Alina S. Howell - Called to the ...

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Called to the Darkness
By Alina S. Howell
Copyright 2012 Alina S. Howell
Table of Contents
Chapter One
“Can we please stop doing this?”
“Why? It's fun! Plus it makes us so much money.”
Tammy looked like she was about to squeal with joy. This year's turnout looked like it'd break our
personal best. It was standing room only tonight. People were wedged into every corner.
“Correction,” I said. “It makes
you
a ton of money. Maybe if I was at the bar instead of standing up
here with you while I'm dressed like fucking Dracula then-”
“Hey! It's not like I made you wear that costume. I let everyone choose what they want to wear. If you
want to dress like a third rate vampire every year, that's your own damn problem.”
Tammy adjusted the bodice of her lacy pirate dress. She always wore something elaborate. I wondered
if she paid someone to make all her costumes because they always looked impressive and decidedly not
like the store bought costume I had on.
I was on my fifth year as Dracula and it was starting to show. After the first year of this costume contest
shit I never bothered to do anything more complicated than put on the cape and fake shirt/vest combo
thingy. It was the cheapest, tackiest kind ever sold. The shirt felt like foam and had a “fancy” looking
vest and necklace printed on it.
Five years ago, when I first started working at the Last Stop Bar & Grill, I went the whole nine yards. I
had the height and the paleness working in my favor so I figured I could pull off a Dracula costume if I
tried hard enough. I dyed my red hair to black and slicked it down. I even wore fake fangs. It may have
been a cheap custom, but I actually tried to make it look good the first time. And if not good, at least
passable. But now...
I scratched my chin. I hadn't even bothered to shave today. I was a stubbly, red headed vampire with an
athletic build. I felt ridiculous.
“Why me, Tammy?” Why don't you get Amy to play hostess with you instead?”
“Amy is busy and you have a nice speaking voice. Now quit arguing and get the microphone. It looks
like Steve just got the last of the votes in.”
I turned to where Tammy was looking and saw one of our waiters fighting his way through the crowd.
With an exaggerated sigh, I turned on the mic and hit the switches that flooded the stage we were
standing on. Orange light colored my vision. Good God, she even had the stage lights changed to
Halloween colors.
In between the gaudy decorations, the drink specials, and the “fabulous prizes”, the Last Stop had
transformed into a magnet for drunk college kids every Halloween night.
I handed the microphone off to Tammy who began her introduction spiel. I walked to the far back edge
of the stage and crouched down. I reached over the heads of a cluster of people in a vain attempt to
grab the paper that Steve was waving.
I wasn't paying enough attention and leaned over too far. My foot slipped out from under me and I lost
my balance. I would've fallen right off the stage if it hadn't been for the man who was unlucky enough
to receive the brunt of my fall. I crumpled onto his shoulders, knocking off the tall hat he'd been
wearing. Surprisingly, he not only managed to catch me, but also hold me up. He helped me settle back
onto the stage.
 “Sorry. Oh God. I'm so sorry. Are you hurt?”
Pictures of Tammy screaming as she fired me for hurting a customer flashed through my mind.
“I'm fine. You just surprised me,” the guy I'd fallen on said. He looked around my age. Definitely not
one of the college crowd unless he was a grad student.
Someone handed his hat back to him and Steve passed the slip of paper to him at the same time. He put
his hat back on and passed the paper up to me. That's when I got my first good look at him.
“Goddamn,” I muttered. He had dark brown hair and shockingly clear green eyes, but what really
caught me off guard was his costume. He was wearing a long sleeved white shirt with a black vest that
had intricate gold embroidery, a long black jacket with tails, charcoal pants and top hat. The gold tipped
cane was nice touch too. It looked like he had just stepped out of Victorian England.
“If you keep eyeing me up and down like that people will think you're checking me out.”
He had said it lightheartedly, but I replied seriously.
“Well, it's fine if you want to think that.” Just as I was about to compliment his costume, someone
kicked me hard in the side. I spun around, ready to unleash a torrent of obscenities, but thankfully
stopped short. Tammy was glaring down at me.
