Free Joe Pitt 2 - No Dominion by Charlie Huston Page A

gonna want to know my plans. What am I gonna
     tell them?
    
    
     Uh, I don't know, hang out, drink blood, party.
    
    
     So, no, bro, I don't want anything from you. I just heard about you, thought maybe you
     were cool. Philip introduced you, I played it easy and all, but, hey, I was kinda
     starstruck. Truth. So, my crib, my smoke, my girls. Whatever. You don't want to hang, just
     want to ask your questions and take off, that's cool. It's all good.
    I set my half full coffee cup on the floor at my feet.
    --What about drugs?
    --Love 'em. But they don't really work anymore.
    --Uh-huh. What about this new thing?
    He fiddles with his cigarette, licking the tip of his finger and rubbing the saliva on the
     side of the smoke where the cherry has started to burn unevenly.
    --This new thing?
    --A new high. Something the new fish are into.
    The intercom buzzes. The bathroom door bangs open as Pigtails runs out and presses the
     button to buzz whoever it is into the building.
    The Count stands up.
    --You cool if I take a sec?
    --Sure. Visitor?
    He grins.
    --Delivery.
    Pigtails is jumping up and down again.
    --Delivery! Delivery! Delivery!
    The Count steps into the hall and closes the door behind him.
    I stand up, look at Poncho.
    --Can I get another of those?
    --Sure.
    She holds out the cigarette. I take it and she offers me a match. I shake my head and
     light it with my Zippo.
    --So what about you, how long you been on the scene?
    --Less than a year.
    I snap my Zippo open and closed against my thigh.
    --Society?
    --Oh yeah.
    She holds out her hands to the other girls and they run over and jump on the couch with
     her.
    --We're all Society here. Not a Rogue in the house. 'Cept you.
    --Yeah. Except me. Who brought you in? You don't mind me asking?
    --We don't mind.
    --So who was it?
    She puts her arms around the girls' shoulders.
    --Tom.
    --Uh-huh.
    I point at Pigtails and PJs, who have put their heads together behind Poncho's and are
     once again whispering.
    --And them? Tom?
    --Oh yeah. Tom. We're all Tom's in here. 'Cept you.
    --Yeah. Except me. Guess I must just be the lucky one.
    The door opens and The Count comes back in. Pigtails bounces off the couch and runs to
     him.
    --Score! Score! Score!
    Figure a score for me, too. Figure I get to see firsthand what the shit is and then I can
     go fill Terry in and that will make this about the easiest job I ever had.
    The Count returns to the couch, Pigtails riding on his back. He shrugs her off and she
     plops onto the cushions. He's carrying a large, padded manila envelope. He opens it with a
     little flourish and produces a pint IV bag of blood.
    Shit. No score. Just a late snack.
    He sits. Poncho takes an IV needle and hose from beneath one of the napkins on the coffee
     tray and hands them to him. He carefully inserts the needle into the valve. A drop wells
     up and leaks out at the opening. And I smell it. Even in this loft, stinking of the three
     of them, I smell it.
    --Don't drink that.
    The Count looks up.
    --What?
    --Don't drink it. It'll kill you. It's infected. Can't you smell it?
    He tilts his head to the side.
    --Drink it? We're not going to drink it.
    Poncho pulls a napkin from the tray, revealing four paper-wrapped syringes beneath.
    The Count picks one of them up.
    --Don't worry, there's enough to go around. If you're still curious about the new shit, I
     mean.
    The Vyrus will kill you. It will eat you alive from the inside out. There is nothing you
     can do; sooner or later, it will get you. But no matter how desperate you may be, you will
     never latch onto another infected. I've had infected blood in my mouth; it was acid. And
     while the Vyrus can't survive outside the human body, blood taken from a Vampyre will make
     you sick as hell, and then kill you. The Vyrus may be dead in there, but some remnant of
     it will remain, some husk that will twist your insides and make you wish you were dying.
    But this is different, altogether something