Page 4 of Vampire Claus

He knew he should fix Paul’s memories and just go, but he found he was intensely curious. About the bags of presents, and why Paul walked dark streets alone. Why he had no coat, and why he smelled so nice. Since a good hour would vanish anyway, what could it hurt to spend a few minutes talking? It had been a long time since he’d had an actual conversation; he wondered if he still knew how.

Paul kept his blue eyes fixed on Taviano’s as he mastered his fear. His heartbeat remained fast but his sweat carried a tinge of relief and, oddly, excitement.

“Thank you,” he said fervently as Taviano approached. “I don’t know what happened except that you saved my life.” He laughed and shook his head. “Wow, that sounded self-important. Okay, you saved thepresentsand you stopped myassfrom getting kicked.” He stuck out the hand not clapped over his shoulder as he said, “I’m Paul. Merry Christmas.”

Taviano felt a grin stretch his lips. When had someone last offered him a hand in greeting? Amused, he shook with Paul, whose grip was warm and smooth. Life pulsed strong and steady in the palm against his, and in the fingers wrapped around his cold extremities.

“Yes, I heard you give your name. My name is Taviano.” After a moment, he added awkwardly, “Merry Christmas to you as well.”

“Italian, huh?” Paul said as the shake ended. “I figured. You have the look and I hear a little accent. Probably Southern, right? With that black hair and your dark eyes.”

Taviano nodded, then belatedly said, “I’m from Naples. Originally.”

“Oh, that’s cool. My family mostly came from the north of Italy way back. But your name. So old school! We have three Octavios around the neighborhood that I know of but I don’t remember a Taviano before.”

“It was unusual even where I come from. My mother picked it from a list of names written in the front of our family Bible.”

“Awesome-sauce.” Paul blinked a few times and cleared his throat. “So, Taviano, can you tell me what happened here or would you have to kill me? I really don’t want that so if it’s better that you don’t tell me that’s great too. Just say so. Dying on Christmas. That would totally suck.” He chuckled self-consciously. “Sorry I’m running off at the mouth here. I’m kinda scared and that makes me talk a lot.”

Taviano had little interaction with anyone other than his victims. It took him a few moments to decipher what Paul had said, and what he might need. With what he hoped was a reassuring smile, lips together to cover his fangs, he said, “Don’t worry, please. I won’t hurt you. But it’s probably best if we…forget about how we met.”

Paul rocked on his heels and exhaled heavily. “That’s cool with me. Great. No killing then.”

Taviano was relieved he’d made Paul feel better. Like he’d passed a test. The rich scent of fresh blood drifted to his nostrils. “Your shoulder is bleeding. It isn’t deep but you should see to that.”

Paul frowned as if he’d forgotten, but when he peeled away the covering hand he shuddered. The knife had sliced through his sweater, the cotton T-shirt underneath and, Taviano judged, an eighth-inch of skin. A fair amount of blood coated Paul’s palm and shoulder and seeped into the fabrics, but the wound was easily treated. He wouldn’t even need stitches.

“Ah shit,” Paul muttered. “This is my favorite sweater.” He looked blankly at his bloody palm. “That’s so gross, man.”

His demon sharpened its focus on the blood. Taviano prepared for a battle, but to his surprise, it made no effort to get at Paul. Instead it quieted down and drifted in his belly.

He frowned. Did he put Paul at risk just by standing near? That lack of interest from his bloodbeast was all but unprecedented, and he remained alert for some trick.

Something was different in its reaction, though. It could be as simple as having fed twice that night already. Or… might it have grown to accept his code of sparing innocents while feeding only from the worst wretches? Taviano had been around so few good people in recent decades he’d never had occasion to notice.

Every instinct told him that Paul was just as earnest and innocent as he’d seemed from the rooftop. The unusual pleasure of talking to Paul, combined with his demon’s apparent tolerance, heartened Taviano. He granted himself more time to talk, while remaining vigilant against any surprise attack by the bloodbeast.

“Can I take you someplace to attend to your shoulder? Perhaps a nearby pharmacy?”

“I might as well go back to my apartment and clean it there. I’ve gotta change anyway now.” Paul winced as he rotated his shoulder. “It doesn’t hurt too bad but that’s a lot of blood.” He looked at Taviano and asked seriously, “Do you think I should go to a hospital or something? I don’t have any insurance but they’d probably still see me at an ER.” He muttered, “I hope.”

“It isn’t necessary,” Taviano said confidently. “Put a bandage on it, keep it clean, and I suspect you won’t scar.”

Paul’s eyes widened and he smiled hugely. “I didn’t even think about a scar. That would be a trip! A real war wound, right?”

Taviano had to grin back. “You’re remarkably calm for someone who was mugged tonight and cut with a knife.”

“No, I got this, bro. I told myself that I can have ten minutes to scream and freak out later tonight, so I just, like, put it off till then. Believe me, I’ll be a fucking mess.”

Unlikely.When Taviano altered his memories, he’d take away the mugging with all the rest. He didn’t want a dark cloud from the attack to ruin Paul’s obvious enjoyment of the season. He should do it soon.

Well, when the conversation runs its course.

Taviano might as well do something useful while they talked. It was almost a shame, since Paul seemed excited about his potential scar.Ah, but he won’t remember the wound anyway.

“May I?” he asked with a small gesture to Paul’s shoulder. “I can stop the bleeding, though you’re on your own with mending the sweater.”

Paul nodded curiously, and Taviano sliced his sharp thumbnail over his index finger. He smeared a little ichor on the cut, and it began to close. Paul’s eyes were like saucers as they turned from the shrinking wound to his healer. Shocking himself, Taviano winked at him. He actuallywinked. “Sorry, Paul, but no scar.”

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