Short Story – “A Vampire in the Pie Shop”
There were a few tools you needed if you wanted to hunt vampires. A crossbow was an absolute must, as were the silver-tipped arrows that could slow a creature of darkness to a crawl. Next were the goggles, fitted with magical glass that could allow a humanoid to see through the dark. The jacket and accompanying hat came next, which didn’t really offer any offensive or defensive capabilities against blood suckers but served more as a mark of office. Above all of these things, though, as Camjen’s father had taught him, was knowledge. That’s why when Camjen was called towards a little pie shop in the centre of Halenshire, he knew what he’d likely find there.
In fact, he had been expecting it for days.
The tenderfoot wobbled his overweight body towards the centre. It had been fifteen years since he took over as the official Vampire Hunter for Halenshire, and with each of those years, he had grown at least an extra three inches outwards. Now he was getting old, the hair growing out of his enormous ears could no longer be described as ‘going grey’. It was just grey. And he had a little less step in his step these days. Still, he was as sharp as ever and held the record for the most vampires taken care of in a career. Twenty-three, for those that were counting.
Clearing his throat, Camjen took out the oversized crossbow from over his shoulder and approached the pie shop. Better to be prepared for anything, he thought to himself.
The building stood out as a highly reputable business amongst the other shops nearby and was perhaps Halenshire’s most popular eatery. Tenderfeet tended to love pies. So much, in fact, that pie-eating contests were a grand affair in the shires. Mrs Dinkham, the owner of this particular shop, who was sitting back in his office up the road crying from the shakes, knew the secret of a good pie. It was in the crumble. That just right combination of a crunchy top and soft innards.
Camjen’s mouth was already dribbling with the thought, and it took him an effort to put his mind back on the task.
As he placed the key inside the lock, careful to keep his eyes off the impressive display of day-old pies in the window, he thought back on the evidence as Mrs Dinkham had described. There had been a crash in the backroom, followed shortly by a silhouette of shadows. Dark red eyes piercing through the darkness. A voice that yowled like a sharp wind, accompanied by the smell of copper. It certainly sounded like a vampire.
But would it be him?
Throwing open the door, Camjen kept his crossbow trained and ready for action.
The smell assailed his senses first. The rich aroma of baked goods overwhelmed his nostrils momentarily, making his stomach growl. Underneath it, though, was the distinct smell of copper. Faint, but there.
The room was small, even by tenderfeet standards. A few crudely crafted tables and chairs here and there for people to sit, eat, drink, talk, and laugh. A sizeable counter off to the side, where more pies and baked goods could be displayed and sold in slices. As he moved over the threshold, the portraits of famous former bakers leered down at him from the walls. Each forbidding violence in their esteemed establishment.
‘Right then.’ Camjen closed the door behind him and slid the lock into place. With the flick of his hand, his goggles came down from his hat and over his eyes — illuminating the room as if it were cast in the light of midday. It was quite quiet, which in his experience, was usually a bad sign. Often, he’d found, things were never quiet unless something was trying to be particularly quiet, and then things were just plain too quiet. It was always a dead giveaway.
‘Anyone there?’ he called out. ‘If y’are, I’d appreciate a response. Tappin’ a toe on t’floor would do just fine.’
Camjen saw the eyes before he had a chance to move. Red eyes. Suddenly, in a rush of shadows, a figure leapt at him with silvery claws open for attack. A yowling wind came with them. The tenderfoot lurched to the right, attempting a roll that turned into a stumbling fall, and landed roughly with his gut to the floorboards. The crossbow jolted out of his hand, gliding beneath one of the tables, and he suddenly felt cold. Shivering cold. Like the winter chill had come in from the north.
Turning as quickly as his body could afford him, Camjen looked up at the creature. It was as tall as a human, which meant it stood about two or three feet taller than himself. It wore a dark cloak to blend with the shadows. Had pale skin, practically white, and bore a fang-toothed smile. Its claws were open, its eyes were as sharp as daggers, and it was taking carefully considered deep breaths.
After a few moments, the creature spoke and broke the silence. ‘Tell me a joke.’
Camjen shook his head, looking over towards the counter. ‘What’s a vampire’s least favourite kind of pie?’ he asked.
The vampire thought on that for a moment, then shrugged.
‘Stake and kidney.’
Long seconds passed, and then the vampire burst into laughter. He offered the tenderfoot his hand, and Camjen accepted it willingly, ignoring the ice-cold grip, using it to get himself back to his feet. ‘That’s a good one,’ the vampire was saying. ‘Did you come up with that?’
‘I did, actually,’ replied Camjen, dusting himself down. ‘Thought of it just now.’
Camjen retrieved his crossbow as the vampire pulled up a chair at one of the tables. When the tenderfoot turned around, he couldn’t help but smile at the picture of this tall creature trying to fit himself into a chair at least three times smaller than he needed. Camjen took a seat opposite, fitting into the furniture as if it had been made just for him.
