Bus Station. He looked like any other man there, although most were bustling around, getting on or off buses, lugging baggage or rushing to the ticket windows. He was a bit paler than most but all in all, his appearance was that of someone waiting. Just waiting. He was waiting for someone in particular. The perfect stranger.

He had few needs, to feed on the nourishing blood of a human and to find a safe place to sleep away the daylight hours. The darkness of his life was as his skin, fully a part of him after almost eighty years as a vampire. Sure, he had needs he was good at fulfilling but also a few wants, and that night he wanted something more. Getting laid as a vampire came easier than it did back in the 1930’s when he was last human. Tonight, Gabriel wanted sex and he wanted to use the baseball tickets in his pocket, a frivolity that wasn’t necessary, but he was a true baseball fanatic and it was, after all, the final game of the season. If there were vampire shrinks (and there was that rumor about Sigmund Freud), they’d say that Gabriel was in denial even after so many years. So what. Tonight, he wanted it all. Naturally he could just take, but there was an appealing challenge and adventure to working for it.

He tolerated the stench of humanity while he loitered, serene as though he belonged there. Passers-by treated him like part of the scenery and in many ways, he was. For decades he’d been just that, lurking silently, choosing his moment, uninvolved but intent on gaining satisfaction. Time was irrelevant; he had all he could ever want. Gabriel’s struggles were to hold on to a reason for it all, preserve something human inside himself. He wasn’t always successful but he always tried. And so … he waited.

 It didn’t take very long. Off the bus from Miami stepped a pretty young woman of about twenty. She had that look, the daring one; died black hair, black lipstick, pale complexion and several piercings in her ears, nose and lip. He wondered if her navel too was pierced, or perhaps something even more provocative. A grin tugged at his lips. She could be a willing one. It was always more pleasant when they were willing. All he needed was a few innings beside her, a quick fuck, a gulp or two of her essence then he’d be gone. He felt excitement rise but needed to control that or he’d scare her off, or worse yet, take her to her death.

He smiled as she neared. “Did you have a good trip?”

She looked up, blinked. Her eyes were ice blue and after a moment they twinkled. “Do I know you?”

Gabriel liked the look of her, the sparkle and innocence, the soft human female energy that seemed to circle her like a thick wool blanket. “Would you like to?”

“Maybe,” she grinned. A warm blush painted her pale cheeks and it reminded him of heat, how it once felt racing under his own living flesh. “Good trip? Oh, hell no. You know buses; uncomfortable, a thousand stops, exhausting. They smell too.”

And so did she. He could detect her scent, rich with musky desire and he was doing his best to make this a good feed, maybe even a long time banquet. Yes, it happens. Ten years earlier in Omaha, he had a lover, a preacher’s daughter who fed him for nearly six months. That ended when she thought it might be fun to get a little rough. It was a sad day. A little rough to a vampire is the kiss of death for a mortal. In the madness of it all he’d sucked her dry but didn’t have the heart to curse her to his existence and didn’t turn her. Didn’t seem fair. He liked her.

“Yes,” Gabriel said with a smile. “Those buses sure do smell. Are you on a layover here in Chicago?”

“This is my destination.” Her nose curled like she was disgusted. “Home to face the music, just got kicked out of college. Mom’s gonna kill me.” She grinned and eyed him with obvious admiration. “Hey, you wanna get some coffee or something? Maybe a burger? I’m in no hurry to go home.”

“No thanks but, how about a ballgame?” He displayed the tickets, shuffling them between thumb and finger.

“Sure. It’ll save me facing the folks right away.” She stuffed her duffle into a locker. “S’go! I haven’t been to a Cubs game since I was a kid. This’ll be so cool. By the way, my name’s Star, short for Starling.” Her nose wrinkled again and he liked that.

“Starling’s a very pretty name. I’m Gabriel.” She reached out her hand and he lifted it to his lips dramatically. Her heat quickened him, warming his cold lips like fire and again her ice blue eyes glowed. Starling was astute; that was either a good thing or it wasn’t, Gabriel could never be sure. Women had a way of deceiving he’d never quite gotten a grasp on, especially women of the twenty-first century, Goth persuasion. Back in his time, there were dishonest people everywhere but it seemed acceptable under the circumstances. Now, in a time of such comparative prosperity, manipulation had become a fine-tuned art.

The cab ride was quiet, but when they arrived at Wrigley Filed, she had a few questions. She asked as they waited in line for dogs and a beer.

“You’re not a normal kind of man, are you?”

Gabriel blinked, turned and placed their order.

“There’s something different about you, isn’t there, Gabriel?” she said after he accidentally-on-purpose dropped his hot dog loaded with relish and spilled his beer.

“Why? Because I’m a clumsy shit?” He acted irritated, but in truth the smell of the food had begun to drown out the scent of her, the delicate odor of pulsing blood just beneath her skin.

