Yes, I know—it's still morning. No one goes to a bar this early, but I wasn't there for a drink.
The bar sat in the middle of a busy street. I'd been here at night before. It was full of life, all sorts of people going in and out. It offered a perfect vantage point for people-watching, if I ever bothered with hobbies like that.
As I walked closer, I noticed the bar's signboard—gothic lettering, paired with a gaudy set of fangs.
Really? That has to go. You couldn't be more obvious. This place screamed vampires.
A small placard read: Open from 6 PM.
I gently set it aside and faced the stone door, bolted shut.
Of course. Sunlight issues. Vampires and their skin condition.
The sunlight brushed my coat as I stood there, just a man with a file. But inside me, the fog stirred—eager, patient.
With a single push, the door creaked open.
"We are not open!" a voice barked from the shadows.
"No… don't stop them. I'm hungry," another muttered softly.
I grinned from ear to ear as I stepped into the darkness. Yes, my ears pick up even the softest whispers.
"Document for Mr. Virenzo?" I asked, raising a file in my hands with faux innocence.
I scanned the darkness and realized the whole bar was covered with the most expensive soundproofing. Because vampires had money, and they were shady.
Who knew how many people they killed here? Their screams would be unheard from the street.
From the dark corners, ten faces turned toward me—curious, cautious, uneasy.
"Is Mr. Virenzo here?" I smiled as I put my foot through the door.
"Please close the door," one of them said. Another vampire grinned.
"Air conditioning?" I chuckled as I gently shut it behind me. Of course, I knew it wasn't for the air.
"Yes sir, this way," one of the vampires gestured toward the bar table as they turned on a single light.
The others giggled behind him as they locked the door.
"Oh my, I would love to have a bite on that guy," whispered a voice.
"No one would even hear him scream," murmured another.
Oh, they must be young, only to be so haughty.
The real reason I stepped in and let them lock the door? I didn't want anyone outside hearing the screams. They confirmed it. These goons actually trapped themselves with me.
Then I asked my question again. "Is Mr. Virenzo in today?"
It's like they finally heard me.
Virenzo.
The name alone shifted the air.
"Get the boss," the vampire at the counter ordered the giggling vampires behind him.
"Oh… the boss will surely finish that young man," said one of the young vampires as his voice trailed away.
Boss? Interesting indeed. If he was that ancient vampire, he'd be their leader. He wasn't just another bloodsucker with a grudge. He was the kind of ancient that thinks time owes him something. The kind that mistakes his grief for power, his arrogance for a shield.
Then he saw me.
A figure stepped from the back of the room, heavy boots thudding against the stone floor. Burly. Pale as death. A mohawk framed a face weathered with fury. His red eyes burned like coals left too long in the fire.
"I am Virenzo," he said. His voice thundered through the bar—rough, guttural. The others shifted behind him like shadows too afraid to breathe.
I stood still, a smile creeping across my face.
"Well, hello Virenzo." I stuck out a hand, playful. "I'm Mr. Gacanagh from the law firm."
I withdrew it before he could react, tucking it into my coat. His expression stiffened. Recognition set in like ice.
"Gacanagh," he growled.
The other vampires cowered into the shadows as they heard my name.
"No way he is the boogeyman," whispered one voice in the dark.
"No, it's just a coincidence," said another.
"He looks like a model. How could it be?" added yet another.
I shrugged as I looked at Virenzo. "Gacanagh, Mr. Spade, boogeyman—whatever suits your fancy. I'm here on business. It's all about client satisfaction these days, right?" I smirked.
"Sure. Let's pretend you don't remember me," he mocked. "But don't pretend you're an actual lawyer." Virenzo laughed.
"But I do remember you," I said, pointing the documents at him. "Toilet cleaner of a bar by night and ancient vampire by day," I taunted in return.
Virenzo frowned.
"I am not a toilet cleaner. I am the owner of this establishment," his voice boomed.
"Oh?" I cocked my head. "Worried about undeclared taxes? Illegal sales of… what was it again? Cigarettes? Trinkets? Drugs?" I shrugged. "You did call a lawyer's office, didn't you? Surely you needed help."
