I managed to build a semblance of a routine over the next few days. Wake up at the crack of dusk, try to make progress on Tess’ case. A challenge considering the few clues and dearth of leads. B&E a lab for a bloody lunch, then end the night by trying to make my little home in a hole suck a little less. Though really, I needed to find somewhere else to stay. No way to get power down here, and having to charge my laptop by plugging wherever I could I find power was rather inconvenient. That aside, I glanced at the cooler I had stolen from the paramedics. Now shut, and keeping my blood bags cool. If I was going to be doing this, I’d need a fridge. I let out a mirthless laugh. If I was going to be doing this. Drinking blood had become routine, and it felt good. Really good. Only thing I could keep down that filled me up, but fuck. It was still weirding me out. WebMD said ulcer, but other than that I could barely even think about how to phrase the google search. ‘Can only drink blood’ obviously turned up no results. I shut my laptop, and leaned back against the wall. I went to take in a deep breath and realized I had forgotten to breathe again. I rocked my head back against the wall. Not hard, but enough to try and feel something. Anything. Numb from grief. Numb from whatever it was that was happening to me. I thought about that stupid Sherlock Holmes quote that folk loved so much. The one about believing the impossible if all probable causes were eliminated. It was stupid because you could never be sure you had actually eliminated all probabilities. That being said—I pulled my wallet out of my pocket and flipped it open. This was the last physical photo of Tess I had. The two of us. Cheek to cheek and smiling wide. The memory now refreshing my grief as my mind traveled back to  the night she was murdered. Replayed every detail. The man’s hand hadn’t been human. The fingers too long. The space between knuckle joints far too much. The pointed nails. I remembered that he had charged me. Pushed my head to the side. He had bitten me, hadn’t he? My recollection of the event was black after that, but—I touched my neck. Smooth. Unblemished. I pictured a conspiracy board. My wife’s murder all pinned to one corner. A bit of red string connecting it to the grainy CCTV still of the man crawling up the wall far from any foot or hand holds. Another bit of string connecting all that to the empty blood bags from the previous nights. Pretty sure I could count the probable out at this point. “Vampires,” I said aloud to the darkness. I cringed. It was stupid. Absurd. Straight up unreasonable. And yet—here I was. Drinking blood. Living in a goddamn crypt. So vampires were real. That was a fucking thing, apparently. And threw a hell of a wrench into my investigation to track down Tess’ murderer. If her killer was a vampire, I was jumping into the deep end of a world I knew fuck all about. Information was a detective’s best friend and I had none, and no idea where to even start looking. I checked my watch. About three hours to dawn. I guess the vampirism thing would explain why I dropped into a dead sleep around then. If I was going to be operating under the assumption vampires were real, I'd need help. Someone to tell me how vampires operated. And maybe see about a cure. Well, with three hours to kill I had best not waste it. Now browsing with web with a certain clarity of the possibilities, I found a potential source. Old style forums. Run by someone with the handle Dogwood. The website described itself as a vampire hunter role playing site mixed with an ARG, but some of the posts didn't really feel like role playing. I had played a bit of D&D with Tess. Hardly an expert on the subject, but if I didn’t know any better I’d say there was a not insignificant section of this forum’s userbase that sure as fuck wasn’t roleplaying. They were organizing. Planning. I scanned a few posts, and it looked like they were hunting. They had some kind of shorthand to be discreet, but knowing both Chicago and that Vampires were real, I could make some guesses. I was about ten at the time, but I remembered “The Great Flood.” It seems that these particular hunters were after a pack of vampires that had made the old freight tunnels home. Well, who better to tell me about vampirism than vampires. The following night. It was getting on to dawn about now.