“Shall we go back and get you another dog?”

“Nah, game’s already in the third inning. I’m fine.”

“Of course you are,” she said softly, almost a sigh. Her brows rose when he turned in response to the nearly silent comment amidst the thundering cries of the crowd. Strike three had been called. “Of course you are,” she repeated with a delicious grin.

Gabriel wondered if he’d stumbled across his first ‘familiar’ human since 1931. No one had ever suspected he was vampire before. No one. Ever. Had she known his kind? Perhaps fed them? This could be easy, it should be pleasant and it might solve a multitude of problems. Gabriel was tired of moving around so much. Something a bit steadier might be just what the doctor ordered. Any relationship he attempted required a boatload of lying and apologies for his perceived accidental, over-zealous biting. Cursed by the life he lived, hit and run was the norm for his sexual encounters. Keeping his secret demanded he leave sooner than he liked, before things got out of hand like they did in Omaha. There’s a boredom that comes with complete variety whether one believes it or not. Living forever had its drawbacks. The mere idea of seeing the same face and tasting the same blood day after day for a while nearly charged his batteries to overload. It also raised his radar.

She may be the answer to an undead’s prayer, but she could very well be the opposite. He’d never crossed paths with Buffy the Vampire Slayer but that didn’t mean she didn’t exist. Still, he felt an imaginary warmth under his skin and let himself relax into the possibilities. Gabriel tried to be an optimistic kind of guy. He knew that if things went bad, his host went to heaven. That was a positive outlook, now wasn’t it?

Through the boring innings they chatted casually about the weather and various cities they’d seen. If, or in that case, when Chicago lost, they’d end the year in dead last but hope reigns eternal. It was the only reason the crowd was so big. At the bottom of the ninth and right in the middle of describing her best friend’s cowboy-themed wedding, Starling made a statement that would have caught his breath, if he breathed.

“I always wondered about the wounds. Do they heal?”

His eyes were cold and hard, he didn’t dare show his intrigue. She didn’t even flinch.

“I mean, do you leave a bad mark, and does it have to be where people can see it … when you … you know … drink? Will I need to take out stock in antiseptic?”

“You’d like to be …”

“Oh yes, especially with a great looking guy like you. You are a man, right? In every sense of the word?”

Gabriel glanced around. Behind them was a row of nuns, all dressed in medieval black and white habits and clicking rosary beads in their gnarled fingers. Chicago Cubs caps sat precariously propped, tilted on their heads over ominous black veils. No doubt they were serious, biblical Cubs fans. Like God, if there even was a God, really gave a damn where the Cubs ended the season. Gabriel could hear their whispered Hail Marys and wasn’t sure if he was more uneasy talking about sex or his unholy nature in their presence. He drew close and spoke quietly in Starling’s ear. “Are you asking if I can perform intercourse with a woman? Yes I can. Antiseptic optional.”

She giggled a nervous laugh. “So, no infection?”

“Not that I’ve ever caused.”

“Maybe we can go now?” she suggested in a husky low voice, leaning closer even though he could have heard her whispered indecent proposal from across Wrigley Field. “This will be so cool!”

By the look of her, he could only assume she’d voraciously read Anne Rice. He just as voraciously hoped he could meet her expectations. A shiver rippled over his body like a minor earth tremor.

“All right.” Gabriel stood, smiled and reached to grip her hand. This was more than promising and he actually felt giddy for the first time in decades.

They had great seats, third row, just past the dugout on the first base side. Sweet seats, even with the Cubbies losing. Her warm hand gripped his as the crack of the bat resounded. He turned. It was a high pop up, but unlike all the other fans around him, Gabriel wasn’t watching the ball, illusively hidden in the lights. He was watching the sharp shard of a broken wooden bat soar … at breakneck speed … right … at … his … chest …

Well, this sure as hell wasn’t supposed to happen. Staked in the heart by a fucking broken bat? Who does that happen to? His hand shot to the wood, it was buried deep and he was weakening by the second. Agonizing sensations of explosion and implosion flooded through his body, noise blasted in his ears and suddenly he was staring up at the lights. Behind them, black night. There were stars but he couldn’t see them. The pain was excruciating and Gabriel begged any god who’d listen to make it end quickly. Heat. Searing. A stench. Then came the blackness and peace he had dreamed of for nearly eighty years. Finally, an end to it all. Dead as he was meant to be.

*

But his brain? Was it still buzzing? Sparks floated in and out of his awareness. Had any vampire ever survived such a staking? Would he be the first? Nah, never happened. He was dead, sure as hell. But how could he be thinking? Especially, how could he be thinking the things he was thinking?