“And now, Chad will announce the winners of the contest.”
Oh. Right. Kind of forgot where I was. I smiled and nodded at the man I'd been trying to hit on. He
seemed greatly amused at my little screw up. He had a nice smile.
I took note of the number stuck to his shirt. Number 81. I stood up, took the microphone from Tammy
and faced the crowd.
“Good evening everyone. The votes are in. If your number is called, please see the lovely Miss Tammy
to claim your prize.”
Tammy always made me call her lovely during this part. Unlike me, she thrived on being in the
spotlight. Ah, the things I do to keep my job.
I read off the numbers. Third place was Number 10, a guy in a rented superhero costume. Second place
was Number 29, a Sexy Nurse. First place went to Number 1 funnily enough. She was dressed as a
Sexy Prisoner, handcuffs and all. Number 81 was nowhere close to being on the list. Once again, this
stupid costume contest had found another way to ruin my night.
With the contest over, Tammy released me back to my natural habitat—the bar. I happily returned to
my comfort zone. Most people were finishing their drinks and getting ready to leave now that the
contest was over. I missed most of the rush since I had to play host and now I wasn't going to go home
with as much tip money as I'd like.
I decided to help some of the kitchen staff clean off the tables since the bar was growing quiet. I'd just
finished cleaning my second table when Number 81 himself appeared.
“Excuse me, but is the bar closing?”
“No. Not for another hour. Can I get you something?”
We walked back to the bar where I noticed the other bartender looking bored. Hardly anyone was at the
bar. Number 81 could've easily gotten a drink without having to track me down, but he did and now I
was hopeful.
“This one's on me,” I said when I served him the scotch he ordered. He looked at me quizzically
before I explained. “You've got the best damn costume here. You should've won.”
Number 81 smiled and laughed. Somehow it looked even nicer than it had before. I could look at him
all night.
...I chided myself for the strange thought. It was one thing to be attracted to a handsome guy in a fine
looking suit, it was another to think of him like I was a lovesick teen. Especially if I'd just met him. It
was out of character for me.
“It's not too over the top? I felt a little out of place to be honest,” Number 81 replied.
“No way! Everything's perfect. No one ever tries very hard on their costume. I mean, shit, look at
mine.” I grabbed the frayed ends of my cape and held them up for him to see.
“Hm. As impressive as your cape is, I'd have to say that I'm even more impressed with that.” He poked
the printed medallion on my chest. A mixture of surprise and revulsion crossed his handsome features
when his finger sunk into the foam.
“What the hell? What are you supposed to be? Some kind of sponge vampire?” He laughed, splayed his
fingers and patted my vest.
I blushed and felt damn ridiculous for doing so. A light touch shouldn't be enough to make me feel like
this. Especially through a fucking foam vest.
He quickly removed his hand. “Sorry. Didn't mean to feel up the bartender.”
“Ha. You do this to every bartender you meet?”
“Of course not. Only the ones I like.”
I had been hoping he was interested in me and now I was ecstatic about this small confirmation. I tried
not to let my excitement show, but I doubt I did a good job at that.
“My name's Chad. What's yours?”
“Edwin,” he replied.
I snatched a napkin and wrote my number on it. “Maybe we can get together later? I have tomorrow
off.”
“Oh, I'm free tomorrow as well.”
“Great! Then-”
“And I'm free tonight too. I'll wait for your shift to end.”
My breath caught in my throat.
“Ah. Um.” Why was it so hard to put my thoughts in order? I didn't usually get flustered easily. “It'll be
late.”
“That's fine,” Edwin replied.
I nodded. “I'll try to hurry,” I promised.
We made small talk until the bar closed. Edwin left me a generous tip and said he'd wait for me outside.
I rushed through the cleaning and other miscellaneous tasks that needed to be done in record time. I
rushed outside and found Edwin leaning against the side of a small blue sedan in the nearly empty
parking lot.
Ah. A sensible car. I loved down to earth guys. Not too flashy, but still know how to make stuff look
good. Edwin was pretty much perfect in that way. I was finding more reasons to like him every minute.
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