The Vampire's Apprentice

What a Vampire Wants

 

With the natural grace of his kind, Gregory House scaled the chain link fence, avoiding the rows of barbed wire at the top. The signs warning of video surveillance and canine patrols did not deter him; cameras couldn't record his image and even the fiercest guard dog whined and cowered in the presence of a vampire. Wilson hesitated, unsure whether House wanted him along. When House looked back at him impatiently, he followed.

The cherry red convertible was illuminated by floodlights. It stood on a platform, awarded a position of honour. The dealership used this car to attract business. Husbands and fathers came in of the street, just to look at this convertible and imagine themselves at the wheel. Then the dealership sold them sensible minivans and SUVs.

It was the car House had been dreaming of ever since he saved up his allowance to buy his first car magazine. The convertible was more than fifty years old, but it still looked as if it had just come off the assembly line that morning. In fact, it probably looked better than it did back when it was made. It had the kind of finish that could only come from decades of careful attention. This convertible had been waxed and polished countless times by someone who considered the task a privilege rather than chore. House touched its satiny surface. He coveted its perfection.

Wilson stood beside him. He'd always chosen his vehicles based on safety ratings and gas mileage rather than style, but even he was impressed.

"I'm going to take this one."

Even as he said the words, House knew what a bad idea stealing this particular car was. It was too conspicuous. Every highway trooper within five states would be looking for it. And even if the description of the vehicle never went beyond the city limits, highway cops would pull him over him anyway, just to be able to stand next to this beauty and run their fingers along its smooth curves.

Wilson was supposed to object at his point. It had always been his role to try to rein House in when his impulses carry him away. But he said nothing. Not a word.

His silence irked House. Wilson was perfectly prepared to let House do this stupid thing, which would probably condemn them both to a Thelma and Louise style death. House pictured himself and Wilson, chased by dozens of police, taking a dive into the Grand Canyon. It would be night, of course, so they wouldn't even have the luxury of enjoying the scenery as they plummeted to their fiery deaths.

It hurt to have to walk away from something he wanted so much, but House did it anyway. He turned away from the convertible, went past the new vehicles, most of which would probably be equipped with GPS tracking, and headed for the part of the lot devoted to used cars and trucks. House picked out a dark blue late-model SUV with leather seats and a long list of features that did not include GPS.

House went to the dealership office to get the keys. He kicked in the glass door, and headed straight for the key vault. He wrenched it open, picked out the key he needed, and dumped the others on the floor. He found a hand-written inventory of vehicles and parking spots next to the keys. House crumpled up the inventory and put it in his pocket as well, hoping that this might slow the dealership down when they tried to determine which of their vehicles had been taken.

When he returned, Wilson was standing beside the passenger door of the SUV. House got in the driver's side and leaned over to unlock Wilson's door. Without waiting for him to get in, House put the key in the ignition and started the car. Wilson scrambled in just as he pulled away. House stopped in front of the locked gate and Wilson got out. He tried to break the Yale lock, but even with his superior vampire strength, it held. Instead he ripped apart the chain links to make a doorway.

The Professor's car, with their bags on the backseat and the battered Professor in the trunk, was parked right outside the dealership. As House drove the SUV through the doorway he had created, Wilson went to retrieve their possessions. Walking rapidly towards the car, he could hear thumps and growls. The Professor had regained consciousness. There was a louder bang as the Professor kicked the lid of the trunk and the metal buckled. The car shook from the force of impact.

"Don't bother going back for our stuff," House called out. "Just get in the SUV."

Wilson shook his head. He didn't care about their clothes, which could be replaced, but his bag contained his photo album. It was a link to his past, and he didn't want to give it up. Wilson grabbed the luggage from the back seat. He had only taken a few steps away from the car, when the Professor broke the lock on the trunk and escaped his confinement.

The Professor was a terrifying sight. His ghastly white face was streaked with dried blood and grey matter and the back of his head was caved in. He glared at Wilson. Wilson couldn't see any intelligence in his eyes, just mindless hate. Wilson clutched the bags to his chest and stared the vampire down. The Professor bared his teeth, growled, and snapped. An answering growl, low and menacing, came from deep within Wilson's chest. House, who was still in the SUV several yards away, felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Still looking straight into the Professor's eyes and growling, Wilson backed away. The other vampire followed, closing the gap between them.

House stamped down on the accelerator and drove the SUV straight at both of them. He hit the Professor but managed to miss Wilson. House jumped out of the SUV. Wilson had fallen to the pavement, but House didn't help him up or even glance in his direction.

"Stay dead this time," House said, looking over the body of the Professor.

"Maybe we have to cut off his head or light him on fire to kill him," Wilson said, sounding not at all pleased by the prospect.

"Too bad I didn't think to bring a machete or lighter fluid with me," House said. "Get back in the vehicle. I'm sure we set off a silent alarm at the dealership and the police will be on their way."

Wilson picked up their bags and got in the SUV. House took the driver's seat and drove away, merging into the flow of early evening traffic. They left the Professor lying in the middle of the street.

"So what do you have in your bag?" House asked.

"Clothes."

"Besides clothes," House said impatiently. "I know how afraid you are of the Professor. You didn't go back to the car for underwear and socks"

"I went back because I had to face him to conquer my fears. I needed to prove to myself that I`m not a total coward."

"Too late," said House.

---

House's craving for blood made it difficult for him to concentrate on the road. When they came to a well-lit oasis alongside the interstate, he pulled off. There were a cluster of businesses catering to passing traffic, including a gas station, restaurant and mini-mart. House pulled some bills from his wad of stolen cash and gave them to Wilson to pay for gasoline and supplies. He went hunting.