Warm. Not hot. Not the fires of hell which he firmly suspected. No pain. More senses moved to the forefront. His feet were firmly planted on the ground and although he was wavering on wobbly knees, it was obvious he was standing. Good God, should he dare open his eyes? Was that sunlight leaking through his lids? Yes. Oh shit!

Focus came like a shocking drench of ice water, at first causing him to gasp then blink. Bright. So bright his eyes burned. All around him were buildings and people rushing somewhere, not staring or even noticing him, swerving to avoid slowing as they passed. And … palm trees. Before his eyes could rise up to take in the sight, a short man came close and hissed.

 “Zip your jacket, buddy. Don’t want people seeing that. Not like they’d do a damn thing about it, but still …”

“Where the hell am I?” Panic darted Gabriel’s eyes left and right then down into the man’s well groomed face.  He stood a whopping five foot nothing. He was dark and swarthy, but well dressed and wearing a pleasant enough smile.

“You Gabriel Strickland?”

“Yes, who the hell are you?”

“Name’s Crudo. Crudo Cushman.”

“Where the hell am I?”

“Lovely Los Angeles. Hollywood to be exact. I’ll tell you everything but for now, let’s go. Time to get you off the streets.”

With trembling fingers Gabriel zipped his wool jacket to his chin, hiding a bloody mess the broken bat, pop-fly staking had caused. He pressed a hand there, felt the wetness squish against his healed flesh beneath, but felt something else too. Panic gave way to almost uncontrollable terror and real sweat prickled the back of his neck. He shielded his eyes. “The sun,” he gasped. “I’m hot. How the hell can I be out in the sun … and feel hot?” Usually he was frigid cold. This new, sudden highly-heated sensation felt like he might burst into flames. In fact, it was his biggest fear but then again, hadn’t that already happened?

Crudo groaned. “The sun don’t bother you anymore and you’re hot because it’s seventy-eight degrees this afternoon. You, my friend, are as close to human as you’ve ever been since back in … whenever you were last human. In the car.” He waved his hand.
Gabriel quickly slid into the passenger seat. He could swear he felt blood racing through his veins, but that would mean his heart was pumping. He gripped his wrist and closed his eyes. Counted. “Holy shit!”

“Yeah, holy shit,” said Crudo as he slid the key into the ignition.

Gabriel looked around at the lush interior of the Lexus. The damn car smelled new. What the fucking hell was going on? He wasn’t stupid, he’d done some reading. Was it possible this was a near death experience? Hallucination? Were his brain waves still igniting even after his final demise? His hand gripped the fine leather dashboard for balance, fighting a spinning out of control feeling.

“Hey,” Crudo snapped. “Don’t be getting any ideas, Gabe, my boy. I’m not rich and you can’t be robbing my wallet. It’s a company car.”

“How did I get here?” Gabriel hissed, wondering why he couldn’t just steal the man’s wallet and run like hell, hide, figure this all out … someplace preferably out of the sun. He was supposed to be dead. How was this possible? Couldn’t he get anything right? Even dying? Another thing, why wasn’t he hungry? He didn’t get to feed from Starling after the game, he was sure of that but not much else.

“Well,” Crudo smoothly pulled into traffic and drove. “Sorry to tell you, buddy, but you’re dead.”

“No shit,” growled Gabriel.

“No. I’m serious, you’re dead. Really … really dead. Kinda like the dead undead, if you get my drift. I like to call it … twice-baked.”

“That’s fucking impossible! If I’m dead it’s over.”

Crudo scowled and drove a little faster. “Just relax, I’ll explain everything when we get where we’re going.”

Completely out of his element, Gabriel attempted another focus. The sky was brilliant, bright and blue, the sun dancing in a stray cloud and he gasped. It had been eighty years since last he’d looked at the sun. Astounding! As his mind attempted to regroup, his senses fell into their own little slots and he sniffed, sniffed again and turned to the driver. “You’re a damn troll.”

Crudo chuckled. “Hope you mean that in a nice way, Gabe.”

Okay, let that one go. “How can I be dead? I was already dead,” Gabriel hissed, his fists clenched and the sound of a thudding heart loud in his ears. When was the last time he’d heard his own heartbeat? Holy shit, too much too fast.

“Well, that’s not technically correct. See you were vampire, sort of in a middle place. Not quite human, more than human … supernatural.”

“What the hell am I doing here then? I mean … dead means dead. There’s nothing after a vampire is finally dead. It’s fact.”

“Let’s put it this way,” Crudo parked behind a large low building, rocked and rolled behind the wheel to turn and face Gabriel. “You were wrong. All you vamps were all wrong. My theory is that some bloodsucker started that rumor eons ago to justify doing whatever you guys felt like doing. No ramifications, no repercussions. No heaven or hell. Nope. Wrong. In your case, dead wrong. Come on, let’s get you settled.”

