12.

26 June, 4:00 PM, “The Czernograd Gazette” newsroom

“...The police are continuing their investigations and are expected to issue a statement tomorrow.”

The standard sentence at the end of a pretty standard, mid-length article. Igor thought that he should create a shortcut in his Microsoft Word that would allow him to insert this sentence with one key stroke. The police were always continuing their investigations. Stay tuned.

He submitted the story with an hour to spare before the editing deadline, after he three more routine pieces for the metro section, one involving an ongoing court case, which was slowly and painfully exposing the ugly underbelly of the Czernograd City Council. He had spent three hours in a dark, stifling courtroom – how appropriate, he thought – taking notes of the latest revelations and then getting a few quotes from both sets of lawyers.

He has left the vampire story until last, largely because he was hoping that more useful information might come in over the course of the day. Sadly, no. Bohun did not return his call, and a few other of his usual contacts drew blanks. Everyone was aware of the case, vaguely, but no one had anything to add, even off the record.

So for now, it would just be a story about an unidentified male vampire, found most definitely dead under the King Nicholas Bridge. Suspected suicide. No suspicious circumstances at this stage. He was quoting almost verbatim from the standard incident note put out by the police around midday. With some on-the-scene colour, courtesy of yours truly of the by-line, thrown in to fill out the space. After all, one couldn’t let go to waste having been the first reported on the scene.

As threadbare as the initial story was, he knew there would be more. There always was, suicide or not, suspicious circumstances or not. Vampires weren’t just dropping down every day. When one did, it always created a non-human human interest story. Or more, if foul play was involved. A bit ridiculous actually, Igor though; some piece of scum might cut up a pensioner for a few tallers and it would make the bottom of page 12 for one day. But mess with undead and all the usual suspects would pop up in an instant with their tried and true lines about “the ugly revival of ancient prejudices” and how “we sadly still have a long way to go”. A field day for activists, rights campaigners, concerned foreign NGOs, not to mention the countless vampire groupies and “Twilight” mums, mostly from overseas. A feast day for the media, too. Everyone loves feeding on a corpse, don’t they? Igor has learned to swallow down the bile.

He leaned back in his chair and started thinking about tonight. Should he try to retrace his steps back to the apartment with the stars on the bedroom ceiling? He realised he not only didn’t know the girl’s name, he didn’t even manage to get her phone number. He could try “Cafe Opera” and see if he was lucky again. Except he never did the same venue two nights in a row. A kind of a superstition, if you will. So far it has worked out well for him. Why tempt fate?

Photo by Daniel von Appen on Unsplash