Consultation with a Vampire - 01 Read Free

beautiful star was really a streetlight clamped to the side of a decaying brick building. And the alley of midnight black, the ideal place for an amorous interlude, was now, in the harsh light of that false star, revealed to be an utter shithole.  
    A man in a velvet cape strode over to them and asked the woman, “What are you doing?” He spoke English but had a thick French accent.  
    “Quoi, il n'est qu'un tout petit apéritif,” she protested. “Il est venu à moi pour que je le soulage de sa douleur.”
    Topper lolled in her arms, more obedient and compliant than he had ever been in his life. “Yeah, baby. Whatever you want.”  
    The man in velvet, whose hair draped across his face so dramatically that it completely ignored the line between terrifying and absurd, said, “’E is not an appetizer! He is un otage précieux!”
    The woman pushed her lips together in a way that was in danger of breaking both Topper’s heart and his zipper. “Un otage ? Est-il mon otage ou bien le vôtre ?”
    “Madeleine, I command you to release him at once. He is an associate of Edwin Windsor.”  
    She dropped Topper on the pavement of the cold alley, jolting him back to his old self. “Hey, Buddy. Ya bothering my lady friend here.”
    “M’sieur, I assure you she is not your friend.”
    “Whattya mean?” Topper asked. “She loves me.”  
    “Qui est ce Ween-dzor?” she spat. As she did, her fangs retracted slowly, reluctantly, and, as with all actions vampires take, melodramatically.
    With that, the last of Topper’s spell wore off. “Hey! What’s with the cold shoulder? Baby, I was going to make all your dreams come true. Wait a minute, were those fangs?”
    Madeleine put a finger to Topper's lips, and he almost forgot about everything again. She smiled a sad, strange smile and said, “Je suis désolée, mon petit amuse-gueule, mais tu devras encore endurer ta douleur... pour l’instant.”
    "Wait. Wait? What does that even mean?"
    She turned away and looked to the man in the velvet cape.  
    Topper decided that he didn't like this fruitcake, whoever he was. As the man threw aside a long lock of black hair from his face, Topper realized that the guy was wearing way too much eyeliner. As far as Topper was concerned, any eyeliner on a man was too much. And this guy was so SERIOUS when he opened his mouth.  
    “Monsieur Topper. You are in grave danger."
    "Hey, I don't know what it's like where you're from, Frenchy, but where I'm from, you don't Scotch another guy's play."
    "Eh? Scotch? I do not understand. You are in grave danger,” he said as he put his hand on Topper's shoulder.  
    "You don't get it, pal. You are interrupting." Topper moved between the man and the girl with whom he had so recently and irrevocably fallen in love.  
    “She means to harm you.”
    “She could harm me a little, right? I mean, just a little nibble. She's totally into me.” Topper argued, unaware that he was arguing for his death.  
    “[The only pleasure I would take is in your death],” Madeleine said with a smile that twisted Topper’s tortured heart in knots.  
    “You see! You see what she said? Now leave us alone so we can pitch some woo!” Topper said, jumping up and down and waving his arms in frustration.  
    “That’s not what she said.”
    “C’mon, she used the word ‘pleasure.’ I heard her, and you heard her.”
    “Not exactly. Now, I require a meeting with your master.”
    “Master? I don’t have a master.”
    “Edwin Windsor.”
    “Oh no, Frenchy, you’ve made a mistake. I don’t swing that way. Now run along and play with your collection of imported cheeses.”
    “My little friend, please. You have no other choice. You must come with me.”  
    That did it. Topper lunged right for the man's crotch, which was tightly encased in leather. With blinding speed, yet an air of nonchalance, the man in velvet brought his hand down on top of the advancing dwarf’s head.
    There was a thud, then a