Wilson knew that his time was limited. When House returned, craving satisfied, he would remember his curiosity about the contents of Wilson's overnight bag. Wilson had to get rid of his photo album. He went through it quickly. He paused when he reached a photograph of Amber, his deceased girlfriend. He smiled. Amber would have made a great vampire. Wilson had to keep that one.

House had warned Wilson to keep nothing from his old life that could be used to identify him. These photographs were proof of his disobedience. If House found out he had kept them, Wilson's punishment would be severe. In the end, Wilson chose six photographs from the dozens in the album. Each held great significance for him. They were worth the risk.

He got out of the SUV, and dumped the album with its remaining photos in a garbage can. He walked into the mini-mart, and bought a map, a flashlight, batteries, a box of matches, candles, duct tape, aluminum foil, an emergency blanket, and a small padded envelope. Putting the bag containing the other supplies in the back of the SUV, he took out the envelope and the duct tape. He put the photographs he'd chosen in the envelope and taped the envelope in place underneath the SUV's spare tire. It wasn't a particularly good hiding place, but it was the best he had been able to think of on short notice. He'd find someplace better later. By the time House returned, Wilson had gassed up the vehicle and was sitting in the front passenger seat listening to a news station on the radio.

House's kill had been rushed, awkward and inelegant, and the blood of his victim was sour. He thought of taking a little sip from Wilson, just to get the taste out his mouth. Wilson's blood was the best thing he had ever tasted in his existence, either as a man or as a vampire.

Maybe, House thought, he tasted so good to me because we were compatible. We had chemistry, literally. I loved him, and now that I don't love him anymore, he won't taste as sweet. It was a ridiculous, romantic notion that didn't belong in the head of a determined realist like House, but he couldn't shake it.

House didn't intend to follow the Professor's example. He wasn't planning on taking back roads and staying in rundown motels in Flyspeck, Utah or Middle of Nowhere, Kansas. He'd take Interstate highways and stay in decent accommodations with cable television and all the creature comforts.

He had hoped to make it as far as Denver the first night, but he hadn't counted on a spring snowstorm in the mountains. A state trooper turned back all vehicles not equipped with snow tires and chains, including their SUV, and House drove back to the last town (Blink and You'll Miss It, Colorado) to find a place to stay. It wasn't easy since the town had taken in other travelers who were also ill prepared for springtime in Rockies. Finally, persistence and the promise of a substantial tip paid off, and the half-asleep owner/manager of a motel promised them a single room, recently vacated by a long-haul trucker who had wanted to be on the road before dawn. While he went to change the sheets and towels and clean the room, Wilson got their luggage.

House looked at Wilson's bag speculatively. He could demand that Wilson hand it over so that he could search it, but Wilson had had plenty of time to get rid of whatever valuable item he had been willing to face the Professor to save.

Wilson still kept secrets. Even after his unwillingness to confide in House had nearly brought about his own death. Another piece of evidence, as if any more were needed, that Wilson would never be able to give House the clear, uncomplicated obedience that he deserved. He surrendered his body to House, but not his mind or his emotions or his will. Wilson would never be wholly his, as he should be.

That was why he needed to be replaced. It wasn't only because he had been polluted by the Professor's touch.

The manager hadn't told them that the room had only one queen-sized bed. He'd been afraid that they'd walk away, taking their promised tip with them.

"I've got a cot on wheels that I could put in the room, but it's really for kids. Too short and narrow for a grown man," the manager said.

"We'll take the cot," House said.

---

When Wilson tried to lie flat, his feet dangled off the end, and when he curled up, his knees banged against the metal frame. The cot creaked loudly every time he moved, and one of the wheels had been bent, so that it tottered unsteadily and threatened to tip over. He decided it would be more comfortable to sleep with the mattress on the floor. He got up to remove the mattress from the frame producing another series of loud protesting creaks.

"What are you doing?" House asked. "I'm trying to sleep."

"So am I, but this cot won't let me," Wilson said. "I'm going to turn the light on for a minute so I see how the damned thing folds up."

"Leave it."

"But there isn't room for me to lay the mattress on the floor unless it's folded up," Wilson explained.

Wilson turned on the light, and House sat up in bed, and watched Wilson battle the cot. It should have been a rout, since Wilson was a vampire with superior strength and reflexes and the cot was a piece of rusty metal, but the cot was putting up a determined resistance. House emitted an irritated growl, which made Wilson feel nervous and flustered, giving the cot just the advantage it needed. Wilson cried out as the metal frame abruptly snapped shut, catching his finger. House caught a glimpse of scarlet and then Wilson put his finger in his mouth, sucking the cut.

"I told you to leave that thing alone," House said. "You can sleep in the bed. I won't bite."

House showed his fangs to reinforce his (admittedly weak) joke, not taking into account the effect of an aggressive display on a weaker vampire. Wilson looked even more nervous, and made no move to join House.

"Get into bed," House said in his father's tone of command, and this time Wilson obeyed.

Wilson turned out the light and slipped under the covers. He avoided touching House, leaving as much space as possible between them.

---

The sound of a door slamming woke House up in the middle of the day. His eyes fluttered and then opened. As he slept, Wilson had moved closer to House, his body molding itself to House's. Wilson rubbed against him when House shifted position, maintaining the physical contact he needed. House breathed in Wilson's scent as he took the sleeping vampire in his arms. He put his lips on the nape of Wilson's neck, not a kiss but a touch, and Wilson arched his back and made a low animal moan, as if that particular spot were wired directly to the pleasure centres of his brain. House felt reassured. Even though he no longer loved Wilson, Wilson still loved him.