Gabriel felt his newly moving blood boil. He charged from the Lexus - momentarily admired the vehicle - then slammed the door and stomped to follow the troll. “Is this heaven or hell?”

Crudo grinned condescendingly, pulled a key from his pocket and poised it at the lock. “Listen, Gabe. Inside this door is a lot of shit you’re not expecting. Just keep your cool and follow me. I don’t want any trouble, you understand?” He stared, waited for a response and finally turned the key after Gabriel jerked a tentative nod. “Follow me to my office and I’ll explain everything, I swear. You ready?” Another nod. “I’m not kidding. You go off the handle and start something; you’re not going to like what happens next.”

“Fucking fine, just get me out of the sun!”

“Okay, let’s go.”

As the heavy door opened and they stepped inside, Crudo reached to grip Gabriel’s arm but he jerked it free. His mouth dropped in astonishment. A massive warehouse, high windows, industrial lighting dangling from the ceilings. Along two walls, rooms, some open, some closed. The large, center area was furnished with a variety of ragged old sofas, televisions, tables and chairs. All around, a number of beings so diverse Gabriel thought his head would spin right off. For a moment he closed his eyes, let his senses take over.

He smelled them all; fairies and trolls, shape-shifters and werewolves, vampires, pixies, even leprechauns. And there were others he’d never smelled before. When his eyes opened he nearly jumped back. Standing not far away was a creature, twelve feet tall, gangly and brown as mud, a mammoth being, obviously strong and lethal.

“What the hell is that?” Gabriel gasped.

“Oh,” Crudo sighed. “Stick Man, Navaho legend … I think. Maybe Hopi. Needless to say, he doesn’t get out much. Come on, my office is back here.”

Gabriel followed. Except for Stick Man, they all looked as he knew them to look, human or almost human, not quite mortal but definitely savvy with the human race they’d survived among. But they also looked a little different. He rationalized; if they were all really, really dead too, they had to have lost their luster. There’s a sizzle and spark that surrounds a supernatural creature, easily identified by others of a similar nature. It had dulled and he wondered if they were all there to simply fade away, dissipate into nothingness. But his newly quickened heart raced at the thought of heaven or hell. Was it possible? Really possible? And just how screwed was he if there really was a heaven or hell for vampires? Gabriel felt like an atheist facing the pearly gates.

They entered a large office and Crudo grunted. “Proud of you, buddy. Now, first things first.” He opened a metal cabinet and rummaged through, tossing back a shirt and tee shirt. “I’m guessing … thirty-two long?” He held up a pair of jeans then passed them to Gabriel. “Now have a seat.” Crudo removed his jacket and tie then thumped into his big chair. He flipped through a newspaper while Gabriel shuffled out of bloody shirt and jacket, into clean clothing then finally sat.

“What is this place?”

Crudo grinned. “So, how’d you die?”

Gabriel’s glare intensified.

“Come on, it’s just to kind of break the ice, you know. I’ll tell you how I died.”

The glare became a tilted scowl.

“I got eaten by a werewolf. Turned out I didn’t agree with him so he died too. He’s right out there in the lounge. We’ve been here going on sixty years.”

“Sixty years?” Gabriel gawked. “Sixty … fucking … years?”

“Well, it takes time for the powers that be to come up with a judgment where this bunch is concerned. They’ve got the original life to consider … especially in your case … the use and misuse of powers, the crimes against God and man, the balancing act between every good deed and every bad deed. It’s a long, laborious process.”

“And in the meantime?”

Crudo was skimming the headlines and broke into a loud guffaw. “Look at this, here’s your story, right in the sports page,” he snorted and chuckled. “Amazing how mortals explain the inexplicable. Says here that there was a freak accident at Wrigley Field last night; a man was struck in the chest by a broken bat and the impact caused an extremely rare case of spontaneous combustion.” Crudo laughed so hard tears ran down his face. “Then it goes on about the score and game attendance. Go figure, huh?”

In the blink of an eye, Gabriel launched across the desk at the troll. Crudo’s guard was down. Fingers pressed into his neck and he kicked wildly.

“Tell me what the hell is going on or …”

“Or what?” Crudo croaked. “You’ll kill me?” He gasped, his face turning a deep shade of burgundy and his nails digging into Gabriel’s vice-like hands. The vampire’s eyes were wild but something mellow glowed beneath. “All right! All right.” Crudo gasped, relaxed Gabriel freed him, giving a good push that sent the wheeled office chair across the room to crash against the cabinet. “All right.” The troll drew in several deep breaths and pulled himself close to his desk.

Gabriel returned to his seat, tugged the collar of his new shirt and glared. “Well?”

“All right,” Crudo sipped from a bottle of water and ran a sleeve across his brow. “Don’t be doing that again. There are rules here and everything you do counts for or against you.”