Here's your file. I pressed it into his face, and he tore it up.
"You've got some guts showing up here alone," he growled, but I was unphased.
"Then why call my office—if not for official business?" I stepped closer, not flinching, eyes glinting in the darkness. "Unless… you wanted me to come for you because of my extracurricular activities."
"You'll pay," he hissed. "For killing Loretta, my love."
"Loretta?" I echoed, mockingly. "That's her name? Your girlfriend?" I smiled, cold. "I'm terrible with names."
He grabbed me by the collar, hoisting me effortlessly. His breath was hot with rage.
"Kill him!" he bellowed, throwing me to the floor. His vampires surged forward, teeth bared.
And my stomach growled.
The darkness. The fury. The anticipation. They all smelled… delicious.
"How unfair. So many of you… and just me. A helpless little Love Fairy," I teased, releasing a gentle fog that began to swirl around the room, dangerously.
"You always hide behind your fog, Mutt Fairy," Lorenzo spat.
I tilted my head, mildly impressed. So he knew.
"Mutt Fairy? Yeah, what a derogatory term to call a Love Fairy, Dark Fairy hybrid," I retorted.
"Yeah, I know about you. You are the abomination even to your own Fairy Kind. But not for long," he threatened with a smirk. The vampires in the room started to bare their fangs, charging at me.
"But I am the fog," I whispered, eyes glinting. "And I do not hide. I devour."
The mist poured in like spilled ink, seeping into the cracks, the air, their throats. Coughing. Choking. Scrambling.
The air thickened with something darker than the gloom. The tension wasn't just in their eyes—it was in the room itself, coiling, waiting.
The fog entered their lungs, corroding them from the inside. They screamed. One by one, I pressed my hand to their minds and silenced them.
A door to the basement flung open as a lone vampire tried to run. A tendril of fog pulled her back. A piercing scream echoed, swallowed in the mist.
Virenzo took the opportunity and bolted toward the basement.
But I was already in front of him.
"Oh, Virenzo," I crooned. "Did you think this would end differently?"
His scream tore through the bar as I plucked out his fangs, one by one.
I won't bore you with the rest. Screaming. Choking. Metal music and an excellent soundproofing system meant no one heard a thing.
I staged their exit—made it look like they fled in disgrace, scared to face justice. Taxes unpaid. Illicit businesses abandoned. Their loss was my gain.
Two weeks later, I signed the deed as the highest bidder.
Why keep the name Midnight Sommers?
Because names are reminders. Warnings. Proof that I can rewrite history.
In time, no one would even remember who owned it before me.
I took a sip of red wine, the bitterness blooming on my tongue. Jazz drifted through the bar like fog—familiar, heavy, mine. I leaned back, eyes roaming the space.
No vampires. More importantly, none tried to call my office again.
Here I am now, on a Friday night, sitting in a bar I've claimed as mine, though I don't care for it. It's just another perch to observe the city, to eavesdrop on its tension.
The décor—vintage, timeless—did its job. Wooden floors creaked underfoot. Chandeliers cast a golden hue. Mortals chattered, oblivious. Their laughter skimmed over the surface of things. They had no idea what horrors had happened here not long ago. They wouldn't recognize the scent of death if it poured their drinks.
I'd scrubbed the place clean. Ready for the next chapter.
No one would know how I devoured each vampire, how I burned them from within with acidic fog. How Lorenzo's screams had echoed off stone, and how his pride crumbled with his fangs.
So much for an angry vampire boyfriend nursing a revenge fantasy.
These fools never realize the price of crossing me.
No wonder the banshee screamed. Deaths. Lots of it.
Well, no matter. It's like I'm the cat sent to eradicate the mice in the city. Pest control.
The city's quieter now. Cleaner. And I've got a new spot to frequent.
For now, I let the calm settle over me.
Everything was in order. But something stirred in the back of my mind, a whisper of things to come. Soon… things would become much more interesting.