Are we all caught up now? And in case you're wondering, no: I have no memory of death, no stories of tunnels of white blinding lights and certainly no angels with harps or even a solitary demon and a single match with which to torture me. All I knew

(blam!)

was that I had been dead and now... I wasn't anymore. Is there life after death? Yes there is. There is life after death, and it's your own... but only if you're a vampire.

Everybody else is fucked.

Vern disappeared from sight as I tried to position myself to get off the side of the drawer, wiggling my legs over the side and trying to get a bearing on my situation. I finally got a good look at the rest of the place, and it completely blew my mind.

For a morgue, it was very nice. It looked like it had been designed by whoever designed Harry's office, all leather and wood and marble wherever they could make it work. It was rich and gaudy and beautiful all at the same time. Even the Latin etched into the floor above the Coat of Arms told me everything I needed to know. Of course, I didn't understand it, since Latin is one of those languages that they just don't teach in school anymore, but just the fact that they would put it in Latin said a basic fact: "we're richer than you and we have a Coat of Arms motherfucker." That was all I needed to know.

EN CRUOREM NOS PARTIR.

Impressive right? The Coat of Arms was identical to the one in Harry's office and had the smell of very old money, maybe older than most other old money, and would most definitely stand out here in Toronto. You only found that kind of old money in some moody old European country. It had a bat and a wolf on it. Do I really need to say more?

"Yer clothes are over 'ere."

I looked over to Vern, past the rows of identical wood panelled boxes similar to the one I had just gotten out of. Vern was standing behind a desk in the middle of the room, a slender looking computer in front of him. Everything in the room matched, even Vern... at least until you looked at his shoes. They were the only non-elegant or inexpensive thing in the room and clearly were a very old and very comfortable pair of shoes that were never intended to match his very expensive suit. They were the kind of shoes that had been good sometime in the 1970s and had been polished and treated with love even as they folded themselves to fit the shape of Vern's feet. They had been repaired more times than I could guess and said so much about the man that wore them that I could have written a book about his life. Loyal and steadfast, even if he was a little opportunistic... and a little smelly. The smell of tobacco that engulfed me as he leaned over told an even louder story and his long and strong fingers, stained yellow from nicotine, told of a lifetime of hard labour. The thought occurred to me that maybe Vern's little extortion deal wasn't going exactly to plan.

"Has anyone ever actually paid you to get out of this box?"

Vern considered it for a moment.

"There was this one gent, he was ready to pay, him being afraid o' the dark and all, 'specially since I'd turned out his light. But Madame Vera wasn't having none o' that. I only tries it on the young 'uns like yerself. Bit more willing you lot are. The older 'uns'd just rip me throat out and call it a day they would."

Something occurred to me then, and I blinked with surprise.

"You're not a vampire?"

"Wouldn't want to be, the condition some of you comes in looking. When I goes, ain't no coming back that I'll be wanting. Couldn't afford it if some bloke was asking me to pay up y'see."

"Can I have my clothes now?"

I turned to get dressed and Vern went to the computer to do whatever the hell it is he did here. I half expected him to type slowly with one finger, but Vern was amazingly adept at using the keyboard and the combination touch screen.

The clothes weren't mine. It was a brand new suit, Italian, according to the label, and it looked like a year's salary to me.

"These aren't my clothes you know."

"Oh, I knows it. Madame Vera bought them for ya seeing as how yer old clothes were full o' blood an' holes an' the like. I wouldn't worry about it if I was you."

Well okay then. If Madame Vera didn't want me to worry about it, who was I to turn down a $600 pair of pants?

I got dressed and turned to find Vern waiting for me.

"So who is this 'Madame Vera' anyway?"

"She owns this place. I just runs it, make sure yer kind are comfortable and the like."

"And ten grand poorer if you had your way."

"You know what I could do with ten large? One day lad, one day..."

Vern led the way out of the morgue, and I followed, pausing only one minute to wonder if there were any other dead vampires in the process of healing inside the drawers. It made me uneasy to think of it and

(gunflash)

there was a moment where I felt like throwing up when my ears

(bang!)

rang like I had been standing I front of a concert PA system all night, but then it passed, and I followed after Vern, wondering what the hell was going on.

******** AUTHOR'S NOTE **********

The book is now AVAILABLE in Hardcover, Paperback and Ebooks. It's going to live here free on Wattpad, but if you love the story and want to support your awesome author (me), grab a copy from one of the lovely retailers below. Who knows: maybe it can become a bestseller with the help of you lovely WattPadders

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Check out the website: http://www.bobthevampire.com