Uno and Fog: What Do You Wear For An Evening With A (Possible) Vampire?

Its a couple days before I go and check on The Fog and April.  I’m only starting to get back to normal.  Fury ended up eluding Luminary and despite his seeming recognition of me, he hasn’t attempted to contact me either directly or indirectly.

A storage room has been set up as a room for April.  She greets me happily when I come down.  Her hair is now bottle blond and more of a pageboy cut than the dark scraggly mop it was before.  A spray tan disguises her natural pallor, but the most surprising thing is her teeth.

The Fog had 3D printed enamels that went over her pointed teeth in a way that reminds me of dentures.  It made her mouth seem strangely full when it was closed and she spoke with a slight lisp but it certainly completed the disguise.

She looked like a young college kid with more money than brains.

I didn’t know how The Fog was feeding her, and I didn’t want to know.  I certainly didn’t check the fridge for any blood bags even though that is quite possibly the best approach to her dietary needs.

“I am glad to see you,” she says, smiling carefully.

“I hardly recognize you.”

“That’s the idea.  He thought it would be o.k. for me to go out looking like this, if I was careful.” She smiles a little more, but I notice she’s still very careful in showing her teeth.  Whether that was a natural habit, or if the caps made her uncomfortable, I wasn’t sure.

“Do you have family to get in touch with?”  I ask.

She frowns, “I ought to, shouldn’t I?”  Her brow knits, “but I don’t really remember them other than kind of as shapes and feelings.  Does that make sense?”

Convenient.  Could be true, could be an excuse to evoke sympathy from a ruthless predator as well.  “What about your last name?”

“I don’t remember that either.”

“I considered searching the various DNA registries to find some familial match,”  The Fog said coming up from his monitor station, “but I want to be careful not to trigger anything.”

“So right now she doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Oh she’s free to leave,”  The Fog turns slightly to reassure April, “but until she has something to go to, she is welcome to stay.”

U huh.  I wonder if you can tell when your friend has been turned into a Renfield.

I nod, “alright, so what’s the plan for tonight? ”

Its April that answers, “he said you would take me out to see the city.”  There’s a hopeful note in her voice.  She tilts her head slightly and downward too look up at me

I look over at The Fog, he didn’t even have the decency to cough or shift uncomfortably,  “She can’t stay cooped up here forever.”

“You do.”  I can’t help the snark.

“Even I get out.  Things have been fairly quite since our excursion to the island which has probably indicates that most of the escapees are in hiding like April.”

“Not Fury.”

“Who?”

“My name for the guy that was fighting with Luminary, crashed into our office.”

“Ah.”

“I think he recognized me.”

That elicits a frown from him, “when he contacts you, let me know immediately.”

“Don’t you mean if?”  I say even though like him I certain that he would seek me out sooner or later.

“You really think he won’t take advantage of that knowledge?”

“Fine.  So what are you going to be doing while we’re out?”

April keeps herself from squealing with excitement, barely, but she does clap her hands, “I’ll be good, I promise,” she says before The Fog can answer.

Again there is that odd childishness to her.  Someone promising to be good at least implies that they’re usually not good.  “So what will you be doing?” I ask again.

“There have been some reports of disappearances along the waterfront, probably the usual reasons, but I thought I would check it out.”

“Alright, but you call me the moment it gets dicey.”  I leave unsaid the fact that I will certainly do the same and quite frankly I’m not sure which of us is walking into a precarious situation.

“Of course.”

I look at April, “They’re still hunting for you,”  the smile damps on her face, “you do what I say when we go out, we don’t drawn any attention to ourselves and if we need to go, we go.”

She nods.

“Alright, lets go.”

Once we are in the elevator and the doors shut, she says, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”  I keep her in the corner of my eye in case she tries something.

As we start to ascend she says after a moment without looking at me, “I like you.”

I grunt.

“He wants to care, but doesn’t.” She glances downward through the floor toward my partner, “you don’t want to care, but do.”

She glances sideways at me then away.

The door slides open.

“Don’t make me regret it.” I say as we step into the night.

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