—*—

I wished I could keep coffee down. Just didn't feel right being on a stakeout without it. I leaned against a wall at the mouth of an alley near an entrance to the tunnels, not really sure where to put my hand that usually carried my mug. The tunnels were vast, and entrances dotted the city. If I was interpreting the hunter shorthand correctly, they'd be watching an entrance on the far side of the river. No telling what entrance they were using, but I figured the hunters were doing the same thing as me. Pick an entrance. Wait. And hope. First night was a bust, and so was the second. I got lucky night three, though. About an hour after dusk, a grate next to the road creaked open, and ten people stepped into the dimly lit street. Well, these certainly weren't city workers, so probably the vampires I'm looking for. I let the shadow of the alley conceal me. I figured I'd  watch a bit. See what they do. What they did was party. One nightclub after another, each seemingly louder than the last. Well I sure as fuck wasn't going to get a chance to talk to any of them here. Though i was wondering if i had maybe made a mistake here. They were all drinking. A neat trick. One I couldn't pull off myself. I'd have to figure out how they did that. It was around two in the morning when I noticed the group split. Half left first, and were followed by the rest, each with a party goer in tow. Given their gait, and how much they all leaned on my group of targets, they were all very drunk. Or on something. I followed the group that had led the partiers out. When one of the maybe vampires lifted the grate, the others started to panic. Even in their stupor, the club goers could tell something was wrong, now. Tunnels were a bad idea for most folk, and through whatever haze these victims were under, tried to fight back. No dice. The other half of the group descended on the scene, and everyone was promptly bundled underground. God. Fucking. Dammit. I thought about Tess’ murder again. If these people were dinner, someone was going to miss them. So much for my sources of information. I guess I shouldn't really be surprised. Gotta get blood from somewhere. I followed them down, lowering the grate as quietly as I could. Sound echoed off the walls, making the group hard to track by sound. But my nose was working fine, and the scent of blood was unmistakable. I caught up to the group as the sound of duct tape faded. The five party goers were all taped to a long dining table, and the vampires I had been tailing all night were gathered around it. Lights buzzed, and the shadows swayed as traffic above shook them. I stepped into the circle of light and said cheerily, “Good morning!”

All eyes turned to me. Hoping to keep them off balance I continued, “that was a neat trick. The drinking. Can't keep anything down myself. How'd you manage?”

“Fuck—”

I cut them off, taking another step closer to the group, “hey now! I’m just passing through. Not looking for trouble. Just trying to learn a bit about what happened to me.”

“Oh,” one of them said.

“You’re new,” said another. 

A third sniffed the air, “her blood is full.”

A fourth licked their lips. Tongue caressing sharp fangs. They addressed the group, “bleed her.”

Well shit. I didn’t know what I had done, well, aside from disrupting dinner plans, but the fight was on. I drew my revolver and quick-shot. The very large cartridge in the very confined space threw a shockwave against my chest, and the bullet very nearly tore the lead attacker's leg clean off. One down, several to go. I backpedaled to make space. Hardly my first fight, but nine on one was worse than bad odds. I pulled the trigger again, not really aiming. Packed as the narrow tunnels were, I couldn't miss. As one yelled and fell, another leapt at me, fangs bared. I tried to get the barrel up under their chin, but they were too fast. Too close. My shot went wide and shattered the solitary bulb lighting this section of tunnel. Shit. In the dark I felt teeth sink into the flesh of my arm, as I rode my attacker's momentum to the ground. I got a knee up into their midsection, and flipped them over as I hit the ground. Thankfully I had no breath in me to get knocked out. I scrambled to my feet, and began sprinting deeper into the tunnels, aiming down and putting a round where I was pretty sure the guy was laying. Lucky shot. Two down for sure, maybe three. Seven left, and one live round left in the cylinder. I slammed the gun home to it's holster. Better to keep my hands free. Just in time to catch my fall as I tripped gracelessly over a pile of metal pipes. Well. I was well and truly fucked. I rolled to the side, and prepared to get my ass beat. Much to my delight and surprise, every one of them sprinted past me. Not wanting to squander my good fortune, I snatched a pipe off the ground, took two steps forward and drove it into the back of the trailing attacker. Six left, and time to run again. Back the other way, fresh pipe clutched in my hands. I was keeping a good pace ahead of the group when it hit me. I was a vampire. I mean, I had already sort of figured that out, what with the 100% blood diet, but the realization hadn’t really settled in until now. What could the vampires of myth do? Hadn’t read Stoker since grade school, but the D&D Tess and I had played was Curse of Strahd, and that asshole could turn invisible. Had that been why the group had run past me? I stopped and concentrated. Thinking invisible thoughts. It felt—strange. Like the shadows were tangible. What if I—ah, I pulled the shadow around me like a cloak. Nice! I realized my mistake when the one leading the pack sprinted into me full tilt, stopped as I was in the exact middle of the tunnel. They weren’t surprised long, and they were all on me too close to use the pipe. I drove my forehead into the one that hit, then kicked out to make space. The fight was a brutal, bloody affair. I felt nails rake down my face. I felt teeth sink into my flesh. I felt my blood drain, and my hunger rise. Something stirred within me, and I fought back. My fist caved in a skull. I threw someone with such force they cracked the stone where they hit. It felt like hours, but must’ve been over in seconds. The only sound now was the soft ‘plap, plap, plap’ of my blood hitting the damp ground. Ten down, none to go. I slowly made my way back to where I had first encountered the group. Their victims still taped to the table. The first one I had shot had crawled to the far side of the room. I stomped over and pressed a boot to their badly injured leg. “Time for a little Q&A,” I told them. “Your colleague back there said my blood was full. What does that mean?”