‘So, how have you been, Sorcen?’ he asked, leaning back. ‘How’re things beyond the wall?’
‘A bit rubbish, actually,’ replied Sorcen, sighing. ‘We’ve got a new vampire lord, and he’s the aggressive type.’
‘Another one already?’
‘Oh yeah,’ replied Sorcen with a nod. ‘We go through vampire lords like you tenderfeet go through pies.’ Then he took a deep inhale, clearly inviting the rich aroma of baked goods into his nostrils. ‘Speaking of which.’
With a grumble, Camjen manoeuvred himself off the chair with a grumble and over to the counter. He stood there for a moment and inspected the pies on display. Each was finely crafted, baked beautifully, and invited an exciting bite from the diner. ‘Any preference?’ he turned back to the creature of the night, sitting not ten feet away with his knees up to his chest.
‘I fancy a bit of steak and kidney now,’ replied Sorcen. ‘If they’ve got it.’
‘They do.’ Camjen pulled the pie, clearly labelled, from the shelf and took a few plates from the counter. Cutting each of them a slice, he moved back to the table and placed the meal in front of the vampire. Sorcen took the accompanying tiny fork and started at the dish, moaning in pleasure with each morsel of a bite.
‘I do not know where your kind gets their skill.’ He marvelled. ‘Just the right amount of cooked, perfectly browned crust, and even though it’s gotten cold, the filling is still delicious. Incredible work. You’ll have to pass my compliments to the chef.’
‘You know, you spooked the chef,’ said Camjen, playing idly with his slice of pie. ‘She’s sitting in my office now, shaking from fear.’
‘I’m terribly sorry about that,’ Sorcen said through a mouthful of pie. ‘I was trying to be stealthy but came in wrong through the window. By the time I’d realised my error, she had already seen me.’
‘Why didn’t you come to my office?’
‘Well, you said you’d be training your replacement last time I saw you,’ replied Sorcen. ‘I thought it’d be good practice. What kind of vampire would show up at the door of a vampire hunter? It’s just stupid.’ Then he narrowed his eyes. ‘Why aren’t you training your replacement, Cam?’
‘It’s not like there aren’t candidates,’ replied Camjen with a sigh, removing his hat and setting it down on the table. ‘They’re all just a bit…foolhardy, I guess. I worry they might not be up for it.’
‘Well, you’d better get training quick,’ said Sorcen, revelling in that last delicious bit of pie and wiping his mouth with a napkin. ‘With this new lord, I believe there may be even more escape attempts on the horizon. That means you may very soon be up to your ears in vampires.’
‘It doesn’t take much to get up to my ears,’ Camjen joked.
‘Take this seriously.’ Sorcen tapped his fingers against the table, each clawed tip making a distinct, harsh clicking sound. ‘I’ve been helping Halenshire prepare for vampires for the past seventy or so years now. I’ve put a lot of time into your people’s safety and, if you don’t mind me saying, you’re getting a bit too old for this.’
Camjen raised an eyebrow but knew he was ultimately right. If it had been any other vampire than Sorcen earlier, it wouldn’t just be the pies on the menu.
‘Yeah,’ he sighed. ‘As I said, there are a few candidates.’
‘I’ll return in a month.’ Sorcen stood up then, which was quickly accompanied by a loud, dull thud as his head collided with a low ceiling beam. ‘Ah!’ He rubbed it quickly. ‘Every time.’
The tenderfoot stifled a grin.
Together, they moved to the back of the pie shop. Sorcen pulled up the window in its frame and took a peek out into the empty alleyway. Camjen didn’t say much. He was too busy thinking on what the vampire had said. Sorcen was about halfway out of the window when he looked back to Camjen and smiled.
‘You know,’ he said. ‘Your father had a bit of trouble picking the next Vampire Hunter of Halenshire as well. I can remember having a similar conversation with him way back when.’
‘Oh?’ Camjen raised an eyebrow. ‘What did he have to say?’
‘Well, if memory serves me correctly, he told me that his candidate was foolhardy as well,’ replied Sorcen. ‘Always rushing in and never listening, eager to shoot some arrows.’
‘What did he do about it?’
‘Well, he made him the next Vampire Hunter, didn’t he?’ Sorcen grinned. ‘And I hear he did a fantastic job in his fifteen years of service to the shire.’
Camjen gave a short smile at that. ‘I’ll get to training some candidates. Soon, I promise. We’ll be ready next time you pay a visit.’
‘Give my compliments to the chef on that remarkable pie.’ Sorcen hopped out of the window. ‘Oh,’ he said, turning back. ‘And my apologies for scaring her half to death.’
‘Next time, just come to the office!’
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