Christopher Moore - Bloodsucking Fiends: A Love Story

BloodsuckingFiends

ALove Story

by

ChristopherMoore

"Goofy grotesqueries wonderful delicious bloodyfunny like a hip and youthful 'Abbott and Costello Meet the Lugosis.'" - San Francisco Chronicle

Jody never asked to become a vampire. But when she wakes up under an alleydumpster with a badly burned arm, an aching neck, superhuman strength, and adistinctly Nosferatuan thirst, she realizes the decision has been made for her.Making the transition from the nine-to-five grind to an eternity of nocturnalprowlings is going to take some doing, however, and that's where C. ThomasFlood fits in. A would-be Kerouac from Incontinence, Indiana, Tommy (to hisfriends) is biding his time night-clerking and frozen turkey bowling in a SanFrancisco Safeway. But all that changes when a beautiful, undead redhead walksthrough the door and proceeds to rock Tommy's life and afterlife in ways he never imagined possible.

A wildly original story of romance, lust, bloodlust, and blood loss - fromthe author of Coyote Blue and Practical Demonkeeping.

"Delightful highly recommended filled with oddballcharacters, clever dialogue and hilarious situations." - LibraryJournal

"Moore's storytelling style is reminiscent of Vonnegut and DouglasAdams." - Philadelphia Inquirer

"A series of bizarre misadventures that take place at breakneck speedin a variety of interesting locales. The dialogue is sharp and from the hip,the pace frenetic, and the situations tinged with a healthy dose of thesupernatural Moore is one of those rare writers who is laugh-out-loudfunny." - Santa Barbara Independent

This is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author'simagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events orlocales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

AVON BOOKS, INC.

1350 Avenue of the Americas

New York, New York 10019

Copyright 1995 by Christopher Moore

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 95-1463

ISBN: 0-380-72813-3

www3.pikebooks.com

All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book orportions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by

U.S. Copyright Law.

First Spike Printing: April 1999

First Avon Books Trade Printing: October 1999

The author gratefully acknowledges those people who helped in the researchand writing of Bloodsucking Fiends:

Mark Joseph and Mark Anderson for help with research in the Bay Area.Rachelle Stambal, Jean Brody, Liz Ziemska, and Dee Dee Leichtfuss for theircareful reads and thoughtful suggestions. My editors, Michael Korda and ChuckAdams, for their clean hands and composure. And my agent, Nick Ellison, for hispatience, guidance, friendship, and hard work.

In memory of my father:

Jack Davis Moore

Fledgling

Death

Sundown painted purple across the great Pyramid while the Emperor enjoyed asteaming whiz against a dumpster in the alley below. A low fog worked its wayup from the bay, snaked around columns and over concrete lions to wash againstthe towers where the West's money was moved. The financial district: an hourago it ran with rivers of men in gray wool and women in heels; now the streets,built on sunken ships and gold-rush garbage, were deserted quiet exceptfor a foghorn that lowed across the bay like a lonesome cow.

The Emperor shook his scepter to clear the last few drops, shivered, thenzipped up and turned to the royal hounds who waited at his heels. "Thefoghorn sounds especially sad this evening, don't you think?"

The smaller of the dogs, a Boston terrier, dipped his head and licked hischops.

"Bummer, you are so simple. My city is decaying before your eyes. Theair is thick with poison, the children are shooting each other in the street,and now this plague, this horrible plague is killing my people by thethousands, and all you think about is food."

The Emperor nodded to the larger dog, a golden retriever.

"Lazarus knows the weight of our responsibility. Does one have to dieto find dignity? I wonder."

Lazarus lowered his ears and growled. "Have I offended you, myfriend?"

Bummer began growling and backing away from the dumpster. The Emperor turnedto see the lid of the dumpster being slowly lifted by a pale hand. Bummerbarked a warning. A figure stood up in the dumpster, his hair dark and wild andspeckled with trash, skin white as bone. He vaulted out of the dumpster andhissed at the little dog, showing long white fangs. Bummer yelped and coweredbehind the Emperor's leg.

"That will be quite enough of that," the Emperor commanded,puffing himself up and tucking his thumbs under the lapels of his wornovercoat.

The vampire brushed a bit of rotted lettuce from his black shirt andgrinned. "I'll let you live," he said, his voice like a file onancient rusted metal. "That's your punishment."

The Emperor's eyes went wide with terror, but he held his ground. Thevampire laughed, then turned and walked away.

The Emperor felt a chill run up his neck as the vampire disappeared into thefog. He hung his head and thought, Not this. My city is dying of poison andplague and now this this creature stalks the streets. Theresponsibility is suffocating. Emperor or not, I am only a man. I am weak aswater: an entire empire to save and right now I would sell my soul for a bucketof the Colonel's crispy-fried chicken. Ah, but I must be strong for the troops.It could be worse, I suppose. I could be the Emperor of Oakland.

"Chins up, boys," the Emperor said to his hounds. "If we areto battle this monster, we will need our strength. There is a bakery in NorthBeach that will presently be dumping the day-old. Let's be off." Heshuffled away thinking, Nero fiddled while his empire went to ashes; I shalleat leathery pastries.

As the Emperor trudged up California Street, trying to balance the impotenceof power with the promise of a powdered-sugar doughnut, Jody was leaving thePyramid. She was twenty-six and pretty in a way that made men want to tuck herinto flannel sheets and kiss her on the forehead before leaving the room; cutebut not beautiful.

As she passed under the Pyramid's massive concrete buttresses she caughtherself limping from a panty-hose injury. It didn't hurt, exactly, the run thatstriped the back of her leg from heel to knee, the result of a surly metal filedrawer (Claims, X-Y-Z) that had leaped out and snagged her ankle; but she waslimping nonetheless, from the psychological damage. She thought, My closet isstarting to look like an ostrich hatchery. I've either got to start throwingout L'eggs eggs or get a tan on my legs and quit wearing nylons.

She'd never had a tan, couldn't get one, really. She was a milk-white,green-eyed redhead who burned and freckled with sun.

When she was half a block from her bus stop, the wind-driven fog won andJody experienced total hair-spray failure. Neat waist-length waves frizzed to awild red cape of curl and tangle. Great, she thought, once again I'll get homelooking like Death eating a cracker. Kurt will be so pleased.

She pulled her jacket closer around her shoulders against the chill, tuckedher briefcase under her breasts like a schoolgirl carrying books, and limpedon. Ahead of her on the sidewalk she saw someone standing by the glass door ofa brokerage office. Green light from the CRTs inside silhouetted him in thefog. She thought about crossing the street to avoid him, but she'd have tocross back again in a few feet to catch her bus.