“Fuck you,” they told me.

I pressed my foot down harder, “now now. Is that any way to treat a guest?”

They screamed. I let off the pressure. They answered, “Means your sire is old. Really old.”

“My what?”

“Oh fuck,” they said, “you really are new. Sire is the one that turned you. Didn’t they teach you anything?”

I scowled, “Fucker dined and dashed. Looking to settle the bill eventually.” I realized I probably should’ve written some questions down. Blood was still up after the fight, and I couldn't think. “Is there a cure?”

They laughed, “short of a miracle, no. You’re one of us, whether you like it or not.”

I glanced back at the people taped to the table, “I don’t think I am.” I drew my gun, and ended the conversation.

I stepped towards the table. There had to be knife here to cut them fre— I stopped. Whatever it was that had been stirring in me before reared up with a vengeance. My vision tunneled, and the combined pulses of everyone alive in the room slammed into my head. I staggered ahead. Caught myself on the edge of the table. I was hurt. Bleeding. In pain. I could smell the blood in my victim. I bared my fangs. I leaned over one of them and—NO! No. I shoved back against the table pushing myself away. Not my victim. A victim. I bit into the meat of my own thumb. The pain giving me a point to focus on. I— I had to leave. Couldn’t stay. I was scared. Scared of myself. What I might do. I retraced my steps out of the tunnel. Outside I forced my lungs through the motion of taking a breath. Felt the crisp night air fill me. I still felt—something. Part of me wanted to go back down and finish what these other vampires had started. I shook my head. God, I wanted a drink. Whiskey. Blood. Something. Anything. I started walking. The farther away from here I was, the easier it would be to resist the thing inside me driving me to return. Back home, I drained my last three blood bags. I’d be needing a grocery trip soon. I still felt hungry, but at least I wasn’t ravenous. Under control again. I peeled off my bloody jacket. Well. Another thing I had in common with Strahd. The blood bags had seemingly sealed up the bite marks in my arm, along with my other wounds. Useful trick, that. I grabbed my bag with my laptop and headed back out into the night. A 24/7 diner had power and wi-fi. I ordered a coffee so they wouldn’t shoo me out right away. A mistake. The rich aroma taunted me, and put me in a sour mood. I had the vampire hunter forum bookmarked. I opened that, and made an account with a new email. After agreeing to the rules, I made a post.

‘Had a run in two stops ahead of your stakeout pattern. Some still alive down there. Could use some help.’ I hit post, and logged off. It was getting close to dawn, and I was ready for bed.